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nightfall.’ He mounted his horse and smiled. ‘Or Brockwell shall have the men believing thou hast turned me to stone.’
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    After clearing the forest, the terrain was more obliging and they travelled at a steady pace for the rest of the day.
    The Prince slowed his horse to a stop on the crest of a hill. He spotted smoke from a camp fire and smiled, pleased that dinner would be well under way. ‘Art thou hungry?’ he asked Tory, who was dozing against his back.
    She groaned in pleasure at the thought of food. ‘I could eat a horse. No offence.’ She patted the animal without moving her exhausted body.
    â€˜Well hopefully that shan’t be necessary,’ the Prince answered as they galloped down the hill.
    The camp site was a hive of activity. A wild pig, slain by the warriors, was roasting over the fire. ThePrince’s tent had been raised, and torches were lit around the encampment to discourage thieves. Most of the men had now settled by the fire, telling stories of their battles this day over much mead.
    As the Prince rode into the camp, his men rushed to meet him. All except Brockwell, who appeared rather perturbed.
    Madoc, the eldest amongst them, was the first to reach the Prince. ‘Majesty, I shall never leave thy side again. I have been out of my mind with worry. What would I have told the King?’
    Maelgwn dismounted in good cheer, the smell of pork filling his nostrils. He slapped his old companion on the back, assuring him. ‘’Twas no need to worry, Sir Madoc, I had Tory here to aid me.’ Maelgwn turned to help her down, and no sooner had her feet hit the ground than Brockwell was in her face.
    â€˜Thou dost not belong here.’
    Tory took a step back, holding her hand to her head. ‘So the Saxons failed to catch thee, what a shame.’
    Maelgwn intervened before the situation got out of hand. ‘Brockwell, I swear this very day, I would have been murdered by thieves if not for the services of this gracious lady.’ As Brockwell was about to protest, the Prince added staunchly, ‘And I will not hear another word said against her.’
    Brockwell glared at Tory a moment before withdrawing to the fire.
    â€˜So thou hast seen a bit of action, Sire?’ a knight, roughly Maelgwn’s age, inquired.
    Tory noticed the man’s steely blue eyes fixed on her. He was only of average build, but seemed a rather menacing character nevertheless.
    The Prince took Tory by the arm and led her towards his tent. ‘Cadogan, I have seen things this day I never before imagined.’
    â€˜Do tell, Majesty.’ Cadogan smiled with open envy as he watched Tory disappear into the tent.
    â€˜Later,’ the Prince said, closing the tent flap behind him.
    Tory offloaded her bags and Maelgwn motioned her to a large fur on the ground.
    â€˜Rest, thou art safe here. I shall wake thee presently with food and drink.’
    â€˜Sounds marvellous,’ Tory replied, crawling onto the thick fur rug.
    Maelgwn freed himself from the confines of his armour, watching Tory while she rested. The candle beside her cast a light across the mark of the Dragon on her forehead and he studied it a moment. The Prince believed the story of Tory’s origins, or at least he believed that she believed it. But if she was telling the truth, who had brought her back to this time and branded her with his mark? Was it sorcery or coincidence that she appeared so much like the late Queen of Gwynedd? There was only one man Maelgwn knew who had the knowledge and skill to carry out such a feat, but he had not seen the old wizard for over a decade.
    Nevertheless, she was beautiful, the Prince concluded, when she was not conducting herself like a man. He madea mental note to inquire about her methods of fighting as he left to join his men outside.
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    Maelgwn gave Tory a nudge and she woke with a fright. ‘Easy,’ he said. ‘Here, drink.’ The Prince