The Dark Age (6 page)

‘If his lordship agrees.' Tory held up her hand for a high-five. ‘Now, hold up your hand.'

The Prince turned to see the two girls slap hands before hugging each other.

‘It would seem they get along.' Brockwell chuckled, walking over to get them moving. ‘Thee will have a whole harem soon.'

Maelgwn considered this statement to be not too far from the truth, as his intended bride was probably on her way to Mon by now.

 

Once they'd reached the isle, the soldiers returned with the barge to the mainland and only the royal party rode on to Aberffraw.

The island's terrain was flatter than the rest of Gwynedd, which made for an easy ride. They passed over miles of common, scattered with farms and cottages, before they finally arrived on the outskirts of the estate.

The Prince brought the party to a halt, and his knights and squires gathered around him to hear his instruction. Tory quietly advised Katren to hang back a little, as Maelgwn had not said a word to her since their run-in this morning.

The Prince looked to Cadogan. ‘As soon as we arrive I want thee to take Tory straight to the northern caphouse.' This was one of the chambers to be found at the top of each of the house's four towers. ‘Selwyn, thee will see to it that Katren finds the maids' sleeping quarters.' Selwyn nodded. ‘Madoc, keep Gilmore distracted, and Brockwell …' Maelgwn looked to his champion, who was eagerly awaiting his task. ‘I will need thee to help me with thy mother.'

Brockwell's mother, Lady Gladys, had charge of the household at Aberffraw, as she was sister to the King. The Prince's mother had been slain in the uprising of his uncle, and Lady Gladys had assumed the responsibility in her stead.

‘I would like to speak to her of Tory before they meet,' the Prince explained.

Brockwell nodded, understanding this reasoning.

 

The royal house at Aberffraw was situated on the coast of Mon overlooking the ocean. High stone walls ran between its four towers and the inner bailey courtyard was located within the walls of the house. The outer bailey pathways led off in opposite directions to stables and to a great hall, which Tory presumed to be the army lodgings. Another large stone wall encompassed this huge area, its buildings and grounds, beyond which lay the village and the common.

The Prince and his company were met with a grand welcome from the locals as they made their way through the village. Tory noticed a beautiful woman sitting outside one of the cottages. The woman had drawn her attention because, unlike all the other women Tory had encountered thus far, she seemed quietly proud. She was obviously poor, judging from her dress, and her expression was one of deep malice. Tory noticed her spiteful glare resting on Cadogan as they passed.

When they reached the inner court of the grand Roman castle, Lady Gladys, along with a couple of young ladies in her care, and the servants of the house, were waiting to greet the Prince and his party. Sir Gilmore, the King's representative at Aberffraw who ran the estate and trained the men for their ever-expanding armies, was also in attendance with a small guard.

Madoc kept Sir Gilmore distracted, exchanging greetings during their long-awaited reunion; they had
become firm friends during their many years of service to King Caswallon, but had not seen each other for some time.

The Prince and Brockwell tried to distract Lady Gladys while Cadogan went about the Prince's bidding. As overwhelmed as she was to see her boys safely home again, Lady Gladys didn't miss a trick. ‘Where be Sir Cadogan taking that girl?' She gestured after him, waiting for one of them to offer an explanation.

‘Shh!' the Prince and Brockwell urged her, not wanting to alert Sir Gilmore.

‘I need to speak with thee at once,' Maelgwn whispered to her, stressing the urgency.

Unable to resist getting in on her boys' secret, Lady Gladys excused the three of them on the premise that they needed to discuss an urgent family matter.

 

Cadogan swung open the heavy timber door to the tower and beckoned for Tory to enter.

Said the spider to the fly
. Tory strolled past him, not liking the way he leered at her. She entered the darkened tower to find a couple of stairs leading down to a stone bath and fireplace, and a high but narrow stone stairway spiralling up to the main chamber. ‘I will be fine now, thank you Cadogan,' Tory assured him, reclaiming her bags and making her way up the stairs.

When she reached the top, Tory was taken aback. The round room contained a large bed, a fireplace, a desk, and a huge mirror that, although it was rather tarnished, would serve its purpose. Tapestries, archaic maps and even what appeared to be hand-drawn star
charts adorned the walls. The rugs and furs that covered the stone floor would help fend off the cold, and there were candles and torches galore to light the large room at night. Tory imagined it would be quite bright and airy by day when the heavy wooden shutters were open.

Cadogan came up behind her, the sound of mischief in his voice. ‘The Prince did not say that I should leave thee.' He took hold of her around the waist and lifted her off the ground.

Tory pushed him away, most annoyed. ‘Watch thyself, Cadogan. Do not make me hurt thee,' she warned, sure that he couldn't be serious.

‘Come on,' he urged, taking a step closer. ‘Do not save it for the Prince.'

He was serious alright, the smug grin on his face said it all. Tory raised her hands to defend herself. ‘Last warning.'

 

Lady Gladys led her son and the Prince to a small, cosy room, where they relaxed drinking mead while Maelgwn explained his woes to the two people he trusted most.

‘I believe Caradoc hast somehow convinced our father that Gwynedd needs the support of Chiglas and his armies. This marriage be meant to unite our two kingdoms, but I do not trust it.' Maelgwn took a seat, perplexed. Caradoc, his younger brother, had kept the constant company of King Chiglas at his court in Powys since the uprising and subsequent death of their uncle Cadfer. He was power hungry and more fond of warring than pursuits of the mind, thus he and Maelgwn had never seen eye to eye.

It made Gladys' heart break to see the Prince so unhappy. ‘Maelgwn.' She took hold of his hands. ‘Thy father be no longer a young man, and thou art now of eight and twenty. Soon thee shall be king, and it be high time thee took a wife. Gwynedd must have an heir apart from thy brother.'

‘But the daughter of Chiglas!' Brockwell cringed, disgusted by the whole idea. He was in sympathy with his cousin.

‘I am sure she be lovely.' Gladys defended the good judgement of her brother, Caswallon. She then turned the conversation back to the matter that was of immediate concern to her. ‘Who be the girl thou art hiding? And what hast she to do with all this?'

Maelgwn sat forward to explain. ‘I know that her name be Tory Alexander, though unfortunately her origins are untraceable as she hast lost part of her memory. However …' he lowered his voice, ‘she possesses a fighting style superior to any I have ever seen. If this can be learnt and applied to our forces, it would give us a great advantage over the enemies of Gwynedd, whoever they may be.'

Gladys was intrigued by his story, but knew she was not getting all of it. ‘Be she a sorceress, this girl?' Gladys could not understand a woman possessing such talents.

‘Nay,' Brockwell assured his mother firmly, much to the Prince's surprise. ‘I believe she be a good and honest person, just different.' Brockwell was at a loss to explain exactly how he felt about her.

The Prince told his aunt that the study of Tory's style of fighting was to be a special project of his own,
and until he had fully investigated the matter, he wanted none outside the room to know of it. By some miracle, he managed to persuade her to help him keep Tory a secret. Lady Gladys was an intelligent woman and a good ally in any situation.

Maelgwn left Brockwell with his mother and made for the north tower to see how Tory was settling in. As he crossed the great foyer, he chanced to spy Cadogan limping away in the opposite direction. The sight urged Maelgwn to make haste to the caphouse to ensure that Tory was alright.

He found her safe and sound, unpacking her bags on the bed. She didn't appear to be in the best of moods, however.

‘I have just about had it with the lot of thee.'

‘Please, forgive me. 'Twas stupid to send Cadogan to accompany thee, I was not thinking.'

‘I ask thee.' Tory unzipped her jacket and threw it off, too hot and bothered to put up with it any longer. ‘What would a woman do if she could not defend herself here?'

Maelgwn took a step forward, hoping he wouldn't sound like he was condoning his knight's behaviour. ‘Thee must understand, these men have no great learning. All they know is what they want or need.' Maelgwn struggled to keep his eyes from straying to her cleavage.

‘Not thee, too!' Tory planted her hands on her hips and flaunted her figure. ‘It be just a body for heaven's sake, get over it! It be not like thou hast never seen the female form before, I am sure.' She turned back to her unpacking, surprised that grown men would carry on so.

Maelgwn was quiet for a moment; he could not deny that Tory aroused in him more than just an interest in fighting techniques. As he gazed at her, he could quite clearly make out every muscle in her supple, young body through the strange black material that hugged her form like a second skin. ‘Forgive me. I have not been in the company of a beautiful woman in as many months as my men.'

Tory felt a sudden twinge of remorse.

‘Although most of them found solace at Degannwy,' Maelgwn added to lighten the mood.

That's why Brockwell was so chirpy this morning, Tory surmised. She felt guilty taking out her anger on Maelgwn when he'd been nothing but a perfect gentleman since they'd met. ‘Nay, I am the one who should apologise.' She grabbed a sweat-shirt from the pile of clothes on the bed and threw it on. ‘Back home we hardly wear any clothes half the year, it be too hot.'

‘Sounds like a nice place.' The thought brought a smile to his face. ‘Hast thou seen this?' He pointed to two large doors which he pulled open to reveal the wide walkways of the roof and a view of the ocean beyond.

‘Oh my.' Tory stepped out onto the walkway, drawn by the picturesque seascape.

‘I thought thee might like this tower, all my tutors have occupied it.' He looked at Tory and was spellbound. The sun shone through her long fair hair, shedding a golden halo around her. Who was this extraordinary woman? He couldn't help but feel that he'd known her before, though he realised this was impossible. Perhaps it was just that she bore a vague
resemblance to his mother, Queen Sorcha, yet something inside told him there was more to his attraction than that.

Suddenly, remembering his place, Maelgwn snapped out of his daze. ‘I thought thee could teach me here on the roof. There be plenty of room, and no one would disturb us.'

Tory was pleasantly surprised that the Prince considered her his tutor, though she hid her astonishment well. She looked around and nodded to confirm. ‘I believe this will do just fine.'

T
he Prince arrived at the north tower at dawn the following day, eager to begin his training. The wooden shutters had been flung open, allowing the ocean breeze to waft through the room. As the sound of gentle music reached his ears, he followed it outside.

There on the roof's walkway between the inner bailey and the sea-wall, he found her. She was dressed in pure white clothes, resembling his own, that belted at the waist with a black tie. Her hair had been braided and the long plait fell to her waist. Tory appeared to be dancing in a style that strongly resembled the way she fought. She was beautiful to watch, for her graceful movements flowed in time with the music. As he didn't
wish to disturb her, the Prince silently climbed onto the sea-wall to wait for her to finish.

Without opening her eyes or stopping her graceful movement, Tory said, ‘This be known as kata.' Her voice was very calm, as if she were a million miles away. ‘Kata be performed by every serious student of this art. It be through kata that one strives for perfection.' Tory continued her exercise, her balance and movement steady and precise. ‘It be repetition in the form of fighting patterns that one carries out against an imaginary opponent. Kata, once mastered, will increase thy expertise and thy powers of concentration.'

Tory finished her exercise, bringing her hands together and bowing deeply to the Prince.

‘That was wonderful, teach me.' He jumped off the sea-wall, eager to get started.

‘Not today. We have much to do before thou art ready for kata.' Tory sat on the ground in the lotus position. ‘This morning, I be going to teach thee meditation.' Tory beckoned for him to sit on the ground.

‘What be meditation?' the Prince asked, following her instruction.

‘It relieves one's body and mind of accumulated stress. Thee must set aside any emotional upsets or problems so thy concentration be not compromised. Only then can thee work to thy full potential. We will meditate before and after every workout.'

The Prince was intrigued by the way she explained things, it always made perfect sense.

‘Now, close thine eyes. Let the music relax thee and just listen to my voice.'

 

Tory planned to start the Prince's real training in a few days' time. Meanwhile, she'd issued Maelgwn with a list and the designs of all the equipment she needed made. She was keeping the local leather craftsmen well occupied, having requested a punching bag, punching mitts, padded gear for the head and waist to be used when sparring, and padded landing mats to cover the hard stone ground. She made a space for a workout area, rearranging the room to utilise the large mirror that stood on the west wall, reflecting the sea through the windows opposite. She would use this to monitor the Prince's movements when they began kata.

Her equipment was delivered two days later by Brockwell and a few guards. This thrilled the Prince no end, as now the real training could commence. He watched while Tory directed the men to set up the equipment. Maelgwn was considering how Tory had been pushing him to the limits of his endurance these past two days. She'd justified this torture by explaining that she needed to know his limitations to determine what aspects of his technique required the most work. He had to admit he enjoyed the meditation though, and he'd never felt so exhilarated and at peace in all his life.

In making Tory's equipment, the Britons had used hides shorn very short. So once the men had laid the mats out on the floor, it looked like the room had been carpeted.

‘What be this?' Brockwell referred to the punching bag as he hung it from a large hook and chain which was secured to a beam overhead.

Tory turned to answer his question and burst into laughter. The punching bag was made from cowhide, and it appeared as though she had a dead carcass hanging from her roof. ‘I will show thee.'

At just under two metres long, the bag stopped just above the floor, so that it could be used to practise kicks at any height. She started with a few low, sweeping kicks and gradually built up to the stage where she was propelling herself round in the air and ploughing her foot into it.

Brockwell, Maelgwn and the guards were stunned by her aggression, speed and accuracy. ‘Unbelievable,' Maelgwn mumbled in awe, motioning for Brockwell to get the other men out of there.

Tory grabbed the only pair of stockings she had, tying one end through a loop in the bottom of the punching bag, and the other loosely around a hook in the floor.

Brockwell returned after seeing the men out, and stood watching Tory demonstrate to the Prince how the bag would bounce back when struck. He observed with interest as she ducked and weaved her way around the bag, striking then darting out of the way. Tory was using more fist and open hand strikes now, and he was surprised by the amount of force she could summon up. He spied a punching mitt on the desk and picked it up. ‘What be this?'

They're like kids in a toyshop, Tory thought. ‘Put it on thy right hand, I will show thee.' She almost dared him. ‘I think thee can take it.'

Brockwell smiled at the invitation, pulling the glove on firmly.

Tory showed him the correct height at which to hold his hand to fend off her attack, then took a few steps back.

Brockwell hesitated, watching her concentrating closely on the mitt. ‘Thou art not going to do what thee did with the log?'

‘Kind of …' Brockwell looked distressed. ‘Just a joke.' She encouraged him to resume his position. ‘The purpose of the mitt be to help thee localise thy target.' She spun round taking a step and kicked out from behind, driving her heel into the palm of his hand.

Brockwell grinned, impressed. ‘Art thou married?' He suddenly saw in her his perfect mate.

Tory laughed. ‘Nay, for some strange reason men find me threatening.' She grabbed a towel, having worked up a sweat. ‘What about thee, Brockwell, doth thou have a lady fair?'

‘Many.' He smiled with a glint in his eye.

She looked at Maelgwn who was reclining on her bed. ‘What about thee, Maelgwn?' She'd been dying to ask this for days and now seemed like an inconspicuous time.

The Prince glanced at Brockwell, who was staring at him. ‘Not yet.' Maelgwn edged his way round the question, looking back to Tory. ‘Why? Art thou wanting a more recreational form of exercise?' He raised his eyebrows, flashing a cheeky grin. The Prince looked at Brockwell expecting to find him amused, but his expression was quite the opposite.

‘In the twentieth century, no problem. Here?' Tory smiled. ‘I would be hung.'

Brockwell burst into laughter, pleased that Maelgwn's lie failed to get him anywhere.

Tory picked up a book from the desk and opened it where she had marked her place. ‘In the early sixth century, and I quote.' She held up a finger, presenting an argument she wanted them both to hear. ‘“Sexual irregularities were not sins punishable by the Church, but
offences
!”' She stressed the word, becoming dramatic, much to the amusement of the Prince and Brockwell who weren't really used to women talking openly about sex. ‘“Demanding compensation.”' Tory raised her eyebrows. ‘It then goes on to say that a failure to meet legal obligation would reduce even a king's thegn to slavery. See!' She closed the book and waved her finger about. ‘I am wise to thee both.' She then turned to Maelgwn. ‘So I am not looking for …' her tone became rather sultry, ‘a more recreational form of exercise with anyone who dost not first place a ring on this finger.'

‘Women!' Brockwell waved her off. ‘Thou art all the same.'

‘What book be this?' Maelgwn playfully reached for it, but Tory quickly pulled it away. ‘Tory,' he demanded, firmly.

‘No, I cannot let thee look at this. It contains information about thee that thee should not know. I should not have taken it out in the first place, sorry.'

‘My death?' Maelgwn guessed, and Tory nodded her head slightly in response. ‘My wedding?' he asked, not looking at her this time.

‘It doth not really say, only that you had a queen, who was more fine and chaste than any other in the land.' Tory felt she could tell him that much. Then it dawned on her that there was no danger in letting him see it, as the book was written in modern English and only small passages were in the original language.

Maelgwn sat staring at the book, and Brockwell looked wary.

‘It be written in my native tongue,' Tory explained, ‘and I promise I will translate parts for thee later, but right now I need a bath.'

Maelgwn rose, his thoughts elsewhere. ‘I will send Katren up.'

‘I would like to thank thee,' Brockwell said. ‘It hast been … different.' He joined the Prince and they walked down the stairs and out of sight.

 

Lady Gladys, Cara, and Alma, the two teenage girls in her care, were organising the servants with setting the table for supper. Lady Gladys noticed her boys as they passed through the banquet hall, and as she hadn't spied either one all day, she pursued them. She opened the door to the adjoining room to find her son raising a goblet to Maelgwn. ‘Thou art absolutely right cousin, she be incredible.'

‘Indeed?' Lady Gladys said with interest, closing the door behind her.

Brockwell nearly dropped his drink at the sound of his mother's voice, and the Prince stood to explain.

‘I should like to meet this girl,' she announced. Maelgwn moved to object but she wouldn't hear a word
of it. ‘Maelgwn, I demand thee take me to the north tower, this instant!' She spoke forcefully, but without raising her voice. ‘Unless I see with my own eyes what the pair of thee have been up to, I shall not be a part of this another day.'

 

Just as Tory had settled into her bath, sure that the day's events were over, there came a knock at the door.

‘Tory,' Maelgwn called. ‘I have brought someone to meet thee.'

‘Now, Maelgwn?' Tory asked, looking at her towel across the room; Katren had gone to fetch supper and there was no one to pass it to her.

Lady Gladys looked at Maelgwn surprised. ‘She refers to thee by thy first name, she be privileged.'

‘Why dost thou never come to see me when I have my clothes
on
?' Tory sounded annoyed and in a fluster.

Maelgwn held his head, not liking the way this must sound to his aunt. ‘Tory, it be my aunt waiting to see thee, Brockwell's mother and sister to the King. She can hear every word thou art saying.'

Oh shit.
‘Come in.'

Maelgwn opened the door to find Tory dressed in a wrap that reached the floor, and he smiled at her in quiet approval. Her hair was in a bun to save getting it wet, so she looked quite presentable.

Lady Gladys gazed upon Tory in the soft candlelight. ‘Thank you, Maelgwn, that will be all,' she instructed, shooing him out and shutting the door on him. She then turned to study Tory further. ‘Well now, thou dost not look so different to my old eyes.' She smiled and
reached out to lift Tory's chin higher, so that her face would catch the light. ‘I can see now what keeps my boys so enchanted.'

‘Enchanted?' Tory was struck almost speechless by this lovely woman. She was so refined in the way she spoke, the way she moved; her whole manner was most courteous and genteel.

‘Indeed.' She let Tory go, looking to the stairway that lead to the caphouse. ‘I have never known Maelgwn to be so … preoccupied.' She gestured up the stairs. ‘May I?'

‘Of course,' Tory insisted.

 

Maelgwn waited patiently outside; it seemed that his aunt had been in there for hours. What could they be discussing all this while, he wondered.

At last the door opened and Lady Gladys emerged. ‘I will look forward to it, dear,' she said, closing the door behind her. Maelgwn approached at once. ‘A lovely girl,' she commented as she passed him on the way back to her duties. ‘I will help thee.'

Maelgwn went after her, still worried. ‘Aunt.' He touched her arm lightly to draw her to a stop. ‘Did thee speak to her of my wedding?'

He seemed ashamed to ask and she sighed, already aware that this was the main reason he had not wanted them to meet. ‘Nay.' She appeared a mite disappointed in him, but the tone in her voice lifted as she said, ‘Though I did mention that I had never seen thee so distracted by a woman.'

Maelgwn was shocked.

‘It serves thyself right, Maelgwn. Besides, it be the truth. Thee can play thy games, dear boy, and I shall play my own.'

 

In the weeks that followed, Tory's life at Aberffraw began to fall nicely into place. She started her day with the Prince's training, which commenced at sunrise with meditation. Then came a stretch program which incorporated some yoga and breathing exercises to warm up and improve flexibility. Maelgwn's coordination was good from all his swordplay. His body, however, was so solid from wielding heavy swords and carrying iron armour, that stretching exercises were essential. They did a short abdominal program, more for Tory's benefit than the Prince's as his abdominal muscles were as strong as the stone walls that surrounded them. This was followed by a series of Tae-kwon-do movements, which were a faster version of kata. Once the Prince had mastered these to Tory's satisfaction, they would begin sparring and self-defence. At the end of each session, before their final meditation, Tory would teach the Prince a small section of a kata. He had begun to arrive early, to join her in her sunrise ritual of kata. He would execute the parts he'd learnt and try to follow those he hadn't. Tory was pleased that Maelgwn was so keen, and she found him to be an excellent student. Further meditation brought the workout to a close by early afternoon, approximately one o'clock on the sundial.

The Prince had come to look forward to this more than any other part of her tuition. These stories or
meditations were unlike anything Maelgwn had heard from the court bards. Taliesin, a former tutor to the Prince, had schooled him in a similar thought process, but his lessons had been based on more shamanistic principles.