Conquest

‘Madam, you are beautiful.’ The King spoke for every man there. ‘Hereward of Bourne, cover her. Take her to the women, have them dress her; I place her under your protection.’

Hereward hesitated for a second, feeling the strength of her will, before her smile signalled that he could proceed. As he draped his cloak over her shoulders a second time, for a fleeting moment he enjoyed the excitement of touching her warm skin.

The King spoke again. ‘Hereward of Bourne, I grant you safe passage in your journey to the west. Take young Lightfoot with you and, with Earl Aelfgar’s permission, the big man too.’

Aelfgar nodded his approval.

‘As for the young woman… Before you go, madam, I will see the object you wear around your neck.’

‘My Lord King, it is only a trinket, a gift from my father.’

‘Don’t deny me. I would like to know what object of intrigue adorns such a desirable creature. Step forward.’

Hereward shuddered, fearing that the King’s mood might darken. As Torfida strode the five yards that separated her from Gruffydd, his instincts cried out to him to rush to her aid.

The King stood as she approached; that in itself was unusual, but his whispered question was bizarre. ‘Do you understand the old ways?’

‘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.’