‘Having the Sight is hard to live with, Sandy. It’s a burden. The people who don’t see into the other worlds are very lucky.’ She paused. ‘Does Duncan ever see anything?’
He shook his head violently. ‘It’s the only thing that comes between us. We’re so close otherwise. It’s as though we’re part of each other. I know when he’s hurt, I know when he’s sad, even when Lord Buchan has taken one of us to court and left the other at Slains… he makes us take turns. But Dunc never sees. Not like me.’
‘Then the gods have chosen you for some reason,’ Eleyne said quietly. ‘You have their blessing and their protection.’
‘And Dunc hasn’t?’ Sandy was uncertain whether to be pleased for himself or upset for his twin.
‘Duncan has other blessings.’ Eleyne smiled reassuringly and with that he had to be content.
She turned away, unable to school her face any longer. She was shaking like a leaf. Was the spirit who watched over her elder twin Alexander of Scotland? Had he after all fathered one of her sons?
That night, alone in the bedchamber in the tower room at the end of the
‘Where are you?’ she cried out loud into the darkness. ‘Where are you? Why don’t you come to me and tell me the truth?’
There was no reply. Alexander had not followed her to Wales.
VIII
Isabella was the most pleased to be back. She had enjoyed their month-long stay in Gwynedd and she had grown very fond of her splendid glamorous cousin who was the Prince of Wales, but she missed her home. She had spent all her twelve years in Mar and had grown used to the mountains and the broad straths of north-east Scotland. The violent crags and the ice-hung gullies and
Isabella had a special hiding place which even Meg and the nurserymaids did not know about: a small storeroom in the tower, right under the roof, and there she would sit for hours, dreaming or reading her mother’s precious book of the Mabinogi, or playing with one or other of the dozens of castle kittens. Best of all, Marjorie and her brothers had never found her there. Twice her younger sister had plodded up to the storeroom, calling her, but on both occasions she had missed the little door, carefully hidden behind some empty wooden chests, which led into the small room beyond, her own private sanctuary, and she had heard the plaintive calls getting fainter again as Marjorie went away.
Only a few hours after reaching the castle she made her way up to her hidy-hole clutching a new treasure, a new book of stories, laboriously copied for her by one of Llywelyn’s scribes. It too told of kings and princes; of fairies and magic, and of wonderful princesses with whom she passionately identified.
Wrapping herself in her cloak, she huddled closer to her candle for warmth. Outside the narrow slit window snow flurries whirled up the valley. Soon it would be time for supper but in the meantime she had already forgotten the long ride and the black cliffs and icy crags of Gwynedd. She was lost in her dreams.
It was a severe shock when her mother came into the room, silent as a shadow, and sat down next to her on the dusty floor. ‘So, this is where you hide away.’ Eleyne smiled. ‘Do you mind me knowing?’
‘Not as long as you don’t tell Marjorie.’
Eleyne laughed. Isabella loved the way her mother’s eyes crinkled at the corners when she laughed. It made her look young and carefree. ‘I won’t tell her, I promise.’ Eleyne was studying her daughter’s face. ‘You didn’t like Wales, did you?’
Isabella knew better than to pretend. ‘It was frightening. And sad.’
Eleyne sighed. ‘I wish you could have seen it in the summer, when the snow on the mountains has gone and the cwms are full of flowers.’ She smiled. ‘So. You come up here to read.’
Isabella nodded shyly.
‘I’ve always loved to be alone. But all my special places have been outside – or in the stables. Are you going to come down now? It’s so cold up here. And the horn will call us to supper soon.’
‘Mama.’ Closing the book, Isabella tucked it carefully into a small coffer by the wall. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Of course.’ Eleyne wrapped her arms around her legs and sat, chin on knees.
‘Who am I going to marry?’
‘Who knows?’
‘Haven’t you and papa arranged my marriage?’
Eleyne shook her head. ‘We’ve talked about it, of course, and we’ve thought of various possibilities. But there’s nothing arranged. There’s plenty of time to think about it yet.’
‘Did you ever dream about who you would marry?’ Isabella edged closer, her eyes huge in the candlelight.
Eleyne nodded. ‘I did, but you see, it was different for me. I was married when I was a young child, so I always knew who my husband was.’
‘And was he very handsome?’ Isabella sat forward on her knees.
‘He was very handsome and very kind.’
‘And he was Joanna’s father?’
Slowly Eleyne shook her head, ‘No, John and I had no children. Joanna’s father was my second husband.’
Isabella was silent for a moment. ‘And was he handsome too?’ she asked.
‘I suppose so.’
‘And then came Macduff ’s father.’
Eleyne smiled. ‘And then yours.’
‘Will I have four husbands?’
‘I don’t think so. I think you’ll have just one. Someone you’ll love very much.’
‘Is that written in the stars?’ Isabella loved Eleyne’s almanacs and star charts. She and Marjorie had both spent hours poring over them, seeing the pictures in the heavens.
‘Yes, it’s written in the stars.’
‘And will I have lots of children?’
Eleyne leaned forward and took Isabella’s hands in hers. ‘That’s enough questions, sweetheart. I don’t know how many children you’ll have, or when, or who you will marry. Come on, let’s leave the future to take care of itself and go down to supper.’
IX
Morna looked down at the woman lying on the straw pallet on the floor at Mossat. She was pale and shivering, the sweat pouring from her body. She shook her head. ‘The fever hasn’t broken. She’s worse.’
The woman’s husband had brought her down from the high shielings in the autumn, carrying her on his back. Her fever had returned a dozen times since then and he had had to let the other men go to the lambing without him.
‘Last summer I went to the well. I thought the water would cure her,’ he admitted unhappily. He was twisting
