‘Blessed Bride!’ Eleyne was too shocked to move. Then: ‘Quickly, Macduff, help your father!’ She dropped down beside him, groping for his hand. For a moment Macduff didn’t stir, then he turned to the hall. ‘Fetch a physician someone,’ he cried, his voice shrill with fear. ‘And you – two of you – help me carry my father to his bed. Quickly!’
Rhonwen caught Eleyne’s cloak as she followed her husband’s prostrate body, borne on a trestle top towards the earl’s bedchamber. Her eyes were wild. ‘So. You lied. All this time you lied!’ she spat. ‘You have been seeing Donald of Mar; you betrayed your king!’
‘I told you a long time ago it was none of your business!’ Eleyne snapped.
‘It
Eleyne grabbed Rhonwen’s arm and pulled her aside. ‘You promised a shadow, a phantom, a creation of your own mind!’ she hissed, with a glance at the staring men and women around them. At her side Macduff listened in round-eyed terror, shocked at the outburst. ‘He does not exist! He never existed! Donald is real. A real man! And Malcolm is a real man. My husband, who might be dying at this moment…’
‘And if he is dying, you will be free at last! Free for the king! Free to be with him,’ Rhonwen gloated.
Eleyne stared at her in horror, then stepped back sharply, wrenching her cloak from Rhonwen’s grasp. ‘Do you realise what you are saying? Do you? For me to join the king I’d have to be dead!’
Rhonwen paled, and lifted her eyes to Eleyne’s without a word. The two women looked at each other long and hard then Eleyne swung round and ran after the men who were carrying her husband upstairs.
Malcolm was unconscious when Eleyne reached him. The friar at his bedside, a travelling physician who had stopped providentially at Falkland on his way to St Andrews, had his hand on Malcolm’s forehead. ‘It’s a seizure, my lady. There was too much choler in his body.’
Eleyne looked down at her husband. ‘Will he live?’
The friar shrugged. ‘If he lives the day and the night he may recover, but the moon wanes and the tides are low. That does not augur well.’
She bit her lip. ‘Poor Malcolm.’ She put her hand on his with a sigh and looked at Macduff. ‘Go and find your brother, he should be here. And Macduff -’ she smiled at her son sadly, ‘tell them to put away the horses. I won’t be riding today after all.’
As night fell, candles were lighted in the chamber. Colban and Anna stood beside the bed, with Macduff at its foot. There was antagonism in Anna’s gaze as she looked at Eleyne.
Eleyne was seated near her husband’s head when he opened his eyes and forced himself to smile.
‘So. Will you marry him when I am gone?’
Eleyne shook her head. ‘You will get better.’
‘No.’ He closed his eyes and held out his hand towards her. After a moment’s hesitation she took it. ‘There is something I should tell you,’ he said haltingly. ‘Something on my conscience.’
‘The priest is here.’ In the corner of the room the castle’s chaplain waited with the viaticum.
‘No, no, I’ll confess to him later.’ He had difficulty speaking. ‘No, there is something I have to confess to you if I am to die easy in my soul.’
‘What is it?’ It was strange that she felt so little. She had shared this man’s bed for nearly fourteen years and learned to accept him; sometimes she even almost liked him, but most of the time he had meant nothing to her at all. She had never loved him; she respected him, and obeyed him. That was all.
‘Robert de Quincy – your husband.’ Malcolm tried to catch his breath and there was a long silence. When she didn’t speak, he struggled on. ‘I really thought he was dead when I came for you, then I heard he was still alive. I… I had him killed.’
‘I see.’ Her voice was flat.
‘It was your nurse who did it,’ he went on. ‘She’s a killer by instinct.’ He gave a faint chuckle. ‘A dangerous woman.’
She did not appear to have heard him; her eyes were on Colban’s white face.
‘Eleyne -’ Malcolm went on faintly, ‘you do forgive me? I did it for you.’
His fingers slipped from her clasp and she made no effort to take them again. She stood up and looked down at his face for a long moment, then she turned away.
‘Eleyne.’ He struggled to raise his head. ‘Eleyne, please, come back.’ His voice broke into sobs.
She stood before the door until one of the weeping servants opened it for her, then she walked down the spiral stairs. She did not look back.
Colban found her in the stables two hours later. The boy’s eyes
were red with weeping.
‘Is it over?’
He nodded.
‘And was he shriven by the priest?’ Her voice was heavy with bitterness.
Again Colban nodded. ‘Mama. Is it true? Am I a bastard?’
Eleyne frowned. Slowly she rose to her feet and put her arms around her son’s narrow shoulders. ‘No, you are not a bastard. I married your father in good faith… twice. And your legitimacy was confirmed by the church, the king and the chancellor of Scotland. You are the Earl of Fife now, Colban, and no one can deny it, though I suppose you will have to wait until you come of age for the king to confirm you in the title.’ She gave a weary smile. ‘God rest your father’s soul. I hope he finds at God’s feet the forgiveness he seeks.’
‘Why did he marry you?’ Colban shuffled his feet uncomfortably.
‘Because he loved me.’
‘And did you ever love him?’ Colban’s eyes were full of pain. For a moment she was tempted to lie, but she shook her head.
‘No. I never loved him.’
‘And did you ever love us?’
‘Oh, Colban!’ She gave a miserable little laugh. ‘Of course I loved you! You made life worth living. You were everything to me. Everything.’ She paused. ‘When I lost little Joanna and Hawisa, I thought I would die of unhappiness. But then you came along, you and your brother. You mean everything to me, Colban, everything.’
‘And Donald of Mar?’ His voice had fallen to a whisper.
She sighed. So. Macduff had told him. ‘We can’t choose who we fall in love with, Colban, it just happens. One minute you’re your own person, free and in charge of your own destiny, the next you are enslaved. But it never affected my love for you and Macduff and it never will.’ She caught his hands. ‘You must believe that. You are married. You know the love of a man and woman for each other is different from the love one feels for one’s babies.’ She smiled.
‘I don’t think I love Anna in the way you describe.’ His voice was sad.
‘You will. You will grow to love her.’ Her voice did not betray her sudden misgivings. ‘Poor Malcolm. There’s such a lot to be done now. Come, let’s go in.’
‘Mama.’ Colban had not moved.
‘What is it?’
‘Will you go to him?’
She did not pretend not to know what he meant. ‘I don’t know what will happen,’ she said quietly, ‘I don’t know at all.’
XVII
She let the lid of the coffer drop. It wasn’t there; the phoenix had gone. She turned back towards her bedchamber, then stopped. Rhonwen was standing in the doorway. ‘Are you looking for something,
‘My embroidered girdle. It isn’t in my clothes chest.’
‘It’s on the bracket where Meg left it. Your eyes must be going, if you couldn’t see it.’ Rhonwen stepped forward into the light. ‘You’re not going to wear that, surely, for my lord’s funeral?’
The phoenix was already there, beneath the feather bed. Tonight, and every night from now on, Eleyne would
