‘Nay, lady please. I shall surely fail.’ He took hold of her hands to stop her, noticing how tiny they were in his own.
‘Trust me. I shall make it very easy for thee.’
When the cover was lifted from his eyes, Calin beheld the face of an angel gazing back at him and he returned her smile, completely enchanted.
‘I will be in front of thee all the way, so thou hast only to keep thy eyes fixed firmly on me,’ Katren whispered.
Brockwell was still a little dazed by this vision and wondered how a maiden of such beauty could have escaped his attention this long. ‘That will not be difficult Katren, thou art the very image of beauty. How could even the Goddess compare?’ He took up her hand and lightly kissed it. Here be the one I shall have the Goddess train to my liking.
For once Katren was not overcome by his flattery, but rather amused by it. ‘Hast thou not discovered that the Goddess be in us all, Calin. I am sorry, I meant —’
‘Nay please, call me Calin.’
‘As thee wishes.’ Katren’s slip of the tongue had been quite purposeful. She turned to see Tory approaching. ‘Here she comes. Now remember, just concentrate on me and all will be well.’
‘Be that a promise, Katren?’
Though she was amused by his sultry tone, she chose not to comment and turned to face the doors before them.
Tory stopped beside Brockwell, placing her hand on top of his. ‘I truly thank thee for doing this, Calin, and my father thanks thee also.’
The huge doors of court parted wide and as Katren led them down the long aisle, Calin’s eyes were glued to her slender, shapely form. ‘It gives me the greatest of pleasure, I assure thee.’
The guests and members of the royal household stood for the exchange of vows. Selwyn was honoured to be playing harp alongside twenty-five visiting bards of prestige from all across Brittany. The holy men had come forth to raise song in celebration of this great occasion.
Maelgwn was entranced as he beheld his bride. The King felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder and Tiernan, his best man, whispered his mind, ‘I do believe that in this case, even I would wed in thy place.’
‘Not a chance.’
Just as Tory and Brockwell had almost reached Maelgwn, she brought him to a standstill and turned to face him. ‘Look at me, Sir Brockwell, Duke of Penmon.’
Taliesin, who was conducting the ceremony from an indiscernible pulpit in mid-air, nodded to Calin to comply.
Given his leave, Brockwell turned his eyes to Tory. Although she was more beautiful than he’d ever seen her, he was surprised to find that she no longer stirred in him the same desire that he’d felt for her only weeks before.
‘I release thee from the punishments of thy own design and declare that, if so desired, thee may compete on the morrow for the title of my champion.’
‘I thank thee, great lady. I have seen the error of my ways, which shall be much improved from this day forth,’ Brockwell pledged solemnly as he bowed to her. ‘On behalf of thy father, allow me now to present thee to thy King.’ When Tory’s hand was placed on Maelgwn’s, the couple saw no one else. Taliesin led them through their vows, very similar in intent to those still made today. In place of rings, a ribbon was tied to Tory’s right wrist and Maelgwn’s left. These ribbons were then wrapped around and over their hands as they were joined in wedlock.
‘Those whom the Goddess hast joined, let no man put asunder.’ Taliesin rested his hands on both their heads, serving Brockwell a look of caution. ‘For this union be the will of the Great Houses Don and Llyr.’
‘So be it!’ the gathering responded with great merriment.
‘By the power invested in me, I pronounce thee husband and wife. Thee may kiss thy bride, Majesty.’
Maelgwn raised Tory’s veil. As he leant down to kiss her, the gathering was thrown into riot, for this kiss marked the beginning of the four days of feasting, sport, music, conference and merrymaking.
The guests were guided into the banquet hall, while the wedding party remained present to witness the signing of the marriage document for the archives. Tory asked Taliesin to take a photo of the wedding party for her parents, a subtle hint to the bard in reminder of the matter they had yet to discuss in detail.
By the time the King and his bride joined the rest of their guests in the huge dining room, the feasting and music were well under way. Maelgwn and Tory took their places in the middle of the main table. Brockwell and Katren beside Tory, Lady Gladys and Tiernan to Maelgwn’s other side. Their guests, in order of precedence, were now allowed to approach the couple to congratulate and present them with gifts.
King Catulus was the first to address the newlyweds. The elderly warrior was obviously still reeling with exaltation for his young friend following the events he’d witnessed at the initiation. After expressing his honour and great delight in their invitation, he presented the couple with two large goblets of gold, set with rubies and intricately engraved with Celtic motifs.
This gift was to the great delight of the old King of Gwent Is Coed, Aurelius Caninus. He bestowed on the couple five whole barrels of the imported wine that he so cherished and for which he was famous. His daughter brought forth a decanter and filled Catulus’ golden goblets with a sample for the recipients’ approval. Maelgwn toasted his bride before entwining his arm in her own to drink. There were cheers from the court and all present did likewise with whoever of the opposite sex was closest.
When Vortipor came forward, the King rose to introduce his new and respected colleague to Tory. Maelgwn explained briefly how much assistance the Protector of Dyfed had been to him in his quest, thus speeding his return to her. Tory stood to express her gratitude, and their new ally took up her hand and kissed it.
‘The very least I could do for the Goddess. I understand thy king’s sense of urgency to return to thee, for thou art truly the paragon he described.’ Vortipor then turned back to Maelgwn. ‘I am an envious man indeed, Dragon.’ He clicked his fingers and his squire came forward bearing a gift in a long wooden box. ‘Such a jewel be well worth protecting, sir, and when thee mentioned that thee still wielded a sword of iron, I knew at once the perfect gift.’ Vortipor opened the box and lifted a gleaming sword in its scabbard from the case. He then drew the sword to display it. ‘Welcome to the age of steel, my friend. After all, we can’t have a legend wielding any less than the best now, can we?’ He replaced the sword in its sheath and launched it in Maelgwn’s direction. ‘Compliments of Rome,’ he bowed in conclusion.
Maelgwn was exulted by the man’s gesture, for to give a fellow ruler such a fine weapon was a true token of one’s goodwill and allegiance.
The other lords and ladies of Gwynedd came forth to bestow their gifts and be introduced to their new Queen. When all had been seen in turn, it came time for Tory and the Prince to exchange gifts.
Maelgwn summoned Taliesin forth. He carried a cushion of red, on top of which was a fine silver necklet. It featured a dainty pendant, no bigger than Tory’s middle fingernail, with the same black onyx dragon that Maelgwn wore. The King lifted it and spoke in a whisper as he placed it around her neck. ‘This be the work of the folk. I shall explain its enchantment and place it where it be truly intended, later.’
Tory raised her eyebrows at the suggestion. ‘I can hardly wait,’ she kissed him. ‘I love it.’
On cue, Bryce carefully made his way toward the King, the gift of the Goddess that he carried in his hands was hidden by a cloth of royal blue.
‘I thank thee, Bryce,’ Tory said. ‘Majesty, may I introduce the young Earl of Penmon.’ Bryce bowed deeply to the King, dumbfounded by the honour.
Maelgwn could barely believe his eyes; this was Calin, just as he remembered him from childhood. The King didn’t have to think too hard to figure out where he’d come from. ‘Arise dear cousin, I am pleased thou hast found thy way home to thy kindred.’ He ruffled the boy’s hair. ‘And what have we here?’ He cocked an eye at Tory as he raised the cover and observed
the beautiful set before him. ‘Magnificent! A game of sorts?’
‘Aye. A game of wits and strategy known as chess.’
As Maelgwn hugged her tightly, Taliesin came forward rubbing his hands together. ‘Splendid, so who fancies a game?’
Sir Rhys approached the royal table and politely interrupted the merriment. He bowed before announcing quietly to the King, ‘Chiglas hast sent thee a wedding gift, Majesty, and frankly thou art not going to like it.’
Tory’s eyes narrowed at his words. ‘Cadogan,’ she concluded without a doubt.
‘Aye,’ Rhys nodded, his tone as suspicious as her own. ‘Chiglas wants to offer him in exchange for Caradoc’s release. Shall I show the messenger in, or have him wait for thee in thy room of court?’
Maelgwn looked at Tory, confused. Should he rejoice at Cadogan’s deliverance, or lock him up for fear of treachery?
‘Do not trust it,’ Tory cautioned.
Maelgwn, still unsure, turned to Taliesin for advice, but the High Merlin only shrugged. ‘Thou art well aware that I am not permitted to advise thee in such matters. In thy place, however, I would surely heed my wife, for she be thy intuition, Majesty.’
Tory held a hand to her heart. ‘I feel I am right about this.’
Though he was still far from convinced, Maelgwn said, ‘Take Cadogan to his chamber where he may bathe, eat, and recover. See that both he and the messenger are confined to separate quarters until two days hence, when we shall consider the matter at court. Place a guard to ensure my wishes art adhered to, and tell Cadogan I shall see him on the morrow.’
Rhys bowed and went about his bidding at once.
‘I hope thou art right, Tory. Cadogan hast served me well in the past.’
Tory was not about to let Chiglas spoil the day. ‘My dear husband, if Cadogan hast truly been held prisoner these two weeks past then he shall need to rest. And besides, this be our wedding day, dost thou not have more pressing matters to attend to this night?’
Maelgwn grinned. ‘Of course, I quite forgot myself for a moment. Please, tell me of thy wondrous game.’
Tory presented him with a book of instructions and moves that she had written, with a little help from Taliesin, in the King’s own tongue.
‘Thy penmanship be truly outstanding,’ Maelgwn noted, and he invited Tory to a game. This was to the great entertainment of the menfolk, who all gathered around with their mead trying to get the gist of the rules.
Following a scintillating match of wits, Tory found herself in checkmate and so took the opportunity to leave. It was high time she made for her husband’s chambers to ready herself for her wedding night.
‘How long?’ Maelgwn whispered, wearing a lurid grin.
‘Katren will fetch thee.’ She kissed him, before bidding all a good night.
The whistles and cheers of encouragement that arose from the men as she accompanied Katren, Alma, and Cara from the room could only compare to a grand final football match. As bold as she was, Tory nevertheless found this embarrassing and was glad when they reached the hallway.
The girls quickly ushered Tory to Maelgwn’s chambers, but she came to a stop in the doorway, taken aback by the sight and perfume of so many flowers. Ivy spiralled up the posts of the huge bed, and was intertwined with roses, jasmine and lily of the valley. Posies of flowers filled the candle-lit room, and a small feast was set out on a table by the fire. Tory had never seen Maelgwn’s room at Aberffraw and considered it a fair exchange for her tower. All her things had been brought to her new quarters, which were not as large and grand as Maelgwn’s room at Degannwy but more snug and intimate. Her love had grown up in this room, and thus she felt an immediate affinity with it.
‘Say something!’ Katren prompted.
‘It be simply beautiful, ladies.’
‘Jasmine be for joy and lily of the valley be for thy happiness,’ Alma explained with delight.
‘White roses represent spiritual love.’ Cara raised her hands to prayer position.
‘Red be for passion and the ivy … be for devotion,’ Katren finished in a dramatic fashion, before she broke into a giggle.
‘What be this?’ Tory asked, lifting off the bed a perfectly plain, long, white silk slip.
My wedding gift to the King.
Tory heard Taliesin’s voice in her mind.
Let us just say, I know what he fancies.
Aye, Tory thought, decidedly. Maelgwn will love it.
Maelgwn was aware of Katren the second she entered the room, as was Sir Brockwell. Despite being in the midst of a game of chess, the King didn’t wait for Katren to reach him before he stood to take his leave. ‘My greatest apologies to thee, Vortipor, but I am afraid duty calls.’ Maelgwn grinned broadly as he bowed to his guests.
‘I shall not detain thee when such fair game awaits thee elsewhere. Nominate a replacement that I can massacre in thy stead,’ Vortipor requested with cheery confidence, before adding as an afterthought, ‘Not the magician!’
Maelgwn looked about at those who had been following the game. ‘Sir Rhys, doth thou feel confident to complete my victory?’
‘Aye Majesty, blindfolded.’
With this settled, Maelgwn made haste to his chambers. He passed Alma and Cara in the hall, who were en route back to the festivities.
‘Sleep well, Majesty,’ Alma said.
‘But I doubt it,’ Cara emphasised as they both hurried on.
Tory was kneeling down in the middle of Maelgwn’s bed when he entered. Her long golden ringlets, freed from the combs, fell softly about her bare shoulders and down her back. The white silk of the slip caught the candlelight, and she furnished Maelgwn with an alluring smile. ‘More becoming, I hope?’
He recalled the conversation they’d had on her first morning at Degannwy. ‘I have no objection.’ He gloated upon her loveliness as he removed the black gunna and cast it across the room. ‘So long ago, yet I desired thee even then. I must confess, I did battle with my conscience when I found thee asleep by the fire that night.’
‘So that be how I got to bed.’ Tory smiled in recollection; it had all been a bit hazy at the time.
‘Aye.’ He threw aside his boots. ‘I showed great restraint, I must say. Thou wast rather the worse for mead as I recall, and somewhat keen to oblige.’
This was news to Tory, still she didn’t care about that. ‘I shall always be keen to oblige thee.’ She watched as Maelgwn removed his shirt, exposing the smooth muscular torso that she hadn’t even been granted a glimpse of till now.
‘In that case …’ Maelgwn crawled onto the bed to take a seat before her. He’d dreamt of their union many times, yet now that it had arrived he no longer felt in any hurry. ‘I promise I shall never leave thee wanting.’ He held a hand to her cheek and gently guided her lips towards his own.
For a warrior of such size, Maelgwn’s caresses were very tender. His hands almost quivered as they slid from her neck down over the thin film of silk that concealed her naked body.
A wave of awareness beset Tory, and every part of her tingled as her skin became alerted to his touch.
Maelgwn’s hands slipped to her waist, his kisses finding their way towards her cleavage. Ever so gently, he raised her to a kneeling position and paused to look at her.
‘I almost forgot.’ He smiled as he lifted the thin straps of the slip from her shoulders. As he let them go, he delighted in the sight of the garment slipping down over her body. His fingertips glided over her soft, smooth skin, from her knees, over her thighs, and up behind her neck to remove his wedding gift. ‘This,’ he began, but he was distracted by the desire to kiss her and did so several times; the sensation of her naked body pressed hard against his own was far too compelling. ‘This,’ he tried again, ‘is very special, and it belongs …’ His eyes lowered and he gently kissed each of her breasts before kissing the space just below her navel. ‘Here.’ He hung the charm in its place. ‘It shall protect thee, and Gwynedd’s heir from harm.’ He kissed the pendant.
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Tory reached down, running her fingers through his long silky hair and held him close a moment. ‘I do love thee, Maelgwn of Gwynedd.’ She thought of the intent of his gift sweet, though its purpose was a bit of a worry.
‘And I thee, Tory Alexander.’ He overwhelmed her with affection as they sank back onto his bed.
The desire she’d been suppressing for so long finally found its release, as the tears of sweet relief trickled down her cheeks. She closed her eyes and lay back in a state of rapture, savouring the sensation of her husband exploring her pleasures for the first time.
Rhys had gone on to victory over Vortipor on the chessboard, and King Catulus of Dumnonia now matched wits with the old King of Gwent Is Coed. In his drunken state — one that now prevailed over the whole court — Catulus was furnishing old King Caninus and Vortipor with a detailed account of the new King of Gwynedd’s colourful history.
Taliesin was pleased to expand on the stories, feeling that his every word drew the allies closer together. Rome had many problems and was far away. Its priests here numbered but few and could be easily suppressed before they forced the native people into submission. Catulus seemed more than eager to return to the old ways in Dumnonia. King Caninus, although truly amazed by it all, had been raised in the Church of Rome and admitted to hold little understanding of the great mysteries of the land of his birth. He was, however, curious to learn, as Maelgwn’s great ancestry was also his own.
Lady Gladys was in her element, seated by two kings who were roughly the same age as herself. She lent her wisdom to advise on the game and the great legends, as she remembered them. The aging widow was constantly flattered and propositioned by the noble pair, and she basked in the attention.
Tiernan, Angus, Rhys and his wife Jenovefa, who was heavy with child, were seated by the fire. The knights were entertaining Cara and Alma with mead and adventurous tales of battle. Selwyn accompanied their stories with his harp to intensify the mood.
Brockwell looked on, discontented. He hadn’t had a drink all night in a gallant attempt to stay out of trouble, but his sobriety only served to make Katren’s virtuous curves seem all the more attractive to him. To add to his woes, he hadn’t been given a chance to say more than two words to her since the wedding. Now that he thought about it, she hadn’t returned to the dining room in quite some time …
The Dark Age Page 21