have the king to console her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
I
Donald arrived at Falkland two weeks after the funeral. Eleyne received him alone in the small solar in the Great Tower. He kissed her hand and looked up at her tired face. ‘You know why I’m here.’
Her heart was beating very fast. She found she couldn’t speak. She wanted him to touch her so badly, she thought she would throw herself at him. But he had been the one to make it clear that they had no future together, whatever Adam said. Besides, Alexander was there. He was everywhere in the castle, at her side, in her bed; he had been there when Donald had not, stronger all the time. And he was near her. Now.
Donald held out his arms and pulled her to him. His mouth on hers was demanding, as hungry as hers, but after a moment he pushed her away. ‘I’ve come here to ask you to be my wife.’
‘Donald.’ It was a whisper.
She could feel the anguish in the shadows around her.
‘You will, won’t you?’
‘I thought you would want to marry someone else; I thought you would want to marry someone younger -’ Brutally she forced herself to say the word which had tormented her for so long.
‘You don’t want to -?’ Anger and disappointment vied for predominance in his face.
‘No, no! I want to, you know I want to, but -’ She waved her hand to encompass the walls of the room and through them the rest of the world. ‘It would never be allowed.’
‘Why not?’ He took her hand again and lifted it to his lips. ‘I have already spoken to the king; our king; his son.’ His voice was harsh.
‘You have?’ She looked at him in astonishment.
‘I went straight to court when I heard of Malcolm’s death. Only that would have kept me from you so long.’ He smiled. ‘The king likes me and he has always loved you. And the queen mother wasn’t there to interfere.’ His voice was suddenly bitter. ‘He said he would do anything to make us happy.’
‘And your father?’
‘We won’t tell my father until it’s done. I’m of age. So are you. We are both free. Oh yes, we are. Your ghost won’t follow us to Mar and we have the king’s approval. What more do we need?’ He pulled her once more into his arms.
Rhonwen was waiting for her in her bedchamber, holding something in her hand. Eleyne’s eyes went to the open jewel casket on the table. ‘I thought I told you not to come to my room!’ she said sharply. ‘I didn’t summon you.’
Rhonwen smiled. ‘No, someone else summoned me.’ She lifted her hand slightly and Eleyne saw the gleam of gold as the jewelled pendant swung between her fingers. ‘Someone else, who doesn’t want you to receive Donald of Mar.’
Eleyne spun around. ‘Hylde, Meg, leave us alone,’ she ordered. They did not wait. They scuttled away, closing the door behind them.
Eleyne turned back to Rhonwen. ‘Put that pendant down.’
‘Why?’ Rhonwen smiled again.
‘Because I say so. Put it back in the casket.’
‘It brings him to you, doesn’t it?’ Rhonwen held the jewel up to the light. Her eyes narrowed. ‘Why don’t we try it now? Why don’t we call him and ask him what he thinks about Donald of Mar coming here to Falkland? Why don’t we call him – ’
‘
‘You forbid me to call him? But you said he was nothing but a dream. If he was only a dream, how can I call him?’ Rhonwen moved swiftly behind the table, still holding the phoenix aloft. ‘Come!’ she cried out loud. ‘Come, your grace, come to her now. If you don’t, it will be too late. Donald of Mar will take her…’
‘It’s already too late,’ Eleyne said softly. ‘I have promised to marry Donald.’
Rhonwen stopped in mid-sentence and her mouth fell open. ‘You have done what?’
‘I have promised to marry Donald of Mar.’ Eleyne leaned across the table and snatched the pendant from Rhonwen’s slack fingers. For a moment she stood looking at it, then she threw it down into the casket and slammed the lid on top of it. ‘Alexander is dead, Rhonwen! I am alive! We can be nothing to each other any more. I shall always treasure his memory. I shall always love him in my heart, but he is dead and gone. Donald is alive. I love
There was a long silence. Slowly Rhonwen extricated her hands from Eleyne’s. ‘I can’t,’ she whispered.
‘Why?’
‘You belong to King Alexander. Einion Gweledydd foretold it – ’
‘Einion’s prophecies were false.’
‘No!’
‘They were. Listen, you have seen Adam and you remember Michael, his master. They foretold the future for me too. They both said my future lay in Mar. If I am to found a royal dynasty, it is through Colban and Anna. She is King Alexander’s granddaughter – ’
‘Her mother was a bastard -’ Rhonwen spat the words out furiously.
‘Sir Alan Durward has great ambitions for his daughter, nevertheless. Please, Rhonwen, forget Einion Gweledydd. Think of me.’
‘I am thinking of you,
‘I shall be a countess again when Donald inherits from his father. That is sufficient glory for me.’ Eleyne smiled pleadingly. ‘Rhonwen. I cannot be the consort of a dead man.’
Rhonwen shook her head slowly. ‘Call him. Explain it to him. See what the king thinks. Go on.’ The old woman’s eyes were blazing again. She swept towards the fire and fumbling in the scrip attached to her girdle she produced a handful of crushed herbs. ‘You see, I carry them with me. I have them always in case he needs me – the magic herbs to summon the spirits.’
‘No!’ Eleyne cried. ‘No, I forbid it!’
‘You forbid your king,
‘You silly old fool!’ Eleyne cried in despair. ‘It won’t work!’
But it was working. She could feel him approaching. The room was growing cold. She could feel his anger and his despair like a blanket across the air. She looked round frantically: ‘Go away! Please, go away! I love Donald. I’m going to marry him. Please, go away!’
The candles on the table began to stream in trails of smoke as the window shutters rattled. Outside, a pall of sleet swept across the countryside, blotting out the sky.
Rhonwen dropped to her knees, her face lit by a triumphant smile. ‘He’s coming. He’s coming for you. You belong to him,
‘Sweet Holy Mother!’ Eleyne’s veil was torn from her hair as the wind roared in the window and the shutter crashed to the floor. She spun round protecting her face with her arms as the candles blew out, showering hot wax
