trailed away. Lightning flickered on the horizon and there was an ominous rumble of thunder far away in the west.
‘Will you speak to Einion?’ Rhonwen’s voice was very quiet.
Eleyne frowned. ‘What do you mean?’ she said sharply. ‘Einion is dead!’
‘You can still speak to him,
Eleyne’s eyes opened wide, and she shivered in spite of the oppressive heat. Out of habit, her hand went to her crucifix. Rhonwen saw the movement and scowled. ‘You cannot turn your back on the old gods, you belong to them,’ she said caustically. ‘They won’t let you go.’
‘Of course they will,’ Eleyne retorted. ‘I want nothing to do with Einion. Nothing! I don’t want to know what he wanted to tell me. Do you understand? I don’t want to know!’
VI
Llywelyn greeted his youngest daughter with a hug. ‘So, Eleyne, you are well, I see.’ Her sparkling eyes and radiant smile told him that much. He held her briefly, looking at her as though hoping for more, then he released her and she found herself hugging Gruffydd and, more restrainedly, Dafydd.
‘And my mother, is she not here?’
Gruffydd looked at his father and shrugged. ‘Your mother does not wish to be here if I am here, it seems. She prefers to wait at Caernarfon, and that is fine by me. What we talk of here does not need the presence of King Henry’s spies.’
‘That is enough, Gruffydd!’ Llywelyn said impatiently. ‘Your stepmother is true and loyal to us all. I’ll hear no word against her.’
There was a moment’s tense silence.
‘And Isabella?’ Eleyne asked at last. ‘Where is she?’
‘At Dolbadarn.’ Dafydd did not volunteer any more information and Eleyne did not ask for any. It was a relief to know Isabella would not be there.
It pleased Eleyne enormously to sit at the long polished oak table between her father and her elder brother, facing her younger brother and taking part in their discussions as an equal. She had been to Scotland and spoken to the king; she knew his views; she was spokeswoman too for her husband. The three Welshmen found her shrewd and well informed. She was no longer the baby of the family, the scapegoat and the trouble-maker. She was proving herself a skilled negotiator like her mother. Their talks went on for two days and Eleyne made careful mental notes of what she was to say to her husband and of the messages she had to take back to the King of Scots.
She had not realised she would have to see him again at once. She almost betrayed herself as the colour rose in her cheeks, but she calmed herself sternly and kept her eyes on the candles which burned in the centre of the table. Outside, the hot August night grew dark and the bats wheeled and swooped beneath the stars, their high- pitched cries reaching her ears in the long measured silences as Gruffydd and her father felt their way towards agreement.
She would have to ride north without John. For the Earl of Chester to meet the King of Scots again so soon would cause comment and speculation, but for his wife to visit her aunt, with whom she had become firm friends, would be regarded as natural.
Her heart began to beat fast again; she felt a frisson of panic. She did not want to see him; she could not cope with the guilt and fear her feelings aroused, but she knew she could not resist; indeed she could not refuse her father’s instructions that she should see Alexander.
Somewhere out beyond the walls she heard an owl hoot.
VII
Isabella arrived when the midday sun was at its hottest. Dressed all in white, her raven hair covered by a jewel-studded net framed by a linen fillet with a golden coronet and a barbette beneath the chin, she slid from her horse in the courtyard of the palace and swept unannounced into the presence of her father-in-law. There was a long silence as she stared around the upper chamber, her eyes going immediately to Eleyne. Her face darkened. ‘So. I decide to return to Aber and I find this is where you are! I might have guessed you would be behind all this deceit. Dafydd has never lied to me before.’ She flicked her husband a look of contempt. Approaching the prince she curtseyed low, then she took a seat at the end of the table as far from the others as possible. ‘I am excluded from this conclave, am I?’
Llywelyn smiled at her, the intense irritation which the sight of her always provoked in him carefully concealed. ‘You are welcome, daughter-in-law, as always.’ He rose stiffly from his chair. ‘Our discussions were in any event over for the day. Your presence will serve to lighten what had become too serious an afternoon. Come.’
He put his hand out to Eleyne and, rising, she took it. Her immediate unease at seeing Isabella had lessened as she heard her father’s tone, although the thinly veiled irony had been totally lost on Isabella.
The prince led her towards the door. ‘I have a horse on which I should like your opinion, daughter.’
Gruffydd caught up with them at the foot of the stairs. He bowed to his father with a rueful grin. ‘I have left Dafydd coping with his wife.’ He raised his eyes heavenwards. ‘The gods help him, he is taking a tongue-lashing as meekly as a whipped pup!’
Llywelyn laughed. ‘I fear that lady is not the obedient wife he might have wished, for all her tender years. No more than you, I suspect, Eleyne.’ He smiled fondly at his daughter. ‘Heaven preserve us men from all your sex!’
Isabella found Eleyne later in the solar. The two young women looked at each other in silence. Eleyne had been about to dictate a letter to her sister Margaret to one of Llywelyn’s clerks. Waving the man away she stood up, unaccountably reassured to find she was taller by a head than Isabella.
‘I am pleased to see you, sister,’ she said cautiously.
‘Are you?’ Isabella put her hands on her hips. ‘I am surprised. No one else is. So, you are part of their secrets, are you? Important, beautiful, clever Eleyne. But where is your husband?’ Her voice had taken on the sing-song lilt of the mountains. ‘Can it be that he is ill again? Or don’t you bring him with you on these trips? You leave him at home with your horse. My father’s horse,’ she finished with a sneer.
Eleyne tried to interrupt her, but Isabella swept on. ‘They all hate you, you know. Whatever you are here for, it is only because you are useful. When you are away they forget about you completely. And they all say what a liar and a sneak you are.’
Eleyne took a deep breath. Her first reaction had been to throw herself at Isabella, pull off her fine head-dress and then pull out her hair for good measure, but that would be playing the girl at her own game; that would be childish and stupid. She forced herself to smile, knowing that by remaining calm she would infuriate Isabella more. ‘My, you sound just like the Isabella I played with at Hay. The Isabella who was ten years old. Does Dafydd mind that you never grew up?’ It was true, she realised. Isabella was still the spoiled little girl who had been her father’s favourite child; Dafydd spoiled her now, no doubt to keep the peace, and Isabella had never changed. The disappointment she felt at still being childless had embittered and frustrated her; it had not matured her.
‘Oh, I’ve grown up.’ Isabella’s eyes flashed. ‘I am not the one who is playing games, pretending to be a spy. Tell me, do you still climb trees and ride like a hoyden on men’s horses, or has your husband beaten it out of you?’
‘My husband has never beaten me.’ Eleyne raised an eyebrow, suddenly thoughtful. Was that it? Had Dafydd beaten the girl in an attempt to gain mastery over her? If so, it had not worked. She felt almost sorry for Isabella. ‘Yes, I still ride like a hoyden, and I’d climb trees if I needed to. Why not? One thing I have learned, Isabella, is that
