this castle and never return.’
William said, ‘It is for you, Donald, to think of apologies. You have destroyed this family. And by your careless selfishness, you have caused Lady Fife this embarrassment. You would do well to apologise to her and then to us.’
Turning on his heel he walked out, but his wife did not immediately follow. The sister of the Earl of Buchan, Elizabeth Comyn was a formidable woman. Her dark eyes were black pebbles in her aquiline face as she glared at Eleyne for several long seconds, then she too turned away. Her cloak trailed melted snow on to the dried heather floor covering as she walked from the room, followed by an acutely uncomfortable Hugh Leslie, who closed the door softly behind him.
‘Get dressed.’ Donald stood up. His hands were shaking with anger.
‘What are you going to do?’
‘We are leaving.’
She shook her head. ‘If we do that, they will have won.’
He was astonished. ‘You want to confront them again after that?’
‘No, I never want to see them again, but I will. You and I will sit with them at the high table tonight and we will show them we are too happy and too strong to be beaten by their prejudice.’ Dropping the sheet, she climbed off the bed.
Donald’s eyes strayed down her body and she tensed as she saw his slight frown.
‘It’s not true, Donald,’ she whispered. ‘I’m not too old to bear your children.’ She put her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him, swaying slightly. ‘I’ll bear you a dozen sons, my love,’ she crooned.
He smiled, and kissed her.
‘Half that number will do,’ he whispered and he laughed. ‘How you shock them, my poor darling. Why is it that they hate you so?’
‘Your father has always hated me,’ Eleyne said sadly. Pushing him away she pulled the sheet around her shoulders and walked over to the fire. ‘And he always will. You must accept that.’
He scowled. ‘I’ll never accept it… and I shall tell him so.’
It was the first time Donald and Eleyne had appeared in William’s newly built great hall since their arrival, but Eleyne did not look at the roof with its ornately carved beams, or at the two huge fireplaces built of stone. Her eyes were fixed on the high table. She had taken the greatest trouble with her hair and gown. Around her neck she wore the carved silver horse Donald had given her and on her fingers she wore his rings.
The Mars greeted them coldly as they took their places.
‘You may as well know, father, that Eleyne and I intend to live at Falkland Castle,’ Donald said as the first courses of food were carried in. ‘I do not want my wife to live in a household where she is insulted.’
Elizabeth put down her knife. ‘I’m afraid you are going to be disappointed, Donald. Sir Alan and Lady Durward have moved into Falkland for the time being, to be with their daughter and grandson. Sir Alan does not seem to approve of your marriage any more than we do.’ She gave a harsh laugh. ‘I believe he has declared that your wife will return only over his dead body.’
Donald gritted his teeth. ‘I am sure that can be arranged…’
‘Don’t be a fool, boy.’ William took a huge helping of pike stewed in fish liquor and then turned to eye the oysters on their bed of ginger and saffron. ‘You can stay here, both of you. Out of harm’s way. We’ll be going back south within a few days if the roads stay open, and I’ll leave you to manage the earldom.’
‘William!’ Elizabeth burst out. ‘You can’t allow this!’
‘There’s nothing to be done, Elizabeth.’ William sighed and picked up his spoon. ‘The marriage is legal and the king has given it his blessing. There is nothing to be done.’
‘There is nothing to be done!’ Donald echoed later in a gruff imitation of his father’s tone. He burst into laughter. ‘Of course there’s nothing to be done and they know it.’ He pulled Eleyne into his arms. ‘Oh, my love, I’m so sorry they came and said such awful things, but we won’t let them spoil it. Once they’re gone, Kildrummy will be our own kingdom again.’
They were gone within two days and Eleyne breathed a sigh of relief. Slowly they toured the castle and Donald introduced her to the vast household. Some of them were suspicious, some amused, but most were friendly. She chose two girls, Agnes and Bethoc, to join Meg as her personal maidens and she and Donald moved into the earl’s chamber, a large room with arched windows on the first floor of what was already being called the Snow Tower.
Slowly the spring grew warmer. There was no word from the south. The earl and countess were with the Scottish court; in Fife, in spite of Eleyne’s anxious letters, Rhonwen remained obstinately silent. Still obsessed with Donald and their life together Eleyne kept her worries about the boys at bay just as she refused to face the other problem which haunted her.
She was not yet pregnant. Never in all the years of their illicit lovemaking had she become pregnant and she had borne no children for nine years. Elizabeth’s cruel comments had cut her to the quick and she brooded on them constantly. Was it true? Was she too old to give Donald the heir he must have?
Secretly she cast her horoscope. It spoke of many children and in disgust she swept her charts aside. The stars mocked her. She looked, cautiously at first, then more anxiously, into the flames. There were no pictures there.
Also in secret she stood beside the bed, staring down at her naked figure. She had no way of knowing how she looked. Donald still took enormous delight in her body, but did he also notice the slight slackening of her skin, the little wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, the streaks of silver in her hair which had broadened over the years?
She took Meg into her confidence and between them in the stillroom they made up a soft balm scented with rose petals which she rubbed on her skin to keep it soft. Donald noticed the smell at once. He buried his face between her breasts and threatened never to leave her bed again.
VI
The king had given them time enough. Rhonwen felt him growing restless. Twice she thought she saw him, shadowy on the turnpike stair above her – reproachful, angry that she had done nothing to bring Eleyne back to him. Afraid, she began to form a plan.
She stood for a long time at the door of the chapel. It was dark. The castle was asleep, but one candle burned before the statue of Our Lady, replaced and trimmed before the priest had gone to his bed. Rhonwen could feel the prickle of fear on the back of her neck, and peered at the altar. It was somewhere at the back that Eleyne had hidden the pendant. She had to break the taboo; she had to enter this chapel of the priests, but what would happen to her if she laid a hand on the fabric of this holy place? Her fingers went automatically to the amulet at her throat.
With a muttered prayer to the goddess of her Welsh mountains, she took two tiptoed steps inside the door and held her breath. The small chapel smelt of cold incense; it was impregnated in the stones of the walls and in the air around her. Her heart beating very fast she crept towards the altar and, her back to the wall, her eyes fixed on the crucifix between the candles, she made her way towards the eastern wall.
Reaching the reredos at last, she felt behind it. Sweat dripped into her eyes. She was breathing audibly through her mouth. Blessed Bride, she couldn’t feel it. There was nothing there. She pushed harder, trying to wedge her whole arm behind the carved oak panel.
The candle flame flickered. A few drops of pale wax spattered on the shelf before the statue and a trail of smoke spiralled into the air. The shadow in the corner of the chapel behind the faldstool was no more than smoke itself. Rhonwen’s hands were shaking violently.
Driven by panic to one last effort, she pushed again, groping in the emptiness with desperate fingers, and suddenly she touched something soft. The sensation was so unexpected that she let out a whimper of fright. Then
