her strength and pluck up the courage to relinquish her hold on the tree stump which had saved her life. Finally, she forced herself to let go by sheer will-power. She flopped into the icy water and floundered her way across the reed bed with its clinging mud bottom towards the shore. It seemed to take forever and she could feel her last reserves of strength draining away as she fought her way forward, but at last the ground was firmer under her feet and the water began to shallow and finally she was crawling up the beach into the shelter of some low bushes, where she collapsed into unconsciousness once more.
The rain woke her. The sun had vanished and the sky was heavy. A cold wind was blowing from the north. She could see Loch Leven Castle, low on its island in the distance. Eleyne was there, and for the time being she was safe, but for how long? Wearily Rhonwen pulled herself into a sitting position and began to rub her feet. She had to reach the king.
When the Earl of Fife’s steward found her she was wandering in wider and wider circles, staggering slightly as though she were drunk. At first he was going to ride past her, but something made him slow his horse and turn it off the road. It was several seconds before he recognised, in the mud-stained woman with her trailing hair and bare bleeding feet, the nurse of the Countess of Chester. He reined in and slid from the saddle.
He lifted her behind him on the sturdy palfrey and turned towards Falkland Castle. Three times she swayed and nearly fell; after that he tied her to his waist with his leather girdle and made better speed, feeling her head flopping weakly against his shoulder blades. At Falkland she was put to bed and fed a bread-and-milk pap and at last she was allowed to sleep. She could not remember now who she was or what had happened.
The fever burned for four days then at last she awoke clear-headed. Minutes later the earl himself had been summoned to her bedside.
He listened to her story, incredulity and anger vying for predominance in his face, and when at last she had finished he frowned. ‘You are welcome to stay at Falkland as long as you wish, Lady Rhonwen. In fact you can make it your home if you can no longer serve Lady Chester for fear of her husband, but I don’t know what I can do for her. If her husband wishes to keep her at Loch Leven – ’
‘It’s your castle – ’
‘But not in use at the moment. He asked me some time ago if he could use it as a hunting lodge.’
‘Did he tell you what he would be hunting?’ Rhonwen’s eyes blazed with something of their old spirit. ‘How can you let such a man live, never mind abuse his wife as he does?’ She was trembling with rage. ‘I thought you felt something for her yourself, my lord. The horse you gave her was a lover’s gift, surely!’
His face flooded with angry colour. ‘She wants none of me, Lady Rhonwen. She is besotted with the king.’
‘Then you must love her from afar.’ Rhonwen forced herself to smile, aware that she had to use her wits to overcome his hurt pride. ‘And you must show her your devotion in your actions. To tell the king of her plight would gain you great favour with him and my lady would see how much you love her.’
She watched his face carefully. Malcolm was a bluff soldier, a good-looking man of few words; tough, fair, no courtier, but she could see that this idea of himself as a chivalric lover pleased him. She prayed under her breath. If he would not help her, she had to find the king without delay and she doubted if she had the strength to stand, let alone ride across Scotland. She waited several seconds more, then: ‘If you love her, my lord, you cannot stand by and watch her suffer like this. That place is a vile prison.’
He nodded soberly. ‘Very well. I shall ride to the king today and tell him where she is.’
XIV
It was several days before Eleyne was able to rise. She was still in great pain, but each day she was stronger and calmer. The supply boat had still not appeared, and supplies in the castle were very low indeed, but they could manage with what they had. There was no wine, but the well water was fresh and the cow in milk; they had hens and there were plenty of squabs in the dovecote. Annie had concocted healing broths from plants she had found in the small wood outside the castle walls and with calm amusement she had seen her reputation as a healer spread. She was now allowed to treat Andrew for his gout and his wife for her headaches and her troublesome teeth.
It was Annie who first saw the boats.
‘They’re coming!’ She ran inside the castle, waving her basket around her head, scattering snowdrops and coltsfoot, dog’s mercury and celandine. ‘There’s two boats coming over from Kinross, my lady. It will be the food and wine at last!’
‘Please God it is not my husband.’ Eleyne’s face was grim as she climbed painfully to the walls with the others and watched the slow progress of the boats across the sunlit water. Her burns were still raw, but her strength had returned and the baby seemed, miraculously, unharmed.
There were a dozen men in each boat besides the barrels and boxes which proclaimed themselves as supplies. She felt a new flutter of fear. ‘Those are not the usual boats.’
‘No, my lady.’ Andrew was shading his eyes against the glare off the water. For a long time he didn’t speak. When he did his voice was heavy with disbelief. ‘It is the king.’
Eleyne gasped. The shock of relief and joy shook her whole body. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Aye, madam, I’m sure. See for yourself. In the second boat. You can see his standard clearly now.’
She frowned into the sun, trying to focus her eyes, then she let out a low cry of dismay. ‘No, I don’t want to see him. I don’t want him to see me.’ She pulled the thick veil which was draped over her ruined hair half across her face. ‘I can’t – ’
Janet and Andrew watched as she ran towards the stairs.
‘She won’t see you, your grace.’ The old man greeted the king on his knees. His hands were shaking.
‘What do you mean, she won’t see me?’ The king glared at him. Donnet was at his side. ‘Of course she will see me.’ His mouth was dry with anticipation, his hands trembling.
Andrew glanced at his wife and shrugged. ‘A lot of things have happened here, sire – ’
‘I know. The Lady Rhonwen told Lord Fife.’
‘Lady Rhonwen is alive?’ The old man’s face broke into a great beam of pleasure.
‘She’s alive.’ The king pursed his lips. ‘I doubt if de Quincy will show his face in Scotland again, but if he does he will pay with his life for what he has done here. Lady Rhonwen is at Falkland. She is still very unwell I understand. Now, I wish to see Lady Chester.’
‘Sire.’ Janet pushed her husband aside. ‘You don’t understand. There was an accident. The night Lady Rhonwen was taken.’ She grimaced at her husband, who was plucking at her sleeve. ‘No, I won’t hush! He has to know. She was burned. Badly burned.’
‘Sweet Jesus! How, in God’s name?’
‘I don’t know, sire, she was alone. She must have fallen.’
‘It’s her damned obsession with fire!’ Alexander shook his head. Suddenly he was terribly afraid for her. ‘I should have guessed something like this would happen one day. Where is she?’
He sat on the bed and put his hand gently on her shoulder. Donnet had found her first, streaking up the stairs ahead of him, and was sitting ecstatically by the bed, his great head resting on her feet. ‘Speak to me, sweetheart, please.’
She shook her head mutely. ‘Go away.’ She was facing the wall, the heavy veil pulled down over her face. ‘Please.’ Her voice was muffled with tears.
‘No, I won’t go away.’ He took her shoulders and pulled her towards him. He could see nothing through the black swathes across her face but there was a long silence as he noticed her swollen figure.
‘You are carrying my child?’ Her veiled face was forgotten as he rested a hand on her stomach. ‘Oh, my darling, I didn’t know.’
She groped for his hand with her still-bandaged fingers.
He smiled. ‘He is kicking.’
‘He kicks a lot.’
He moved his hands up towards her face. Taking the edge of her veil, he lifted it and folded it back. She waited, frozen, to see revulsion in his face as his eyes travelled slowly over her features, but there was none. He brought a finger gently to her temple. ‘Poor darling, your lovely hair is gone, but it will grow again. See, already I can see down, here.’ His finger traced a line across her brow. ‘It was only the ends that were burned. It’s not so bad.’
