‘You must never take this off. It links us. It joins my soul to yours.’ His mouth sought hers and she felt his tongue urgent, probing, take her captive, demanding her surrender.
She rode to Scotland twice more that year, three times the next and once in the following spring. Each time Hal went with her. Each time, as far as she knew, her visits went undetected. Each time she wept when she discovered there was still no child. The months between were gentle times, occupied with Joanna and with her horses, when her body slept. Her beauty was at its ripest, but she covered herself with mantles and veils and played the chaste housewife with demure skill. Of her husband there was no sign at all.
VII
It was dark inside the small bedchamber, though the night was luminous. Eleyne stood at the window gazing at the huge pale moon. He would be here for only a few more days, then he was going once more to the Western Isles to try yet again to establish his authority amongst the warring barons.
This visit had not been a success. The king had been distracted in the short times he had been with her, and she wasn’t sure if he were coming now. For only the second time he had secreted her in the castle itself to be near him, but her presence there meant they had to be more careful. She fingered the phoenix longingly. Her hair was loose, as the king liked it, heavy on her shoulders, and beneath the silky green velvet of her mantle she was naked. She had stroked perfumes and soft oils on to her skin and she could smell the fragrance of rose and jasmine as she moved.
She leaned from the window of the tower and looked out across the moonlit countryside. The burgh was out of sight here, the country a kaleidoscope of silver shadow, the heavy cold of the dew lying like a silk scarf across trees and grass. This corner tower in the outer wall was a deserted place, used as a storeroom. She could not hear the noise of the courtyards and the stables. The silence was broken only by the calls of a pair of owls hunting across the river, and in the distance she heard the howl of a wolf.
She was asleep, huddled in the darkness, when he came at last. He did not have a candle or a lantern as he let himself in silently and bolted the door. There was no fire. The room was icy. He stood in the moonlight staring down at her, then as she stirred and turned towards him sleepily he took her in his arms.
He was still with her when she awoke at dawn, his head on her shoulder, his hand on her breast, sleeping deeply as the first rays of sunlight showed across the eastern hills. She watched him, taking in greedily every detail of his sleeping face, trying to memorise every inch of him, every hair, every pore, every golden eyelash as he turned sleepily and reached for her again.
It was a long time later that she was able to speak. ‘You’ll miss mass, I can hear the bell in the distance.’
‘I’ll hear mass before we ride, later.’
‘Must you go today?’ She clung to him.
‘You know I must, Eleyne.’ He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Then he put his hand to her lips. ‘You know I hate goodbyes.’ He reached to stroke a heavy breast, and at the last moment touched the pendant instead, gently, with his forefinger.
He dressed, but she made no move to put on her own clothes. When he was ready, he bent and dropped a quick kiss on the top of her head.
‘God go with you, my love,’ she whispered. Then he was gone.
VIII
In her dream she looked down at Einion’s grave. Wild daffodils danced in the wind beneath the lichen-covered stone. When she put her hand on it it was very cold.
‘So where is Scotland’s son?’ she whispered out loud. ‘Where? All your predictions were lies.’ Her hands went sadly to the phoenix on the chain around her neck. Behind her from beyond the damp bitter-sweet woods and meadows, across the white-topped waves of the tide race, the south wind carried the fragrance of the mountain air. The vast silences of the lonely peaks, broken only by the cry of the eagle and the rush of waterfalls high on the rocky scree, reached out to her. He was there, near her. She saw Tam Lin’s ears flatten against his head. She saw Donnet’s hackles rise as a blackbird flew screaming from the thicket and she saw the whirl of dead leaves in the grassy ride.
The echoing silence of the woods was full of menace. The air as it touched her skin carried a hint of ice.
High in the
She stepped back, her hand going to the dog’s head for reassurance as the leaves settled. Then, thoughtfully, she turned away.
How could she go back, when Alexander himself had sent her away?
IX
Alexander lay on a pile of rugs, gazing up at the furled sails. His head throbbed and swam. The sky, brilliant blue behind the web of stays which held the mast, seemed to be moving, pulsing like a blood-filled heart.
He heard himself groan and felt at once the cool softness of a wet cloth on his forehead. He must force himself to his feet. He had to show himself to his men. Where were they? He groaned again, trying to lift his head, and then fell back. God’s bones! but he felt ill. What was the matter with him? Was it something he had eaten or something to do with the accursed pain in his head? He had never been ill in his life before. It wasn’t as though there had been any fighting. The visit had been peaceful; successful even. He closed his eyes, but the pain didn’t go away.
‘Sire.’ He could hear the voice near him, urgently trying to attract his attention. ‘Sire? Can you hear me?’
Of course he could hear. Couldn’t the fool see that he could hear? He tried to open his eyes, but he was too tired to make the effort.
‘Sire.’ The voice came again, insistent, annoying, not letting him sleep.
‘Sire, we are going to take you ashore to the island of Kerrera.’
The king turned his head restlessly. Don’t bother. He thought he had said it out loud. But it was he who had given the orders earlier; he had told them to take him ashore. He had insisted, before this wretched illness had taken hold so badly, while he was still strong enough to speak. Kneeling at his side, the two senior captains of his fleet looked at one another grimly. One summoned the litter they had made from a sail.
For two days he lay ill on the island of Kerrera in Oban Bay. On the third his fever lessened and he opened his eyes.
