Free The Dark Age by Traci Harding Page A

…’ 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?’
    â€˜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.
    â€˜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.’
    â€˜Women!’ Brockwell waved her off. ‘Thou art all the same.’
    â€˜What book be this?’ Maelgwn playfully reached for it, but Tory quickly pulled it away. ‘Tory,’ he demanded, firmly.
    â€˜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.’
    â€˜My death?’ Maelgwn guessed, and Tory nodded her head slightly in response. ‘My wedding?’ he asked, not looking at her this time.
    â€˜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.
    â€˜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.’
    â€˜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.
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    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