The Dark Age

by Traci Harding

  Brockwell managed to conclude his heat against Vortipor’s champion, Sir Queron, in a matter of minutes. Calin was just as amazing to watch in action as Brian had been, Tory thought. So at home on a horse and with his weapons was he, that they seemed a mere extension of himself. He dismounted his opponent on the first pass of their joust. Brockwell then sprang from the charging horse and had his sword poised at the throat of his adversary before Queron realised what had hit him. Sir Queron, twice his opponent’s age and far more experienced, could hardly believe it.

  ‘Wast thou born on a horse with a sword in thy hand, boy? I have never seen such skill in one so young. I do humbly yield to thee, Sir Brockwell of Penmon,’ Queron said, holding out a hand for Brockwell to help him up.

  Under normal circumstances, Brockwell would probably have taken offence to the older knight referring to him as a boy and run him through. Yet, Sir Queron was quite notorious himself, so Brockwell considered this to be a compliment and gladly helped him to his feet.

  Maelgwn hoisted himself onto the black stallion, Aristotle, and Tory grew nervous as she watched. She sat forward in her seat, unsure if she felt thus because he appeared so gallant, or if it was a premonition. ‘I do not know about this,’ she uttered, feeling uneasy.

  Brockwell claimed the seat beside her, lifting Bryce to sit on his lap. ‘Fear not. Maelgwn be good at the joust.’

  ‘Aye,’ Catulus seconded Calin’s view. ‘The best.’

  Cedric sounded the cry and the two began their charge towards each other.

  Tory’s pulse was racing but she couldn’t look. She heard the sound of the lances meet.

  ‘Wooh!’ the crowd cried, before breaking into applause.

  ‘What happened?’ Tory asked, not opening her eyes.

  ‘Tory!’ Brockwell sounded disgusted. ‘Thou art supposed to watch. Nothing hast happened.’

  Upon daring to open her eyes she found them lining up for another pass. ‘Damn.’

  She was not to be put out of her misery upon this clash either. Five more passes followed before Maelgwn finally toppled Vortipor from his horse and they drew their swords to do battle.

  ‘Good show, Maelgwn! Finish him off,’ Catulus yelled in encouragement, holding up his mead to the young King.

  Both men used swords rounded blunt at the point, although one could still inflict a nasty gash if desired, as the blades were left quite sharp.

  The two leaders battled and sidestepped each other for a time to the great excitement of the spectators. Finally, Vortipor took advantage of the sun setting behind him, and Maelgwn sustained a gash to the upper left arm.

  Tory stood and called out to her husband’s assailant. ‘Thee will pay for that one, Vortipor.’ She gestured to Maelgwn in a sign language only they understood.

  He gave her a nod of understanding and returned his attention to the fight, again clashing swords with Vortipor. Maelgwn held his attacker’s blade at bay with his own and startled Vortipor with a numbing kick to his jaw. When the Irish warrior hit the ground, Maelgwn stepped hard onto his sword arm, forcing him to lose his weapon. The King rested the blunt end of his blade against Vortipor’s jugular. ‘The Goddess warned thee friend, dost thou yield?’

  ‘What happened?’ Vortipor rested his free hand against his bruised jaw.

  ‘Dost thou yield?’ The King looked down at his stunned foe.

  ‘It would seem thou hast left me little choice,’ Vortipor granted, and Maelgwn gave him a hand to his feet. ‘Congratulations Dragon, thou art a formidable opponent. And ah, sorry about the scratch, got a tad carried away.’

  Maelgwn shrugged as if it were nothing. ‘Come, let us relax with a drink and watch for a while.’

  The King reclined in the marquee while his cut was dressed. Gwynedd had won and there was much cause to celebrate, especially for King Catulus, who’d clenched the wager he’d held with Vortipor and Aurelius Caninus.

  ‘I told thee, he never loses,’ King Catulus chuckled, merrily pouring more mead for them all.

  Tory’s attention drifted to the arena where Sir Tiernan and Ione stood opposite each other, ready to commence the first of the three final fights of the day. The winner of this would meet the Black Knight and the winner of that would fight Brockwell for the title, as he was ranked most highly.

  As soon as Cedric gave them leave, Ione charged Tiernan. The shock tactic worked, as she was able to throw him off balance and out of the circle.

  Tiernan protested and cursed his ridiculous situation, insisting he could not fight a female.

  ‘Get used to it,’ was Tory’s response, and Maelgwn merely shrugged; it was Tory’s day, her quest, her rules.

  Tiernan reluctantly returned to the arena to lose three to one.

  None too happy, he entered the marquee to join his fellow knights. ‘Do not feel bad, Tiernan, she licked me first round.’ Rhys, who had recovered from the embarrassment, held a drink out to his friend.

  With his pride and body still freshly bruised, Tiernan was not yet ready to laugh it off. ‘It be ludicrous!’ he insisted, accepting the goblet of mead.

  Tory stood to face him and Maelgwn rose beside her, a mite worried she would cut loose. ‘Then thou art not serious about my instruction, Tiernan?’

  The knight cooled at the sight of her, nodding his head to confirm both her statement and his mistake. ‘I did not think. Apologies lady, if I have offended the Goddess.’

  A commotion erupted in the arena and Tory turned to see soldiers dragging Ione away from the Black Knight, kicking and screeching in protest. Cedric approached the royal marquee, appearing rather pleased.

  ‘I be very sorry, lady, but thy entrant hast attacked her opponent before we commenced. That warrants disqualification doth it not?’

  Tory appeared disappointed. ‘Those art the rules.’

  ‘Match to the Black Knight, he shall meet Brockwell for the Queen’s title,’ Cedric decreed.

  Rhys and Tiernan were overwhelmed with delight, clinking their goblets and taking a swig.

  Tory rolled her eyes at this. ‘Typical.’

  Before the last match of the day began, both contenders were brought before Tory for her blessing. The knights knelt before her, heads bowed low.

  ‘Brave warriors of Gwynedd, who have fought so gallantly this day, I wish thee the best of luck in thy quest for the title and the gold. May the greater warrior win.’

  The two knights rose, the Black Knight returning immediately to the arena. Brockwell, however, lingered near Tory to ask her in a whisper, ‘Where be Katren, she be missing this?’

  ‘I did speak with her earlier, and I hate to say it but she sounded a mite upset with thee. But I feel sure she will be watching in any case.’

  Calin was most perturbed as he returned to the ring for the challenge.

  As Tory took her seat next to Maelgwn, appearing rather pleased with herself, he leant over to her. ‘What art thou up to? Something be going on, I can feel it.’

  ‘Trust me,’ she advised, patting his knee.

  Bryce came racing up and sat on Tory’s lap. ‘Calin be going to win!’ The boy was convinced, having witnessed his idol undefeated this day.

  ‘I would not count on it,’ Taliesin commented, quietly confident of a win himself.

  ‘Who be this knight, Taliesin?’ Maelgwn was finally curious enough to inquire. ‘He cannot be a local, I would surely know such a fine warrior.’

  ‘I assure thee, Majesty, my knight lives up to all of thy requirements.’

  ‘In other words, thou hast no intention of telling me.’

  ‘Correct.’ Taliesin looked back to the arena where the clash was about to commence. ‘The Black Knight’s identity shall be revealed to thee upon my victory.’

  Cedric sounded the cry and the two warriors began stalking each other in a circle round the edge of the rope. Calin was about to make his move when the Black Knight spun round and planted a heel in his stomach with such force that Brockwell was driven to the ground well outside t
he circle.

  ‘Two points to the Black Knight.’

  Cedric’s announcement angered Brockwell; he hadn’t lost a point all day. ‘Who art thou, sir? I want to know.’ He rose, angered.

  The Black Knight stood in defence, urging Calin back into the ring.

  ‘Now Sir Brockwell, let’s not do anything rash,’ Cedric cautioned. He did not want his last hope disqualified for misconduct.

  ‘Nay, let us get on with it,’ Brockwell growled, taking his place.

  ‘Match point,’ Cedric informed the crowd to Calin’s further irritation. ‘Begin!’

  Again they circled, yet Calin was more cautious this time and stayed further inside the ring. The Black Knight seemed to be taunting him, darting around his attack with apparent ease. In the glossy black shield that covered his opponent’s eyes, Brockwell could see his own clumsy attack, and he now wished he’d encouraged Tory to train him sooner. Calin lashed out with a punch, and his arm was unexpectedly trapped mid-flight. The next thing he knew, he was twisted around to land face down in the dirt.

  As Cedric started the count, Brockwell struggled in vain to break loose. His arm was pushed hard up across his back, and the Black Knight’s knee was firmly embedded in his back.

  ‘Four and a half …?’ Cedric tried to stall and was finally forced to concede defeat. ‘Five. I hail the Black Knight to be the Queen’s Champion and victorious this day.’ He didn’t sound at all excited about the announcement.

  There was a silent pause as Brockwell rose and turned to face the Black Knight. ‘Show thyself,’ he demanded in anger, planning to kill him, whoever he was.

  The Black Knight bowed politely, conforming to his wish. As the knight removed the head cover, all gasped in awe.

  ‘Lady Katren!’ Brockwell went weak at the knees, stunned.

  ‘Aye, a woman be capable of so much more than just warming thy bed, Calin. Here endeth the lesson. Now if thou would excuse me, I shall be off to collect my due.’ She turned to make her way to the King and Queen, looking back briefly to add with glee, as she removed her gloves, ‘Fair fight.’

  Calin was totally beguiled as Cedric placed a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. ‘It be a shock to me too, Brockwell. I think we had best take up the way of the Goddess before the women take over!’

  Ione held her hand up to Katren as she approached the royal tent, and Katren served her a high-five as she passed.

  Maelgwn couldn’t help but smile at this. ‘Katren, thou art all swollen.’ He made jest of the padding of her disguise.

  ‘Ate too much at thy wedding, Majesty.’ She curtsied to him, very pleased with herself.

  Tory, Cara, Alma, Ione, Lady Gladys and Taliesin gathered around Katren. The Merlin placed a goblet in her hand, as the group of women raised their drinks in the air.

  ‘A toast to the Goddess, ladies,’ Taliesin said, briefly admiring the lovely women around him. ‘The Goddess returns!’

  ‘The Goddess returns!’ the women repeated after him, clinking goblets to drink to their first victory.

  After claiming her gold, Katren made her way back to her quarters to clean up before the night’s celebrations. She was not surprised when Calin followed her.

  ‘Why, Katren? Why hast thou done this to me?’ he asked. ‘I even saved thy virtue not so long past …’

  ‘Only to try to steal it last night!’ she snapped back. ‘I do not regret my actions, Calin, thou deserved it.’

  ‘Alright, I deserved it,’ he agreed, not wanting to fight. ‘I apologise for what I said last night, can thou not forgive me?’

  ‘Of course,’ Katren said without hesitation. ‘Thou art forgiven.’ She turned and continued her stride up to the house.

  Brockwell was stumped for a moment by the ease of his absolution and ran to catch her up. ‘Katren.’ He caught her arm. ‘I wish to court thee,’ Brockwell blurted out, barely believing the words that had left his mouth.

  Katren smiled, patting his cheek. ‘I do not think so, not yet. Next spring perhaps, if thou art still so inclined. I have a fair idea thy feelings for me may change in the near future.’

  ‘Why spring? I shall surely die before then.’

  ‘Art thou intending to train under Tory this coming autumn and beyond?’ She slipped her arm away and ever so gently pushed him back a little.

  ‘Aye.’ His brow became drawn. ‘Why?’

  She began to move off, her eyes still fixed upon him. ‘I do look forward to it then — as I am to be thy sparring partner.’ She punched the palm of her hand and laughed.

  Brockwell wasn’t quite sure how he felt about the news, but recalling the way Maelgwn and Tory were always rolling around on the floor together, he shrugged and grinned. ‘How bad could it be?’

  13

  WINDS OF CHANGE

  Tory’s first day in court with the knights and advisers of Gwynedd was going to prove every bit as difficult as she’d imagined. The men were riled after their defeat at the hands of the female warriors the day before. Tory deemed that the demonstration had been necessary, however, in light of the proposal she was about to put forth.

  On the court’s agenda were four main items for discussion — Chiglas’ wedding gift being the first. The laws regarding provision and protection of the women and children of Gwynedd would follow, along with the new marriage laws. The meeting would conclude with an outline of the role and standards that would be expected from the elite group of masters that Tory planned to train.

  With so much to discuss before the court convened, Tory and Maelgwn retreated to the comfort and privacy of their chamber. There the King read Tory’s proposal thoroughly, which they had discussed in part before his inauguration. Lady Gladys had advised Tory well, and Maelgwn agreed that the work displayed much foresight. Although he was quite sure some of his men would not take too kindly to the restraints of the new laws, Maelgwn agreed that the plans would undoubtedly benefit Gwynedd and the Goddess in the long run.

  A State-subsidised orphanage would be opened where old Hetty’s brothel village now stood, to house and protect the neglected children of Caswallon’s rule. It was to be run by Hetty and two of her older girls, thus giving them gainful employment and ridding them of the need to solicit. The bastard children would be given every opportunity to advance socially of their own accord and initiative. A school and playground for the village would also be opened in the spring. From then on, every child between the ages of five and fifteen who could travel to the school in Aberffraw, would be required to attend.

  Tory proposed that Selwyn, who was fairly well educated, could train under Taliesin over the cold season and teach at the school when it opened. The King obviously didn’t fancy the idea of giving up his page, but Tory pointed out that the aspiring bard could be far better employed as a teacher. Selwyn could instruct the children in basic mathematics, language, history and music while one or two of her ladies instructed them in self-defence, meditation and basic combat skills.

  The parents of the children, where applicable, would be required to pay a small fee in addition to their normal taxes for each child. In return, their children would be educated, fed, and upon reaching the age of fifteen, taken off their hands completely. This was already the case with the males of the kingdom, and by the spring a new hall would be erected in the outer-bailey grounds to house the young females. From then on, rather than being sold to the highest bidder, the daughters of Gwynedd would be sold to the State; this was also true of the young unwed girls of old Hetty’s keeping. That way, women would serve the royal family for a term, in the same fashion the men did, giving them a few years to discover their calling. Tory hoped this would make it easier for the young men and women of the kingdom to meet, mix, and hopefully match, as it should be.

  In future, all marriages would have to be not only recorded, but approved by the State. Both parties would have to freely consent before the court and their immediate family, and if there was no serious cause for objection, the couple would be granted perm
ission to wed. Hence the buying and selling of human beings would become a criminal offence. Dowries were an exception to this rule, as they were considered more of a savings plan to support the daughter in married life. The wife would bestow this wealth on her chosen husband, and should the marriage end in divorce, she could reclaim the same amount to support herself and any kin for whom she may have to provide.

  The beating of women and children would become a punishable offence throughout the land, as would rape. Tory knew these cases would be hard to try in court, especially in that period in history, yet until some sort of deterrent was put in place, the culprits would not be dissuaded.

  Maelgwn found the outline for the master’s training scheme fascinating. First and foremost, these men and women would be required to abide by the new laws as set by the Goddess. Those chosen would guide and set the standard for the many who would follow. If her masters didn’t display consideration and understanding for each other, they could not respect the Great Mother and would cease to serve her. The masters would also be asked to take a vow to Gwynedd — that they would never instruct or speak to another outside their ranks about their skills without the Queen’s personal consent. To break this vow would be punishable by death.

  Tory decided to follow the traditional belt colour-coding system to define the achievement of each individual. The masters would wear white uniforms, like her own, while they were students, and black once they became teachers. The belts would define how masterful one was personally. In Tae-kwon-do there were ten different coloured grades before the black belt, these lower grades were known as Kyu. Kyudan, dedicated to the refinement of the self, consisted of ten different grades of black belt, of which Tory had only reached the second grade.

  Maelgwn was inspired by the thought of so much learning. At present, once one became a knight that was as far as it went, except for the odd title challenge. With this proposal his men would have something new to strive for and he, like never before, could compete alongside them.