VIII
He left Kildrummy a week later. Neither she nor Robert had referred to their conversation again, but Eleyne detected from his demonstrative affection for his wife that she had pricked his conscience. She kissed him farewell fondly; and watched as he kissed Isabella, then little Marjorie, who was already showing signs of having inherited her paternal grandmother’s flaming hair and her temper.
Kirsty watched her brother leave, then turned to her mother-in-law and took her hands.
‘What is it, mama? What’s wrong?’
‘Why should anything be wrong, child?’
‘I don’t know, I just feel it.’ Kirsty shrugged. ‘Something to do with Robert.’
Eleyne looked dejected. ‘I let him down. I told him he would have a son. All my predictions – everything – pointed to this child being the ancestor of kings…’ Her voice died away. ‘My powers have never been strong. Now I believe they have left me altogether.’ She tightened her mouth angrily. ‘I see nothing, Kirsty. I cannot see your father or Sandy, however hard I try. I can see nothing for Scotland but blood.’ She shuddered. ‘I’m too old. I’ve lived too long.’
‘That’s not true, mama.’ Gently Kirsty took her hand. ‘I want you to do something for me. I want you to ride with me to the Garioch. I have a plan, which I want to discuss with you.’
‘I should stay with Isabella – ’
‘There’s no need. She’ll spare you for a couple of days.’ Kirsty looked at her shrewdly. ‘You need a ride as much as I do. It’s stifling here, and we are all brooding too much. A canter on the hills and a ride around Bennachie and up to Drumdurno will do us both good.’
IX
The horses stood panting, their heads hanging low as the two women gazed around. The low hills stretched into the distance behind them, a wilderness of heath and moor and bog, with small areas of woodland and scattered birch. In front the great fang of Bennachie rose up against a sky as clear and blue as amethyst. Kirsty had reined in at an ancient circle of stones near the track. Sliding from her horse, she came to Eleyne’s side as the groom helped her down and she led her into the centre of the stone ring.
‘This is a very special place,’ she said quietly, glancing up. The sky was empty.
‘It belongs to the old gods.’ Eleyne smiled. The air was strangely still; there were no birds; no sound broke the intense silence. Even the grooms, waiting a few hundred yards away, made no sound in the heat of the afternoon. ‘Why have you brought me here?’
‘I wanted you to approve. I’ve decided to build a chapel here, dedicated to Our Lady. I have so many prayers; so many petitions…’ She stopped, half embarrassed. ‘I vowed a chapel to her if she would hear me and one day, when I am old, I shall be buried here.’ She walked to one of the great recumbent stones and touched it reverently. ‘Do you think I’ve done right?’
Eleyne didn’t answer. She was staring into the distance. The air was full of the scent of grass and flowers, the resinous odour of pine and juniper, the clear cold overtones from the mountain a hint only beneath the heat. Around Kirsty the heat reflecting from the stone on which she had laid her hand made the air quiver. She looked insubstantial, almost ghostly, a wraith from the past; a ghost from the future. Eleyne shivered, then she nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said quietly, ‘I approve.’
The weather grew even hotter; the haze on the hills as they turned for home was heavy with brooding thunderheads. The horses were lethargic and they were walking slowly when the party was met by James Leslie, one of Gratney’s squires, galloping as fast as he could, his horse lathered, gobbets of foam flying from the animal’s bit.
‘My lady, thank God!’ The man reined to a rearing halt. ‘The king is on his way to Kildrummy! Lord Gratney has arrived there, and he sent me to fetch you.’ He wiped the sweat from his eyes with his forearm.
‘I thought the king had been taken prisoner.’
‘Not King John, my lady.’ The man was almost gibbering with anxiety. ‘King Edward of England.’
‘Edward?’ An icy shiver tiptoed up Eleyne’s spine, for all the heat of the day.
James nodded, still gulping for breath. ‘He’s making a progress around Scotland, visiting the greatest castles, taking oaths of fealty from everyone.’
Eleyne stiffened. ‘Taking oaths for Scottish lands?’
James nodded. ‘Last night he was at Elgin. He’s coming by way of Inverharroch and will go to the monks at Cabrach. My lady, he expects you at Kildrummy to greet him.’
Eleyne scowled. ‘Where is Lord Mar? Is he with the king?’
‘He has been sent south, with the other prisoners, my lady.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘Then there are things I wish to say to my cousin of England.’ She kicked her horse on. ‘And as soon as possible. If he chooses to wait on me at Kildrummy, so much the better.’
She rode the last few miles in grim silence, only half aware of the apprehension of the men and women who rode with her.
At Kildrummy there was as yet no sign of the King of England or his outriders. Eleyne handed her horse to a groom and made her way towards her bedchamber. There would be time for a cool wash in scented water, fresh clothes and an interview with her eldest son before she had to nerve herself to meet Edward.
X
It was twilight before he arrived and already clear that he intended to spend at least one night at Kildrummy, with the attendant colossal expense to the Mars of feeding hundreds of extra men and horses. Calmly Eleyne and Kirsty gave orders for the preparations to be made, and they were in the great hall, seated on the dais, when Edward at last appeared. Eleyne rose, giving only the slightest curtsey in greeting, the stiffness of old age exaggerated as she moved.
Edward, at fifty-seven, was a tall, energetic, wiry man with sharp all-seeing eyes and a grim set to his mouth. Wearing full armour beneath his embroidered surcoat, with a golden circlet on his head, he radiated power as he walked towards the dais. ‘Lady Mar,’ he acknowledged with brisk formality, ‘I have come to demand your allegiance and the keys of Kildrummy.’
‘Indeed.’ Eleyne met her cousin’s eye haughtily. ‘The keys are my husband’s to give or withhold as he sees fit.’
‘Your husband has taken the oath of fealty, madam.’ Edward’s eyes had hardened. ‘An oath which every man and woman and child in Scotland will take before I have finished.’
‘If he has taken the oath, why has he not come home?’ Eleyne asked with deceptive mildness.
‘Because I am not yet entirely convinced of his wholehearted loyalty. Because every man who stood against me at Dunbar will have to convince me of his loyalty before I release him.’
Eleyne turned and walked deliberately away from him. She stopped, her back still turned. ‘I shall take no oath until my husband is returned to me,’ she said. ‘I have promised to obey him and he has given me no orders to swear allegiance to an enemy of this country.’
‘An enemy, madam?’ Edward’s voice was icy. ‘I am overlord of all Scotland, a country at present without a king and without any government save mine. I have removed to England all the emblems of government: the Scottish regalia – all that wasn’t hidden – the crown jewels, the plate, the relics, the Black Rood of St Margaret and -’ he paused and glared around the hall triumphantly – ‘after I burned the palace and the abbey of Scone I took your precious Stone of Destiny.’ He acknowledged the gasp of horror with a half-smile. ‘It’s on its way to the abbey at
