Child of the Phoenix

V

‘I hear you’ve been terrifying Joanna out of her mind with your spooks and your fortune-telling, grandmama.’ Duncan of Fife cornered her in the great hall as they made their way towards the table for supper. ‘I wish you wouldn’t do it.’

He turned to rinse his hands in the bowl of scented water held for him by a page and dried his hands energetically on the proffered towel.

Eleyne looked him in the eye. ‘I’m sorry if she’s upset. I can’t always control the visions when they come…’

‘Did you speak the truth when you said we would have a son?’ His grey eyes were hard, she noticed.

‘I believe so.’

He smiled, satisfied. ‘That’s all that matters. The destiny of a girl is not important as long as she marries well.’

Eleyne looked at him steadily. ‘Quite so,’ she said drily.

VI

KILDRUMMY CASTLE

‘Morna, would you consider letting Mairi go to Falkland? She can learn how to be a nurserymaid and later she can be Isobel’s nurse and companion. It would be a position full of prestige and honour.’ Eleyne had picked up Morna’s spindle, and began idly to twirl the wool between her fingers. They had often discussed the girl’s future. Morna was ambitious for her.

‘You fear for the child?’ Morna asked.

‘Yes,’ Eleyne admitted.

‘Will Mairi be strong enough to help her?’

‘She is your daughter, she has your strength. I can think of no one better.’ Eleyne sighed. ‘I don’t know what is to come. I saw storms; I saw much unhappiness and I saw the hand of destiny over the child’s cradle. But why? How? I don’t know. And I will probably never know. That’s why I want to send someone young and strong to be with her. My grandson has agreed; if you do, we could send Mairi to Falkland almost at once. She will earn good money, and learn the ways of the castle. She could have a very good future there and she can tell Isobel the stories of the hills; show her a little of the magic that is ours.’

Morna nodded slowly. ‘She can certainly do that. And it will be with my blessing.’

VII

‘Well? Was there something special about her?’

Isabella cornered her mother in the herb garden as Eleyne tended her plants, clipping and snipping with a pair of embroidery shears.

She straightened her back with a groan. ‘Special about who?’

‘Isobel of Fife.’ Isabella folded her arms defensively.

Oh yes, there was something special. But the words remained unsaid. Eleyne threw down her shears and put her arm around Isabella’s shoulder. ‘She was just a very pretty baby,’ she said gently. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t want you to come to see her. It was one of my funny feelings.’ She smiled. ‘I expect you and she will be great friends one day.’

She stopped with a shiver. A cold wind had arisen, scattering the clippings of hyssop and thyme and lavender in her basket. Her eyes were fixed on the girl’s face.

‘Mama? What is it?’ Isabella paled. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I don’t know. For a moment I thought I saw someone… I saw a crown…’ Suddenly Eleyne was crying.

Isabella threw her arms around her. ‘Mama, don’t, please. What is it?’

‘Nothing.’ It was gone so fast. ‘I’m sorry, my darling, I think I’m going in. I feel so chilled.’ She stooped to pick up the shears and her basket. ‘Don’t worry, next time I go to Fife, you shall come.’

Isabella was playing with Lucy’s pups when her father found her. ‘Those dogs are already too rough for you, my darling,’ he said, ‘they’ll bite you.’

‘No they won’t.’ Isabella laughed. ‘They love me.’ The wind ruffled her hair. Her face saddened. ‘Papa, you said you’d tell me who you’d chosen for my husband.’ Pushing away the wrestling puppies she stood up. There were grass smears on her skirt.

‘Your mother and I haven’t decided yet.’

‘But papa, I’m sixteen – ’

‘And already you’re left on the shelf?’ Donald laughed. ‘Poor Bella, don’t rush. Your mother and I want the very best for you – a veritable prince amongst men.’ He sighed. ‘Your mother’s very protective of you, sweetheart. She has three marriages behind her and two of them were not happy. Neither of us wants that to happen to you. We couldn’t bear you to be unhappy.’ He shook his head. ‘Be patient a little longer. We’ll find the right man soon, I promise.’

VIII

November 1285

Rain, cold and heavy and driven horizontally by the wind, soaked through the cloaks of the riders and chilled them to the bone as they rode towards the royal castle of Jedburgh. There, the Lady Yolande, daughter of the Count of Dreux, awaited her king, accompanied by the Chancellor of Scotland Master Thomas Charteris, Patrick Graham, William Soules and William Sinclair, the four emissaries of the King of Scots, who had ridden to France to escort her through the length of England with the King of England’s blessing.

Donald and Eleyne were riding with the king, having spent the last few nights in Roxburgh waiting to hear that the lady who would be Scotland’s new queen had arrived. In the broad valley the trees leaned away from the gale, their leaves brown and torn, trampled into the mud.

Alexander refused to be downhearted. He had ordered minstrels, feasts, finery, paid for by the crown for his entourage, his bride and himself, and he was smiling broadly at Eleyne who rode beside him. His black stallion danced sideways, shaking its bridle, irritated by the wind. ‘So, shall you and I gallop, my lady, and leave the sluggards behind? There’s no thunder and my horse is as sable as the night. I should be safe!’ His words were caught by the wind and almost indistinguishable to Eleyne as she urged her chestnut palfrey forward beside him along the muddy track. Behind them the king’s banners drummed and cracked like snapping twigs in the wind, straining the staffs to which they were fastened, and the colourful caparisons flogged wetly around the horses’ legs.

Donald shook his head at her sternly and she resisted the urge to stick out her tongue at him like a naughty child. She knew he disapproved of her riding fast. He thought it undignified and dangerous for a woman in her sixties to rush about the country with her hair tumbling around her ears. She caught a mocking gleam in the king’s eye. It was enough of a challenge. She gathered her reins more tightly and urged the palfrey on.

She and Alexander reached the town gates only a short way ahead of the escort, who had gamely whipped their horses into a gallop in hot pursuit of their king. In the castle courtyard he jumped from his horse and came to Eleyne’s side. ‘A king has to gallop to see his bride, does he not?’ His eyes were full of laughter.

‘Indeed he does.’ She smiled down at him, still out of breath. ‘No, go on, my lord, don’t wait to help me. There