Stewart Binns - Conquest

‘Sire?’

The King leaned closer to her. ‘Do you know the ways of the Druids, practised under the moon, and the hidden truths from the time before the new faith came to us?’

He put his hand on her shoulder and gripped her flesh.

Torfida stood firm, but did not respond.

‘Do you understand the lore of the forest, the mythical beasts and the rituals of our ancestors?’ He moved his hand to Torfida’s waist, then towards her buttocks.

She still did not respond.

‘I sense you understand these things.’

‘My father taught me many things, both old and new.’

The King gave her a long, suggestive stare as he slowly moved his hand over the mound of her backside. ‘Did you practise the black arts during the long dark nights alone in your cell?’

‘I practise many things. But when I’m alone, I think only of how to overcome evil and the wicked things that men do.’

‘You talk like a seer.’

‘My father was a seer.’

‘What did he tell you about the amulet you wear?’

‘He told me to respect it, to understand it and to learn from it.’

The King released his grip on Torfida and sat down. ‘My family have lived in the mountains of Gwynedd for centuries. As children we were told a story passed down to us from ancient times. It tells of a great journey, undertaken by a flaxen-haired hero. He was seduced by a dark temptress who held the secret of his destiny. She carried an amulet which was so old that no one could remember its origins, but it was a powerful talisman which entranced all who saw it.’ He paused, peering into Torfida’s eyes, trying to bend her to his will. ‘Show me your amulet.’

Torfida leaned forward so that the amulet swung freely.

Gruffydd could see it clearly, but he could also see her breasts, even her nipples, which she made no attempt to hide. He wallowed in her sexuality and breathed deeply, preparing to devour her, there and then, in front of the entire army. The King’s blood rose as he thought how easy it would be to take her. No one could stop him.

Torfida spoke to Gruffydd in hushed tones, but her gaze was steely; only those close by could hear the words.

‘The Talisman tells me the truth about men. It shows me their hidden weaknesses, exposes their worst sins and reveals their greatest fears.’

Torfida’s chilling words broke the spell of the King’s manipulative game. She continued to stare at him intently, as if peering into his soul. He looked at the Talisman, saw the grotesque face of evil captured in its stone and pulled away, trying not to appear shocked.

He was silent for several seconds.

‘What do you see in me?’ His question was asked meekly, like a boy seeking reassurance from a mother.

‘You are a great warrior, a hero to your people. Your life is a constant war, a perpetual struggle for supremacy against your enemies. Gruffydd ap Llywelyn the man is Gruffydd ap Llywelyn the King; it is as it is.’

‘Am I condemned to Hell because a king has to do what he has to do?’

‘I do not know the answer to that; but never underestimate the power of the Anglo-Saxons. One day, they will come for you in overwhelming numbers, and then you will have to decide whether to stand and fight, or to submit. After that, your destiny is hidden from me. Only you can determine that, but you will be long remembered by your people.’

The tension had subsided. Torfida put out her hand and touched Gruffydd gently on his cheek, as if she were anointing him.

It was an astonishing gesture, both because Torfida had the presence to do it, but mainly because the King accepted it so meekly.

Gruffydd turned to Hereward. ‘Hereward, if you ever pass this way again, I would like to know what this beautiful creature makes of you. Take care of her.’

The four companions left camp the next morning and travelled west. Hereward was mindful of his good fortune: he had won his freedom, been given horses and supplies, a few pieces of Welsh silver and had found three companions. The Old Man of the Wildwood had described for him a daunting and challenging destiny, the first part of which had already come to pass.

No one spoke for over an hour; Torfida and Hereward were a few yards behind Martin and Einar when her words broke the silence.

‘I doubted my father yesterday. When the soldiers came, I thought my life was over. My father had said that my destiny was with one man – a great man – that I would bear his children and that we would face our destinies together. But I doubted my father, and I’m ashamed.’

‘But you don’t doubt him any more?’

‘No, because he sent you to me. He knew what your future would be.’

‘Why is the Talisman so important?’

Torfida kicked on to join the other two. ‘All in good time.’

As Hereward watched his three new companions move through the forest ahead of him, he knew his life was about to begin in earnest and that his previous escapades were no more than a prelude for what was to come. He knew that Martin and Einar would be his comrades for life and that Torfida would be his companion, his wife and his mentor.

They travelled west for many days, meeting almost no one on their route. They kept away from the high mountains to the north, but progress was still slow because of the many valleys they crossed. It was a desolated land, its tracks overgrown and its villages abandoned; Gruffydd’s wars had extracted a heavy price.

At times on their long journey, Hereward and Torfida would hang back or kick on until out of earshot of their companions. During these private moments, they told each other the contrasting stories of their lives.

Hers was a tale of a girl of the forest who knew no one other than her father, but who, nevertheless, had lived a childhood full of wonder and imagination under the wise tutelage of an inspirational man. His was a saga about a boy who had managed to spurn every opportunity available to him and take the wrong route at every crossroads in his life.

Eventually, from high on the side of a valley, they saw a busy thoroughfare below. Carts loaded with wood and wool and baggage trains of donkeys, oxen and horses confirmed that they had found a major trading route. They met fellow-travellers who told them that they were west of the settlement at Carmarthen and well on the way to the monastery at St David’s, from where safe passage to Ireland would be easy to arrange.

Hereward was elated: they could be in Dublin ahead of the cold December winds.

Two more days in the saddle got them to St David’s, where Hereward saw the Great Western Sea for the first time, which he knew would carry him far away to another land and a new life.

As they descended the hill towards the shore and the neat rectangular shapes of the houses of the monks of St David’s, Torfida’s manner changed.

‘You can make love to me tonight.’

Hereward was shocked. Because Torfida was barely sixteen, he had tried to put her beauty out of his mind. He had often felt aroused by her, but had suppressed the feeling, deliberately replacing it with a strong commitment to protect her.

‘Torfida, you are very beautiful, but you are so young. We should wait.’

‘Do you not desire me? I want to leave these shores as a woman, not as a girl. Although I am a virgin, I know what has to happen. My father told me that it is important for a woman to enjoy a man; he also explained that we make love face to face, unlike the beasts, because our pleasure should derive from love, not our animal instincts. I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently. I know what the King was trying to do, and I enjoyed playing his game. It made me aroused.’

She looked at him with a knowing, suggestive smile. He found her provocation irresistible and remembered her standing naked in full view of Gruffydd and his warriors, proudly displaying her extraordinary beauty.