Malcolm of Fife found Eleyne outside the great hall. His hair was greying now and there was an ugly scar across his cheek from a fall from his horse the year before, but his charm seemed undiminished.
‘You have to help me get Joanna away.’ Eleyne wasted no time in drawing him into a corner. ‘I feel as though I’m a prisoner here for her amusement!’
Malcolm nodded. ‘I am afraid that’s exactly what you are. She knows Joanna was taken against your will. Robert bragged of it openly, as he bragged that he beat you. Our gracious queen makes no secret of her hatred of you. She will make you suffer as much as she possibly can. You stole too much from her.’
Eleyne looked away. ‘It was she who stole from me.’ Her voice was full of pain.
He frowned again. ‘I can take you and the child to Falkland. It’s a risk, but I’m prepared to do it for you.’ He looked sheepish. ‘I can protect you and I can deal with your husband.’
She hesitated. To go with Malcolm would be moving from one trap to another, yet what alternative was there? And it was she who had begged his help.
He grinned amiably. ‘Surely, by the process of elimination, I am the least of all evils.’
She laughed out loud. ‘Perhaps you are, my lord, but I have no wish to return north. I have made my home in England.’
‘With Robert de Quincy?’
‘As my own mistress. If he comes back, I shall go to my nephews in Wales. Robert will never find me if I hide myself in the mountains of Eryri. No one would find me there.’
‘I would find you.’ He was gazing at her with undisguised hunger in his eyes. ‘You will be mine one day, Eleyne. Why fight it? Why not let me take you away from your boor of a husband? I could make you content and I could give you sons.’
She flinched, ‘I want no sons.’
‘Rubbish, every woman wants sons. The king has gone, Eleyne, forget him.’
‘I’ll never forget him!’ She rounded on him. ‘How could you even ask it?’ Her composure was cracking. Why couldn’t they leave her alone with her memories? Why did they have to plague her like this? ‘I’m sorry, my lord, but I can’t come with you.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Then I can’t help you, you’ll have to stay here.’ He bowed. ‘But one day you’ll come, Eleyne, I promise you that. And one day soon.’
XX
Rhonwen, Joanna and Annie had been escorted to the nursery quarters which had once belonged to the young king when Eleyne found herself once more before the queen that evening. Marie was smiling as Eleyne walked swiftly, her head high, up the great hall towards her, bitterly aware of her shabbiness, of her lack of attendants, and of the wagging spiteful tongues. As she curtseyed before the throne – Alexander’s throne – Eleyne saw the triumph in her rival’s eyes.
‘I have a surprise for you, Lady Chester,’ Marie said sweetly. ‘I sent someone to see how your husband was, and he was already on his way south after you. Wasn’t it nice that we were able to tell him where you were? Sir Robert?’ She turned and beckoned Robert from the shadows at the back of the dais.
Husband and wife stared at each other, oblivious of the silence that had fallen over the entire hall. He was dressed in a soiled tunic, his rich, embroidered mantle torn. His eyes were bloodshot and his face blurred by drink.
‘So.’ He managed to make the one word accusing, triumphant and threatening all at once. He was panting slightly.
‘So.’ Her echo was icy.
‘Where is she?’
‘Safe.’
A group of men pushed past them, coming in from the courtyard. Neither Eleyne nor Robert noticed.
‘We’ll go back to Loch Leven,’ he said. ‘Get her ready.’
‘No.’ Eleyne clenched her fists, well aware of the enjoyment on Marie’s face. ‘I think you will find that at last you have outstayed your welcome in Fife.’
‘Indeed.’ Robert suppressed a belch. ‘Then we’ll go elsewhere.’
A second group of people appeared in the doorway and Eleyne recognised with a sinking heart that one of them was Robert’s brother, the Constable of Scotland. Roger de Quincy regarded Robert sternly. He stood as if deep in thought, then walked purposefully towards the group of people around the throne and dropped on one knee before the queen.
‘I am sorry to see my brother here in such a state, your grace. I hoped it wasn’t true when I was told that he had followed his wife and child to Roxburgh. I have instructions from King Henry that he and Lady Chester are to return south. If either of them disobeys the order, the child, Joanna de Quincy, will be made a royal ward.’
There was a stunned silence in the hall. The queen frowned. ‘King Henry has no jurisdiction here.’
‘Indeed not, madam, but my brother and his wife are King Henry’s subjects.’ Roger’s voice was firm.
‘They are my son’s subjects too,’ she said uncertainly.
‘I think you must allow them to go, your grace.’ Roger gave her the practised smile of a courtier. ‘Scotland does not want to antagonise Henry over so minor a matter. I shall escort them south myself.’
It was obvious that the queen respected him; in his role as constable Roger de Quincy was one of her closest advisers. But she had not realised until today how much she hated this woman; to see her quail before her drunken oaf of a husband would have given her enormous satisfaction. But she did not dare anger Henry of England. ‘Very well.’ She made up her mind at last. ‘Take them.’
XXI
For two days on the long slow ride Robert did not speak to her. He rode apart at the back of the group of horsemen, ignoring his brother, casting baleful looks at Rhonwen, who threw murderous glances back, and from time to time reaching into the bag which hung at his saddle bow for a stoppered jug of wine, which he hung from his forefinger and tipped to his mouth with his arm.
The third night they spent in the guesthouse of a lonely abbey on the Yorkshire moors, wrapped in their cloaks in the single small room beneath the vaulted stone roof. Outside the men of the escort slept with the horses.
Eleyne lay, her head cushioned on her saddlebags, looking up at the shadowy ceiling, listening to the sounds of the men around her. Robert snored loudly, a wineskin lying empty beside him. Beyond him his brother slept enveloped in his cloak. Joanna had cuddled up to Rhonwen who, so far, had kept well out of Robert’s way. Eleyne stirred uncomfortably. The floor was hard and the dying fire left the room cold and damp in spite of the huddled sleepers.
Slowly she sat up. Cautiously, so as not to disturb any of the others, she felt in her saddlebag. There, at the bottom, wrapped in a silk kerchief, was the phoenix pendant. She had hidden it there, afraid that Robert would see it around her neck. She took it out and stared at it, watching the way even the dying fire reflected in the dark glitter of the eyes. She looked at it for a long time, then slipped the chain around her neck and tucked the jewel inside the bodice of her gown so that it nestled between her breasts. It always brought her closer to him.
Hugging her knees, she gazed out of the open door. The soaring roof of the abbey was black against the stars and she could smell the cool sweetness of the night above the staleness of the bodies around her. Quietly she rose and tiptoed to the door. The man on guard stirred and nodded in silent recognition. The grass was ice-cold, wet with dew as she walked through it away from the guesthouse towards the great looming shadow of the abbey grange. Behind her Joanna slept securely in the curve of Rhonwen’s arm. She was safe now, but what would happen when they reached the king? What would he do, confronted with both de Quincys?
Roger had already told his brother sharply to sober up before they reached the king and Robert had smiled and
