Chronicle of Ages Read Online Free

emphasised. ‘I feel sure that Aurelius Conan will want the best for his kingdom, as do we all.’
    â€˜Aye, but will he recognise what be in the best interests of Gwent?’ Fergus MacErc, the Scot of Dalriada, folded his arms, clearly ill-at-ease.
    â€˜I say we drag young Conan up to Llyn Cerrig Bach for an inauguration.’ Brockwell grinned, revealing the dimple on his chin. ‘Let the Goddess decide if he is worthy.’ He raised his brow, his blue eyes sparkling as he relished the thought.
    Ten years a king, and Calin Brockwell was still as mischievous and audacious as ever.
    â€˜Calin!’ Tory wasn’t surprised at him, but she made it sound as if she was. ‘Hopefully that will be the last stepof the many it will take to right this situation.’
    â€˜Ahh.’ Brockwell detected her doubtfulness and sought to exploit it. ‘So even thou dost concede that young Conan could be a threat to the alliance?’
    Tory avoided Brockwell’s vexing question, suspecting that he had an ego-based motive for disliking the soon-to-be king. ‘Why doth thee persist in calling him young Conan , when the man be only a few years thy junior?’
    The question shut Brockwell up, and gave the older members of the council something to chuckle about.
    â€˜Thee should praise the Goddess, my friend.’ Catulus, the oldest of the rulers remaining in the room, slapped Brockwell’s back. ‘It will give the rest of us someone new to pick on.’ He ruffled Brockwell’s mass of dark unruly curls, until the warrior cast him off.
    â€˜Laugh if thee will.’ Calin was well accustomed to not being taken seriously; he’d been the youngest member of the alliance for ten years. ‘But this kid will be trouble. I smell a battle brewing.’
    The frowns on the faces of his fellow rulers told Tory that most of them agreed with Brockwell’s premonition. Only Vortipor chose to laugh off the comment.
    â€˜Stop it, Calin, thou art scaring me,’ their burly host teased, cowering to play scared. ‘Well, I smell a celebration brewing!’ He stood, dispersing the doom and gloom from the room. ‘And if ye girls have quite finished imagining our fate, I would like to get festive.’
    â€˜I second that motion.’ Maelgwn slammed his hands down on the table, bringing their meeting to a close.
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    Under the guise of an advisor to Aurelius, Conan movedthrough the banquet room, observing the rowdy pagans that his father had fallen in with.
    He could hardly compare this raucous feast with the Roman banquets he was used to. The music and drunken laughter made any civilized conversation impossible. The orgy of sexual intercourse that would take place all over the countryside tonight seemed to be getting off to a fine start over dinner. And it wasn’t just the commoners who were submitting to their desires in public; the chieftains were openly flaunting their affections also.
    Backward heathens, one and all, thought Conan, seating himself at one of the many long tables laden with food.
    â€˜Some mead, sir?’
    Conan turned to find a tall, slender maiden awaiting his word with a large jug of mead in hand. Her smile, so welcoming, took his breath away as he momentarily mistook her for a lady he had known in Ravenna. ‘Please,’ he said finally. The woman looked fragile, yet she had no problem handling the heavy jug and managed to fill his goblet without spilling a drop. ‘Thou dost serve thy mistress well.’ He acknowledged her servant’s skill.
    Although Cara bowed to accept his intended compliment, she couldn’t help but giggle at his misconception. ‘I am the mistress of this house.’ Again she was amused by the bewildered look on the man’s face.
    â€˜The hostess serving mead —’ Conan near choked with shock.
    â€˜There be no better way to meet all my guests,’she explained with glee. ‘I am the