Chronicle of Ages (3 page)

‘Really?' Tory folded her arms, immediately irked by the tone of his response. ‘And why might that be? Hast he no respect for the beliefs of others?' Tory sensed the anger building within him, and suddenly regretted that
she'd chosen to wear a dress this evening.

‘What could such an orgy have to do with the pursuit of spiritual perfection and oneness with the Almighty?' As soon as the statement left his lips, Conan knew that he betrayed the Briton identity that he had assumed; he must divert the Queen's attention before she questioned him about his religious preferences, for he remembered little of the native beliefs. ‘Look.' He pointed to a young lad who was vanquishing a woman at least ten years his senior. ‘The corruption of young boys! Why, that lad couldn't be more than fourteen years on this earth.'

Tory looked twice, realising she knew the lad in question. He was Calin Brockwell's eldest son. ‘Please excuse me a moment, Sir Eldred.' Tory headed down to reprimand the Prince. ‘Bryce!'

Bryce cringed as the sound of his Sensei's voice registered in his brain. He let go of the willing maiden that he'd spent half the night wooing, and resigned himself to the fact that he'd blown it. He should have lured her into the darkness of the fields sooner. As he watched the Queen of Gwynedd stride down towards him, Bryce admired her beauty — what a shame that she wasn't the woman accompanying him into the fields this night.

‘Doth thy parents know thou art out here?' she quizzed him.

‘Father dost,' Bryce was pleased to inform.

‘But not thy mother,' Tory clarified.

‘Hardly,' Bryce grumbled. ‘She still believes me a virgin.'

The lad's statement shocked Tory a little and this
must have reflected in her face.

‘Ha, ha,' Bryce chuckled breaking into a huge smile, ‘I made thee think, Sensei, did I not?' He winked at her.

Bryce's gall never ceased to amaze Tory, for he made no secret of the fact that he adored her, and had even informed Maelgwn that he planned to marry her as soon as the Dragon departed this earth.

‘Let the lad be.'

Tory was surprised by the instruction as Taliesin suddenly manifested beside her.

‘All due respect, High Merlin, I shall not let the lad be.' She took Bryce by the arm, whereby he twisted his hand down to take hold of hers.

‘It be his time.' Taliesin gently pried their hands apart, receiving more resistance from Bryce than Tory.

The tone of the Merlin's voice let Tory know that he knew something that she did not, and so Tory complied with his wish.

‘Off with thee, boy.' The Merlin repressed a smile as the lad could obviously not believe his luck.

‘I shall not forget this, High Merlin,' Bryce grinned, taking hold of the maiden's hand and making off with her.

‘Aye, that be true enough,' he chuckled, looking back to Tory.

‘Alright, Taliesin, out with it.' Now that they were alone, Tory's address became less formal.

Taliesin held up a finger, putting her off a moment, and he turned to observe Aurelius Conan who had been watching Tory intently. As Taliesin took a few steps in Conan's direction, the soon-to-be chieftain backed up and made haste back into the crowds in the inner bailey.
‘He exhibits all the fear of a pawn of Rome.'

‘Well, what dost thou expect? Thee did not have to miraculously manifest beside me,' Tory scolded, not happy that Taliesin had fed Conan's fear. ‘Could thee not have walked, like any normal person?'

‘The more fear of the Goddess and her people that we instil in that one, the better,' the Merlin stated, appearing to have a bad taste in his mouth.

‘Tell me what you know,' Tory demanded, completely unaware that Maelgwn was creeping up behind her. She gasped as her eyes were suddenly covered by his hands.

‘I have come to claim my due bounty,' he whispered.

‘Maelgwn, please, I was just —'

‘Saying goodbye.' Maelgwn finished the sentence for her, turning her around and bundling her onto his shoulder.

Tory realised a struggle might dampen Maelgwn's enthusiasm, and having no desire to do that, she looked back to the Merlin to announce, ‘I want to see thee first thing on the morrow.'

‘Maybe second thing.' Maelgwn turned back to advise the Merlin.

‘We shall see what eventuates,' Taliesin said to himself.

 

In an attempt to avoid witnessing any more of the Briton's unnatural activities, Conan shied away from the main guest area and crept back into the castle via the kitchen entrance.

‘Sir Eldred?' Cara spied him creeping through her
food preparation area, and moved to inquire as to what was amiss with him. ‘Can I fetch thee something?'

His eyes closed at the sound of her voice, for it had a warmth and joyous tone that reminded him so much of another he had loved. ‘Nothing for me.' Conan turned to behold the Lady Cara and in the brightly-lit kitchens she appeared even more like the lovely maiden, Olivia, whose affections he had pursued in Ravenna.

Olivia, the daughter of a wealthy Roman senior, had rejected Conan's advances because of his breeding. But here she was again, transformed into a Briton.

The Lady smelt like a field of spring flowers, and just as all his being had craved Olivia, Conan found his unsatisfied senses of touch and taste wanting to experience this woman more intimately.

‘Art thou sure … a drink perhaps.' Cara began pouring the mead from a barrel before Conan could decline.

‘Thy smile be the greatest feast in this fortress,' Conan wooed her, to see what kind of reaction he'd get. ‘I retire to my bed a content and happy man.' He bowed and made to leave.

‘What a lovely thing to say.' Cara was flattered. After ten years of marriage such comments from her husband were rare. Vortipor went on the theory that actions spoke louder than words.

‘Surely thou hast heard every praise to beauty that ever there was, a thousand times over?' Conan turned to face her and slowly backed up a few steps. Would she pursue him?

‘Not a thousand times.' She forced a smile and
looked back to her preparations.

As she didn't really seem all that enthusiastic about going back to work, Conan suggested, ‘Hast thou seen the fires, Lady?'

Cara shook her head. ‘Too much to do.'

‘I think thou dost deserve a break.' Conan offered her his arm to escort her down.

As charming as this young knight was, didn't he realise that it would be highly inappropriate for her to attend the fires with anyone but Vortipor? ‘My husband shall come for me soon enough,' she declined politely, moving back into the main kitchen where servants abounded.

He longed to ask Cara how such a flower as she had ended up married to a rogue ruler like Vortipor. She didn't seem entirely happy in her role as the first lady of Dyfed and she certainly deserved better than to be ravaged so roughly in public.

Conan began to fancy that he could take the Lady Cara away from all this. He much preferred Ravenna anyway, and never had any intention of staying in this godforsaken part of the world. He would rule Gwent Is Coed; he just planned to do it from as far away as possible. A conquest or two before I go would be desirable, however … and to return to Ravenna victorious, with a beautiful heathen convert, would certainly impress.

‘The Dragon be watching thee.'

The caution started Conan and he turned to find the boy who'd been pestering him earlier.

‘Nothing escapes the Dragon's eyes,
Sir Eldred
.'

The boy accentuated the name, as though he knew it was a falsehood. He had the look of the Dragon about him, dark hair, dark eyes, dark presence. It made Conan shudder to be near the child, and having seen all that he cared to, he made for his father's chambers without further delay.

M
onths passed before Tory saw a merlin again, and even then it wasn't Taliesin.

‘Selwyn!' Tory raced to embrace the wandering Druid, whom she had not seen for over a year. ‘What brings thee home to Gwynedd?'

‘Unfortunately, a concern, Majesty. I wish it could be otherwise.' He humbled himself in the wake of her hug, thankful for the mothering comfort that only she gave him. ‘This man be from the camp of Aurelius Conan.' He motioned to a soldier, quietly awaiting an audience by the door. ‘And what he hast to say will be of interest to thee.'

Maelgwn entered the west wing gallery and, upon sighting Selwyn, slapped his hands, overjoyed. ‘Praise the Goddess, a real harpist.'

Selwyn bowed deeply to his King, as did the soldier by the door.

‘Why all the long faces?' Maelgwn's good mood waned, along with his pace.

‘If I may, Majesties …' The soldier came forward to tell his tale. ‘I am from the camp of Aurelius Conan, and although he shall rule Gwent Is Coed before long, I feel that my first allegiance be to the Goddess and her folk.' He looked to Tory and bowed his head, reverently.

‘Thy devotion pleases the great mother,' Tory assured him, urging him to continue.

‘My master plans to build a new stronghold in Gwent, but his choice of location be a puzzle. The selected site be a place known to the local folk as the Rock of Fortress, a sheer cliff face that rises steeply at the head of the Vale of Neath, Craig-y-Ddinas.'

‘What?' Maelgwn, who was about to be seated, refrained. ‘But Craig-y-Ddinas borders Dyfed.'

‘My very thought, Majesty,' the soldier confirmed. ‘Why build a stronghold on an ally's border, unless —'

‘Unless thou art planning to have to defend thyself against that ally,' Maelgwn summed up. ‘Hast the man taken leave of his senses! Conan must realise that he could never hope to win a war against the combined forces of four kingdoms.'

‘Conan could not have allies in Italy who would aid him in such a conquest,' Tory informed, ‘as from what I remember of history, Justinian is currently planning the reconquest of the Roman Empire. All Roman forces shall be engaged in a war against the Goths until the
final downfall of the Roman Empire about thirty years from now.'

The information made Maelgwn smile: there was a definite advantage in being married to a woman from the future. ‘But Conan doth not have access to thy sources, so he hast no idea that the Roman Empire be on the verge of a disaster.'

‘Begging your pardon, Majesties,' the soldier spoke up. ‘I believe there be an even greater threat to Briton than my master's plans.'

‘Go on.' Maelgwn gave him leave to voice his concern.

‘Craig-y-Ddinas be a well known haunt of the Tylwyth Teg. Ever since construction started on the fortress, an unearthly mist hast descended on the site … tools, materials and men have gone missing. Aurelius Conan hast punished all those who speak about the strange occurrences at Craig-y-Ddinas, accusing them of trying to undermine his plans with superstitious nonsense.' A look of utter bewilderment swept the soldier's face. ‘My fellow kinsmen art trapped between the master's wrath and that of the Tylwyth Teg, and quite frankly, I think I should rather face the might of Rome than the power of the dominion of nature.'

This was grave news. Maelgwn released a heavy sigh. The Tylwyth Teg had put him on the throne of Gwynedd, and could just as easily withdraw from his lands, whereby the prosperity of his kingdom would vanish along with them. ‘I wonder if Taliesin knows about this?'

‘I think he knew about it at Beltaine,' commented Tory.

‘Damn it!' Maelgwn cursed the High Merlin. ‘Why does he never say something before these disasters art upon us?'

‘Pardon me, Majesty.' Selwyn cleared his throat before pointing out: ‘If Taliesin foresees a disaster, to forewarn of it be to feed the manifestation of it. Like everyone else he must wait for sure signs that the ill-event will come to pass before trying to avert it. For to try and avert a disaster that dost not exist would also be to acknowledge and permit the existence of it.'

The King could hardly believe that his one-time page was now tutoring him in the secret doctrine of the greater mysteries. ‘A fair point,' Maelgwn conceded. ‘Still, whether or not Taliesin considers this situation volatile enough to take action, I do.'

‘I second thy view.' Tory lent her support to any plan her husband might be hatching.

‘Alright.' Maelgwn motioned them all in close. ‘Now, the way I see it, there art four courses of action that we must pursue at once …'

Selwyn, knowing more about the etheric world and its inhabitants than any in the room, was to go to Craig-y-Ddinas and try to seek an audience with the Tylwyth Teg.

The soldier would ride to Powys to inform King Brockwell of the recent developments in Gwent. Brockwell would then take word to Vortipor in Dyfed, along with additional forces to reinforce the eastern border of Vortipor's kingdom.

Tory would attempt to seek Taliesin out, whilst Maelgwn went to Aurelius Caninus in Gwent to see
what he could do about getting the construction on the fort halted.

‘I believe I can speed up the proceedings, Majesties.' Selwyn bowed before gripping the hand of the soldier and assuring him, ‘I shall see thee swiftly to Powys.' Looking back to Tory and Maelgwn, Selwyn grinned and vanished, the soldier with him.

‘Ahah!' Tory cheered. ‘He mastered physical teleportation!' She shook her head, amazed. ‘I do wish Taliesin would teach me that art … I may have learnt how to ride a horse, but I have yet to enjoy it.' She sighed. Riding to Llyn Cerrig Bach was not really what she had planned for today.

‘Buck up.' Maelgwn nudged her shoulder with his. ‘At least thou dost not have to ride to Gwent.'

Tory wasn't entirely sure of that. ‘If I fail to find the High Merlin, I will.'

‘Thou shalt not fail.' Maelgwn kissed her forehead. ‘Taliesin will always come to thy aid.'

We can only hope
, she thought on the quiet. For if the High Merlin was of the mind to be elusive, Tory doubted the Goddess herself could find him.

 

Once he'd seen Tory, Selwyn and the soldier depart, Maelgwn went down onto the beach at Aberffraw, of the mind to seek the services of his dragon, Rufus. Besides one lone fisherman the beach was deserted, and even that soul was so far in the distance that he could barely be seen.

Usually when Maelgwn required the aid of his otherworldly affiliate he would have to enter the etheric realms to make contact with the creature. But today the
King did not have the time to go seeking a doorway to the Otherworld, and the services of a merlin to oversee his journey into the ethers.

Maelgwn took a few moments to calm and focus his mind before summoning forth the dragon into the Middle Kingdoms of this physical plane of existence.

Rufus, old friend, I have great need of thee.
Maelgwn projected his thoughts into the inner-space of his being.
Once again the peace and prosperity of the Goddess' lands art being threatened. I beg thee to speed me on my quest to avert this calamity, in the name of my forefathers and the great houses Don and Llyr!

At once a great mist began to rise off the water as the ocean itself appeared to billow and boil. From out of the waves, the great head of the creature emerged to address the King. The lone fisherman fled.

One does not usually do house calls, Dragon
, Rufus bethought his tiny human charge.

‘I am most grateful for thy pains,' Maelgwn assured. ‘I am in need of a flight of passage to Gwent Is Coed.'

Straight into a war zone. That figures,
commented the dragon in a huff.

‘What dost thou know of it?' Maelgwn quizzed.

Gwyn ap Nudd hast shrouded a large area of Gwent in mist,
advised Rufus.
Heaven help any human who wanders into his stronghold for they shall never find their way out.

‘It be Gwyn ap Nudd himself that we must appease?' Maelgwn questioned, a little daunted by the notion.

Gwyn ap Nudd was the Lord of the dark hours, the King of the Tylwyth Teg, a formidable warrior and a stealthy hunter. It was said he had legions of deceased
warlords at his disposal, an army of the very finest warriors to ever walk the face of Briton.

‘Wonderful,' whined Maelgwn, as Rufus nodded to affirm his claim.

Maelgwn's first concern was for Selwyn, who was probably already lost in the otherworldly mists. Still, the young Druid did amaze him every subsequent visit with his comprehension and practice of the sacred mysteries. Better that he had sent Selwyn than any of his subjects, as the young bard's innocence and sense of childlike wonder would, without doubt, be the best defence when travelling through the regions of Gwyn ap Nudd.

So then, Dragon. What be one's enticement to accompany thee on this fools crusade?
Rufus cut straight through the small talk to get down to the serious negotiations.

Maelgwn scratched his head. ‘I had not given thy payment any thought.'

Never do,
said the dragon.

‘Well, what would thee like?' The King hoped the dragon had eaten already, as he had a taste for grievous human criminals and Gwynedd's jails were not host to any at present.

O-oh … let one think.
Rufus emerged from the water to lay on the sand and contemplate his price.
What dost one desire most?

The dragon leant his head on his claw and tapped his talons against his hard scaly cheek as he was wafted away on a flight of fancy. Maelgwn began to lose patience. ‘I know where thou art from there be no such thing as time, but here it be rather a pressing concern. Could we possibly speed this along?'

Well, there art precious few things thee can give one that one cannot acquire on one's own,
the creature informed in a leading manner.

‘There must be something!'

The King was starting to get desperate and Rufus knew it.
Well, there be
one
thing …

‘Then I implore thee to name it,' Maelgwn urged.

The dragon fixed his eyes firmly on his charge.
My freedom. Release me from my charge of thee, so that I am never again obliged to enter the Middle Kingdoms.

Maelgwn was taken aback and saddened by the dragon's price. ‘But I would miss thee, Rufus.'

Then come visit one in the comfort of one's etheric home.
The King still seemed reluctant to part with the dragon's services, which the creature had been ordered to provide his earthly charge by Keridwen. Rufus had got into the habit of bargaining with Maelgwn for his services, because the young King had once made the mistake of rewarding the dragon. On every escapade after that, Rufus expected an incentive. Maelgwn usually found it more convenient to bend to Rufus' demands than to disturb the great Goddess. What's more, the beast could make any quest as comfortable or treacherous as suited his whim — Maelgwn had found it paid to ensure the dragon was appeased. Rufus had finally found himself a way out of the punishment incurred by his terrorising the people of Dumnonia for a time.

One shall still watch over thee, Dragon, grant thee one's virtues and award thee protection when travelling the ethers.
Rufus crawled a little closer to Maelgwn, to get more intimate with him.
One's youth has fled, and exposure to
the physical plane only speeds the ageing process and makes one's aches and pains all the more obvious. Please, release one from this drudgery.

Maelgwn had to feel sorry for the beast, forever having to run to his rescue, and so agreed to Rufus' price. ‘Take me to Gwent, Rufus, and I shall release thee from all thy physical plane obligations.'

One shall never ask for anything more.
Rufus rose to take his last flight in the Middle Kingdoms of the physical world.

 

Tory arrived at Llyn Cerrig Bach to find Taliesin seated on the stairs of the temple ruins, which housed the gateway to his otherworldly abode.

His long, fine, silvery-white hair fell loose around his shoulders and sparkled in the dappled sunlight, as did the two long strands of his oriental-style moustache. A gentle smile graced the features of his youthful face; he appeared calm and contented, as always.

Annoyed, Tory dismounted from her horse. ‘What are you doing?'

‘Waiting for you,' Taliesin replied in modern English, which he always employed when he and Tory were alone.

‘Well, you could have come to Aberffraw and saved me the ride.' Tory came to stand before the Merlin, her hands perched on her hips.

‘I need your undivided attention, so it's best that you are removed from the interruptions of your position.'

‘In that case, why didn't you come get me?' Tory seated herself beside him. ‘You know how I detest riding.'

‘Why didn't you just will yourself here.' Taliesin held up both hands in question. ‘You are perfectly able.'

Tory served the Merlin a sceptical look.

‘Have you ever seriously tried it?' he challenged.

Tory couldn't say that she had.

‘Unlike poor Selwyn, who has had to strive to refine and purify his spirit in order to achieve the feat of physical teleportation, the molecular structure of your body is entirely subject to your will, which is part and parcel of being one of the Chosen. The part of your being that is made up of etheric substance is now mature enough to understand and comply with your wishes. You already control your own molecules, to a degree, by projecting the outward illusion that you are aging, even though you are not. Teleportation is no harder to master, only harder in your mind. Just try it if you don't believe me.'

Tory could see through his ploy. As usual, Taliesin was just trying to avoid the subject. ‘I want to know what Conan is up to in Gwent. Does he plan to attack Dyfed?'