Isabella stood still, her heart thumping with fear, watching from the cloister as the other nuns streamed out of the chapel. Some were crying, some had been injured. She could see at least two with blood pouring from their heads; all were shocked. Without warning, as their voices were raised in the ethereal beauty of the plainsong of the morning office, the great rood screen had collapsed and huge chunks of masonry had fallen from the roof into the choir. The lovely rose window which had decorated the western wall had exploded into a million pieces. The abbess, her hands clasped, her face as white as her wimple, made her way from one trembling nun to the next, seeing how many were hurt. It was a miracle that no one had been killed.
As Isabella joined the others, stooping over the injured to see if she could help, the abbess stopped and stared at her. ‘Where were you? Were you not in the chapel?’ Isabella’s fingers were covered in ink and she still clutched the broken quill in her right hand. There were spots of ink on her wimple and even on her face beneath the dust.
‘I was in my cell, writing, mother abbess.’ In her shock Isabella blurted out the truth. ‘What is it? What happened?’
‘I believe it was an earthquake.’ The abbess pursed her lips. ‘I have read of such things. They are a sign of God’s extreme displeasure; of his wish to punish the wicked and the backsliders.’ She wrung her hands. ‘Only yesterday I received another letter from the bishop warning me. He said we had fallen into sinful ways. He said we had strayed too far from the rule. He said we would be punished! He said God would not condone our ways. He said I must be stern and now we have been sent a sign.’ She dropped to her knees amongst the broken tiles and the glass and, sobbing, began to pray. Crossing themselves, the other nuns followed suit as the blood moon sank in the west and a pale watery sun began to climb out of the mist behind the chapel.
That same day the nuns divested themselves of their comforts; they donned hair shirts, the servants were dismissed and the abbess announced that they would double the rigours of their Lenten fast. There would be no more fires, no extra blankets, no wine and no speaking. There would be no further contact with the lay community.
Isabella, as frightened as the rest, put her unfinished letter to Eleyne on the great bonfire in the garth which consumed so many of their comforts. The food and blankets were given to the poor and the nuns turned back in earnest to their prayers. They had no way of knowing that their fear and their terror at God’s warning was being echoed up and down southern England and Wales; that the newly rebuilt tower of St David’s Cathedral had fallen, that King Henry III was ordering prayers throughout the land and that the end of the world was being predicted.
II
Alexander laughed. ‘So God has blasted London and rocked the English to their foundations! I trust Henry takes heed of the warning and spends the next year on his knees!’ He drew little Joanna on to his lap. ‘Have you had any news of your dower lands and property in the south? Has there been much damage?’
Eleyne shrugged. She was watching the king play with her daughter.
He glanced up. ‘I think you must find out, Eleyne.’ His expression was suddenly very sober.
She met his gaze steadily and saw the sadness there with a sinking heart. ‘You are telling me that I must go?’
He nodded. ‘Marie knows. I don’t know how we have kept your presence here a secret so long, but she has found out. I don’t want you exposed and humiliated before three nations.’
They had not seen each other more than once a week, sometimes, when he was away, less than that. When they had met, they had not mentioned Marie, but her presence had always been there between them.
‘I don’t care about that!’ she cried.
‘I know you don’t, my love. But I do,’ he said gently. ‘Let me deal with Marie in my own way. I have to go to the west. I still plan to buy the Western Isles from Norway and settle once and for all the problems caused by the lords and their battle fleets. I must attend to the problems of the far corners of my kingdom and while I’m away you must go. I will call you back very soon.’
Without his protection, her life would be worth nothing once he had left for the Western Isles. Marie had made that clear. It was not a risk he was prepared to take.
She would not plead. She rose from her place on the cushions by the fire and took her daughter from him. ‘I can come back? You promise?’ She closed her eyes, waiting for his answer, determined that he would not see her devastating unhappiness.
He smiled and the smile showed his pain more clearly than any tears could have done. ‘I promise,’ he said gently. He stood up and taking the little girl’s hand used her to draw her mother closer to him. Burying his face in the child’s stomach, he made the little girl giggle. He dropped a kiss into her fist, closed the chubby fingers over it and blew gently to seal the pledge, making her squeal with pleasure. Then he stepped away from her. ‘I have a gift for you – ’
‘I don’t want a gift!’ The sharpness of Eleyne’s tone revealed her hurt and her misery and she knew she sounded like a spoiled child.
‘You do.’ He grinned, suddenly cheerful. ‘I had it made specially. Look.’ He reached into the velvet scrip which hung from his belt and produced a packet. ‘Open it.’
She put Joanna on the floor and took it from him. ‘I don’t want anything but your love,’ she repeated.
‘You have that. Always.’ He put his hand over hers. ‘But it is not always possible to have me, and this way you can have something of me with you. Our secret pledge. A link between us, however far apart we find ourselves.’
She raised her eyes to his and smiled. ‘But I will see you again?’ She needed his reassurance. Somewhere near them, out of sight, a shadow hovered over them. She felt it with a sudden shiver.
‘You will see me again. You have my most solemn promise.’
She held his gaze then, reassured, she turned the small packet over in her hand and began to unwrap the covering. She could tell by its feel and weight that it was some kind of jewellery.
A fine gold chain tumbled out over her fingers. Attached to it was a jewelled and enamelled pendant. She gasped. ‘It’s beautiful.’
‘Can you guess what it is?’ He waited while she examined it.
‘It’s like an eagle, an eagle rising from the fire.’
‘Not an eagle.’ He smiled. ‘A phoenix.’ He raised a finger to her face and gently touched the scars on her temple. ‘For my phoenix, who rose from the fire more beautiful than ever.’
She gazed down at the jewel. The golden bird had tiny rubies for its eyes and the flames from which it sprang were brilliantly enamelled gold with lapis and ruby flames. ‘Did you know I was born in a fire?’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Nothing surprises me about my Eleyne. It’s doubly right then. You are a child of the phoenix in every way. Wear it for me. It will bring us together, always. When you need me, hold it in your hand and think of me. I’ll know and, if I can, I’ll come.’ He smiled, then his face became serious. She could see the anguish in his eyes. ‘If we can’t have each other in this life, Eleyne, then beyond death you will be mine, I swear it. This is a symbol of my undying love through all eternity.’
Again she felt the shadow hovering near, and with a prickle of something like fear at the overwhelming intensity of his love, she unfastened the chain and slipped it around her neck. ‘I will come back to Scotland. One day,’ she whispered. ‘We will be together one day, my love. I know it.’
She still owed him a child; a son who would live and thrive.
He kissed her and the moment of tension had passed. ‘I know you will,’ he said.
