Child of the Phoenix

joints were stiff and her bones ached even in the warmth of the summer.

‘Listen!’ Eleyne held up her hand. ‘Can you hear anything?’ Nesta had followed Rhonwen into the room and they both listened. The ashes shifted softly in the hearth and Ancret sighed. ‘There is something wrong. Is it Einion?’

Rhonwen looked surprised. ‘It’s a long time since you spoke of him, I thought you no longer believed.’

‘I don’t believe in his prophecies! How could I?’ Eleyne said bitterly. ‘But he still haunts me.’

‘No, cariad, whatever it is, it is not him, not here.’ Rhonwen sat down on the edge of the bed. She had her suspicions. She had heard the rumours that Eleyne walked with ghosts, and she had smiled secretly to herself. The child had always walked with ghosts, but now there was one special ghost, who watched over her; if it was the man she thought it was, she blessed them both. The love of Eleyne and her king had been sanctified by the gods. With their blessing even death could not separate them.

‘Nothing is wrong. Why don’t you go to sleep? Those children of yours will have me awake at first light if I know them.’ She smiled indulgently.

The dogs heard the footsteps in the hall before the women, but the loud knocking surprised them all. Hal Longshaft pushed into the room before Nesta had a chance to answer his knock; he was visibly distressed.

‘My lady, there are armed men on the road.’

‘Armed men?’ So that was it. There was a human danger out there in the night. Robert! Robert had returned from the Holy Land. Robert, whom she had hoped never to see again. Her stomach began to churn with fear.

‘Hugh Fletcher saw them, my lady. He was going to ride a bit of the way with Sam, but when they saw the men he turned back to warn us. I’ve called the men awake and the gates are under double guard. Hugh didn’t know their leader. He said they wore dark cloaks over the devices on their surcoats, but he was certain it wasn’t Sir Robert, my lady.’

So, he had read her mind. ‘Issue arms to all the men,’ she said quietly, ‘and pray.’ What good could her servants, her household do against armed men? There was no garrison here, no bodyguard. If this was an attack from the armies of thieves and outlaws who lived in the wild border march, they could do nothing. She turned to Rhonwen as Hal hurried away. ‘Why didn’t I see the danger sooner -?’

‘Your senses have grown lazy, cariad.’ Rhonwen shook her head. ‘They’ve had no need to develop here. Don’t reproach yourself, you chose the other path. Those content with the present don’t seek to see into the future. Besides, perhaps there is no danger.’ Her voice was reassuring. ‘They could be harmless travellers passing along the road.’

‘Take the children, Rhonwen. Take them into the woods below the brook.’ Eleyne caught her hand and pulled her to her feet. ‘Quickly. I want them out of the house and as far away as possible. Take Annie with you. Everyone else must stay and fight if necessary.’

‘But cariad -’

‘Do as I say. Quickly. Please. To be safe. I’ll send Hal to find you as soon as the danger is over. Take the dogs, they’ll guard the children with their lives.’ She ran towards the door, the dogs at her heels. ‘Go. Now. Go with Rhonwen.’ She pointed at Rhonwen and the two dogs obeyed her. Lyulf looked back once, and she saw the reproach in his eyes. With a quick look at Eleyne’s face, Rhonwen hurried away.

Eleyne was standing on the steps outside the front door of the old house when the horsemen drew up outside the gates and shouted for entry.

‘Who asks?’ The gateward’s voice sounded thin in the warm night air.

‘Tell Lady Chester that Malcolm of Fife has come to call.’ The voice sounded clearly across the cool green moat beyond the wall.

A wave of relief swept over Eleyne. She realised that her fists had been clenched so tightly that her nails had cut into the palms of her hands. Malcolm of Fife might not be welcome under most circumstances, but tonight, in the wake of her panic, he counted as a friend. ‘Open the gates,’ she called. ‘Make our guests welcome,’ and she stepped forward as the old oak gates creaked open and the armed men trooped across the bridge and into the courtyard.

Malcolm dismounted and bowed. ‘Lady Chester! It has been too long.’

She smiled at him. ‘You are welcome.’

‘I hope so.’ He followed her into the great hall of the manor house as she gave orders for the fire to be rekindled and lights to be placed in the sconces.

‘You have ridden a long way, Sir Malcolm,’ she commented as she sat in her chair and gestured him towards the other, ‘if you have come all the way from Scotland.’

‘I have come from Fife.’

‘And you are on your way south? To Bristol perhaps to see the king?’

‘No.’ He sat down and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his eyes on her face. ‘I came for you.’

She smiled guardedly, her apprehension returning. ‘For me?’

‘Your husband is dead, Eleyne. You are free to remarry.’ He kept his voice low, aware of the curious glances in their direction from Eleyne’s sleepy household.

‘Dead?’ The shock of his words cut through her fear like a knife. ‘Robert is dead?’

‘Didn’t you guess? You haven’t heard from him for two years.’

‘Who told you? Who told you Robert was dead?’

‘I have my informants.’ He leaned back in his chair with a smile. ‘The fate of Robert de Quincy was, after all, of special importance to me. The reports I received seem conclusive. He is dead and buried. He will not come back to pester you again. You are free.’

Her immediate sense of relief was short-lived as she considered what Malcolm had said. ‘If I am, I intend to stay that way.’ She was painfully aware of her helplessness. She had opened the gates. She had invited him in and now some three dozen fully armed men were inside her walls, men who, while accepting the wine her servants had offered, had not laid down their swords. Conscious of the sudden stillness in his expression, she forced herself to soften her voice. ‘You do me great honour, my lord, but I will never marry again. And I have the assurance of my uncle, the King of England, on that.’ She hadn’t, but Malcolm would never know.

‘I do not intend to ask the king your uncle, madam.’ Malcolm’s voice dropped slightly. ‘I have waited too long. You are mine now.’

‘Perhaps we could discuss this in the morning?’ She was thinking frantically. Nearby she could see Michael standing, his hand on his sword. She frowned. She had never seen her horse marshal wear a sword before. ‘You and your men must be tired and such important matters must be talked about with due ceremony.’

He laughed softly. ‘There is nothing to talk about. We leave tonight.’

‘No!’ Her eyes were blazing. She stepped towards him, aware of the silence in the hall. ‘Leave my house, now, before I call my guard!’

Cautiously Nesta crept closer to her. Her small embroidery shears were hidden in her hand.

‘I thought this was your guard.’ With a smile Malcolm looked around the shadowy hall.

They were all there: her maids, her ladies, Hal, Michael, most of the stable lads, even Kenrick, her cook, and his kitchen boys and the three pages who were serving her until they moved to a household where the head of house was a knight from whom they could learn the chivalric arts. She was sick with fear for them all. The only people absent were Sam and Rhonwen and Annie and the children. She breathed a little prayer that Rhonwen had taken them into the woods as she had asked, then she looked Malcolm full in the eyes. ‘Please leave my house, sir. I am sorry, but your attentions are not welcome.’ There was a sudden coldness in the air.

‘I am sure you will learn to like me, Eleyne, and I am sorry I have to do this, but as you say, your uncle is the king, and it would be more politic if he didn’t know what had become of you. We’ll leave quietly, and disappear into the darkness forever. If you do as I say, no one will be hurt.’

‘No.’ She raised her voice. ‘I’m not coming with you!’

‘Then I am afraid I must use force. You have condemned these people to death, Eleyne of Chester, out of your own mouth.’ He snapped his fingers and his men in the hall drew their swords, the rasp of steel ugly in the peaceful old house.

Michael did not hesitate. With a shout of anger, he raised his sword and ran towards her, but he had taken only half a dozen steps before he was cut down.

‘Michael!’ She heard herself scream as Malcolm lunged forward and caught her wrist, swinging her into his arms. Nesta, sweet faithful Nesta, raised her hand, the wickedly sharp shears glinting in her