Darkness Falls

By B. S. Davies

It is the year of Our Lord 1293.
Assistant to the Royal Architect, Tynon Wade, is charged by Edward I to investigate what is happening in the South Wales township of Rhaeadr Tywyllwch which is living under a threat that comes under the cover of night. It preys on anyone who lights the darkness, it swoops upon them leaving them as piles of ash.
Could the rumours be true? That the Red Dragon of Wales has returned?
If it has, can it possibly become the weapon the Welsh need to rise up and defeat their English oppressors?

• Language: English
• Publisher: B. S. Davies
• Release date: Mar 10, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370667161

B. S. Davies

B S Davies was born at a very young age on Halloween in 1958, the first offspring of Welsh parents. By the time his two sisters were born, the family had moved back to Wales, where his heart is (his lungs are in Norwich, his head is normally somewhere that does not appear on most maps). When he was old enough he joined the Royal Air Force, working in that well known contradiction in terms – Military Intelligence. He left in 1982 and worked at the University of East Anglia in Norwich as a cartographer. Life is a varied path from start to finish, and his has been no different, having worked as a frozen food packager, milkman, advertising executive, graphic designer, which once gave him the obscure opportunity of painting a check on the side of a cow! He is currently working as a freelance Graphic Designer and copywriter.

Book preview

Prologue

The Darkness was all encompassing, oppressive; made doubly so because of what he knew was out there, somewhere. Silently, and with darting movements from doorway to doorway, he made his stilted way home, with his right hand protecting the dim light from the tiny flickering flame of the small candle which he held in his left, causing the dim light it emitted to fall only onto the ground at his feet and the wisp of candle smoke to drift into his face.

He knew he should not be out after the curfew fell, but it was the only way to see her. True love made you take risks he told himself to justify his transgression. Even that fleeting thought of her seemed to lighten his way and as he paused in a doorway just yards from his own home he smiled.

An unearthly screech from above him wiped the smile from his face in an instant and his right hand automatically snuffed the flickering candle and as he pressed himself against the thick oak door the screech came again only closer, he heard the beat of dry leathery wings as the beast passed over him only feet above the rooftops. He thought he could see dust rising in clouds from the packed dirt of the road as the air displaced by the flight of the creature struck it, appearing almost like a trail of invisible footsteps which proceeded up the slope of Main Street. He took the chance and dashed for his own door and as he opened it he heard the unearthly screech once more, followed closely by an all too earthly one.

Some poor soul had just been dealt the ‘Dark Doom’.

CHAPTER 1

Tynon Wade had never been this far into South Wales, he had always tried to avoid it in the past. Why he did not really know. But as he bounced and cursed his way through the woods towards Neath in the Vale of Glamorgan on the back of this luckless, and it appeared witless, dun coloured pony he realised that while he loved the countryside he had passed through, he just could not understand the people’s resistance to English rule. He, on the other hand, having a Welsh mother and an English father, could embrace the whole ideal of one united country under the leadership of one throne. A point he had discussed at length with Master James in his latest masterpiece of construction, the mighty castle in Harlech.

The fortress designed and built by Master James of St. George as part of King Edwards Ring of Iron which was planned to stretch from Flint to Aberwystwyth encircling the outer edge of the mountain range of Snowdonia with the inhospitable Irish Sea forming a natural boundary to the north. That’s how stubborn these narrow minded people were, thought Tynon, you had to build a ring of castles around them to make them behave.

The Castle had taken nearly a thousand men and six years to build and had been finished around the same time as its sister Stronghold in Aberwystwyth. A perfect example of a concentric castle placed in the perfect position overlooking the sea from the cliff and the magnificent Gatehouse overlooking its only vulnerable face to the east. The Iron Ring was intended to prevent the region from becoming the focal point of insurrection as it had before and, in theory, avert any last bastion of resistance. Work had started after Edward had finally crushed the stronghold at Castell y Bere, which lay almost exactly midway between Aberwystwyth and Harlech, in the rugged landscape under the shadow of Cadiar Idris (the Chair of Idris) just this six years past.

Tynon missed his cosy quarters in the new Castle he had come to think of as his home. It seemed he had been travelling for months instead of the three weeks it had taken him so far, first by cog; a short and stubby transport ship that rode low in the water steered by a side oar and powered by a combination of oars and a sail, its strong cross beams allowing the transportation of greater quantities of cargo than earlier ships, but it was slow and difficult to manoeuvre.

They had sailed from "The Way from the Sea" under the western wall of Harlech Castle to Ireland, then on to Swansea and now to Neath on a wretched wandering pony for the best part of two days.

With that thought he kicked at his mount with his heels and pulled the reins to the left and, as usual, the pony wandered as directed for three paces and then returned to the route it had been taking in the first place before stopping to crop at a small clump of grass at the side of the track. The letters and charters he bore for the Abbey in Neath were already three years late; at this rate they will have completed the third part of the Annales Cambriae by the time he got there, he thought with frustration. He gazed heavenwards in despair and noticed, as the mid-morning sun shone through the boughs, that the trees of the woodland bore the slightest touches of auburn around the edges of their leaves giving the first hint of the approaching autumn.

He must be close now he thought, even on this nag; the Abbey was only seven miles from Swansea. But it was uphill and the pony seemed to be obstinately resolved to taking the path of least resistance, at the slowest pace it could; he had tried dismounting and leading the creature by its reins on a more direct route but it had refused to budge, so he had bowed to the inevitable and clambered once more on its back for it to continue with its torturously slow progress, definitely a Welsh pony, he mused.

Tynon was eager to deliver the missives to the Cistercian Monks so he could continue on his first real quest as set by His Majesty King Edward the First.

CHAPTER 2

The year of Tynon’s birth had seen the passing of Henry III, thus ending the longest reign by a Monarch of England. His father, Sir Robert Wade of Malpas, missed his birth as he was away with Henry’s son, Edward Longshanks who, after attempting to stamp his Princely authority over his territories in Gascony in various impetuous and abortive campaigns, had dutifully gone and joined yet another Crusade in the Holy Land and was only informed of his father’s death as they were sailing back to Britain after wintering in Sicily. At the news of his succession to the English throne, rather than rush back, Edward decided to take his return slowly and visited his cousin, Phillip III in Paris and staying for several months in his lands in Gascony; the running of the country left to his trusted advisers, including his secretary Robert Burnell, and the Barons who had all sworn fealty to him in his absence. Wade and the new King returned to Britain in late 1274, just after Tynon’s second birthday.

Absence, as they say, makes the heart grow fonder and the young Tynon yearned for the time that his father did spend at their home, which lay well within in all the protection that Malpas Castle could offer in the County Palatine of Chester and subsequently he started to discount his mother’s teachings of how Wales had been subjugated over the years under English tyranny, and yearn for the tales that his father regaled him with of the now King, Edward; only the second King to sit on the throne since the signing of the Magna Carta at Runnymede fifty-seven years previously.

It was very apparent that the young Master Wade possessed a keen and enquiring mind; he could read and write by the age of five, with a rudimentary knowledge of the Welsh language taught to him by his mother, and it had been mooted that when he came of an age, he could attend one of the relatively new Universities at Oxford or Cambridge founded by King John at the start of the century, but his mother would not hear of it and the costs proved prohibitive.

So he, as like many sons of noblemen, studied under the tutelage of the local Abbey. Aside from the normal lessons of arithmetic, reading and writing, Tynon showed an aptitude for interpreting and drawing diagrams and he was introduced to the Architect Royal, Master James of St. George who was surveying in the area for prospective sites for the Castles which had been commissioned by the King.

To the immense pride of his father, and the chagrin of his mother, Tynon was taking on as an apprentice to the Master at the age of twelve and spent the next seven years learning to draft architectural plans and maps. He also had the ability of applying logic to unravel problems and had solved several minor crimes during his visits to various sites around middle England and the now apparently subdued South Wales, where his ability to speak the local language helped immensely.

It was these factors that had made the King order Tynon’s attendance at the Royal Court at Harlech. The King, as had all the Royals, did not live in just one place, but travelled around with an entourage of up to four hundred people at times visiting his various seats around the country and had been known to visit up to seventy-five of his twelve hundred or so Manor’s in one year. He had been ensconced at Harlech for four days before he summoned Tynon.

Tynon had to negotiate his way through several dozen servants and kitchen staff who were pacing the hallway outside the grand chamber, some of whom recognised him and smiled at him or nodded in acknowledgement as he passed. He did not have to wait with them as he was immediately called in by a Royal Herald, a short wiry man whose demeanour spoke more as to his position within the Royal entourage than his clothes did, Master Tynon Wade, my Liege! His announcement echoed around the vast hall hardly dampened at all by the elaborate tapestries and banners hung from the wall which served as insulation against the coldness of the masonry walls, not very effectively thought Tynon as he approached the Kings throne, even though summer had not yet ended, there was a chill in the huge room despite there being a roaring fire in a fireplace larger than a lot of the houses which made up the town of Harlech. But then the cold only accounted for a fraction of the involuntary trembling of Tynon’s legs as he approached his King.

Standing at five foot ten inches, Tynon was considered tall but as he bowed to the King, His Majesty’s large frame rose from his seat and his height almost dwarfed Wade; standing at six foot three no one had any doubt as to why he was called Longshanks.

Master James stood to the right of the throne which signified his importance within the King’s staff and smiled at Tynon as his protégé stood erect once more, but before he could return the look to his Master, Edward spoke, I am told that you speak the local tongue. He stated, not expecting an answer, And that you have a very, er… the Monarch paused as if searching for the correct word, ’unique’ way of addressing problems. He turned slightly and glanced at Master James, "Or so my Magister informs me."

Wade half bowed again and remained staring at the floor as he answered his Liege, It has been said of me, Sire. He said quietly.

Speak up boy! said the King loudly, Don’t mutter, I don’t bite! Despite what those heathen Scots say! there was a smattering of polite laughter from those in attendance to the Sovereign and Tynon smiled too. I need you to travel to the South, to Glamorgan. There you will investigate what has been reported to us as ‘strange occurrences.’ And take whatever actions you deem necessary. The ‘Hammer of the Scots’ paused to let his words sink in. Master James will explain the details to you. Now I must attend to other things; we must journey to Conway anon. Edward dismissed him with a wave of his jewel bedecked hand.

Tynon bowed once more and he was instantly pleased, if not relieved, that he would be travelling as the logistics of moving the entire Royal Household was a long and laborious ordeal and a logistical nightmare involving most of the Castle’s population, with him normally amongst them, all who invariably got in each other’s way most of the time. It would explain the crowd of minions in the hallway; they were waiting to strip all the royal trappings from the Great Hall to pack them onto one of many wagons which would be waiting in the Courtyard straining under the weight of everything and anything that the Royal Household deemed necessary, or for that matter, unnecessary.

After allowing the hoard of staff stream into the Hall, the Master joined him outside the Great Hall We will talk in my rooms. He said as they walked away from the main hall trying to avoid the steady flow of Castle servants as they divulged the Castle of all things Regal.

CHAPTER 3

Edward had proved to be a King of many great qualities with proven abilities as a general and warrior aided somewhat by his physical presence. He was also a faithful husband to his Queen, Eleanor, and a masterful legislator. But he did have a dark side, always convinced that his way was not only the right way, but the best way; he had also shown on numerous occasions that he possessed the ability to be sly and duplicitous and would not tolerate any slur on the Crown’s dignity.

This was a lesson he had learned by watching his father, Henry III, who, whilst a lot kinder man than his Edward’s Grandfather, John, could not help but make many inept policy decisions. Decisions that Edward, being so young, had the inability to change. The only opportunity he had was to help his father take back control in 1258 when most of the Lords of the Realm took steps to forcibly dispossess power from the throne, but, with the Prince assisting, Henry regained the Royal authority.

Edward vowed never allow himself to be put in that position when he became ruler, and took very forceful steps to quash any disagreement from the nobles who had sort to remove power from his father. But for all the precautions he took to protect his rights as King once he had succeeded it was not where the greatest threat came from; that lay in the valleys and mountains of Wales to the west.

When Edward succeeded to the Throne of England, Wales was, to all intents and purposes, a completely separate country but he still expected them to recognize their subservience to his Throne. The difficulty was that most of Wales was not a country united.

The reason was geographical. The terrain of mountains and valleys made it a very difficult area for any one ruler to control and small kingdoms were dotted around the entire country. To the North West, the small kingdom of Gwynedd under the rule of Llewellyn ap Gruffudd had started to establish a modicum of control and stability and he spread south. So by the middle of the thirteenth century, and after defeating his brothers, he had united most of Wales under his banner; the Red Dragon. This charismatic leader then proceeded to drive the English out of North Wales.

Henry III’s dithering ineptitude had aided Llewellyn’s rise to greatness and the civil war in England had helped him cement his hold in Wales and Henry III, still severely shaken from the conflict, sued for peace with ap Gruffudd with no other option but to recognise the lands that the Welsh had gained. The peace treaty had been drawn up in Montgomery, near the ford, and it bestowed the title Prince of Wales on Llewellyn, the first, and the last, Welsh ruler to be awarded such by an English monarch.

But due to Henry’s by now infamous indecisiveness, the treaty was no more effective for Llewellyn than the Magna Carta had been for King John, and toward the end of his reign the English lords who had lost their lands in Wales had forced an all-out war.

But the Barons could not depend on support from the new King Edward at first, he had too much vested in Wales. Llewellyn, in return for the recognition of his position and territories, had been charged nearly seventeen thousand pounds and was paying it back in instalments and it was a sum that the new King to not afford to lose. So much so that even when the Prince of Wales ignored the Coronation of the King in a calculated diplomatic sleight, Edward decided to overlook it – he needed that money.

But Llewellyn was angry, furious even; the Earl of Gloucester was flaunting the fact that he had built his new castle in Caerphilly and that was not what the new Prince of Wales was paying this money for, the treaty was obviously not working and it made it look like his position as Prince was being treated as a joke. His immense frustration, however, lead him to make a grave error in judgement when he started to withhold the payments and, even more inflammatory, refused to pay homage to the King.

Edward had continued to display very uncharacteristic patience while ap Gruffudd ignored several opportunities to offer his tribute. The King demanded the