People were crowding around them; someone slapped the king on the back. The huntsmen were carrying in the carcasses; Eleyne was separated from Alexander and turned happily towards the castle. There would be feasting in the hall that night, but first she wanted to change her gown. There were tears where Robert had sat on it, and others where she had galloped through the trees, veil and skirts flying, in pursuit of the king. She had been beside him at the first kill.
Nesta was waiting for her in the bedchamber, a jug of hot, scented water standing on a trivet over the fire ready for her to wash. To her relief, there was no sign of Robert. She stepped out of the ruined gown as Nesta poured the water into a bowl.
‘Will you be able to mend it?’ As she bathed her face and neck, she saw the maid gather up the gown and fold it over her arm.
‘I expect so, my lady, I’ve never failed you yet. Your scarlet is waiting for you -’ Nesta broke off as the door opened and Robert walked in. He surveyed the scene as Eleyne straightened, the warm water running down her throat and arms, soaking into the low-necked shift, which was all she wore.
‘Out.’ He gestured at Nesta with a jerk of his head. Nesta curtseyed and scuttled past him, leaving them alone.
‘You disobeyed me and made me look a fool before the whole court,’ he said slowly.
Eleyne eyed him defiantly, still standing over the basin, her damp hair curling over her shoulders. ‘If you looked a fool, it was because you could not keep up,’ she said coldly. ‘If you had been at the front, you would have been at my side.’
He smiled. ‘Next time I shall ride the grey, then perhaps I shall be well enough mounted. And if I don’t like the animal, I shall have it knocked on the head.’ Her face went white. ‘Oh, I heard how you flung your arms around the horse’s neck. The whole court makes sport of your love of the creature.’ He sat down astride the chair which stood by the table, his arms folded over the high back.
‘Why do you wash in your shift?’ He changed the subject abruptly. ‘Such modesty seems odd in such a forward woman. Take it off.’
‘We are expected at the high table – ’
‘And we will be there. We don’t want to disappoint our host or his king, do we?’
She looked at him warily. ‘Then I should dress…’
‘Soon. First, take off your shift. Think of the horse, Eleyne, it would be sad, wouldn’t it, to kill such a beautiful animal?’
She knew what he would do. He would humiliate and degrade her, then he would beat her. Then with exaggerated politeness, he would help her to dress. It had happened too often. She knew it excited him to think he was her master, but not this time. She stepped back from the basin of cooling water and reached for the towel which Nesta had dropped on the bed.
‘If you touch that horse, I shall tell the king what you do to me,’ she said desperately, ‘and he will have you killed. Don’t think he hasn’t thought of it already -’ She saw his face blanch. ‘You are in his way. It’s only my pleading which has spared you so far.’ Her fear for the horse had given her strength. She stepped towards him and was pleased to see him flinch. ‘If anything happens to Tam Lin, anything at all, if he so much as gets a stone in his hoof, I shall know who to blame.’
‘The king wouldn’t dare to harm me, an envoy from England – ’
‘An envoy? I was Uncle Henry’s messenger, not you! You are no envoy.’
His eyes narrowed triumphantly. ‘That is where you are wrong: I carried the letters from King Henry, I have the official safe conducts to travel north, and I serve as one of Henry’s officials.’ He smiled at the expression on her face. ‘You didn’t know that, did you? And if I am killed by the King of Scots, or anyone else in Scotland, Henry will want to know why. And your Alexander’s precious peace will not be worth a farthing bannock! No, King Alexander can’t touch me, Eleyne. If he could he would have done it already.’ He folded his arms. ‘And you know it, sweetheart, or you would have crawled to him before now with your list of complaints. Do you want to be responsible for a war between England and Scotland? Do you want the whole world to know that the King of Scots commits incest with his niece? Do you know the penalty for incest, wife, if the church finds out?’
Eleyne’s mouth was dry, her defiance had crumbled into ashes. ‘I suggest that we get ready for the feast,’ she said tight-lipped, ‘this conversation gets us nowhere.’
‘It gets
Her bruises, as he had promised, were all hidden as she walked at his side into the great hall and took her place at the king’s side. Her face was pale, but she managed a smile. On her right, Robert was wearing a gown of stiffly embroidered black silk. He was looking immensely pleased with himself as he raised his first goblet of wine. Before the meal was half over he lay sprawled across the table, his head amongst the dishes.
The king glanced past her and raised an eyebrow. ‘Your husband seems to have caroused too much. Shall I have him taken to your chamber?’
‘I think fresh air would do him more good,’ Eleyne retorted tartly. She had hardly spoken all evening.
Alexander beckoned attendants from the corner of the dais. ‘Take Sir Robert to the courtyard and leave him to sleep it off under the stars,’ he directed. When they had gone he turned back to her. ‘Did you not enjoy the hunt?’
‘I enjoyed it enormously.’ She wanted to throw herself into his arms; to cry, to beg him to help her, to show him her bruises and wait while he stormed outside to kill Robert with his own hands. But she had to be calm. She could not risk two countries going to war because her husband beat her, nor could she risk, ever, the chance of Alexander’s being excommunicated – or worse.
Alexander put his hand over hers. ‘I must talk to you later, alone. Your husband is too drunk to know or care what we do – ’
‘No!’ her cry was almost frightened, and she saw him frown. ‘No,’ she repeated more softly, ‘not here. Falkland is too public, there are too many eyes. Everyone will know – ’
‘I suspect everyone knows already, sweetheart,’ Alexander smiled, ‘but they indulge their old king by turning a blind eye.’
III
The castle was asleep when the king’s servant knocked softly on the stout door. He whispered to Nesta, and Nesta tiptoed to Eleyne’s bed. Eleyne was lying awake, trying to ease her painful body on the mattress. Outside the night was luminous, barely dark, though it was long after midnight and she had left the bed curtains undrawn.
‘The king wants you,’ Nesta whispered importantly. She put her candle down beside the bed, picked up Eleyne’s velvet bed gown and held it up. At last the king would see the poor lady’s bruises: he could hardly miss them this time. He had tipped her and tipped her well to act as a messenger between her mistress and himself since the beginning of their stay in Scotland, and she was happy to do her best to help Eleyne. Like all the Chester servants, she had a low opinion of Sir Robert.
Eleyne was tempted to send a message to say she wasn’t well, but her longing for him was too great. Wrapped in her gown, a candle in her hand, she followed the king’s servant on tiptoe to the state bedchamber, which was almost next to their own. A fire had been lit there, in spite of the warmth of the night, to take the chill off the stone of the room, and the king sat beside it in the light of a single candle. As the servant pulled the door shut, he rose and held out his hands. They did not speak. She clung to him, her face buried in his chest, and it was several minutes before he realised that she was crying.
‘Eleyne?’ He held her away from him and looked down at her face. In the shadowed candlelight he could hardly make out her features, but he felt the hot tears as he touched her cheek with his forefinger. ‘What is it, lass?’
She did not trust herself to speak, just wanting to feel his arms around her again, but he held her away firmly. ‘Tell me!’ His voice was sharper, full of anxiety.
‘I can’t, it doesn’t matter. As long as I’m with you.’
