VII
There was no time for a parliament after the coronation. Robert planned to march back to the south-west immediately and with him went all his supporters. All save Eleyne. She saw him alone the night before he left and knelt to kiss his hand.
‘I’m too old to follow the drum, Robert,’ she said with a grimace. ‘Would that I could, but I’ll be with you in spirit, my dear. God speed. Isobel is going with you, I suppose?’ She looked him in the eye.
He nodded. ‘She can never go back to her husband now. She stole his horses and half his men, God bless her, and left him to run bleating to Edward. I think there’s little doubt that he would kill her if he got his hands on her again.’
‘Then take care of her, Robert. She has more courage in her little finger than many men have in their whole bodies. Don’t hurt her. Don’t fling her love back in her face.’
He shook his head. ‘I would never do that.’ He smacked his hands together in frustration. ‘If only I could have married her! Think what a queen she would have made! But we never had the chance. I’ll take care of her. I’ll take care of all of you, with God’s help.’
She sighed. Would she once have made a queen of whom a king could be proud? Like Isobel, she had somehow missed her place in history. Her thoughts went back to her beloved daughter, Isabella, who had dreamed of marrying a prince, who had been so sure that one day she would be the wife of a king. For her, too, time had been out of joint and it was Eleyne’s grand-daughter, Marjorie, Isabella’s child, who was the princess – little red-haired Marjorie, with her temper and her passion. Perhaps it was she who would inherit the prophecy and one day be a queen. She sighed again. Was Alexander here, somewhere in the shadows? Had he come to watch the crowning of his distant cousin? If he had, he had given her no sign.
She turned back to Robert. ‘I shall relieve you of one small charge. I’m taking Donald back to Kildrummy with me. Kirsty wants to stay with you and Christopher, but I think the Earl of Mar is too young for war.’ She paused. ‘If ever an old woman can help you, Robert, remember me. And remember Kildrummy, which will always be a refuge for you and yours should you need it. I flatter myself it could withstand any siege, strengthened as it has been at Edward’s expense,’ she smiled grimly, ‘and I shall see that it is stocked and ready.’ She took his hand and raised it to her lips. ‘God speed, Robert. God save you, my king.’
VIII
There was a visitor waiting for Eleyne when she arrived home. The sky was a dazzling blue, streaming with soft white cloud as her litter took her at last across the drawbridge over the ditch, and through the massive new gatehouse into the familiar courtyard. Behind her, a second litter carried Donald’s nurse and the child himself, fast asleep in her arms after all the excitement of the last few days.
Stiff and weary Eleyne climbed out and smiled at the wildly leaping young wolfhound who greeted her. Grizel’s only pup, Eleyne had named him Donnet after his ancestor, knowing in her heart that this would be the last dog she would ever own. She greeted the remaining senior members of her household who had stayed behind and turned at last towards the entrance to the Snow Tower. Overhead a buzzard circled, its yelping cry echoing over the countryside beyond the walls. She shivered, and pulling her heavy cloak around her she began stiffly to climb the staircase, followed by her ladies.
At the door to her solar she was met by one of the women who had remained behind, Gillot, who, finger to her lips, motioned her to one side.
‘You have a visitor, my lady,’ she whispered. She gestured over her shoulder. ‘She’s been here a week, but she won’t tell us her name.’
Eleyne reached up to the brooch which fastened her cloak and fumbled at it with stiff fingers. ‘I’ll speak to her, then I think I must lie down. I am so tired I can hardly move.’ She handed her cloak to Gillot and turned towards the fireplace where several ladies sat talking and sewing by the light of a dozen candles.
She had already identified the stranger, a tall woman in her late fifties or early sixties seated straightbacked in Eleyne’s own chair by the fire. She wore a plain gown of rich dark blue velvet and a mantle held by a silver brooch shaped like a boar.
As Eleyne walked into the room, Donnet at her heels, the woman rose. She was staring at the dog. ‘Lyulf,’ she murmured.
Eleyne stopped dead, her knuckles white on the handle of her stick, aware of the inquisitive eyes of her ladies on her.
The woman took a hesitant step forward. ‘Mother?’ she said.
Eleyne could not speak. For several seconds she did nothing, then, her heart thudding with excitement and fear, she held out her free hand. ‘Joanna?’ It was a whisper.
The woman nodded. She did not take Eleyne’s hand. Instead she glanced, half embarrassed, around the room.
‘I’ve chosen a stupid time to travel. It appears Scotland is once again in revolt – ’
‘Scotland has just crowned her rightful king,’ Eleyne corrected gently. She turned to Gillot. ‘Please, fetch me some mulled wine, then I would ask you all to leave us.’
They did not speak until they were alone. Then Joanna took a seat opposite her mother. ‘Of course, it can’t be Lyulf.’
Eleyne shook her head. ‘One of his descendants. The last one I shall have; I’m too old for dogs.’ She sipped her wine, glad of the warmth of the goblet between her fingers.
For a moment neither of them said anything. Eleyne gazed into the opaque depths of the wine between her hands. ‘Where is Hawisa?’ she asked at last.
‘She died many years ago of a scarlet fever.’
Eleyne closed her eyes. ‘I didn’t want to leave you,’ she said at last in a broken whisper.
‘I know that now.’
‘Why did you come after all this time?’ Eleyne could still feel her heart thudding unsteadily between her ribs.
Joanna was embarrassed. ‘I hadn’t realised you were still alive. I think for me you had been dead for many years -’ She realised how cruel that sounded as she said it, but there was no taking it back. Her eyes on her mother’s face, she went on: ‘Then, one day, I heard you mentioned at court. It was when your son died. The Earl of Mar. They were talking about the dowager, and the king mentioned your Welsh blood – ’
‘Should I be flattered that the king persists in remembering it?’
For the first time Joanna smiled. ‘I doubt it. He did not intend it as a compliment. I reminded him that I was your daughter and he looked down his long nose at me -’ she paused to imitate her sovereign’s haughty expression, making Eleyne smile, ‘and he said: “you had better hope that I forget that fact, Lady de Bohun, lest I suspect you of being a rebel too!”’ She hesitated. ‘I am not often at court, in case you are wondering why the matter did not come up sooner.’
‘You had better hope that he does forget it, and immediately,’ Eleyne said crisply. ‘He does not care for the family of King Robert either and I am now part of that family. The king’s daughter and heir is my grandchild and your niece.’
Joanna grinned ruefully. ‘So I understand. I have had plenty of time while I was waiting for you to work out to whom I am related in Scotland, and I have decided to retire from public life as soon as I return to England.’
‘How soon must you go back?’ Eleyne looked at her wistfully. ‘I don’t suppose you would consider
