The Dark Age

by Traci Harding

  ‘With pleasure.’ Tiernan took hold of him.

  ‘Nay, I do not want —’ Rhys protested, but Tiernan was by far the stronger of the two.

  ‘That be an order, sir, not advice,’ Tory raised her voice, too tired to argue with him.

  ‘How art thou faring?’ Maelgwn approached to ask.

  The look she gave him implied that it was a stupid question. ‘That shall be me in seven months.’

  ‘Aye.’ He smiled.

  ‘Thee need not appear so happy about it. Thee shall owe me big for the favour, believe me.’

  ‘Indeed, I shall,’ he agreed, in good spirits. ‘But right now thou art tired, and well in need of food and rest thyself. Come.’ The King could see a protest surfacing. ‘That be an order,’ he cautioned, leading Tory off down the hall.

  Maelgwn let Tory sleep till after dawn the next day. When he entered their chambers to wake her, he found the Queen tossing about and saturated in sweat. ‘Tory, Tory wake up, thou art dreaming again.’

  Her eyes opened wide and she sat up. ‘Jenovefa’s babe?’ she asked in a panic.

  ‘Jenovefa be fine and very close now,’ he assured her, surprised to see her scrambling out of bed. ‘What be the matter?’

  ‘I have had another prophecy,’ she explained, pulling on her clothes.

  ‘What hast thou seen?’

  ‘Blood.’ She tied her belt and made for the door. ‘Lots of it.’

  Tory arrived at Jenovefa’s side, finding all as it should be.

  ‘Majesty.’ Jenovefa reached her arm out anxiously for Tory.

  ‘I am so sorry, Jenny. Maelgwn did not wake me.’ Tory clenched her hand tight.

  ‘The King only be watching out for his own heir,’ Jenovefa uttered. She gasped for breath, too fatigued to scream anymore.

  It seemed that she had something to say, if only she could find a moment’s peace.

  ‘I have changed my mind, Majesty. I wish to study under thee, with my husband’s permission or no. I will not spend the next twenty years thus,’ she panted heavily, a groan escaping her lips.

  Mabel, one of the other noble women of the court, gently wiped her brow with a cool cloth. ‘Shh Jen. She be delirious,’ she informed Tory.

  ‘I do not think so somehow,’ Tory replied.

  ‘Nay, I am not!’ She pushed Mabel away. ‘Majesty please. Better I die now than my life amount to naught but that of a glorified mare.’

  ‘Jenovefa! What art thou saying?’ Mabel, the mother of four, was horrified.

  ‘Thee understands, Majesty.’ Jenovefa ignored Mabel’s protest, awaiting the Queen’s word.

  ‘Aye.’ Tory politely asked Mabel to fetch some more water. Once she’d closed the door behind her, Tory consoled Jenovefa. ‘I be not sure how we shall get around thy husband, but we shall work something out.’

  Although the agony of the moment seized her, Jenovefa managed to smile.

  ‘Push child … I see the head,’ Hetty instructed.

  With that, Jenovefa screamed with all her might.

  ‘What be going on in there?’ Rhys demanded to know, heading for the door.

  Maelgwn and Tiernan advanced to stop him. ‘Tory shall let thee know as soon as there be any development,’ Maelgwn instructed, leading him back to his seat.

  ‘But listen to her!’

  ‘That be nothing.’

  They turned to find Taliesin and Selwyn striding down the hall.

  ‘Thee ought to have heard Sorcha giving birth to this one,’ the High Merlin chuckled, making light of a serious situation.

  ‘High Merlin, praise the Goddess thou art here. I think she be dying!’ Rhys raced to meet him.

  ‘Nay.’ Taliesin rested a hand on his shoulder, sending surges of calming energy through the expectant father. ‘She be in agony, I’ll grant, but fear not, she shall survive.’ The High Merlin looked at the King, his old face filled with pride. ‘And there be more congratulations in order, I believe.’ He embraced Maelgwn as he had not done since the Prince was a small boy, overwhelmed with delight.

  ‘I suspected the news might please thee.’

  ‘Pleased! I couldn’t be more so. I am to be his tutor, of course?’

  ‘Who else?’ Maelgwn answered with a smile.

  ‘Please, High Merlin, can this not wait?’ The screams from his chambers caused Rhys to fret more.

  Suddenly all was was quiet. The men held their breath, looking to the closed door, until the sound of a babe crying caused them to break into rejoicing. Rhys rushed through the well-wishers as the door opened.

  Tory came forth, quietly closing the door behind her. ‘It be a boy.’ She burst into tears, as did Rhys as he embraced her, elated and relieved.

  ‘A son! May I see them?’

  ‘Jenovefa asked that thee give her a moment, but I assure thee, both mother and child art in fine health.’

  ‘So, by what name shall thy son be known, Rhys?’ Maelgwn handed the proud father a goblet of mead to toast the new babe’s health.

  ‘We have agreed on Gawain.’ The name meant hawk of battle.

  ‘Splendid choice.’

  Everyone raised their goblets as Taliesin made a toast. ‘To the young Lord Gawain of Din Lligwy. May he find beauty, wisdom and joy in life. And may the Goddess bless him with the health and strength to do his father and his forefathers proud.’

  ‘So be it!’ One and all resounded as their goblets met.

  The herds and flocks of Aberffraw had been gathered together over the weeks prior to Samhain. The choice animals were spared for breeding purposes, but the majority had been killed the night before the feast for the winter stores. The King and Taliesin had both seen this as the possible inspiration for Tory’s dream. As Taliesin had experienced no such premonition, he felt that in this case Tory was perhaps confusing prophesy with a nightmare. But the Merlin did not say so in front of her. He explained that he felt the Queen so in tune with the Goddess and the land that she must have sensed the panic of the beasts led to the slaughter.

  Tory had seen naught but blood, gushing down walls, stairs, floors and eventually all over the earth, staining everything in its path a coat of red, so dark it appeared almost black. As life in the castle was calm now and Jenovefa and her child were well, Tory accepted this conclusion.

  By evening every fire in the kingdom would be extinguished, only to be rekindled from a ceremonial fire lit by a druid. From this fire, others would be lit in the outer bailey where the folk from the surrounding common could offer sacrifices to the Goddess in the hope of gaining good fortune for the coming year.

  Samhain was a very magical and spiritual time for the people of Britain, for it was thought to be the day when the Otherworld became visible to all humanity. Under the veil of night, the ghosts of the dead set out to wreak vengeance on the living, and evil marched unbridled across the land. Hence everyone was very aware of their behaviour at this time; if one angered the spirits, one would surely bring misfortune upon themself and their kin.

  This last day of the year had a sacred name of its own in the darker mystic circles. So dreaded by the ancients was it, that its true name was never uttered aloud and its rituals were never committed to parchment. The Nameless day, when an old King was dead and a bright new King not yet born, was especially sacred to the dark Queen in her destructive aspect. The shadow of the triple Goddess, and patron of all that is unwholesome in nature was a deity that thrived on humanity’s most selfish desires. Like her day, she too was nameless to the pure of heart. For once invoked she was a negative force to be reckoned with, as Sir Cadogan was about to discover.

  Cadogan had been drinking with his old comrades, Sir Vaugnan and Sir Jeven, who were also stationed at Degannwy for the cold seasons. Later that evening, Cadogan, who was good looking in a snakish kind of way, had managed to win the favour of a young maiden staying at the citadel, and had whisked her back to his chambers for a night of mischief. Samhain, like Beltaine, was renowned for it.

  The girl collap
sed onto his bed as intoxicated as the knight, her arms outstretched high above her head. ‘Do what thou will, sir,’ she invited, as he crawled on top of her, eager to oblige.

  Cadogan fumbled with her clothes, his fingers lacking any coordination due to all the mead he’d consumed. The girl giggled as she returned his affection, yet as his lips caressed her neck she began to quiver and shake. Cadogan, assuming this was due to his personal magnetism, thought nothing of it until she suddenly thrust him from her.

  ‘Get off me!’ Vanora’s harsh voice thundered, as she raised herself and stood beside the bed.

  ‘Art thou playing me for sport, child?’ Cadogan was rather annoyed.

  ‘Imbecile, it be me, Princess Vanora. Remember? Daughter of the great Chiglas? So much for thy proclaimed love for me and desire to assume the role of my father’s heir.’ Vanora was most displeased, as she observed the body of the maid she had seized.

  It was Vanora’s voice alright and her manner, yet it was the same maiden he’d been entertaining all night who stared him back. ‘Princess Vanora! How can this be?’

  ‘Never mind how I did it,’ Vanora commanded. ‘What of thy vow?’

  Cadogan finally got a grip on the situation and fell to his knees before the maiden. ‘But thee called my love a farce, claiming thy heart was already lost to Prince Caradoc.’

  ‘Well, I have changed my mind. My father hast decided Caradoc to be a mindless cretin, and thus unfit to succeed him. Hence he be most certainly unfit to claim my hand.’

  ‘Oh Majesty.’ He took her hand to kiss it, but she withdrew it immediately.

  ‘Not so fast,’ she walked away from him, observing his quarters with apparent distaste. ‘I have consulted with the dark forces and my father on the subject of thy origins, Cadogan. It would seem that thou also hast the right to claim the title and power of a prince, as thy father was the once King of Dyfed. Apparently he was unjustly done out of his title and kingdom by the Desi Clan, with the help of the damn Romans.’

  ‘Vortipor,’ Cadogan uttered the name with a vengeance. ‘Art thou sure of this?’

  ‘Of course I am!’ Vanora snapped. ‘Dost thou think for a moment that we could even consider thee if it were not the case?’ Her tone and manner became more ardent. ‘So, if thou dost still desire to lay claim to my hand, Sir Cadogan, to rule Powys one day in my father’s stead and claim back thy rightful seat in Dyfed, then,’ she moved closer, in encouragement, ‘my father, as with Caradoc, hast set thee a task to prove thy worthiness. If thou art successful, then my hand and title shall be thine.’

  Cadogan grinned broadly. In his drunken stupor her proposal sounded even more enticing than the maid’s. ‘Whatever service thy mighty father requires of me, consider it done. Just name the quest.’

  Vanora smiled broadly, pointing to his bedside table where a tiny black bottle slowly materialised. ‘It hast been made known to us that the new Queen of the Dragon, the War Goddess, already carries his heir. King Chiglas wants the Otherworld warrior from the future for himself. It be his wish that, come the first snowfall, thee take this bottle and make with it to Aberffraw. Then, without alerting any to the fact, give the contents to the Queen.’

  ‘What will it do to her?’ Cadogan didn’t seem as keen now.

  ‘It will sedate her for the journey to Powys and help rid us of Maelgwn’s troublesome seed.’

  ‘I do not know about this, the risk involved in just getting her out of Aberffraw unnoticed be very high indeed.’ He seemed to have sobered somewhat, giving the matter closer consideration. ‘Let alone the trip back to Powys! The mountains will be perilous come snowfall, I cannot guarantee she will survive.’

  ‘My love.’ Vanora crouched beside him, aroused that Cadogan, unlike Caradoc, actually seemed to be mildly intelligent. ‘My father shall send a boat that will await thee at the end of the Menai. This can bring thee all the way back to Powys — no mountains, just a short ride inland to our capital, Arwystli. What could be easier?’

  ‘It shan’t be easy, I assure thee.’ Cadogan, knowing Tory better than Vanora or her father did, thought it would be near impossible. Yet, he had so much to gain.

  ‘But thou art so smart, Cadogan. Thou hast not been caught out yet for the treacherous leech thou art.’

  ‘True.’ He took hold of her around the waist as the Princess seemed rather amiable at present.

  ‘So thee shall do it?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Excellent. Oh, there be one more thing, if I may?’ she flirted, aware this was the only way to persuade him.

  ‘Ask and it shall be done.’

  ‘We also want her maid, Katren, as we might need her for persuasive purposes.’

  ‘Wise move.’ Cadogan considered he could use her to the same end.

  ‘Stay in thy room this night and take advantage of this silly child, as she shall prove thy perfect alibi.’

  ‘But we have planned nothing for this night, why should I need an alibi?’ Cadogan was afraid he might have missed something.

  Vanora smiled, dropping her voice to a whisper. ‘So that when Caradoc escapes, thou shalt not be suspected. King Chiglas wishes to punish him for his bungling. Caradoc, of course, will believe his love coming to his rescue. But after he hast made it all the way back to my father at Arwystli, he shall find a very different reception awaits him.’ The pair grinned mischievously.

  As Cadogan broke from a kiss with her, he was startled to find the young maid had regained her own drunken sensibilities.

  ‘How did we end up on the floor?’ The girl burst into laughter.

  The knight didn’t bother with an explanation.

  Come grading day, the masters had burnt off much of their nervous energy at the Samhain celebrations. As they’d also had a day to rest and recuperate, they were all in a much improved frame of mind.

  Tory began with a simple meditation to relax them. ‘The perfect balance of mind, body and nature be what I expect to see this day. We have come a long way in just two months, so remember what I have taught thee. Remain calm, balanced and focused. I wish thee well.’

  Percival was seated at a small desk with pen and parchment, keeping score and jotting down the Queen’s notes as she discreetly conveyed them to him.

  Tory ran each master through what they’d learnt: kata, Tae-kwon-do exercises, kicks, and strikes on the bag. As this grading was a test of the self, competition through sparring wasn’t a factor. But when the masters had completed the program, they were given the option of taking a breaking test.

  Tory had been training Maelgwn in this technique, known as Shiwari, since their first lesson. The King had spent many hours hitting the straw pad, which hardened the hands, fists, and outer edge of the foot. Most of the masters had taken up the practice, yet none bar the King and Queen had ever tried it out on a wooden board.

  Some of the masters declined the test when informed that if they did not succeed, it would be deducted from their grade. This stipulation differentiated between those who truly believed it within their capabilities and those who did not; this belief was essential if one was to succeed.

  Most of the men opted to test their new skills, except for Rhys and Angus. Only Ione stepped forward to represent the women. Tory knew Katren was procrastinating, but her fear of loss prevented her from stepping forward. Tory thought this a shame, as Katren was quite capable and the planks were not very thick.

  First up was Brockwell, as he was so sure of himself.

  ‘Calm and focus thyself, Calin,’ Tory instructed gently. ‘Thought and action must be one, no hesitation.’ At the point where Brockwell unleashed his power, Tory realised that she was witnessing the warrior she’d known in Brian. A tear escaped her eye as she watched his unmistakeable technique, the wood splintering apart under the force of his blow.

  Vortipor, who hadn’t been concentrating from the start, was next. The trouble with Vortipor was that everything was a game to him, thus he accomplished naught but a bruise for attempting the feat.


  Cedric also failed. Tory knew that he’d only attempted the blow because he felt he had something to prove to everyone, which subsequently he did not.

  Ione had no problem with the test. Tory’s heart warmed when Ione then encouraged Tiernan with a light thump on the shoulder and a smile, as it came his turn. The knight, in the quiet realisation that his own personal mission had been accomplished, stepped forward confidently to face the breaking test. When Tiernan accomplished the deed, he and Ione actually hugged each other voluntarily. He then took the liberty of declaring them the supreme team, as they were the only pair to successfully perform the task.

  The last to step forward was the King, who did so with a huge smile on his face. ‘Two,’ he motioned, holding up two fingers.

  ‘Two!’ Tory just adored his spunk, challenging him in fun only as she felt confident he could do it.

  ‘Aye.’

  Tory gave him the go ahead. He has worked so hard on this skill, she quietly prayed, Goddess grant him victory.

  His subjects watched breathlessly as the King brought his closed fist down to shatter the two pieces of timber, and a round of applause was raised to commend the achievement. With this the examination was over.

  After tallying the points scored throughout the day, Tory gathered her students in the circle to award them their new colours. She first addressed those who’d made the least rate of progress.

  Cara had jumped a half grade from white belt-yellow tip (ninth Kyu), to yellow (eighth Kyu). Her progress and fighting style were good, but her concentration was not. Rhys, Cedric, Vortipor, and Angus had jumped a grade from white (tenth Kyu) to a yellow belt.

  Katren and Alma achieved a whole grade, from ninth Kyu to a yellow belt-green tip (seventh Kyu). Calin, Tiernan and Ione, who’d proven themselves outstanding, progressed from their white belt (tenth Kyu) up one and a half grades to the yellow belt-green tip (seventh Kyu).

  The star of the day was, of course, the Dragon himself, who proudly stepped up to receive his green belt. Maelgwn had jumped one and a half grades to sixth Kyu. He tied on the new belt that represented all those months of hard work, and wore it with great pride.