loyalty is too violent and too partisan! I want her out!’
Gruffydd rubbed his face in his hands. ‘And who is to tell her this, pray?’
‘You.’ Senena snapped her mouth shut on the word like a trap.
‘And what if she curses us as she cursed John of Chester?’
Senena was silent. She could feel the throb of the wind against the stone walls, for all their thickness. Far away, above the howl of it, she heard the yelping cry of a gull. She shivered. There was an omen there, she was sure. She straightened her shoulders. ‘Then we will spit on her curse and throw her into the sea.’
Gruffydd paled: ‘Blessed Bride! Are you mad, woman?’ He stood up. ‘I forbid you to say a word to her. I shall tell her myself.’ He swung around as the door behind him opened. ‘Did I send for anyone?’ He stopped in mid- sentence. Rhonwen stood in the doorway, wrapped in a thick plaid cloak, her hair covered by a heavy white veil in the manner of the Welsh mountain women. Her face was pale and drawn.
Senena found her mouth had gone dry. How much had she heard? Against the noise of the storm and the crashing of the waves on the rocks below, surely she would not have heard anything. But then, who could tell what powers this woman had? Senena smiled nervously, ashamed of her own twofacedness: ‘Lady Rhonwen, you are welcome.’
‘Don’t lie to me, princess. I am as welcome as the raven at a wedding feast! A woman with blood on her hands is not going to be a favoured guest anywhere; I am well aware of that. But you have nothing to fear. Your husband saved my life and I have always been his friend.’
Rhonwen walked painfully across towards the fire, which smouldered fitfully as the wind blew down the chimney and threw sparks out across the floor. When Gruffydd’s henchman had cut the chains from her ankles his chisel had slipped from his frozen fingers and cut deep into her leg. The wound had festered and in spite of her ministrations had refused to heal.
She seated herself in Senena’s chair without invitation and leaned back, her eyes closed for a moment against another wave of throbbing heat which spread outward from the wound and mounted towards her knee. Gritting her teeth, she noted with grim amusement that Gruffydd’s fingers were crossed. ‘So. You want me out of here, no doubt.’
Gruffydd looked at the floor. ‘My father’s men will come soon. It is only a matter of time.’
‘But you would not betray me to them?’ She regarded him steadily.
‘Of course not. But you will never be safe as long as you stay in Wales. The
‘And you don’t think my magic powers will protect me?’ She laughed grimly. ‘And you are right. For all the stories that I flew out of that cell disguised as an owl you know the truth. I have no magic powers. I have the temper of a wounded cat, that’s all.’ She paused reflectively.
‘But you summoned Einion from the dead,’ Senena put in. ‘The whole of Gwynedd talks of it.’
Rhonwen shook her head. ‘Einion came because he wanted to. Oh, there was magic there that night, and power. But the power did not come from me.’
‘Then where -?’ Senena whispered.
‘From Eleyne, of course.’ Rhonwen looked at her triumphantly. ‘Didn’t you realise? All the power comes from Eleyne!’
There was a long moment of silence. ‘I had heard that she has the Sight,’ Gruffydd said cautiously. ‘Is that what you mean?’
Rhonwen gave a mocking smile. ‘Oh she has more than the Sight, much more. And her destiny is written in the stars!’ She hugged herself as another spasm of pain shot up her leg. ‘She will show them! the Lord Llywelyn; Dafydd; that English minx, his wife. She will show them all. Where is she?’
Senena looked across at her husband. ‘Eleyne has returned to England. I believe they are at Fotheringhay.’
‘And she hasn’t sent for me, because Lord Chester hates me. I nearly killed him too, you know.’
‘I know,’ Gruffydd replied grimly. ‘You were a fool, my lady, if you will forgive me for saying so. You have made powerful enemies. But as to why Eleyne has sent you no message, it is because all the world thinks you are dead. The rumour at Aber was that the prince had you secretly killed, and I saw no reason to deny it. Only he knows that is not true, and he is too ill to tell anyone.’
‘She will know. Eleyne will know I am alive. She will have seen it in the fire.’ Rhonwen gazed at the fire as though seeking confirmation in the hissing coals.
Senena stepped forward and put a hesitant hand on Rhonwen’s shoulder. ‘What are you going to do? Where will you go?’
‘To Eleyne, of course. She needs me. As soon as my leg is better and the weather has cleared a little I shall beg a horse from you and go to her. You need not fear that I shall stay here a moment longer than necessary.’
‘But what of Lord Chester?’ Gruffydd enquired soberly. ‘He is not going to welcome you, my lady.’
‘He has never welcomed me.’ Painfully Rhonwen pulled herself to her feet. ‘I am no longer sure that Lord Chester is part of Eleyne’s destiny. I don’t think I need worry myself about him. I shall see to it that he does not get in our way. I cursed him at Einion’s grave and I curse him every night!’ She laughed out loud suddenly. ‘Oh no, Lord Chester will not bother me.’
XI
Carpets of snowdrops grew on the banks of the Nene beyond the walls of the castle at Fotheringhay. Slipping from her saddle, Eleyne began to pick some, keeping her back to her husband so he could not see her tears. He had waited until the end of the day’s hunting to tell her. They had been tired and content, nearly home, the horses walking steadily across the flat marshlands towards the castle when he had called her aside and dismounted on the river bank.
‘If it were up to him, Eleyne, of course he would want to see you,’ he said slowly. ‘He is not dead. It is some kind of seizure. He may well recover.’
‘He cannot move his hands; his speech is affected,’ she said.
She had not seen the angry look he had given her when she confessed that she knew her father was ill. Every further detail of knowledge she betrayed made him more horrified.
‘He may get better. There is no point in rushing off to Aber until we know how he is.’
‘He would want me with him. That is why I was shown his illness…’ She began to tremble violently beneath her cloak of warm furs.
‘No, my darling, he would not want you there.’ He sighed. That at least she hadn’t seen: her brother’s prohibition. ‘And neither would Dafydd. I’m sorry.’
‘You mean I am forbidden to go to him?’ She looked at him, stricken, the flowers clutched in her gloved hand. He could see the tears swimming in her eyes, clinging for a moment to her eyelashes, then she turned away. She walked slowly towards the river and stood for a moment on the muddy bank, then bringing the flowers up to her lips she tossed them high in the air and watched as they scattered across the dark slow-moving water.
John followed her and put his hands on her shoulders. ‘He will always love you, Eleyne. It’s just that your mother’s death is still very much on his mind. Give him time.’
‘And what if there is no time?’ She swung and faced him. ‘What if he is dying? What if he is already dead?’
‘Then that is God’s will.’ The cold air caught his throat and he began to cough. Stepping back as he gasped for breath, he pressed his hand to his chest.
She stared as she saw the colour drain from his face except for two hectic patches which had appeared on his cheeks. ‘You should not have come out today,’ she said almost absently, ‘I didn’t know you were ill again.’
‘I’m not ill.’ He controlled the cough with a monumental effort. ‘It’s just the cold wind. Come on, let’s ride back now, it’s growing dark.’
