The Warrior Princess Read online

  ‘No, not yet,’ said Tarw. ‘Let it all sink in and then we will talk as a family.’ He looked over at the cart. ‘Are the children in there?’

  ‘They are fast asleep,’ said Gwenllian. ‘And we should let them rest. We have been travelling the whole night.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘I am as awake as a morning lark,’ said Gwenllian. ‘So shall we see what this Taliesin has to say?’

  ‘Aye,’ replied Tarw. He turned to Morgan. ‘Are you coming?’

  ‘Am I invited?’

  ‘You are my oldest son, Morgan, and as such have just as much say in this family as anyone. You should be at our side.’

  ‘Then let’s go,’ said Morgan and he led the way up the path leading to the campaign tent.

  ‘They are here,’ said Dog simply, entering the campaign tent and walking over to sit on one of the benches.

  Tarw, Gwenllian and Morgan followed him in and stood side by side, staring at the ten men lined up against the far wall of the tent. The air seemed tense and there was none of the hospitality Tarw had experienced a few nights earlier.

  ‘So,’ said Taliesin, stepping forward, ‘you must be the famous Gwenllian. I must say, you certainly look the part.’ The men either side of the rebel leader laughed at his taunt but Gwenllian remained unmoved.

  ‘If that is supposed to be an insult,’ said Tarw, ‘then you demean yourself. We are here to discuss what happens next so why don’t we just get on with it?’

  ‘Not so fast, prince,’ said Taliesin as he walked over to stand before Gwenllian. ‘We are still waiting for your accuser and, besides, first I need to be introduced to your wife for the rumours of her beauty have certainly not been exaggerated.’

  ‘If you have anything to say, you can say it directly to me,’ said Gwenllian, meeting his stare, ‘and not through my husband.’ As Gwenllian and Taliesin stared at each other, more men entered the tent and stood behind the newcomers. Amongst them was Tomas Scar.

  ‘Ah, here they are,’ said Taliesin, looking over Gwenllian’s shoulder. ‘Now we can begin.’ He turned and walked to the far side of the table and dropped into the large carved chair like a self-assured monarch. ‘Tomas Scar,’ he said, ‘I trust you are sober?’

  ‘As the day as I was born,’ said Scar.

  ‘And do you still hold the view that the prince and his wife are nothing more than cowards?’

  ‘I have had a chance to digest Tarw’s explanations and if what he said is true, then it dulls the blade of my accusations but it still leaves me uneasy about allowing someone back into the fold who once rode away so easily.’

  Taliesin turned to face Tarw. ‘And what say you to these concerns?’

  ‘First of all,’ said Tarw, ‘I have not said I want to ride with you at all. I said I will discuss it with my family.’

  ‘And have you?’

  ‘Not yet, they have only just arrived.’

  ‘Then this is your chance.’ He turned to Gwenllian. ‘Let me explain. It appears to me that fortune may have smiled upon the Welsh cause these past few days. With the death of the king, not only is there unprecedented turmoil amongst the halls of Westminster, there is also great fear and confusion amongst the barons and castles across Wales. This alone offers great opportunity, but when you realise that Hywel ap Maredudd has amassed a huge army and already defies English rule across Brycheniog, it does not take a clever man to realise there is a chance to seize the moment and take back what is ours.’

  ‘Then why don’t you do it?’ asked Gwenllian.

  ‘Because we don’t have the numbers,’ replied Taliesin. ‘And while I am a stubborn man, I am not stupid. You two, on the other hand, seem to have an attraction that draws men to any cause you may support.’

  ‘I feel you may be insulting those very men you speak of,’ said Gwenllian, ‘for you do not credit them with any patriotism. No man risks his life for a single man or woman, be they pauper or prince. Someone like me, or indeed my husband, can only be a figurehead in such things. The men that wield the swords have to do so with the intention of either winning something or defending something. Often, it can be the same thing.’

  ‘Explain?’

  ‘Freedom. Once won, it will always have to be defended and that is what makes a man fight. Those at the head of the armies are figureheads only, no more than human representations of a nation’s colours.’

  Taliesin fell silent and sat back in his chair. The woman before him was certainly beautiful and indeed striking in her studded leather armour but more than that she was intelligent and engaging, a trait he seldom found in other men, let alone women.

  ‘I can see why you were so revered by your people,’ said Taliesin.

  ‘So what is all this about?’ asked Gwenllian with a sigh. ‘Why are we here, Taliesin? Spit it out.’

  ‘You are here,’ said the leader, ‘because there is a suggestion you could re-join the rebellion. Your husband has recently indicated that in his heart of hearts he would gladly take up the sword but alas his agreement with the dead king prevents him from doing so.’

  ‘A man is only as good as his word,’ said Gwenllian.

  ‘And therein lies the problem. I hear you have about eighty men-at-arms between you, and while that is impressive in such a short time, it isn’t anywhere near enough. If we are going to take advantage of the turmoil amongst the English, we need to rally a nation and to do that we need a prince.’

  ‘Or a princess,’ said a voice, and everyone turned to stare at Dog, sitting casually on the side bench using the point of his knife to pick his teeth. For a few moments there was silence until eventually someone spoke from just behind Gwenllian’s shoulder.

  ‘Arguing about the merits of a Welsh prince leading the rebellion is one thing,’ said Scar, ‘but to consider riding under the command of a woman is beyond contemplation.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Dog simply.

  ‘Because battle is men’s business,’ said Scar. ‘She may ride into this camp as a daughter of a king but that carries no weight with me. I see no wounds or scars of conflict. All she has is her fancy armour and a haughty bearing. This is the badge of battle,’ he said, drawing his knife and resting the point on the vivid scar running down his cheek, ‘not fancy hair and a reputation gleaned from oft exaggerated stories.’

  ‘A scar is not a badge of honour for the man who carries it but the man who inflicted it,’ said Gwenllian without turning around. Scar lowered his knife to rest it on Gwenllian’s shoulder, so the blade was just within her sight.

  ‘If you are implying you are a better warrior than I, then feel free to challenge me. I distinguish not between foes of any sex; they all die the same way.’

  A murmur rippled around the tent at the implied threat and Morgan’s hand strayed to his own blade, only to be stopped by his father.

  ‘Don’t,’ said Tarw quietly. ‘This will be played out.’

  ‘But . . .’ started Morgan.

  ‘Do as you are told,’ said Tarw menacingly, ‘and stay out of it. Your mother is fine.’

  ‘Nobody is dying here today,’ snapped Taliesin. ‘The meeting is to decide where we go from here, but you and your husband need to make your minds up as to what your intentions are. If you want to leave, then go but if your hearts are as patriotic as you claim then state your expectations for we are getting nowhere.’

  ‘I am happy to do so,’ said Gwenllian. ‘But first, you can tell your court jester here that if he does not remove his blade, I will cut his throat with his own knife.’

  For a few seconds there was silence and then the tent erupted into laughter.

  ‘Really?’ said Taliesin eventually. ‘I heard you had a fierce reputation but for one so slight I wonder if such words can be backed up with suitable actions.’

  ‘Try me,’ said Gwenllian, meeting his stare.

  Taliesin looked over her shoulder at Tomas Scar. ‘Tomas, you can stand down. We wouldn’t want you to get hurt.’

  The warri
or sneered before sheathing his blade. ‘I suspect hell would freeze over before this wench would hurt me, unless of course, she refused my bed and then I would be extremely hurt.’ As the tent burst into laughter again, Tomas Scar placed his chin on Gwenllian’s shoulder and whispered into her ear. ‘What about it, Princess. Fancy trying a real man instead of a coward?’

  Gwenllian turned around and smiled up at Tomas. He loomed tall before her and his foul breath swept down upon her face. Tomas Scar leered back, his eyes widening in pleasant surprise as her hands lifted his hauberk to seek his crotch.

  ‘I’ll tell you what,’ she said, her voice colder than her actions implied, ‘you keep your filthy thoughts to yourself and in return, I’ll let you keep these.’ Before he could respond, Gwenllian grabbed his crotch in a vicelike grip and twisted as hard as she could, forcing the warrior to cry out in unexpected pain. For a few seconds he just stood there, bent over in agony, but despite the pain, his fist lashed out to knock the woman away.

  Gwenllian stepped quickly back away but as Tomas Scar followed up his unsuccessful punch with a lunge, she kicked out with the sole of her boot, connecting with the warrior’s knee, sending him crashing to the floor. Before anyone could move, she followed up by dropping onto his chest, drawing a blade from her boot and pressing it against his throat. The whole thing had taken seconds only and everyone else looked on in shock.

  ‘Well,’ said Gwenllian, without taking her cold eyes from those of the man beneath her face, ‘do I kill him or not?’

  No one answered and the tent fell silent.

  ‘Gwenllian, you have made your point,’ said Tarw quietly. ‘Let him up.’

  For a few seconds, her blade remained where it was before finally she eased the pressure and jumped to her feet.

  ‘Do not judge me, my friend,’ she said as the man staggered up from the floor, ‘for I have killed bigger and better men than you.’

  Tomas Scar turned to face her and she braced herself for another assault. Instead, after a moment’s pause, he nodded his head in acknowledgement. ‘I have to admit you got the better of me this time, Princess, but be aware that if ever we need to do this again, you will not find me so unprepared.’

  Gwenllian nodded back and Tomas Scar returned to his comrades, growling at the inevitable teasing, having been bettered by a woman.

  Gwenllian turned to Taliesin. ‘You were saying?’

  Taliesin breathed deeply and nodded his own head in admiration. ‘I admit I am impressed,’ he said, ‘but a scuffle in a tent is not warfare. Tell me what you want and your terms.’

  ‘Two days ago, I wanted nothing but my boys safely home and to enjoy the peace to which we had become accustomed. Since then, my eldest son has been beaten by the English and almost hanged alongside my husband. The place I have called home all these years has been burned to the ground and many of those I called friends, slaughtered like cattle. I found my two youngest sons hiding amongst the filth of the pigs yet thanked God I did for they were the only survivors.’ She paused and looked around the tent. ‘But none of this had as much effect on me as the poor girl who saved their lives. It was obvious she had been raped and left to die but somehow, she still managed to find my children and hid them from the murdering bastards who would see them dead. Even as she breathed her last, she kept them warm with her dying body.’

  She stared into the eyes of each man in turn as she continued. ‘She did this not because of who they were, for their true identities were kept secret, but because they were innocent children and as such represented the future of our kingdom. To me that is an act of bravery greater than any campaign I have ever ridden upon or heard about.’

  She turned back to face Taliesin. ‘So, you ask me what I want to do, well here is my answer. I want to take the fight to the English. To strike them down wherever we find them until every last one is dead or flees beaten and bloody back through the Marches to England. But this is not for me, or my husband or even my sons. I want to do this for a poor girl who lies rotting in her grave outside the ruins of Llandeilo. Someone who, despite her pain, sacrificed her life for the future of this country and if every man here has even a portion of that girl’s courage, then Deheubarth could see a Welsh king within months.’

  A murmur of support and admiration rippled around the tent and Taliesin watched with interest at the effect she was having on his men. She had only been in the camp for an hour yet she was already inspiring those who had faced so much hardship and danger.

  ‘So,’ he said, returning his gaze to the princess, ‘you want to join us?’

  ‘Aye. Give us shelter and time to train those who have followed us here and we will ride alongside you as allies. We will send out word to everyone still loyal to the crown of Deheubarth and swell our numbers. By spring we could have an army capable of engaging most of what Gerald can send against us.’

  ‘Even if this was possible, we are in the depths of winter and can hardly feed ourselves. How do you suggest we feed an army?’

  ‘We have many contacts, Taliesin, lords and commoners alike, and when we preyed upon the English columns, it was they who profited from our attacks. No one went hungry during those winters for we made sure there was bread for all. Now it is time to call in those debts and, though some may struggle, I am confident many will give what they can. Add this to carefully planned attacks on English interests and I’m sure we can live well until spring.’

  ‘And what if Gerald responds with knights?’

  ‘I doubt he will for he cannot risk defeat while the Crown mourns for Henry. If he does, we will strike like adders and flee back amongst the forests like frightened deer, leading them a merry dance until such a time when we are strong enough to face them as equals.’

  Taliesin sat back again and stared at Gwenllian. Her ambition was huge and he foresaw many problems but for the first time in years, he felt the stirrings of excitement in his gut. ‘And you think we can do this?’

  ‘We have done it before,’ said Gwenllian.

  Taliesin turned to face Tarw. ‘And what say you, Prince?’

  ‘I agree with my wife,’ said Tarw. ‘I will not break my word to the dead king and lead any rebellion but it was a promise about leadership only, not participation.’

  ‘So you will ride amongst us?’

  ‘Aye, and be proud to do so.’

  Taliesin took a deep breath and looked around the tent. Every eye was upon him and he knew he had a big decision to make. Finally, he turned back to face Tarw and Gwenllian. ‘I will talk to my men and come to a judgement,’ he said. ‘Go to your hut and await me there.’

  Gwenllian and Tarw nodded in acknowledgement and left the tent, closely followed by their son.

  ‘Well, the matter is now out of our hands,’ said Tarw as they walked down the slope. ‘How do you think the dice will fall?’

  ‘Only Taliesin and God know,’ said Gwenllian. ‘But I will tell you this. Even if he sends us away, I will not leave Deheubarth before Gerald and his murdering knights feel the weight of my retribution and if we have to ride alone, then so be it.’

  Later that day, Tarw, Gwenllian and Morgan sat at the table in their hut eating a stew made from wood pigeon and root vegetables. Maelgwyn was still absent and Gwenllian was worried for his safety.

  ‘What if he has ridden from here?’ she asked. ‘He is not yet able to live his life as a man, especially in such dangerous times.’

  ‘He will be back,’ said Morgan, delving back into the pot for more meat. ‘He just needs time.’

  Tarw looked across at his two youngest sons playing happily in the corner. Rhydian was tickling his brother and both were hysterically laughing. ‘It’s those two I am more concerned about,’ said Tarw. ‘If we are to join this rebellion then it is they who will suffer most.’

  ‘In what way?’ asked his wife.

  ‘You know the demands of warfare,’ said Tarw. ‘And it is likely we will both be away from camp for long stretches of time. They will see us very seld
om and that is not a situation they are used to.’

  ‘I will engage one of the women to look after them in my absence,’ said Gwenllian. ‘They will be fine and it is a small price to pay towards the freedom we seek.’

  ‘And if we die?’ asked Tarw. ‘What then?’

  Morgan looked between each of his parents thoughtfully. The thought of death in battle wasn’t a stranger to him but the aftermath was a scenario he hadn’t considered.

  ‘Well we are still a long way from that possibility,’ said Gwenllian, ‘but I will leave instructions and money to pay for safe passage to my father’s house in Aberffraw. They will be safe there and can make their own choices when they are men.’

  ‘Perhaps it is wise to send them sooner rather than later.’

  ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,’ said Gwenllian. ‘We don’t even know if this Taliesin will allow us to ride with him yet. Once it is clear what is happening, we will decide.’

  ‘Well, whatever the outcome,’ said Morgan, looking over his parents’ shoulders, ‘we are about to find out.’

  Tarw and Gwenllian turned to see the figure of Dog standing quietly in the doorway.

  ‘We are ready,’ said Dog and he turned away before anyone could ask him any questions.

  ‘What does he mean?’ asked Morgan.

  ‘There’s only one way to find out,’ said Tarw, standing up. ‘Come on.’

  He walked over to the door followed by Morgan and Gwenllian and ducked under the low lintel. Outside, he stopped dead in his tracks and as his wife and son joined him, they all stared in silence at the astonishing sight below them.

  Down on the valley floor, every member of Taliesin’s small army was lined up in ranks. Behind them stood the civilians of the camp, men, women and children alike, who were too young, too old or too infirm to carry a weapon. To either flank stood the men Tarw and Gwenllian had recruited to their cause over the past few days, again, each fully armed. In all there were over two hundred individuals looking up at the family and at their head stood Taliesin, towering above them all.