The Dark Age (3 page)

Tory squealed with amazement. ‘Dost thou know who put it there?' she asked.

‘Nay, who?' the Prince mistook her meaning.

‘Well, I am afraid I don't know,' she explained, mildly disappointed. Tory stopped mid-thought, feeling the cold steel of a sword at her throat; she could only assume Brockwell had recovered.

‘No common woman possesses such skills, thou art in cahoots with demons.'

‘I agree.' A heavyset, red-headed knight spoke up. ‘Do it, Brockwell.'

‘This doth not say much for thy word,' Tory squeezed out, looking to Maelgwn. She dared not move, to save cutting her own throat.

‘Brockwell, withdraw thy sword,' Maelgwn ordered.

‘But Majesty, hast she caused thee to take leave of thy senses. Did thee not see?'

‘Calin!' Maelgwn's voice thundered, shocking Brockwell to silence. ‘I ordered thee to yield!'

Tory was beginning to see why they called Maelgwn the Dragon. Brockwell reluctantly slid the sword away, making sure he nicked her neck in the process. She touched her throat to discover he'd drawn blood. ‘Thee did that on purpose,' she accused him, angered by the scar it would leave.

‘Aye.' He glared at her a moment, his wild blue eyes ablaze with hate and fear. He replaced his sword in its scabbard and moved to retrieve his armour.

‘Majesty,' the eldest knight pointed behind them, where a single rider made haste towards the group.

‘Now what?' Tory grumbled, nursing her wound.

‘Cadogan,' the red-headed knight announced with good cheer, riding off to meet him halfway.

As the party seemed more interested in their comrade, Tory backed up quietly to collect her gear. Fairly confident that she knew where she was, she'd definitely decided that she wanted to be elsewhere.
Why me?
Tory slipped on her jacket and zipped it all the way
up.
Because you always wanted to come here.
She hoisted on her backpack, looking over at the knights to see that the horseman had reached them.

A few torrid words passed between Cadogan and the others, before the Prince ordered them all to move out at once.

Something has got them worried. What would these men fear?
Tory watched as the knights rode off ahead of the Prince who turned and rode towards her direction, his expression grave.

Brockwell, who had taken off after the others, pulled up when he noticed. ‘Nay Majesty, please. She will only slow thee down.'

‘I promised safe passage. I cannot leave her to Saxon mercy. Go with the others, I will catch thee up by nightfall.' Maelgwn was angry at his knight's incessant disrespect. He had his reasons for wanting to spare this girl and his decision would be questioned by none bar his father. ‘Go!' He stressed the urgency.

The thundering sound of horses' hooves and wagons, perhaps hundreds of them, rose to a deafening roar as they approached from the hill behind them. Brockwell had to move now, or he would never make it round the ridge unseen.

‘Saxons,' Tory whispered, knowing them to be one of the more barbaric tribes of the time.

‘Climb on,' the Prince said. ‘I shall take us around the other way, through the forest.'

Tory backed away; he was an important historical figure and she would not be responsible for getting him killed. ‘Nay, thee will never outrun them with me …'

‘Do not argue with me woman, get on,' the Prince snapped, short on patience and time.

The Saxon tribe emerged over the crest of the hill and a few of the riders bolted on ahead in pursuit of the Prince's party.

‘They must have spotted Brockwell.' Tory took hold of the Prince's arm, and with one almighty heave Maelgwn lifted her, bags and all, onto the saddle behind him.

‘Hold on,' he cautioned as he turned the horse around and headed off down the ridge towards the forest.

T
he Prince rode hard for well over an hour, but the forest had become so dense that he was forced to slow his steed down to a walking pace.

Tory wasn't too fond of horses and had found the ride a rather harrowing experience. Still, she was calm now, as she sat in silence, resting her head against her escort's back.

Her rest was interrupted as the horse came to an abrupt standstill. Tory opened her eyes and withdrew her arms from around the Prince. They had reached a stream, which was a welcome sight indeed for it had been a long time between drinks. The Prince threw a leg over the horse and slid off, turning to help Tory.

She could feel herself blushing; she'd never received this kind of treatment back home. Most of the guys Tory had hung out with were her brother's friends who'd never wasted any airs and graces on her. If they had, she
probably would have found it patronising and decked them.

‘I believe we have reached a safe distance,' he assured her, leading his horse to the stream.

When the Prince crouched down to take a drink, splashing his face and neck, Tory took off her cumbersome backpack and followed suit. The water relieved her aching cheek. Over the past few hours it had constantly reminded her of how cocky she'd been, and how stupid — turning her back on an opponent during a fight. The slice Brockwell had made on her neck stung like a paper cut, and became even more irritated when she washed it. Tory then let her hair loose and brushed out the knots, before tossing the brush back in her pack.

Only then did she notice that the Prince had taken a seat and was watching her with some amusement.

‘Thou art so extraordinary,' Maelgwn said. ‘By what name art thou known?'

‘Tory Alexander,' she answered, feeling slightly embarrassed. ‘Tory, to my friends.'

‘And, where art thou from?'

This was a tricky question and she didn't want to pause too long to consider it, in case he thought she was concocting a lie. ‘My home be far away, in a country known as Australia.'

The Prince seemed perplexed by her answer. ‘Then how can it be that I, who consider myself to be fairly well learned, have no knowledge of this place? And how be it that thee speaks my tongue if thou art not from these parts?'

‘Ah well, my country will not be discovered for another twelve hundred years. As for speaking thy tongue, my father teaches British history and language. He was born a Briton himself, or Welsh as they be known in my time.'

The Prince was taken aback a moment. ‘Thou art from the future?'

‘Indeed.' Tory looked him straight in the eye, hoping he wouldn't think her mad.

‘What year doth thou claim to be from?' Maelgwn asked. ‘The truth now,' he added firmly.

‘I was born in the year nineteen sixty-six,' she began. ‘Yesterday, for me, was the year nineteen ninety-three.'

The Prince rose in fury, his eyes wide with disbelief.

It was only now that Tory realised how tall he was. He stood at a little under two metres and towered over her. This was unusual for one of his race in this period in history, as most of the Britons were more akin to her height, as Brockwell was.

Tory held out her hand to calm him. ‘I think I can prove it, if thee will just hear me out.'

Maelgwn was beginning to think his men were right about this girl; he didn't believe one word of her tale. Still, he was interested to see how far she'd go before he got the truth out of her. So he took a seat and beckoned to Tory to go ahead with her defence.

She smiled meekly and dived into her bag.
Thank you Mum, for giving me an instamatic.
Tory brought out the camera for his inspection, and the Prince reached for it.

‘Careful,' Tory said, and he quickly withdrew his hands. This made her smile. ‘It be harmless, I promise. Thee must just be careful not to drop it, as it be very fragile.' Tory offered it to him again.

Maelgwn looked over the camera, not game to touch it. ‘Thee also appears fragile, yet thou hast quite a sting. Thou hast my leave to explain.'

‘Okay.' Tory walked a few paces away and squatted down, looking at the Prince through the lens. ‘This be a camera, it takes pictures.'

‘It draws?'

‘Sort of.' Tory glanced around to get a light reading. She didn't want to use the flash unless she had to, as no doubt it would startle him. ‘It will be ready in just one moment.'

The Prince smiled, delighted at the thought. Just as Tory took the picture, however, he realised how preposterous it sounded and his stern expression returned.

‘The smile looked better,' Tory informed him as the camera ejected the photograph. She gave it a couple of gentle blows then held it under her jacket to develop. ‘Shan't be long, it has to sit in the dark for a moment.'

The very dubious Prince sat waiting with his arms folded. As she pulled the photo out to view, Tory broke into a huge smile.
My father would kill for this.

‘May I see?' Maelgwn's curiosity got the better of him.

‘Only if thee promises I can keep it.'

A gentle smile graced his lips as he viewed the picture. ‘Be this how I appear to thee? Thee must think
me barbaric, like the Saxons.' He stroked his beard as if he'd only just noticed it was there.

‘Not at all,' Tory smiled. ‘I assure thee, I do not look my best either.' The Prince laughed and Tory felt the air of mistrust begin to lift.

‘What else dost thou have in there? Show me more.'

Tory assembled her saxophone, an alto, and played a short, sultry piece that met with great approval from the Prince. Maelgwn loved the music of his court bards, and he found this high-pitched horn every bit as beautiful as the harp or pan flute.

Then, while Tory set up her CD Walkman and speakers, Maelgwn picked up one of the discs. He moved it to and fro, catching beams of sunlight which reflected a rainbow around the forest.

‘Amazing, what does it do?'

‘It plays music too.' Tory explained simply. ‘Here.' She gestured to the disc in his hand.

Upon seeing the Prince's selection, a heavy metal album, she said, ‘I don't think thou art quite ready for this just yet.' She flicked through her collection. ‘I believe this may be more to thy taste.'

A soft piano piece began to fill the air, and the Prince stood astounded. ‘By the Goddess! I have never heard the like.'

‘It be piano,' Tory whispered, not wanting to break the mood she'd created.

The Prince closed his eyes and took a deep breath. ‘It be the most beautiful music I have ever heard.'

The way he said this made Tory feel that this brief moment of pleasure was well needed. He wandered
slowly around the small clearing, lost for a time in another world.

Could he possibly have something to do with my interest in this period of history? What if I never make it home? Will I again be born in the twentieth century to aimlessly search for information on the Dark Age, without a clue as to why?

Suddenly the Prince appeared disturbed, so Tory switched off the music. Now only the sounds of the forest could be heard. Maelgwn had drawn his sword and was watching the forest with caution. Tory remained low, even though she'd heard no sound out of the ordinary.

All was still a moment, then two bowmen emerged from the cover of the trees. There was little Maelgwn could do, his sword against two bows.

The pair yelled instructions in a Germanic tongue, and at a glance Tory guessed them to be outlaws. They were very fair haired and more primitive in appearance than any of the Britons she'd encountered thus far. These men were tall, but not as heavyset as Maelgwn's men.

The Prince dropped his sword as the bowmen ventured into the clearing. They circled him, gloating over their prize; they could see that he was a rich man. One stood back to cover their captive, while the more adventurous of the two approached Maelgwn to relieve him of his riches.

Tory took this as her cue and stood, letting loose a whistle to draw their attention.

It would seem the pair had been so focused on the Prince that they hadn't spotted Tory. The knave closest
to the Prince was delighted at the discovery and stepped towards her.

Maelgwn had to smile at the two unsuspecting thieves. Tory noticed this and winked to assure him she had a plan.

The knave dropped his bow to take her in hand. He eyed her over, expressing his pleasure to his accomplice who sniggered in response.

Maelgwn took a step forward but the bowman interrupted any thoughts he may have had for her rescue.

As the man pulled Tory close to him, she could barely breathe for the stench of his body.
I'll die of suffocation
. He grasped her back with both hands and ground her against his groin; his legs were spread wide apart, as he was much taller than she. ‘Perfect!' she whispered to her assailant and, gathering all the power she could muster, promptly kneed him in the groin. When the man keeled over she belted his face with her knee, so hard she broke his nose.

This distraction was all Maelgwn needed, and he reclaimed his sword to run the outlaw through. He turned to find the other knave out to settle the score with Tory. The Prince approached from behind and severed the man's head with one clean stroke of his blade.

Tory freaked as she watched the head roll across the ground; the man's body lay twitching where it fell. ‘Art thou crazy!' she yelled, hysterical. ‘I could have knocked him out or something, thee did not have to kill him.' She began to tremble from the shock and her stomach turned at the sight of so much blood.

Maelgwn didn't understand this at all. ‘But he would have killed thee.'

She was going to be sick. ‘I can take care of myself. What be wrong with you people?' She darted off into the bushes, leaving the Prince rather bemused.

By the time she'd returned the bodies had been dragged into the undergrowth. Maelgwn stood with the reins in his hand, ready to leave. Tory approached him, ashamed of her behaviour. ‘I want to apologise, I did not mean …'

Maelgwn waved her to silence, tossing her an apple. ‘If thou host recovered, we should make haste to reach the others by nightfall.' He mounted his horse and smiled. ‘Or Brockwell shall have the men believing thou hast turned me to stone.'

 

After clearing the forest, the terrain was more obliging and they travelled at a steady pace for the rest of the day.

The Prince slowed his horse to a stop on the crest of a hill. He spotted smoke from a camp fire and smiled, pleased that dinner would be well under way. ‘Art thou hungry?' he asked Tory, who was dozing against his back.

She groaned in pleasure at the thought of food. ‘I could eat a horse. No offence.' She patted the animal without moving her exhausted body.

‘Well hopefully that shan't be necessary,' the Prince answered as they galloped down the hill.

The camp site was a hive of activity. A wild pig, slain by the warriors, was roasting over the fire. The
Prince's tent had been raised, and torches were lit around the encampment to discourage thieves. Most of the men had now settled by the fire, telling stories of their battles this day over much mead.

As the Prince rode into the camp, his men rushed to meet him. All except Brockwell, who appeared rather perturbed.

Madoc, the eldest amongst them, was the first to reach the Prince. ‘Majesty, I shall never leave thy side again. I have been out of my mind with worry. What would I have told the King?'

Maelgwn dismounted in good cheer, the smell of pork filling his nostrils. He slapped his old companion on the back, assuring him. ‘'Twas no need to worry, Sir Madoc, I had Tory here to aid me.' Maelgwn turned to help her down, and no sooner had her feet hit the ground than Brockwell was in her face.

‘Thou dost not belong here.'

Tory took a step back, holding her hand to her head. ‘So the Saxons failed to catch thee, what a shame.'

Maelgwn intervened before the situation got out of hand. ‘Brockwell, I swear this very day, I would have been murdered by thieves if not for the services of this gracious lady.' As Brockwell was about to protest, the Prince added staunchly, ‘And I will not hear another word said against her.'

Brockwell glared at Tory a moment before withdrawing to the fire.

‘So thou hast seen a bit of action, Sire?' a knight, roughly Maelgwn's age, inquired.

Tory noticed the man's steely blue eyes fixed on her. He was only of average build, but seemed a rather menacing character nevertheless.

The Prince took Tory by the arm and led her towards his tent. ‘Cadogan, I have seen things this day I never before imagined.'

‘Do tell, Majesty.' Cadogan smiled with open envy as he watched Tory disappear into the tent.

‘Later,' the Prince said, closing the tent flap behind him.

Tory offloaded her bags and Maelgwn motioned her to a large fur on the ground.

‘Rest, thou art safe here. I shall wake thee presently with food and drink.'

‘Sounds marvellous,' Tory replied, crawling onto the thick fur rug.

Maelgwn freed himself from the confines of his armour, watching Tory while she rested. The candle beside her cast a light across the mark of the Dragon on her forehead and he studied it a moment. The Prince believed the story of Tory's origins, or at least he believed that she believed it. But if she was telling the truth, who had brought her back to this time and branded her with his mark? Was it sorcery or coincidence that she appeared so much like the late Queen of Gwynedd? There was only one man Maelgwn knew who had the knowledge and skill to carry out such a feat, but he had not seen the old wizard for over a decade.

Nevertheless, she was beautiful, the Prince concluded, when she was not conducting herself like a man. He made
a mental note to inquire about her methods of fighting as he left to join his men outside.

 

Maelgwn gave Tory a nudge and she woke with a fright. ‘Easy,' he said. ‘Here, drink.' The Prince held out a horn full of liquid.