‘No!’ Eleyne cried. ‘I forbid it.’
‘You forbid me to call him? But you said he was nothing but a dream. If he was only a dream, how can I call him?’ Rhonwen moved swiftly behind the table, still holding the phoenix aloft. ‘Come!’ she cried out loud. ‘Come, your grace, come to her now. If you don’t, it will be too late. Donald of Mar will take her …’
‘It’s already too late,’ Eleyne said softly. ‘I have promised to marry Donald.’
Rhonwen stopped in mid-sentence and her mouth fell open. ‘You have done what?’
‘I have promised to marry Donald of Mar.’ Eleyne leaned across the table and snatched the pendant from Rhonwen’s slack fingers. For a moment she stood looking at it, then she threw it down into the casket and slammed the lid on top of it. ‘Alexander is dead, Rhonwen! I am alive! We can be nothing to each other any more. I shall always treasure his memory. I shall always love him in my heart, but he is dead and gone. Donald is alive. I love him, I want to marry him. For the first time in my life I have the chance to live with someone I love and trust. Would you deny me that?’ She took Rhonwen’s cold fingers between her own. ‘Please, give me your blessing.’ Desperately she willed Rhonwen to understand.
There was a long silence. Slowly Rhonwen extricated her hands from Eleyne’s. ‘I can’t,’ she whispered.
‘Why?’
‘You belong to King Alexander. Einion Gweledydd foretold it – ’
‘Einion’s prophecies were false.’
‘No!’
‘They were. Listen, you have seen Adam and you remember Michael, his master. They foretold the future for me too. They both said my future lay in Mar. If I am to found a royal dynasty, it is through Colban and Anna. She is King Alexander’s granddaughter – ’
‘Her mother was a bastard –’ Rhonwen spat the words out furiously.
‘Sir Alan Durward has great ambitions for his daughter, nevertheless. Please, Rhonwen, forget Einion Gweledydd. Think of me.’
‘I am thinking of you, cariad.’ Rhonwen folded her arms grimly into the sleeves of her mantle and drew herself up to her full height. ‘You should have been a queen.’
‘I shall be a countess again when Donald inherits from his father. That is sufficient glory for me.’ Eleyne smiled pleadingly. ‘Rhonwen. I cannot be the consort of a dead man.’
Rhonwen shook her head slowly. ‘Call him. Explain it to him. See what the king thinks. Go on.’ The old woman’s eyes were blazing again. She swept towards the fire and fumbling in the scrip attached to her girdle she produced a handful of crushed herbs. ‘You see, I carry them with me. I have them always in case he needs me – the magic herbs to summon the spirits.’
‘No!’ Eleyne cried. ‘No, I forbid it!’
‘You forbid your king, cariad? That is treason!’ She raised her hand and flung the handful of dusty twigs on to the smouldering logs. They crackled and spat and gave off an acrid sulphurous smell which filled the room.
‘You silly old fool!’ Eleyne cried in despair. ‘It won’t work!’
But it was working. She could feel him approaching. The room was growing cold. She could feel his anger and his despair like a blanket across the air. She looked round frantically: ‘Go away! Please, go away! I love Donald. I’m going to marry him. Please, go away!’
The candles on the table began to stream in trails of smoke as the window shutters rattled. Outside, a pall of sleet swept across the countryside, blotting out the sky.
Rhonwen dropped to her knees, her face lit by a triumphant smile. ‘He’s coming. He’s coming for you. You belong to him, cariad. You won’t escape him. Not now you are free!’
‘Sweet Holy Mother!’ Eleyne’s veil was torn from her hair as the wind roared in the window and the shutter crashed to the floor. She spun round protecting her face with her arms as the candles blew out, showering hot wax across the table. In the hearth the fire flared up angrily, sucked up the high chimney as the wind whirled westwards across the hills.
II
She could not bring herself to throw the phoenix into the well. For a long time she stood, the jewel in her hand, contemplating the circle of black water so far below. The cold enamel, the rubies, the ice-blue sapphires would be no danger in the water and her link with Alexander would be gone forever. He was there at her side. She could feel him pleading. Her eyes filled with tears.
‘Please, let me go, my love,’ she whispered into the darkness of the well chamber. ‘Don’t begrudge me happiness with Donald. Let me go to him.’
She stretched out her hand. The chain hung glinting from her fingers over the water for a moment, then abruptly she withdrew it. She couldn’t bring herself to drop it, but she would hide it where it would never be found and once she had left Falkland she would leave Alexander behind.
She wrapped the pendant in its piece of silk and, turning in a whirl of skirts, she ran back to the stair. On the second floor of the Great Tower she ran into the small private chapel next to the earl’s bedroom. It was very dark and the air was heavy with incense. Only one small candle burned before the statue of Our Lady. She moved hesitantly towards the altar.
Wedging the small package behind the reredos she pushed it down as far as she could reach, then she stepped back and murmured a quick prayer. Crossing herself, she ran from the incense-rich gloom.
Rhonwen stepped quickly back out of sight. Later she would break the habit of a lifetime and enter the chapel. Later, when the king commanded it. Until then the phoenix was safe where it was.
III
Shrove Tuesday 1266
They married secretly. The King and Queen of Scots witnessed their wedding at Kinross whilst obligingly ensuring that the Earl and Countess of Mar were at Roxburgh, and Donald and Eleyne rode north towards Mar the same afternoon. Snow was falling and the tracks were treacherous but they were both too happy to notice. Wagonloads of Eleyne’s possessions would follow them north as soon as the snows melted, together with some of her horses. The dogs were at her heels.
She had bidden a tearful farewell to Colban and Macduff and her little grandson, Duncan. ‘I’ll come back and see you all very soon,’ and she hugged each in turn. Her farewell to Anna was a little more restrained. Her daughter-in-law had begun to treat her with a reserve that bordered on antipathy and Eleyne had the feeling the girl was glad to see her go. Eleyne had ordered Rhonwen to stay at Falkland to look after the nurseries. Both Malcolm’s sons had been made royal wards on his death, but the king had promised that Eleyne would remain their guardian.
‘Just give Donald and me a little time together,’ she whispered to her eldest son. ‘Just a little time, then I’ll come back to you.’
IV
KILDRUMMY CASTLE, MAR Lent 1266
Kildrummy Castle lay huge and squat in the broad valley of the Don. Snow had swept the landscape of mountains and broad river valley, moorland and forest to a uniform whiteness and the towers and walls were frosted with crystals which glittered in the sunlight. Eleyne reined in with an exclamation of delight. ‘It looks as though it’s built from snow! A snow tower in a snowy land. It’s lovely.’
Donald grinned at her. Swathed in white furs, riding a white horse, she looked like a snow princess.
He took Eleyne at once to their circular bedchamber. A huge fire had been lighted in the hearth and a dozen candles burned in the sconces as he unfastened her cloak and threw it down. Laughing, blowing on his frozen fingers to warm them, he undressed her and pulled her on to the bed. ‘At last!’ He kissed her eyes and nose and ears. ‘You are mine at last. And no one, ever, can take you away from me!’ His hands on her breasts were cold and she caught her breath and squealed like a girl as he flung himself on to her with a cry of triumph and pressed his mouth over hers.
For the next two weeks, to the vast amusement of the Kildrummy household, they were very seldom out of bed. The servants, giggling, brought them food and wine on huge trays and kept the fires and candles alight, vainly trying not to look at the drawn b
ed curtains or hear the stifled laughter from behind them.
V
19 March 1266
It was on St Joseph’s Day – a beautiful day which presaged, according to the legend, a fertile year and a lucky life to any born on it – that the Earl and Countess of Mar arrived home.
A frantic knocking on the chamber door alerted the newlyweds. As Donald pushed Eleyne reluctantly from him, Hugh Leslie, the earl’s steward, entered the room. A small earnest conscientious man in his fifties, his face was pale and he was gesturing frantically behind him.
William and Elizabeth stood in the doorway; both still wore their travelling cloaks. The snow crystals clung for a moment then melted in the heat of the fire.
Donald had barely had time to pull on his tunic and run his fingers through his hair before he faced his father defiantly. ‘Could you not wait to greet us downstairs, father? Were you so eager you had to come to our bedroom?’
‘Is it true?’ William was apoplectic with rage. ‘Is it true that you are married?’ His pale eyes strayed to Eleyne, who knelt on the bed only half covered by a sheet, her hair tangled and wild down her back. The distaste in his face was plain to see.
‘Yes, it’s true.’ Donald tried to keep the defensiveness out of his voice. ‘Lady Fife has done me the great honour of becoming my wife, with the blessing of the king and queen.’
‘Sweet Jesus!’ Elizabeth of Mar’s voice was harsh. ‘Do you know what you have done?’
‘Yes, mama.’ Donald was keeping his tone even with great difficulty. ‘I have married the most beautiful woman in the world.’
‘Indeed.’ Elizabeth’s cold sarcasm was cutting. ‘A woman who runs from bed to bed like a bitch in heat. A woman who was already married before I – your own mother! – was born! You have married yourself, you stupid boy, to a woman who is probably past the age of childbearing! Sweet Blessed Virgin, did you not think of that? Are you so besotted by her flesh that you did not think of your duty to the earldom?’
Donald had blushed scarlet. ‘Mama, how dare you! Please leave this room, both of you.’ He walked back to the bed and sitting down put his arm around Eleyne’s shoulders. She was still kneeling on the sheets, white-faced and speechless with shock. He turned back to his parents. ‘You will apologise to my wife, both of you, or we will leave this castle and never return.’
William said, ‘It is for you, Donald, to think of apologies. You have destroyed this family. And by your careless selfishness, you have caused Lady Fife this embarrassment. You would do well to apologise to her and then to us.’
Turning on his heel he walked out, but his wife did not immediately follow. The sister of the Earl of Buchan, Elizabeth Comyn was a formidable woman. Her dark eyes were black pebbles in her aquiline face as she glared at Eleyne for several long seconds, then she too turned away. Her cloak trailed melted snow on to the dried heather floor covering as she walked from the room, followed by an acutely uncomfortable Hugh Leslie, who closed the door softly behind him.
‘Get dressed.’ Donald stood up. His hands were shaking with anger.
‘What are you going to do?’
‘We are leaving.’
She shook her head. ‘If we do that, they will have won.’
He was astonished. ‘You want to confront them again after that?’
‘No, I never want to see them again, but I will. You and I will sit with them at the high table tonight and we will show them we are too happy and too strong to be beaten by their prejudice.’ Dropping the sheet, she climbed off the bed.
Donald’s eyes strayed down her body and she tensed as she saw his slight frown.
‘It’s not true, Donald,’ she whispered. ‘I’m not too old to bear your children.’ She put her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him, swaying slightly. ‘I’ll bear you a dozen sons, my love,’ she crooned.
He smiled, and kissed her.
‘Half that number will do,’ he whispered and he laughed. ‘How you shock them, my poor darling. Why is it that they hate you so?’
‘Your father has always hated me,’ Eleyne said sadly. Pushing him away she pulled the sheet around her shoulders and walked over to the fire. ‘And he always will. You must accept that.’
He scowled. ‘I’ll never accept it … and I shall tell him so.’
It was the first time Donald and Eleyne had appeared in William’s newly built great hall since their arrival, but Eleyne did not look at the roof with its ornately carved beams, or at the two huge fireplaces built of stone. Her eyes were fixed on the high table. She had taken the greatest trouble with her hair and gown. Around her neck she wore the carved silver horse Donald had given her and on her fingers she wore his rings.
The Mars greeted them coldly as they took their places.
‘You may as well know, father, that Eleyne and I intend to live at Falkland Castle,’ Donald said as the first courses of food were carried in. ‘I do not want my wife to live in a household where she is insulted.’
Elizabeth put down her knife. ‘I’m afraid you are going to be disappointed, Donald. Sir Alan and Lady Durward have moved into Falkland for the time being, to be with their daughter and grandson. Sir Alan does not seem to approve of your marriage any more than we do.’ She gave a harsh laugh. ‘I believe he has declared that your wife will return only over his dead body.’
Donald gritted his teeth. ‘I am sure that can be arranged …’
‘Don’t be a fool, boy.’ William took a huge helping of pike stewed in fish liquor and then turned to eye the oysters on their bed of ginger and saffron. ‘You can stay here, both of you. Out of harm’s way. We’ll be going back south within a few days if the roads stay open, and I’ll leave you to manage the earldom.’
‘William!’ Elizabeth burst out. ‘You can’t allow this!’
‘There’s nothing to be done, Elizabeth.’ William sighed and picked up his spoon. ‘The marriage is legal and the king has given it his blessing. There is nothing to be done.’
‘There is nothing to be done!’ Donald echoed later in a gruff imitation of his father’s tone. He burst into laughter. ‘Of course there’s nothing to be done and they know it.’ He pulled Eleyne into his arms. ‘Oh, my love, I’m so sorry they came and said such awful things, but we won’t let them spoil it. Once they’re gone, Kildrummy will be our own kingdom again.’
They were gone within two days and Eleyne breathed a sigh of relief. Slowly they toured the castle and Donald introduced her to the vast household. Some of them were suspicious, some amused, but most were friendly. She chose two girls, Agnes and Bethoc, to join Meg as her personal maidens and she and Donald moved into the earl’s chamber, a large room with arched windows on the first floor of what was already being called the Snow Tower.
Slowly the spring grew warmer. There was no word from the south. The earl and countess were with the Scottish court; in Fife, in spite of Eleyne’s anxious letters, Rhonwen remained obstinately silent. Still obsessed with Donald and their life together Eleyne kept her worries about the boys at bay just as she refused to face the other problem which haunted her.
She was not yet pregnant. Never in all the years of their illicit lovemaking had she become pregnant and she had borne no children for nine years. Elizabeth’s cruel comments had cut her to the quick and she brooded on them constantly. Was it true? Was she too old to give Donald the heir he must have?
Secretly she cast her horoscope. It spoke of many children and in disgust she swept her charts aside. The stars mocked her. She looked, cautiously at first, then more anxiously, into the flames. There were no pictures there.
Also in secret she stood beside the bed, staring down at her naked figure. She had no way of knowing how she looked. Donald still took enormous delight in her body, but did he also notice the slight slackening of her skin, the little wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, the streaks of silver in her hair which had broadened over the years?
She took Meg into her confidence and between them in the stillroom
they made up a soft balm scented with rose petals which she rubbed on her skin to keep it soft. Donald noticed the smell at once. He buried his face between her breasts and threatened never to leave her bed again.
VI
FALKLAND CASTL EJuly 1266
The king had given them time enough. Rhonwen felt him growing restless. Twice she thought she saw him, shadowy on the turnpike stair above her – reproachful, angry that she had done nothing to bring Eleyne back to him. Afraid, she began to form a plan.
She stood for a long time at the door of the chapel. It was dark. The castle was asleep, but one candle burned before the statue of Our Lady, replaced and trimmed before the priest had gone to his bed. Rhonwen could feel the prickle of fear on the back of her neck, and peered at the altar. It was somewhere at the back that Eleyne had hidden the pendant. She had to break the taboo; she had to enter this chapel of the priests, but what would happen to her if she laid a hand on the fabric of this holy place? Her fingers went automatically to the amulet at her throat.
With a muttered prayer to the goddess of her Welsh mountains, she took two tiptoed steps inside the door and held her breath. The small chapel smelt of cold incense; it was impregnated in the stones of the walls and in the air around her. Her heart beating very fast she crept towards the altar and, her back to the wall, her eyes fixed on the crucifix between the candles, she made her way towards the eastern wall.
Reaching the reredos at last, she felt behind it. Sweat dripped into her eyes. She was breathing audibly through her mouth. Blessed Bride, she couldn’t feel it. There was nothing there. She pushed harder, trying to wedge her whole arm behind the carved oak panel.
The candle flame flickered. A few drops of pale wax spattered on the shelf before the statue and a trail of smoke spiralled into the air. The shadow in the corner of the chapel behind the faldstool was no more than smoke itself. Rhonwen’s hands were shaking violently.
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