Touching Heaven

By Michael Jobling

A historical romance set in fifth century Cornwall. A young Cornish Princess meets a Welsh Prince and falls in love with him, only to find that she is to be given in marriage to his father. Amid the turmoil of a changing world their love is tested and matures as as a hidden power seems to guide their destiny?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Oct 8, 2016
• ISBN: 9781326936051

Book preview

Touching Heaven

Touching Heaven

Michael Jobling

Touching Heaven

© Copyright 2015 by Michael Jobling

ISBN 978-1-326-93605-1

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by for any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, scanning or any information storage or retrieval system without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

(contents)

Part One – Keeping faith

Chapter 1

The very first time I saw him was at the midsummer market on Castle Sands. I was helping with one of our stalls.

We hold a market there three times a year, at the spring and autumn equinox and at midsummer. People come from all over the world to sell their wares. The bay fills up with ships of every kind – Roman style cargo vessels, Saxon and Viking long ships, occasionally even Greek-style galleons with banks of oars. Hundreds of small boats are drawn up on the beach and above the tideline the sands are covered with stalls. Crowds of people wander around, seeing what they can find and haggling over the prices. You can buy almost anything there – fine wines from the south and strong spirits from the north, spices from the east and silver and tin from the west. You’ll find salt beef from Hibernia and cheeses from Gaul – cattle and horses too, not to mention slaves. We sell our cider and mead, our sheep and goats and woollen fleeces along with apples and pears and locally grown vegetables.

He was loitering around one of our pitches where I was giving a hand. He looked to be about the same age as me (I had just turned 14). He was well-built, with copper hair and a freckled face – quite well dressed but with a shifty look in his eye as if he were up to no good. I caught sight of him as he took an apple from our stall and put it in a cloth bag hung round his neck. 

Hey, you! I called, I saw you take one of our apples! He ran off and I chased him along the beach. He was fast but I was faster, I reached out and grabbed his tunic by the neck. Not so fast! I shouted.

Alright, you caught me, he said. I only ran to make you chase me. I have permission to take whatever I want from your stall.

Who says so? I objected.

Mark, king of Kernow himself. He replied.

A likely story! I exclaimed.

Go and ask him then. He challenged me, his eyes dancing with mischief.  For a moment, I was about to reveal my identity but then thought better of it. You’ve got a nerve. I said. But what’s an apple among friends? I admire your cheek!

I admire your running, he replied. There aren’t many boys who can catch me, let alone girls!"

Where do you come from?" I asked.

I’m from Brycheiniog, He replied.

That’s a long way to come to get an apple, I joked.  I’d heard of Brycheiniog, one of the kingdoms beyond the mouth of the big river that divides the Dumnonians and the Kernow people from the Cymru to the North.

Yes, he agreed. I’m here with my father, King Brychan. He has some business with King Mark. He brought me along for the ride. My official name is Connor, but my friends call me Gwylan – ‘seagull’ because I’m greedy, noisy and nosey. Or so they say! What about you?

Oh, I live not far from here, with my Mum and Dad," I said in an off-hand way.

I knew that Daddy had been entertaining some important guests. I didn’t know who they were. It would have been natural to introduce myself in return but, if he knew who I was, he would treat me differently. I wanted him to respond to me as a person in my own right, rather than as the daughter of King Mark.

I pretended to think he was spinning me a yarn. We spent the next hour or so exploring the market together, acting up and having a laugh with each other. I had to return to help with the stall, so we went our separate ways.

Chapter 2

My name is Gwennel, princess of Kernow, the daughter of King Mark.  My father is not to be confused with his more famous ancestor, Mark Cy’n mawr (Mark the big dog), also known in Latin as Marcus Conomorus (Marcus the Seadog). Big Dog Mark was the high King of all Dumnonia a hundred years ago. Some minstrel made up a song about him. We still sing it when we make music on the dark winter nights:

"This old man

He played one*

He played one beat on his drum

*With a one, two, give the dog a bone,

This old man came sailing home."

*Each time you increase the beats on the drum until you reach twenty.

We Cymru people have a system of kings and high kings. At the time in which I am writing, The High Kingdom of Dumnonia consists of all the promontory of land west of a line from Death Point to Isca and is ruled by a high king called Erbin. The other Celts call us the tin men (dun dynion) because of the tin mines in this part of the world and our reputation for being tough. Dumnonii was the Roman’s attempt to say the Celtic name.

In the far west of Dumnonia there are two sub-kingdoms whose kings pay tribute to Erbin. The kingdom of Penwith stretches along the northern coast, ruled over by King Tewdrig who also has lands across the sea in lesser Britain. My father, Mark, rules the other Kingdom which we call Kernow. Mark and Erbin are cousins. My Father’s territory occupies the southern coast round to, and including, the Castle Sands where the market is held. Kernow means horn – it’s taken from the shape of Dumnonia which looks like a cow or a camel with a horn if you look at a map the right way round. We’re not pure Celts. One of our ancestors was a high-ranking officer in one of the Roman Maritime legions. He was granted lands in the area when he retired. He, and then his descendants, gradually increased their power until they dominated the south coast of the horn and started to call themselves kings. We still speak Latin at home although everyone around us speaks the Celtic tongue, which we call Cornish.

All of these nations, Penwith, Kernow, and Dumnonia, are seafaring people who live around the coast. The middle of Dumnonia is wild and uninhabitable. Here and there on the high ground are stretches of barren, windswept moorland. The valleys between are made up of thick, tangled woodland full of oaks and brambles. The piskies live there, so people say – little demons who lure people into slavery.  Apart from the miners, no one ventures inland. Even round the coast there are few paths or roads, so people travel almost everywhere by boat.

My father held his court at Trelys. He ruled well and caused the kingdom to prosper through trade. He and Erbin had built a huge fleet of ships and constructed a number of ports, some further north in Dumnonia and two further south in Kernow: Port Leven to the west of Trelys and Port Navas, on a creek that runs eastward to the sea. A ring of fortresses protected the landward border of Trelys, the two ports and the creek that led to the sea from Port Navas.

Our home was in a fortified settlement called Castle Wary, a mile or so removed from the court and from Trelys, the township that had grown up around it. The settlement looked out over a lake (a Loe in Cornish) that my father formed by damning up the mouth of a small river.  I had a boat of my own which I was allowed to sail around the Loe. We were happy there, my father and mother and I.

Chapter 3

A couple of days after meeting Gwylan at the market, I saw him again. It was a scorching, hot summer’s day and I had taken my boat on my own down to the seaward end of the Loe. I was a strong swimmer and a good sailor and oarswoman. I anchored my little craft a few boat lengths from the shore, stripped off my tunic and dived into the clean, clear, green water. It was deliciously cool. I swam up and down, then over to the shore and back again. When my arms and legs began to tire I hauled myself back into the boat, where I sat, cross legged, enjoying the warmth of the sun on my naked body and occasionally flicking my long, black hair to get rid of the drops that were streaming down my head.

I’m becoming a woman! I thought to myself as I looked down at my body. My breasts had been growing rapidly over the last few weeks and the shape of my hips had changed.

I stood up, about to dive again but stopped as I became aware of a movement behind a bush on the shore.

Who’s there? I called, Come out so I can see you. Who dares to spy on Princess Gwennel?

Sheepishly, a figure stood up and moved from behind the bush so that I could see who it was.

Gwylan! I exclaimed.

I beg your pardon, he said, I was enjoying watching you swim. You swim very well. And you are very beautiful.

I thought to myself I should have put my tunic back on before standing up in my boat. To do so now at this point would seem like rejecting his compliment.

"It’s only fair that I should watch you swim. I said. Then we will be quits."

Very well, He replied – and quickly stepped out of his clothes, He dived into the water and began to swim slowly and laboriously, towards my boat. Just as he reached it, I dived over him and swam quickly to the shore. I grabbed his clothes and started to put them on myself. 

I’ve got your boat, though! He shouted and began to reach for the anchor. I dived back in, forgetting that I was wearing his tunic, and swam as fast as I could. I managed to grab hold of the side and to pull myself up just as he was reaching for the sheet that would raise the sail. We struggled briefly. Please don’t harm my boat I said, It’s my most treasured possession.

Pax! he said and let go. We were both sprawled on the floor of the boat. I stayed there, lying on my back. He lay on one side, propping up his head so he could see my face.

Thank you! I said. Then we went silent and looked each other in the eye. Something was happening that I couldn’t understand. I desperately wanted to talk and talk and talk to him until I had searched out every nook and every cranny of his mind and emptied him of every secret. But I couldn’t think what to say.

After a while, he broke the silence.

So you are Gwennel? he said.

I am. I answered

Again we were silent. And then he bent over and brushed his lips gently on mine. They were soft and yielding. It was the briefest of kisses.

Is that alright? he asked I think that’s what you’re supposed to do when you like a girl very much.

That was sweet, I told him.

So, you’ve heard of me? I observed.

Your father mentioned you, he explained, My father took me with him when he went to see your father.

I realised that the boat had drifted into the middle of the Loe. I hoisted the sail and we sailed back to the jetty at the Northern end. He walked with me as I headed for home.

How long are you staying here for? I asked as we walked along.

Just a couple more days, I think, he said.

I’ll miss you when you’ve gone, I said.

I don’t think you will, he responded.

Just at that moment one of the servants came running down the pathway.

Princess Gwennel, Princess Gwennel she shouted.

"Your father wants to see you. Come quick!

Chapter 4

My father and mother were waiting for me in our private, family villa. It was spacious, although built entirely of wood, and it was situated within the innermost ring of defences at the top of a hill. Mother was sitting in a chair. Father was pacing up and down the room. He had a slightly worried look on his face. What’s wrong? I asked immediately, picking up on his nervousness.

Nothing at all is wrong, my love. But I have something to explain to you. I hope you can receive it as good news.

I looked and said nothing.

Sit down, he said. I squatted on the floor, which I often did at that age because I found chairs too constraining.

You are turning into a young woman, he said. A fine young woman. I am very proud of you. But sooner or later we shall have to find you a husband – someone of noble birth like yourself. I would have hoped to put this off for a year or two but I have received a very attractive offer for you that in many ways seems ideal.

My heart started to beat a bit faster. I’m not ready to marry yet! I thought to myself. I had become a wild thing, enjoying my freedom – freedom to roam my father’s lands, to sail my boat on the Loe or to take a coracle