Child of the Phoenix

again and has regained the use of all his limbs. We give thanks every hour that he has been spared and is once again in full control in Gwynedd. He has given part of western Gwynedd to his son, Gruffydd, together with a part of Powys, and trusts his elder son more each day.’

‘Happy now?’ He was amused at the radiance which had illuminated her face.

‘Very happy.’ She ran to him and threw her arms impulsively around his neck. ‘Oh, I am so pleased!’

‘And now we can move on without you constantly worrying about him?’

‘We can go tomorrow if you wish.’ She twirled around ecstatically, much to the enjoyment of their attendants.

The long round was due to begin again: the circuit of their estates, the attendances at court, a visit within a couple of months to Scotland. It would be a busy year.

At their manor house at Suckley John was taken ill again. As the soft greenness of spring settled over the border countryside and daffodils clouded the riverside fields, he retired to bed, coughing and racked with fever. Eleyne summoned the physician and sent Luned to search the coffers for the tinctures and elixirs they had brought from Fotheringhay. Then she sat beside him, holding his hand. ‘You must get better soon, there is so much for us to do.’

He nodded. His breath was shallow and harsh, his skin flushed and damp.

She drew her legs up beneath her skirts and snuggled close to him. ‘There is something I want to tell you.’

It was too soon to know, too soon even to hope, but for the first time her courses were late and that morning she had awakened feeling sick and heavy. As Luned bathed her forehead they had looked at one another and smiled with hidden excitement. Looking at John, she had felt a sudden panicky terror that he might not get well, that he looked too weary, too grey, and she had known that she must not keep her secret excitement from him. She had to give him hope; to give him the will to live.

‘I think I may be going to have a child.’ She saw the sudden leap of joy in his eyes.

‘Are you sure?’

She shook her head. ‘It’s too soon to be sure, but I have a feeling I’m right.’

‘Oh, Eleyne, my darling.’ He raised himself on his elbow and drew her to him. ‘I can’t tell you how happy that makes me. It’s been so long. I wondered…’

‘You wondered if, like poor Aunt Joanna, I couldn’t have a baby.’ She felt a stab of pain as the thought of Alexander rose unbidden in her mind and as always she pushed it away. ‘Rhonwen said it was because I was too young. All I had to do was wait.’ Her voice faded at the mention of Rhonwen’s name; she still missed her, still thought about her, even though a small guilty part of her was relieved to be rid of her prying and her hostility to John. But, however much she disliked him, Rhonwen would have given Eleyne medicines for John at the first sign of his illness if she had begged her to do so, and her medicines, unlike those of the doctors who followed him everywhere he went, had always worked. She glanced up at him, and was pleased to see how bright and animated his eyes had become. The physician entered and bowed. As Eleyne kissed John and wriggled reluctantly away from him off the bed she saw the doctor reach for her husband’s pulse. She did not notice the man’s worried look when he saw the Earl of Chester’s glowing skin and fevered eyes.

II

CHESTER CASTLE

May

Her head wrapped in a white shawl, Rhonwen stayed long enough in the precincts of the castle to find out what she needed to know. The earl and countess were still at Fotheringhay. She had two animals now, her own and a packmule which she had found with the beasts in the byre end of Madoc’s house. She had methodically ransacked the hafod, taken what few possessions they had which were of value – a cooking pot, Annest’s Sunday shoes, their few pennies buried beneath the bakestone, and an extra woollen shawl. Then she had turned the animals loose and set fire to the cottage. There was little that would burn; the turf roof was wet, the walls were stone, but she needed to burn it to cleanse it and to be rid of the bodies. By the time full light had come she had been on the road long enough to put a distance between her and whoever might come to the lonely dwelling on the hill. It had taken four more agonising days to reach Chester, and now she faced another long ride across the middle of England, but her days of skulking in the mountains were over. No one would be looking for her once she was clear of the border march. She had two animals and before she left the city she would have found herself a servant and escort. No one would see her as a woman travelling alone again. And this time she was armed.

III

SUCKLEY

‘For the love of the Blessed Virgin, Eleyne, you must not ride!’

John was out of bed within three days. Beyond the walls of the manor house a soft sun coaxed the full leaves to unfurl on the hedges. The buds on the blackthorn were like clusters of tiny seed pearls, catkins hung gold on the hedgerows and the first feathered leaves burst out on the willow trees by the brook. Her hand on Invictus’s bridle she turned to him, astonished. ‘Why? I’m perfectly well.’ It was he who looked unwell, leaning on his servant’s arm, his face ashen.

‘Please, Eleyne, don’t do it.’ Pushing the man away, he stood upright with an effort. ‘I forbid it.’

She felt the familiar rebellion surging through her body, almost choking her with humiliation and rage. It had been a long time since she had felt like this; for weeks they had been friends, lovers. She trusted and respected him. She worried and fretted ceaselessly when he was ill. But when he was ill she was in charge, she ran the household, she did as she pleased and rode when she liked. Her hand tightened on the stallion’s bridle. The groom was watching her, and she saw the shadow of mocking amusement in his eyes. He admired her, she knew, but he enjoyed seeing her discomfited. She bit her lips in fury and reluctantly released the bridle. ‘You take him, Hal. Give him a gallop and then bring him back. I may use him to fly my bird later.’

Head high she took John’s arm. ‘Leave us,’ she commanded as the servant fell in step behind them, ‘we’ll walk in the garden.’

There was a lovely garden at the west end of the manor house, near the moat. Bulbs were already pushing up through the grass and the walls were hung with newly budding sweet-briar and ivy.

As soon as they were alone she dropped his arm and turned to him, her eyes flashing. ‘Why? Why do you humiliate me in front of the servants? Why shouldn’t I ride?’

‘Surely I don’t have to tell you that, after what happened to the Queen of Scots.’

‘The Queen of Scots’s physicians had warned her not to ride. She had threatened to miscarry. It’s not the same for me. I don’t even know for sure that I am with child!’

‘Of course you are.’ He reached across and took her hand. ‘Don’t be angry, sweetheart, I’m concerned for you.’

‘Then please don’t stop me riding. If I’m worried about my health I will take care, I promise you.’ She gave him a winning smile. ‘It’s you we must take care of, my husband. You look so tired. Did the physician say you could get up?’

He hunched his cloak on to his shoulders. ‘The man is a fool. He bleeds me constantly and leaves me weak as a woman. I do better to get up and walk about. And your medicines have always been better than his.’ He gave a sheepish grin. ‘Perhaps that’s why I want you with me. Pure selfishness.’

Her temper was receding. ‘Those medicines were Rhonwen’s. I do wish she were here, she knew so much of