Queen Sacrifice Read online

  The king looked closely at the map. ‘We don’t have much information about Du fortifications?’

  Padrig shook his head. ‘Apart from Flint there is no sign.’

  ‘Where will we find their king?’

  Padrig pointed to where the map showed the coast in the north. ‘They move from place to place,’ he said. ‘You never can be sure with these people. Have a look at this.’ He unrolled another map that showed the island of Ynys Mon. It was old and crudely drawn but was marked with numerous dark circles, representing the hill forts of the tribes. ‘It’s a hard land to attack and easy to defend,’ he said. ‘Gwynfor’s man was headed up this way but we’ve lost touch with him, so we need to hope he can get back soon to tell us of their strength in the west.’

  ‘Keep a look out for him,’ said Gwayne. ‘In the meantime we should send some good men into the wilderness. Let’s give the Du something to think about!’

  *

  King Gethin had been away for several days, making sure their defences were ready for what was to come. Rhiannon missed him but was relieved, as he had been pacing up and down and very restless. At least he would be happier now he was doing something about the Gwyn. She had Ceinwen for company and help with the baby, which was still waking her in the night. She had teased her older sister by teasing about the guard Hywel. ‘I think this soldier has you under a spell,’ she laughed.

  ‘He is a good man and very loyal to you!’

  ‘Is he recovering well?’

  ‘The scars will be there always but he is strong.’ She looked at Rhiannon as if she wanted to say something else but was holding back.

  ‘What is it?’ Rhiannon knew her sister well and wanted no secrets between them.

  ‘If there is a war, I fear that Commander Idris will not treat him kindly. He bears a grudge against him. If it were not for the king.…’

  ‘I will speak again to Gethin. We will need someone to guard us if the Gwyn come north and there would be nobody better to do it.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Ceinwen looked relieved. ‘It would mean a lot to me.’ She looked into the crib where the baby Prince Evan was sleeping soundly. ‘I am scared of what the war could bring for us,’ she said, almost to herself. ‘I wish we could just live in peace with the Gwyn.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Rhiannon. ‘There was a time when I believed we could, but we cannot live the rest of our lives with the threat of war.’

  ‘Are you not afraid of what a war could bring?’

  ‘Not for myself, but I worry about Gethin and of course the baby changes things.’

  Sir Gwynfor had ridden as fast as he could when he received the message from the king, but was forced to stay overnight at a farm due to the heavy rain. The downpour had turned the lanes to slippery mud which was dangerous for his horse and the going had been hard. Soaked to the skin, he was glad to see a good fire blazing in the hearth. The farmer welcomed the knight before scurrying off to clear a room for his guest. His wife prepared a hot stew and took his wet clothes to wash and dry by the morning.

  Gwynfor had an unexpectedly good night, sleeping on a bed of straw and dreaming of the Lady Elvina. He had known many women but the queen had a special fascination for him. He woke early, and called to the farmer for his horse to be made ready. He ate a good breakfast prepared by his wife, before rewarding them with a Saxon coin and galloping off to Pennard.

  He recognised the groom who took his horse to the stable. ‘Is Sir Padrig here?’

  ‘He left yesterday, my lord.’

  Gwynfor was irritated by the knowledge that he had arrived long after Padrig had departed and swore at his bad luck with the weather. After waiting impatiently for his meeting with the king, Gwynfor was a last shown into the lodge of the Royal Llysoedd, where the king was studying several parchment maps.

  ‘Sir Gwynfor, good to see you.’

  Gwynfor wondered if there was a note of criticism in the king’s voice. ‘My lord. I came as soon as I could.’

  ‘I have been thinking about your plans, Gwynfor. You are right, we can’t just wait for the Du to come knocking at our door.’

  ‘Good,’ said Gwynfor, ‘We have prepared well and my men are ready for your orders.’

  We need to send scouts to the wilderness, men we can rely on.’

  ‘My own squire Hayden is training the garrison in Pembroke. There are some good men there.’

  The king nodded. ‘Have them leave as soon as they can.’ He looked at Gwynfor. The knight seemed reassuringly confident. ‘What of Cadell, the mercenary?’

  ‘He is in the Du lands now. I sent him to Ynys Mon, as we know little of their strength there. I don’t expect him back until he has useful information.’

  ‘He needs to get back quickly. The trouble with the tribes is that we never know where to find them. Their king is the same, he moves all the time.

  ‘You should do the same, my lord. We don’t want to make it easy for them to find you either.’

  ‘Yes, you are right Sir Gwynfor. It is time for me to go to Caerphilly. I will leave the protection of Pennard in your hands.’

  ‘It will be an honour, my lord.’ Gwynfor was pleased that the king was at last taking his advice. Events had moved more slowly than he had wished but his plan was falling into place. After discussing tactics for a little longer with the king he made his excuses and went in search of Bethan, the queen’s handmaiden. He had important unfinished business with her mistress and was in the mood to do something about it.

  Chapter Seven

  St Fagans Castle was bustling with excitement as the staff prepared for a journey. Sir Padrig had finally received orders from the king. He told the servants to pack for a long absence and had selected those who would travel with him. He took one last look at his home before urging his war horse into a brisk trot. He was proud of how well he had trained the white stallion, as it had a frisky temperament.

  Despite his relief at finally seeing some action, it was with mixed feelings that he led his small group out through the gates into the bright autumn sunshine. Padrig looked impressive with a white cloak over a specially made ‘coat of plates’, burnished armour fastened with small leather straps, that would deflect all but a direct hit from a Du arrow or lance. His long greying hair was tied back, in the old style of the Welsh knights, and he looked fit and strong, much younger than his fifty years.

  They rode on through the small village of St Fagans, where the local people had turned out to see them off. Padrig was a popular master and had seen to it that none of his bondsmen or their families went hungry during the last hard winter. He was pleased with the support and threw a handful of small Saxon coins to the children, who immediately started fighting and scrabbling excitedly for them.

  As the countryside became more wooded Padrig noted that the trees were beginning to take on an autumnal gold. He loved his lands but had managed the income from them poorly. Drinking and gambling in the past meant he was in debt to many of the merchants and traders his people relied on. Sir Gwynfor was a very rich man, but had inherited his wealth and position, so Padrig started thinking about how he could benefit from his new role as guardian to the queen. The behaviour of Sir Gwynfor would need to be dealt with soon, before it damaged the reputation of the royal family.

  *

  Lord Vorath rode with his men into the early mist. He black war horse was named Ddraig, which meant ‘Dragon’ and it snorted loudly as they rode, its breath visible in the cold air. Ddraig was a powerful animal, with a broad back, strong loins and the long legs of his breed. Impressive in his ‘barding’ armour made from leather and steel, his head was decorated with a viciously sharp spike horn, making him look like a black unicorn. Ddraig was feared by Vorath’s servants and had been trained to bite and kick on Vorath’s command and to trample the bodies of fallen enemies. They had been through a lot and together.

  Vorath still made a striking figure, however, with a long black cape flowing behind him as they galloped, the horse’s hooves thunder
ing on the narrow track south. He was enjoying himself and heavily armed, with one sword at his waist and a second slung across his back. In the tradition of the mounted warriors of the tribes he had no shield, keeping his left hand free for his dagger, which he could throw with deadly accuracy.

  Vorath was ready for a battle with his old enemy the Gwyn. He had selected some of the finest and most experienced riders, many of whom he had fought with in the past. Some were looking for glory, others hoping for the spoils of war. By Du standards the Gwyn were wealthy and there could be rich pickings, with plenty of livestock and land for the taking. He looked back to see that his men were keeping up and remembered his meeting with the king.

  ‘The way is clear for you to take your warriors south, Gethin had said. ‘We will not sit by our hearth waiting for the Gwyn, we will take the fight to them!’

  Vorath smiled darkly to himself as he rode. His men were battle hardened raiders, with little concern for the conventions of war. The Gwyn knights were not to be underestimated, but the Du warriors would strike when least expected. The Gwyn had a surprise coming and he had a personal score to settle with their king.

  *

  Hayden stood alone on the windswept ramparts of Pembroke Castle, looking down at the boats plying their trade on the river below. He heard laughter echoing through the chill evening air and turned to see what was going on. Some of the men were making their way noisily across the wooden drawbridge to the town. He smiled to himself. They deserved it, as they had worked hard and the time for drinking was nearly over. Sir Gwynfor had been pleased with the progress he had made training the men and now wanted them to scout the border with the north. He could see Elfred watching the others leave and went down to the castle gatehouse to join him.

  Elfred saw him approaching and grinned. He had done well in the practice sword fights and had nearly beaten Hayden several times. His teacher had taken it well, however, and they were now good friends. ‘I hope they don’t come back worse for wear…’

  ‘I will hold you responsible if they do!’ He looked at Elfred, remembering for a moment the young farmer who had first come to him, not sure if he wanted any part in the war. He had become not just a good swordsman but a confident leader of men, with a reputation for being fair and just. Hayden had noticed how the other men looked to Elfred for guidance and was pleased.

  ‘They’ve promised to be back by midnight.’

  Hayden pretended to look surprised. ‘It would be the first time ever.’

  Elfred laughed. ‘They’re good men.’

  ‘They are as ready as they will ever be,’ agreed Hayden. He looked around to see if they could be overheard, then turned to Elfred and spoke quietly. ‘I have to select a man to warn us if the Du move south. I was going to ask you to stay behind and help train the next group of men, but I’d like to hear what you have to say.’

  ‘I am from St Davids so have a good knowledge of the area north of there.’ Elfred looked north, towards his home. ‘The bishop wants me to extend our grazing land, so I’ve travelled a day’s ride into the wilderness. I once saw riders that may have been Du warriors, but they were far off and I stayed out of sight. The wilderness is mostly deserted, just a few crofters trying to scrape a living from the land.’

  Hayden looked serious. ‘It will be dangerous. You would ride ahead of the men and learn the enemy position. We need to know where they are and in what strength.’ He put his hand on Elfred’s shoulder. ‘The main weapon of the Du is surprise. They will be on the lookout for you and would spare you no mercy if you were captured.’

  ‘I’d be glad to see the farm again, even for a short while.’ Elfred looked to the horizon. The sun was now set and he could make out the stars. He had surprised himself at how much he had enjoyed life in the castle but he missed his home. ‘I have no quarrel with the Du but if they come to take our lands we must be ready for them.’

  Hayden was happy with his decision. He had been put in charge of the men and Sir Gwynfor was back at Picton Castle. ‘You are to leave at first light and get back safely soon as you sight the enemy. I will tell the stables to have a good horse saddled and ready.’

  ‘You can rely on me,’ replied Elfred, grinning, and went to pack his few possessions for the journey.

  Hayden watched him go, with mixed feelings. He had considered taking on the mission himself but knew he had to continue training the remaining men as best he could. He had never fought the Du but knew their reputation for savagery and wondered if he had really prepared the farmer for what he may face in the wilderness. Elfred had become skilled with his sword and practised hard. He had picked up a few scars from combat training but was untested in a real battle situation.

  Elfred set off at first light on one of the garrison horses, a lively white mare with a comfortable saddle. He was carrying only his sword and enough food for a few days. He felt good to be back in the country again and had missed the freedom of the outdoor life. As well as staying out of sight he would have to live off the land once his supplies ran out. If he could give early warning of any action by the people of the Du he could be saving lives, and it was this thought that kept him going as night fell. Eventually Elfred reached a clear stream, where he re-filled his leather water bottle and found shelter in an old wooden barn where he could get some sleep.

  He woke to find the rain lashing down on him through holes in the poorly maintained roof. He had brought a broad brimmed hat, so put it on and continued until he saw familiar landmarks. In the wilderness there would always be the risk of danger. Elfred quickly ate some of the bread and cheese he carried and took a swig of water before saddling his horse and setting off down the track. He was a long way from the lands of the people of the Du, but all manner of bandits and raiders had been known to settle in the lawless ‘no man’s land’ between the kingdoms.

  It was good to be heading toward home again and his mind turned to the farm at St Davids. This was the first time he had ever missed the harvest and wondered if they had managed to gather the crops before the rains came. He decided that he should stay a day or so before continuing with his mission. He was, after all, bishop Cledwin’s man, not Sir Gwynfor’s, and he wanted to hear more from the bishop about the original owner of the sword he now carried. His hand fell to the handle and he drew the heavy sword in a single flowing motion, slicing down on one imaginary attacker to the left then sweeping the blade swiftly over to the right. If he did have to fight, he was ready.

  Tristan was growing tired of the confines of the fort at Flint. More men of the tribes were arriving every day, often bringing horses, cattle and supplies, so they were rapidly outgrowing the limited space of the old fortress and it would soon need to be expanded or even rebuilt completely. The location was ideal, on raised ground at the mouth of the safe harbour on the Dee estuary. The salty sea air filled Tristran’s lungs as he looked out to sea. Another supply barge would soon be joining the two tied up at the quay, which was busy with men loading heavy sacks onto wagons. The air was filled with shouts and curses and there was a buzz of anticipation as they made ready for the war with the Gwyn.

  He wished he had persuaded Lord Vorath to take him on the raid. Before he left, Lord Vorath had placed his hand on Tristan’s shoulder and looked at him intently. The boy had grown into a man. He had taken to wearing a black tunic that made his hair look even blonder and he stood out clearly among the dark haired warriors of the tribes. At his waist was a fine Du sword, a special gift at his coming of age ceremony and he carried a new black shield, decorated with a snarling red dragon. Vorath smiled. It was a break with Du tradition but Tristan had grown into a strong and capable warrior and was his favourite. Tristan’s Viking ancestry meant he’d had to work hard to earn the respect of the men, who now looked up to him without question.

  ‘I am leaving you in charge,’ Vorath had said, his deep voice loud enough for everyone in the vicinity to hear. ‘Make these tribesmen into warriors.’

  It was a clear sign that Vorath was
finally accepting him as a successor and Tristan was pleased and surprised that he suddenly felt quite emotional. The old warrior had been hard on him all his life but was the closest he had to a father. ‘It will be my honour, my lord.’ He knew he had done well but the men were from different tribes and there was always a tension. Arguments quickly flared up into fights and more than once he had to make an example by having troublemakers flogged. This has made him enemies within the garrison and he knew he would always have to watch his back.

  ‘Be ready for the king. I expect he may be here before long.’

  Tristan thought he saw a flicker of regret in the old warrior’s eyes at his mention of the king and remembered the stories of their great battles together. Without waiting for a reply the Warlord mounted Ddraig and shouted for his men to follow. It was an impressive sight, as the black war horses thundered into the dawn mist. The finest warriors of the Du were finally going to battle. As he watched them go he wondered when he would see them again, as Vorath had told him their plan was to ride deep into the Gwyn homelands. He knew Vorath and his men could look after themselves but the Gwyn were well armed and strongly defended.

  Now Vorath and his men were gone, Tristan looked out over the green fields that surrounded the castle. All the trees within sight had been felled to reduce cover for any attackers and provide firewood for the garrison. A scatter of crofts had been built as closely as the garrison had permitted but most of the area around Flint Castle was pasture, grazed by sheep and goats. A section of straight road, built by Roman invaders, led in the direction of Chester, but Tristan was looking at a different path, towards the lands of the Gwyn.

  An idea suddenly occurred to him. The men were under his command and did not have to remain in the castle. It would be good for them to gain some experience in the field. He found Dafydd, who he had appointed the Master of the Guard and told him to have the men assembled in the courtyard, right away. He knew Dafydd was his main rival to one day become warlord, but he would lead the best men south and prove to Lord Vorath that he was a true warrior. By the afternoon of the same day he placed Dafydd in temporary charge of the fort and marched on foot at the head of a small group of warriors, all dressed in black and hand picked for their loyalty to him. In his excitement he had already forgotten his promise to be ready for the king.