the bed as he waited in the moving shadows. Eleyne’s gown fell to the floor, and Rhonwen saw the white glow of her arms as she raised her hands to unbraid her hair. She shook it free and then pulled her shift over her head, stretching languidly upwards as she did so, flaunting her body sensuously as she dropped the garment in a tangled heap at her feet. Only then did he step forward again and Rhonwen saw that he too was naked. Her scalp prickled warningly. She had not seen him undress; she had not seen him move.
Without warning, she was very afraid. Not once had she seen his face; she couldn’t even guess who he was and, she realised, she was shaking like a leaf, half from cold and half from terror.
The room was growing darker as the fire burned low; she could barely see them now. They were still standing up, lost in one another’s arms, as if almost reluctant to fall on the bed and consummate their passion. Rhonwen’s throat had gone dry, and the room was so cold that her feet had gone numb. She looked longingly at the fire and, almost in response to her yearning for more heat, a log slipped from the sluggishly burning pile. A sheet of flame spurted up, throwing a swathe of clear amber light across the room. Rhonwen looked towards the bed and saw his face.
For a moment her terror was so great she could not breathe; she stepped back, forgetting her hands were clutching the curtain, and as they swung inwards she stumbled and fell, pulling them open. With a moan, she crumpled in a heap between the two window seats and brought her arms around her head.
Eleyne’s voice was sharp with anger: ‘What are you doing there? Get up!’
Rhonwen raised her head, searching in wild terror for the dead king. He had gone. Eleyne stood in front of her, alone. She had pulled on her bed gown, and her face was white with fury. Rhonwen saw the gleam of the phoenix between her breasts.
‘How long have you been there?’
Rhonwen was shaking so violently she could not stand. ‘I was asleep. I must have fallen asleep waiting for you -’ Her mind groped for excuses even as it flitted around the reality of what she had seen. ‘I’m sorry,
‘You’ve been asleep all the time?’ She sounded relieved.
Rhonwen nodded violently, unable to meet Eleyne’s eye. ‘I was dreaming, I dreamt I heard music, then I woke and found myself on the floor. I’m sorry, I must have given you such a fright.’ She was trying desperately to pull herself together; she had known that the king visited Eleyne, but to see him as real as another man, taking her in his arms… she was overcome with shock. He was still a man and he could still love Eleyne like a man. Grunting with the effort, Rhonwen stood and walked stiffly over to the fire.
‘This room is very cold,
‘That’s because it is the middle of the night,’ Eleyne said gently. ‘I’ll come with you to your room and make sure you get to bed.’ She bent and threw on another log. The fire was burning brightly now. Eleyne reached for the candle and thrust it into the flames. The light spread to the dark corners near the bed. There was no one there; nothing, not even a shadow.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I
Three nights passed before Alexander returned. Watching Eleyne’s face, following her, waiting for her at every opportunity, Rhonwen knew when he had come back. From the shadow of the wall she could see the dreamy contentment in Eleyne’s eyes, feel the heavy sensuality of her body as she moved across the courtyard and towards the stables.
Her lips set in a tight, straight line, Rhonwen hurried up the winding stairs towards Eleyne’s bedchamber. It was deserted, as she had known it would be. Sliding silently through the door, she closed it and slid the bolt. The fire had been banked up to smoulder quietly all day. The shutters were open and the heavy embrasure curtain drawn back. Rain was falling and a dull light filtered into the room. It strayed across the floor towards the bed, playing on the heavy bed hangings.
Rhonwen looked towards the bed where she had seen the tall shadowy figure and she made herself walk towards it. It had been neatly made by the bed maids, who every morning smoothed the sheets and covers with the long sticks which enabled them to reach to the very middle of the broad high bed, and it was covered with a heavy embroidered coverlet. There was no sign now of Eleyne’s companion of the night.
‘Are you there?’ Rhonwen murmured aloud. She waited, half afraid, half relieved at the echoing emptiness and silence of the room. ‘Where are you?’ She listened again, peering around. ‘I’m on your side. I know how much you loved her, I’ve always known. She can still bear your child.’ She fell slowly to her knees. ‘I’ll help you, I’ll do anything you wish. Einion Gweledydd was right, wasn’t he? He was right all along. She belongs to you. She will bear your child. Your son will die without an heir and then you will need my Eleyne, my
‘Listen to me!’ she cried out again. ‘Please. Listen.’
She scrambled to her feet and hurrying to the jewel casket on the table she threw back the lid. She rummaged through Eleyne’s jewels, her arthritic fingers clumsy with cold, and at last she found the phoenix. She clutched it with an exclamation of triumph and turned back to the bed. ‘You see, I have it! This is how she calls you, isn’t it? This is how you reach her. Your talisman. She doesn’t know I know. She thinks I’m a silly old woman, but I’m not.’ Her eyes narrowed craftily. ‘I see everything. And I wait. And I am your servant, most gracious prince.’ She was out of breath. Was that a movement at last, near the wall, behind the heavy columnar folds of the bed curtains? ‘I’ll do whatever you wish.’ Painfully she knelt, addressing the curtain. ‘I’ll get rid of the earl for you.’ Her voice dropped confidentially. ‘I know of poisons which no one will suspect; I’ve used them before, for her. She won’t know but she’ll be free. She’ll be yours absolutely.’ She looked down coquettishly at the enamelled phoenix. ‘My pretty bird. You’ll help us, won’t you? You’ll serve your king and his lady and bring them together.’ She put her head on one side. ‘But now I must put you away. We don’t want anyone to know our secret, do we?’ She climbed to her feet again. ‘No one but you and me and the king and my sweet, sweet lady.’
Hylde pressed her eye closer to the keyhole of the door. She saw the woman clearly as she knelt near the bed, but she was too far away to be heard. Only once had she raised her voice. ‘Listen to me,’ she had cried, ‘please listen!’ She was pleading with someone. Hylde pressed closer to the door. Who was in there with her? She was deeply suspicious of Rhonwen. Meg had confided that the old woman had hidden in her lady’s chamber three nights before and Hylde had immediately begun to watch her. The mad old witch was up to something.
She saw something glitter in Rhonwen’s hand as she raised it before her. She was holding it the way people would hold a crucifix or something holy, to ward off evil. Was there a crucifix among her lady’s jewels? She had never seen one, other than the carved cross she sometimes wore with her beads. Hylde crossed herself and wished she could see who Rhonwen was talking to. She found she was trembling and glanced behind her. The empty staircase wound out of sight, dimly lit from the doorway at the bottom. In the silence she heard the gentle moan of the wind.
When Rhonwen at last left the chamber, Hylde was hidden in the darkness of the stairs above her. She waited until Rhonwen’s shuffling steps had died away into silence, then she tiptoed down. Only one person had left the room, so whoever had been talking to Rhonwen was still there.
Not giving herself time to think, she threw open the door and sailed in. ‘What are you doing in my lady’s room -’ She stopped in her tracks and stared around. The room was empty, but there had been someone here with Rhonwen. The woman had not been alone, she was sure of it. Methodically she began to search – the garderobe, the coffers, the window embrasure, the gap behind the bed, the heavy bed hangings; she even stepped into the
