Child of the Phoenix

She shook her head. ‘The perfect choice,’ she said.

II

The first thing Eleyne did when she returned to Falkland was go to the casket where she had hidden the phoenix. She threw back the lid and rummaged amongst her jewels. The pendant wasn’t there.

Rhonwen had come into the room on silent feet, and she stood watching as Eleyne tipped the contents of the casket on to her bed. ‘What are you looking for, cariad?’ Eleyne had not even taken off her cloak.

‘The phoenix, where is the phoenix?’ Eleyne spread the jewels with a sweep of her hand. ‘It isn’t here.’

How had Alexander followed her to her meeting place with Donald? How had he been so strong?

‘Why do you want it so urgently you cannot even take off your wet cloak first?’ Rhonwen looked at the muddy hem of the cloak; there was no sign that it had been torn open.

‘I need it.’ Eleyne’s hands were shaking.

‘Then I’ll find it for you.’ Rhonwen’s voice was soothing. ‘Let me take the cloak and order some mulled wine while you wash your hands. See, the girl has brought hot water for you.’ Unfastening the brooch on Eleyne’s shoulder, she retrieved the cloak. It took only moments in the ladies’ solar to unpick the stitching with her small shears. When she took the pendant back to Eleyne, it was wrapped in a wisp of blue silk. ‘Here it is, cariad, you had put it in the coffer next door. I thought I had seen it there.’

Eleyne took the pendant with shaking hands. ‘Please leave me, Rhonwen, I wish to be alone.’

The phoenix lay in her hand, glowing gently in the firelight. It brought him close; she could feel him now. No longer angry, he was a gentle, loving shade hovering at her shoulder. But he was not real.

‘Oh, my dear,’ she murmured. ‘Can’t you understand? I don’t want you any more. Please let me go.’

Outside Rhonwen pressed her ear to the thick wood of the door but she could hear nothing. Something had happened when Eleyne had gone to meet her lover. Something that involved the phoenix. But what?

III

February 1263

It was four months before Donald and Eleyne were able to meet again. This time it was at Macduff ’s Castle, on the southern edge of the kingdom of Fife. Malcolm seldom went there now. Named for their Macduff ancestors, like her little son, it was primitive and bare, dating back to the years when the first Mormaers of Fife held sway.

This time Rhonwen was with her and two of her ladies with two knights to escort them. All hand-picked by Rhonwen for their loyalty and their ability to keep a secret, or rather to ignore the handsome squire who appeared out of the darkness on his showy bay horse and slipped up the spiral staircase to where their lady waited. This time there was no phoenix; the jewel lay wrapped in its silk in the jewel casket at Falkland. Rhonwen had checked where it was, and she had left it. She would be there to watch over Eleyne in person, there would be no need of a talisman.

They had mulled wine and hot food, brought to the door by Hylde, one of her new, trusted maids. The mound of dried heather and bracken which would serve as their bed was covered by sheets and rugs and furs, and the fire was fed from a solid stack of logs. Eleyne had dressed in a silk gown; under it was a shift of the finest, almost transparent lawn. She wore Donald’s ring on her finger and her skin was anointed with rose-scented salve.

At the sight of her he stopped in the doorway and smiled.

‘You are the most beautiful woman in the world, did you know?’

She laughed. ‘If at my age I am even a little beautiful in your eyes, then I am content.’

‘I’ve brought you another gift.’ He closed the door behind him and slid the bolt across. Then he came to her side and went down on one knee. ‘See.’

She looked down at his closed fist. ‘You are spoiling me.’

‘Of course.’

‘What is it?’

‘Close your eyes and I’ll put it on you.’

She did as he asked, feeling his hands on her shoulders and the cold slither of a fine chain around her neck.

‘Now, look.’

She opened her eyes and squinted down at her breasts. Nestling between them, on the blue silk of her gown, was a pendant. It was shaped like a horse. Her moment of horror at the feel of the accustomed weight around her neck turned into a gasp of delight. ‘Donald! It’s lovely.’

‘I had it specially made.’ He looked gratified. ‘Now, let me have some wine. I hear we have hot food waiting and I’m starved.’ He sat down on the floor and inspected the tray of dishes which had been left near the hearth to keep warm. She smiled, her fingers stroking the jewel at her throat. He was, after all, a strong man, in his prime; he needed his food. What she hungered for was his body, but she could wait as long as she could feast her eyes on him while he ate.

It was some time later that he looked up and smiled. ‘You’ve been watching me.’

‘Of course.’

‘And you’ve hardly touched anything yourself.’

‘I have some wine.’

He laughed. ‘I like this place better than that fearful haunted tower.’ He refilled his goblet and leaned forward to fill hers. ‘It was all our imagination, wasn’t it? What happened then? It was just the storm and the shadows and the noise of the wind. We frightened ourselves.’

For a moment she was silent. Then she nodded slowly. ‘Yes, we frightened ourselves.’ She glanced over his shoulder towards the door and then at the window, shuttered against the night. It was raining tonight as well, and a southerly gale was hurling the waves against the rocks below the castle, but the fire was bright and the candles were lit and she had walked thrice in a circle around the room, sealing it against Alexander and as she had done it she had imagined that she felt sadness and his helpless rage.

She shivered slightly. ‘Shall we go to bed?’

Donald nodded, but he made no move towards the pile of rugs. He too had looked towards the window, and he reached again for the wine.

‘Shall I undress?’ She rose and felt behind her for the laces of her gown.

At last she saw his eyes gleaming with desire. He raised his goblet in a toast. ‘Undress there, in the firelight. I shall watch.’

‘Watch then.’ She eased the laces through the eyelets which held them, and slipped the gown forward over her shoulders to the ground. His eyes widened when he saw the filmy shift beneath it. The fine stuff clung to her breasts, revealing the dark shadow of her nipples below. He ran his tongue across his lips and put down the goblet.

‘Come here.’ His voice was husky.

She obeyed him. They were within the circle. No one could harm them here. She stood before him as he ran his hands gently over her body. Nothing mattered here; not Alexander; not Malcolm; not the difference in their ages. Nothing mattered but that he was with her and she was his. Her hunger for him was physical, like a pain. She went to the makeshift bed and lay down on it, beckoning him to her side. He threw himself down next to her and slowly, sensuously, he began to push up her shift, running his hand up her leg from her ankle towards her thigh.

Five minutes later he pulled away and sat up. He was sweating. ‘Sweet Christ, I’m sorry! I just can’t get it out of my mind that any minute I’ll feel a hand on my shoulder!’ He put his face in his hands. ‘I know it was all my imagination! I know nothing happened, but I can’t get it out of my head!’ He got up, walked back to the fire and