The Dark Age

  Angus had taken a seat at his appointed position on the sundial, to watch the sun rise in the dawn sky beyond the bailey wall.

  ‘Am I disturbing thee?’ Tory asked softly, as Angus seemed miles away. Her voice startled the knight.

  ‘Sensei.’ He went to stand.

  ‘Please, stay as thou art, Sir Angus. Sorry I gave thee a fright, it was not my intent.’

  Angus just couldn’t stay seated while he addressed his Queen and Sensei, so he stood in any case. ‘I did not expect to see anyone else up before sunrise.’

  ‘Nor did I,’ Tory smiled, aware of his discomfort, and took a seat on the ground. ‘Why art thou up so early, sir, can thee not sleep?’

  As he sat down again, his eyes drifted back to the sunrise. Angus didn’t have the good looks shared by most of his comrades, yet he was by no means unattractive. And his angular face seemed very open and honest.

  ‘I come here every morn, in homage to the Goddess who hast chosen me as a master.’

  ‘Thy progress be most pleasing to her, Angus. Thee cannot honour her more than by giving her thy all.’ Tory didn’t really go for the idea of ritual worship; if one was doing what the ‘Divine’ intended, what greater form of worship was there?

  ‘But there be no chore in it, Sensei. I have never known such joy as thy lessons bring me.’

  ‘My dear Sir Angus, in thy short life, thou hast already endured enough perilous tasks to keep the Otherworld and thy country indebted to thee for six lifetimes! Thou dost well deserve the rewards thou art only now beginning to reap.’

  ‘Still,’ Angus appeared fit to burst. ‘I want to do more for her.’

  Tory was pleased to notice that his eyes had drifted to the number four on the sundial, Alma’s place in the circle of twelve.

  ‘She hast been so good to me.’

  ‘Well, a man hast got to do, what a man hast got to do, Angus.’ She stood, adding with a smile as she departed, ‘Please stay, and by all means continue.’

  Later that day, Tory and Maelgwn sent Selwyn on his way to Llyn Cerrig Bach to study under Taliesin till spring. The Queen had never seen the young man so excited, and although she knew he was in for the time of his life, she would miss him and his harp through the cold time.

  “I shall think of thee, Majesty, every half noon.’

  ‘Oh Selwyn.’ She gave him a huge hug, which he returned in earnest. ‘I believe the High Merlin shall put my playing to shame.’ They drew back to look at each other. ‘And besides, thou shalt be so engrossed in thy studies that flowering shall be here before thee even realises. I feel sure Taliesin shall bring thee to visit us on Samhain. We cannot have thee missing all the fun, who shall play the harp for us?’

  ‘I shall be here if I have to come through a blizzard, Majesty.’ Selwyn stepped back and bowed to them both. He then took up the reins of the mule that lugged his few belongings and led the animal towards the portcullis.

  That same evening, when Maelgwn and Tory were engrossed in a game of chess by the fire, Brockwell came knocking at their chamber door.

  ‘Forgive the intrusion, Majesty, but I was wondering if I may speak with my sister a moment.’

  ‘Of course thee may, Calin.’

  When Maelgwn showed no sign of leaving, Tory said, ‘I think Calin meant alone, Maelgwn.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why not? Checkmate.’

  Maelgwn stood, a little hurt not to be included. ‘Again, after dinner perhaps?’

  ‘My pleasure.’

  Calin recognised this kind of abrupt behaviour in his friend and wanted to clear up any misunderstanding he might have. ‘I be seeking naught but a female’s advice, I assure thee.’

  ‘Take thy time,’ Maelgwn replied, as when it came to Tory’s free time he had been a bit selfish of late. He left the room, closing the door on his way out.

  Tory looked at Calin and had to laugh. Everyone else’s uniform was perfectly neat, but the way Calin wore his it looked more like pyjamas. His pants were rolled up at the bottom as they were too long, while his shirt hung open and was all caught up at the belt. Calin looked just like Brian after a workout; he had never been shy when it came to flashing his robust body either.

  ‘What?’ Brockwell couldn’t understand her amusement.

  ‘Thee could have tidied thyself before coming, Calin. What be Maelgwn to think when thee arrives to speak with me appearing thus?’

  ‘But I did.’

  Tory laughed again. ‘Why art thou here? No wait, let me guess … Katren.’

  ‘What am I to do, she hates me.’ Calin collapsed onto the chair in front of her.

  ‘Of course she doesn’t.’

  ‘She does! She flatly refuses to so much as see me outside of mastery.’

  ‘Perhaps she’s just looking for a more permanent relationship than thou art willing to offer.’

  ‘But I asked her to marry me!’ he declared, exasperated with the whole affair.

  ‘I said permanent.’

  ‘Awe, thou art no help.’

  He was about to storm out when Tory suggested, ‘Why dost thou not write to her, Calin?’

  Brockwell turned back to her, struck dumb by the notion.

  ‘Anything, a poem, a letter. Maelgwn wrote to me the day we wed and Katren thought it very romantic.’ Tory felt that as he would one day be her brother, she did owe him a little advice.

  ‘I am no good at that sort of thing,’ Brockwell groaned. ‘Would thou help me?’

  Tory laughed, considering it was unfair to assist him when she was also advising his foe. ‘I am no poet. Why not ask Maelgwn, he be most accomplished.’

  ‘Nay, he would laugh.’

  There came a knock on the door and, as luck would have it, the King entered.

  ‘Sorry, we need the chessboard,’ Maelgwn said, to explain his intrusion.

  Tory looked at Calin who shook his head in response. She frowned, for she was determined to bury the hatchet between these two. ‘Maelgwn?’

  Calin repeatedly motioned her no, but stopped still as Maelgwn turned around.

  ‘Calin requires thy assistance in a small matter, could thee spare him some time?’

  ‘Sure, I owe thee a favour or two if memory serves. What be thy trouble?’

  Tory approached the King, sliding her arms about his neck. ‘Remember the note thee sent me on the morn of the day we wed?’

  ‘I do.’ He wondered what that could possibly have to do with anything.

  ‘Well, Calin be wanting to write something similar and doth not feel himself very gifted with words.’

  Maelgwn turned to Calin, delighted. ‘Art thou in love, Calin?’

  Calin nodded, unable to say it.

  ‘My darling,’ Tory said to the King, ‘for a scholar thou art totally unaware at times.’

  Maelgwn cocked an eye at her. ‘The lady in question would not be Katren, by any chance?’ He recalled Tory and her maid plotting Calin’s entrapment months ago.

  ‘Aye,’ Brockwell grumbled. ‘The most stubborn, chaste maiden, one could ever come across.’

  Maelgwn turned back to Tory. ‘My but thou art a crafty woman.’

  ‘The Goddess works in strange ways,’ Tory rolled her eyes off to the side, not prepared to plead guilty.

  ‘As far as I be concerned anyway, damn her,’ Brockwell said, becoming all hot and bothered.

  ‘Now, Calin, fear not! If thou wants this maiden, thou shalt have her. I feel sure between the two of us, we can have her won by Samhain.’

  ‘That be less than one month hence, Maelgwn, Katren swore she would not wed till spring, at least!’ Brockwell replied.

  ‘Indeed, and the Goddess will not take kindly to those who disclose her secrets,’ Tory cautioned the King. If Calin thought that his infatuation had been carefully devised and not of his own invention, he would lose interest at once.

  ‘Trust me.’ Maelgwn winked at her as he escorted Brockwell to the door. ‘End of the month.’

  Tory stared at th
e full moon from her window. Its intensity was apparently being felt by all, as it was not long before Alma, Cara, and Katren arrived at her door.

  Katren was overjoyed to hear of the King’s suggested date of Samhain, she was sure that she couldn’t deny Calin his will, or indeed her own for much longer. ‘Oh Majesty, less than a month,’ Katren hugged her. ‘Thee said I would know this joy, but I did scarce expect it would be so soon.’

  ‘I wish,’ Alma sighed.

  ‘Me too,’ Cara added.

  ‘Still, there be much work to be done before then. The fact that Calin wants thee be not enough in his case, I fear. He must want thee beyond all others, so again I caution, do not make it too easy for him.’

  ‘I have no intention of it,’ Katren told her. ‘I plan to enjoy my independence while it lasts.’

  ‘Good for thee. Now,’ Tory turned to Alma and Cara, ‘what art the two of thee pining about?’

  ‘I find Vortipor too forward, Majesty,’ Cara sulked. ‘How doth one control a man?’

  ‘Try not leading him on?’ Tory fluttered her eyelids at the girl, mimicking her manner of late. ‘Thou art rather forward thyself, Cara. He misconstrues thy affections as an open invitation to thy favours. Thee would do better to treat Vortipor as Katren dost Brockwell if thee wishes to win him for thy husband,’ she warned.

  ‘But I want him to pursue me.’

  ‘And he shall, whether or not thee gives him any encouragement.’

  Cara pouted, dissatisfied with such a boring instruction.

  ‘Listen to her, Cara,’ Katren urged. ‘The Goddess knows best, believe me.’

  ‘We need to swap,’ Alma softly stated her woes. ‘I do not think Sir Angus likes me at all.’

  Tory was amused, knowing otherwise.

  ‘Majesty please,’ Alma asked, ‘I like him very much. What should I do?’

  By this time, Tory was beginning to feel like a marriage counsellor. She had decided to match all the single folk in male–female pairs, not in an attempt to play Cupid, but rather to give those not in a steady relationship a greater understanding and balance of Yin and Yang in their lives. ‘Thee should arise on the morrow before dawn. Go sit on thy number on the sundial in the courtyard, and as thee bears witness to the dawn of a new day, I grant that the Goddess shall bring thee inspiration, Alma.’

  The girl’s eyes opened wide with intrigue. ‘Dost thou really think so, Majesty?’

  ‘Indeed, but thee must not be too impatient with Angus. He be known as a loner and shy of women, so thou shalt have to take a few pages from Cara’s book to lure him out.’

  All in the room fell silent with the sound of a knock at the door.

  ‘Enter,’ Tory bade.

  The door burst open and Brockwell came charging forth. He was holding a sheet of parchment in his hands, paying no mind to who was present. ‘I did it!’ he announced, appearing rather pleased with himself. But as he looked up to see all the women he was startled back a few paces, and hid the parchment behind his back.

  ‘Did what?’ Katren asked as she bounded playfully towards him.

  The King had followed Brockwell into the room, and was staring sternly at Tory with his arms folded.

  ‘I have said naught of it,’ Tory assured Calin and her husband.

  The shock of seeing Katren so playful made Calin easy prey, and she succeeded in procuring his master work. ‘What be this, then?’

  Calin, embarrassed, would have retrieved the letter, but the King quietly motioned him against it.

  The smug grin slowly slipped from Katren’s face and for a magical second she couldn’t hide her true self. ‘Thee wrote this for me, Calin?’ Katren gasped in shock.

  ‘Aye,’ he was almost keen to admit, surprised by the effect it seemed to have had on her.

  Calin took a step closer so Katren took a step away, her defences raised again. ‘I do not believe thou art capable of such feelings,’ she coldly concluded. ‘The King hast been putting his sweet words to thy pen.’

  ‘Lady Katren, thou hast my word as a King that I did not string two words on that parchment together. In fact, Calin would not even let me read it.’

  This proclamation left poor Katren dumbfounded; her image of Brockwell as an unfeeling womaniser was shattered forever. How could she be expected to defend herself till Samhain? ‘Then I do owe thee an apology, sir. Thy words art deeply moving.’ A lump rose in her throat as she read his letter.

  For the first time, Calin was overjoyed to have a woman so upset in his presence. Quite unable to believe that the truth had actually worked, he moved on to plan B. ‘If thou doth believe these words art my own and true, I seek to make a request.’

  ‘And what might that be, sir?’ Katren asked.

  Calin took another step closer, a little more confident, and this time Katren didn’t back away from him. ‘The King hast suggested we might like to join him and the Queen for dinner and chess this evening?’

  Tory looked at Maelgwn, amazed at his ingenuity. ‘Brilliant,’ she mouthed in approval, and the King gave her the thumbs-up in return.

  ‘Why, I would love to,’ Katren answered, taking Calin by the arm. ‘Very much.’

  ‘I shall take thy advice, lady,’ Cara resolved, watching the love-struck knight lead Katren from the room.

  ‘Aye.’ Alma could barely talk, she was so overcome by the sight.

  ‘And what advice might that be?’ Maelgwn thought he’d scare them all out of his room.

  ‘Good day, Sensei, Majesty,’ they both said as they bowed and quickly took their leave.

  ‘Not Angus and Vortipor too?’ the King asked. Secretly he was pleased; everyone deserved to feel such bliss as he and his lady.

  ‘Looks that way.’

  The young couple joined the King and Queen for dinner, and the evening was well spent with much good mead, fine food and amicable conversation.

  Afterwards, Tory watched the pair laughing and chatting by the fire like the oldest of friends. ‘There be a lot to be said for the tradition of chaperoning.’

  ‘Aye,’ Maelgwn agreed. ‘Still, I hope we shan’t have to provide this service for every couple in the kingdom.’

  ‘Here, here. But I think we would both agree we have a vested interest in this case.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  Maelgwn remained so absorbed in the book he was reading that Tory, who couldn’t follow much of the handwritten script, had to inquire, ‘What art thou reading about that keeps thee so fascinated?’

  ‘The female reproductive system,’ he told her, with glee almost.

  ‘Did someone call?’ Calin, a little tipsy, commented to the amusement of them all. He appeared most impressed with himself, as he made his next move on the chessboard. ‘Check.’

  Katren quickly made a move and announced, ‘Checkmate. I win. Now, let us depart and leave our King and Queen in peace.’

  ‘Dost thou feel like a walk?’ Brockwell jumped to his feet to assist her up, inspired by the idea.

  ‘Perhaps.’ She took his hand to lead him away. ‘Thee understand, Majesties, that the last thing Calin requires be any more information on the female reproductive system.’

  ‘Goodnight.’ Calin waved on his way out, glad to follow her anywhere.

  ‘A lovely couple,’ Tory commented, admiring their work. ‘Now, why on earth art thou reading about reproductive organs? If thou art wondering why Gwynedd doth not yet have an heir, it dost take at least nine months.’

  ‘Tell me something,’ Maelgwn inquired politely, ignoring the fact that she was mocking him. ‘If a woman hast one turn of the moon cycle and we have been married well over that now, when art thou due?’

  Tory’s good cheer waned, she had been so busy of late that she hadn’t even given the matter a thought. Her hands gripped her face as she admitted with a tortured strain, ‘Ages ago!’

  ‘Art thou ever late?’

  ‘No!’ she whined, thumping the lounge with both her fists. ‘Never.’

  ‘Praise the
Goddess!’ Maelgwn jumped to his feet, letting loose a laugh. He tossed the book aside and took hold of Tory. ‘That be it then, thou art with child already!’ The King noticed that his wife didn’t appear to be as happy as expected. ‘Tory, thou could not make me more proud.’

  ‘I know.’ She pulled away from him, unable to look him in the eye. She didn’t want to put a dampener on his dream, but he wasn’t the one who had to give birth. ‘But thy greatest infatuation of late, would seem in truth my worst nightmare.’

  ‘But thus our marriage shall be recognised.’

  The tone in Maelgwn’s voice said it all to her, ’tis not his want of a child that motivates him. ‘Legal marriage or not, favoured or not, I shall do whatever I must to stay with thee, just as thou hast done for me,’ she said, looking at him, her face suddenly pale. ‘It be just that, I know how dangerous childbirth really be, Maelgwn, not like these poor woman who enter into it in ignorance.’

  Maelgwn had never seen Tory frightened before and as he moved forward in an attempt to comfort her, she kept the distance between them. ‘Even in my time, I would have a difficult labour with thy child, but here …’ She slowly shook her head, petrified by the thought.

  ‘Tory, stop right there, or thee will work thyself into a state,’ Maelgwn quietly cautioned her. ‘Dost thou think I have not considered this? Thou hast no need to fear birthing here. I know the best midwife thee could wish for, in any age.’

  Although Tory was fairly sure Maelgwn still wasn’t getting the full picture, she decided to give the King the benefit of the doubt. ‘Who then?’

  ‘Why Taliesin, of course.’

  With the mere mention of the High Merlin’s name, her fear dwindled. God knows what tricks he might have up his sleeve. Tory gave a slight smile at the notion. ‘Was he midwife to Sorcha?’

  ‘Aye, and she was no better equipped than thee,’ the King answered, simply beaming with delight. ‘I shall never allow any harm to befall thee.’