Invictus.
‘Where are you going?’
‘To Degannwy. I shall be safe there with Gruffydd.’ The tears had gone. The girl’s face was set and determined.
‘You can’t go without your father’s permission.’
‘Then you must get his permission, Rhonwen. Now. Quickly. I’m not going to stay here.’ Eleyne’s hands had started to shake and she clutched them together, waiting impatiently as the groom fitted the sharp bit between the stallion’s teeth and settled the elaborate reins over his neck.
They both jumped as Cenydd appeared from the shadows. He was frowning as he saw the preparations for the ride. ‘I gave your father my word that I would guard you, my lady. I must come with you if you are going out.’
Eleyne smiled uncertainly. ‘Just as long as you don’t try to stop me. My father gave me permission to ride Invictus.’
‘I’ll not try to stop you.’ Cenydd threw a glance at Rhonwen. ‘Is the Lady Rhonwen coming too?’
‘No.’ Eleyne scowled.
‘Eleyne, please,
Eleyne paused. ‘Very well then, you go and ask papa if I can go. But I am going to ride on ahead. Now.’ Any moment, she was sure, Einion would appear and manage to stop her.
Rhonwen had put her hand on Invictus’s bridle. ‘Lord Einion would want you to stay,’ she whispered.
‘No.’ Eleyne shook her head.
Cenydd raised an eyebrow. ‘I told you, Rhonwen. You were a fool to meddle. You had best make a clean breast of all this to his highness. Then at least the prince will thank you for saving his daughter for her husband.’
‘But I am not. I don’t want her to marry – ’
‘I am married, Rhonwen.’ Eleyne stamped her foot again. ‘Nothing can change that.’
‘But it can, don’t you see? The marriage is not consummated. It can be annulled. It must be annulled!’
‘Don’t be a fool, Rhonwen! The prince would never allow it.’ Cenydd stepped forward, narrowing his eyes against the cold wind which whistled across the courtyard and into the stables. ‘Accept the facts, woman.’ He drew Rhonwen aside, his face angry. ‘You didn’t just do this to give her to your gods; or to save her from marriage. You did it to keep her for yourself, didn’t you? But you won’t keep her. The seer will get her unless you help her.’
Eleyne was staring at Rhonwen, her face white and pinched. ‘Is that true?’
‘No, of course it’s not true.’ Rhonwen held out her hands in anguish. ‘I love you, Eleyne. I want only what is best for you.’
‘Then you’ll help me go to Degannwy.’ At Degannwy she would be with Gruffydd and Senena whom she loved and the two little boys she adored. She signalled the groom to lift her on to the horse. ‘I shall be safe with Gruffydd,’ she said firmly, ‘he won’t let anything happen to me.’
Cenydd and Rhonwen looked at each other. Gruffydd was in no position to help her, but neither of them reminded her of the fact. Rhonwen reached up and touched her hand. ‘Very well then,
Eleyne’s face grew mutinous. ‘I shall write to papa. He will understand.’ She turned the horse, still terrified that Einion would be lying in wait for her in the shadows outside the gate.
The valley beyond the village lay in silence, sheltered from the wind and still bathed in mist as Invictus trotted on to the track which curved beside the river. Cenydd rode a few paces to the rear, his hand upon his sword; behind him were two of the prince’s grooms, hastily beckoned from their work.
In the stable yard, Rhonwen, her heart in her mouth, turned to find the prince.
IX
Llywelyn frowned. ‘You want to take her to Degannwy?’
Joan smiled. ‘A good idea. Why not? She can stay with Gruffydd and Senena.’ Her face betrayed the unfinished end to her sentence: three trouble-makers together, out of harm’s way.
Rhonwen nodded, deciding to make the most of her unexpected ally. ‘She can continue her studies there as Lord Gruffydd already has tutors for little Owain. They could help her.’ Behind her a figure had entered the hall and was walking towards them. Her heart turned over with dread. She did not need to turn to know that it was Einion. She looked beseechingly at the prince, cold sweat suddenly filming her palms. ‘May I go, your highness?’ she whispered.
Llywelyn frowned. ‘I see no reason why not. In fact, I shall give you a letter for Gruffydd. I don’t want the boy to think I have forgotten him entirely.’
Joan’s eyes narrowed. ‘Surely that will merely encourage him to make more trouble.’
‘He is my son.’ Llywelyn silenced her firmly. He turned to Einion. ‘Good morning, Sir Bard. You are welcome.’
Einion, leaning heavily on his staff, bowed before the prince but he was studying Rhonwen’s face with narrowed black eyes. ‘How is the princess, your charge, this morning?’ he asked.
‘Well,’ Rhonwen murmured. Her mouth had gone dry.
‘We have decided to let her go to Degannwy,’ Joan put in, pulling her cloak more tightly against the cold of the hall. She eyed Einion with dislike.
Einion frowned. ‘No, she must not leave Aber.’
Rhonwen felt her cheeks grow pale.
‘Why not, pray?’ Llywelyn frowned.
‘Her place is with you, sir. At your side. It would be unwise to let her go to her brother at this stage.’ Einion spoke with authority. He looked again at Rhonwen and it seemed to her that his eyes were sharp with suspicion.
‘Why, my friend?’ Llywelyn asked again.
Rhonwen held her breath. As the two men looked at each other Rhonwen felt the power of the older man’s mind reaching out to his prince, trying to sway him. Llywelyn shook his head slightly as if feeling the pressure as a physical pain.
He doesn’t know! Suddenly Rhonwen realised the truth – Einion was not all-seeing. He didn’t know that Eleyne had already gone. She felt weak with relief.
Before Einion had a chance to reply Joan stood up abruptly. Her dislike of her husband’s most senior bard was obvious. ‘It is not your concern, Lord Einion, where our daughter goes, or why,’ she said coldly, and with a sharp imperious nod to Rhonwen she turned away. The matter was closed.
X
The mountains on both sides of the road were shrouded in mist. The horses’ hooves were muffled in mud. Looking behind her nervously for the tenth time, Rhonwen narrowed her eyes, searching the track for signs of pursuit. Surely Einion had seen her go? She had managed to arrange an escort and leave without the prince demanding to see Eleyne before she left, and she had been no more than two hours behind her charge when she turned east into the mountains. She rode fast, anxious to catch up, terrified even now that Einion would find a way to bring her back. In front of her, on the old Roman roadway, patches of mist drifted and swam, blocking out the view more than a hundred feet or so ahead. Trees vanished and reappeared, and in the silence she could hear, above the creak of the harness and the thud of the horses’ hooves, the sound of the river. Then that too faded as the road turned away from its banks and across the hills.
It was early evening before Rhonwen came to the great river near the Abbey of Aberconwy which Eleyne’s father had founded thirty years earlier, and caught up at last with Eleyne and Cenydd as they waited for a boat to
