XIII
‘So.’ Rhonwen looked down at Donald with scorn. ‘You are no better than I thought, no better than any other man, for all my lady thought you were some sort of god!’ She tightened her grip on the dirk. ‘And no doubt you will bleed like any other man.’
Donald, his gown around his waist, looked up at her helplessly. His mantle and his belt, with his own dirk, lay in a heap on the dusty floor outside the circle of light and out of reach. He was pinned by the slack weight of the frightened woman who lay half across his body.
‘Rhonwen!’ His voice was a husky whisper. ‘You don’t understand!’ He tried to push the woman off, but paralysed with fright she could not move.
‘Please, Rhonwen, wait.’ His eyes went towards his own weapon and then back to her, drawn irresistibly to the gleaming blade in her hand.
‘I’ve waited long enough,’ Rhonwen said softly. ‘In fact, I’ve waited too long for this moment. You’ve caused my lady nothing but heartache and misery. You are worthless. Trash. Even Robert de Quincy was a knight.’ She smiled as she saw his eyes darken and her fingers tightened imperceptibly on the hilt of her knife as she raised it above her head.
The door crashed open.
‘Rhonwen! No!’ Eleyne’s scream brought Rhonwen up short, but she was distracted only for a moment. ‘It has to be,
As she lunged downwards at Donald, Eleyne threw herself across the floor, grabbing for the hand that held the knife. The door banged again. Only the small flame in the lamp on the floor beside the lovers lit the scene. ‘No you can’t! You can’t kill him! I forbid it!’ She was sobbing as her fingers locked around Rhonwen’s wrist. How could she have been so stupid as to let Rhonwen return to Kildrummy? Why hadn’t she seen the extent of the woman’s madness? Why had she fooled herself for so long? ‘Drop it! For Sweet Jesus’ sake, drop it!’
‘I have to,
Eleyne grabbed for her hand. ‘No!’ she screamed as blood poured down Donald’s arm. ‘For pity’s sake, no!’
The two women swayed back and forth, slipping on the scattered sacks. Rhonwen’s eyes were blank. Her lips were fixed in a snarl as she threw herself at Donald once more.
She was surprisingly strong for a woman of her years and Eleyne, already bulky, had not yet recovered her breath from her desperate climb up the stairs, but at last the strength seemed to go out of Rhonwen’s arm. Forcing the dirk as hard as she could away from Donald, Eleyne felt the woman’s arm give way.
There was a moment’s total silence as Rhonwen stepped back, a look of astonishment on her face. Her mouth opened. ‘You’ve killed me,
‘Is she dead?’ Eleyne whispered at last, her voice all but lost in the howl of the wind.
‘Yes.’ Donald bit his lip. ‘She’s dead.’ He stooped and, pulling out the dirk, he flung it on the ground.
He went to his wife and tried to put his arms around her, but she pushed him away. ‘Don’t touch me!’
‘Eleyne!’ His hands dropped to his sides. ‘I know you’re upset, but – ’
‘But what?’ Her eyes were blazing. ‘I just found you making love to another woman and – ’
‘That didn’t mean anything.’
‘Of course it meant something! Why else would you have done it?’ She was almost hysterical. ‘I nearly lost my baby trying to follow Rhonwen to save you and now – and now -’ her eyes flooded with tears – ‘and now she is dead and I killed her.’
‘You saved my life, my darling.’
‘I killed her!’ Rhonwen lay sprawled on her back, her eyes wide open, gazing sightlessly upwards at the shadowy vaulted ceiling. ‘I killed her…’ She held out her hands in front of her, staring at them in revulsion.
‘And how many people has she killed in her life, Nel?’ Donald asked gently. He did not try to touch her again. ‘You told me that she admitted having killed Robert de Quincy. You told me you suspected there were other people she had poisoned: John of Chester, Alexander’s queen – even Malcolm himself perhaps! Sweet Christ, Eleyne! She nearly succeeded in killing me!’ He clamped his hand to his shoulder, where his gown was slowly turning red, and brought it away, his fingers sticky with blood. ‘Do you realise that woman might have been responsible for the deaths of all your husbands! Christ only knows why you kept her near you!’
For a moment they both stood staring down at Rhonwen’s body. Eleyne was shaking her head. ‘But she loved
‘She was a dangerous, mad woman, Eleyne.’ Wearily Donald stooped and picking up a sack he threw it over Rhonwen’s face and shoulders. ‘Come away now.’
‘Someone will have to be with her.’
‘I’ll deal with it.’ He picked up the lantern. ‘How did you know where to come?’
‘I searched the whole tower.’
‘And you knew what she was going to do?’
Eleyne nodded. ‘It was something she said in Wales. That if you made me cry she would kill you.’
‘And I made you cry.’ Donald’s face was full of anguish.
‘It was tonight that I realised you had gone to that woman again and I knew this time you wouldn’t come back.’ She gave a helpless, angry shrug. ‘We both knew this would happen one day; that I would grow old.’
She knelt beside Rhonwen and gently pulled back the sack.
‘Old!’ Donald shook his head. ‘How could you be old? You are carrying my child!’
‘And it makes me unattractive to you.’ She shrugged, not looking at him. ‘I understand.’
She touched Rhonwen’s face with a gentle hand and closed the staring eyes. Then, summoning all her dignity, she stood up and turned towards the door. The shock was beginning to hit her afresh, and she could feel herself trembling. ‘I think I’ll go to bed.’
‘Eleyne.’ His voice stopped her. ‘I love you. That whore meant nothing. Nothing at all, I swear it.’
She smiled faintly. ‘Goodnight,’ she said.
He did not follow her. When she looked back from the door at the head of the stairway, he was standing looking down at Rhonwen’s body.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
I
Eleyne’s daughter, Isabella, was born at the end of May. To commemorate the occasion, Donald gave his wife
