remedies and charms to make people well.’ She paused. ‘John? What is it? Why do you look like that?’
He had dropped her hand and turned away. ‘Rhonwen had no love for me, Eleyne. Sometimes, I think…’ His voice tailed away and he bent over a rosebush, examining the soft red buds of the leaves.
‘You think what?’
‘She cursed me, that night, over Einion’s grave. She cursed me.’
‘And you think her curse has made you ill again?’
‘I did wonder.’
‘But she loved me, and she would never harm anyone I loved.’ She caught his arm and hugged him close to her. ‘You must not believe that she would or could hurt you. She was beside herself that night; she didn’t know what she was doing.’
‘Oh, she knew.’ He was silent for a moment, then he began to cough.
‘No. Please don’t say that.’ Eleyne walked away from him across the long damp grass, with its drift of golden buttercups. ‘Do you think she is dead?’
‘Yes.’ His reply was terse.
‘You think my father had her killed.’
‘I think someone did.’
‘One of my mother’s ladies wrote to me. She said Dafydd has had her declared an outlaw and offered a reward for her capture.’
‘That had to be done, otherwise they would have been admitting that she was dead. Forget her, Eleyne. She has gone. We’ll never see her again.’
She frowned. ‘But she hasn’t gone, she haunts you. You told Father Peter at Fotheringhay, didn’t you? What did he say?’
‘He sprinkled holy water and swung the incense and muttered prayers. Then when he thought I wasn’t looking he made the sign against the evil eye and touched an amulet around his neck beneath his crucifix. The man is a superstitious fool.’ He grinned. ‘But I am no better. I’m afraid of her.’
A week later he was stronger and, the rents at Suckley collected, the household set off again. Eleyne rode a gentle old mare next to her husband, Luned on her other side, a huge heavily cushioned wagon close behind in case she should need to rest. She didn’t. That morning the blood had come, flooding between her legs, washing away all her hopes, and she had cried. She had not yet dared to tell John. He looked so much better, so much stronger, so proud as he rode beside her. She straightened her back to ease the nagging pain which dragged between her hips. She wanted Invictus, she wanted to gallop and gallop and gallop until the cold wind and the sunlight had washed her mind clean and empty as her womb, but the horse was at the back of the train somewhere, led by his groom.
John would understand. He would be disappointed, but not angry. She glanced across at him, wanting to speak, wanting to tell him, but her courage failed. It had to be when they were alone, in case she cried again.
IV
Rhonwen reached Fotheringhay two days after the Feast of the Annunciation. They received her there with honour, if with a few sideways looks and much crossing of fingers, and it was with fresh horses and the addition to her small train of a lady’s maid from the village that she set out once more after the Chesters, retracing her steps towards the Welsh borders.
V
John took Eleyne in his arms and kissed her. Outside the window a blackbird was carolling from the branch of an ash tree, and the joyous song poured on and on, liquid and golden in the twilight.
‘It doesn’t matter, little love,’ he murmured. ‘I don’t mind, there will be other times, many other times. We will have a dozen children at least! That is your fortune, remember? Your future. You told me: it’s written in the stars.’
She snuggled up to him, comforted at last. He was quite better now, and they had ridden out that morning after the hounds in pursuit of hare. The day had been glorious and they had returned exhausted. They had eaten well and retired to bed, where they made love until they had fallen at last into a deep sleep. It had been still dark when John had awoken her, his hand questing beneath the sheets for her body, greedily seeking every part of her. When they had made love again, they lay and talked until the first tentative notes of the dawn chorus made its way between the heavy curtains of the bed.
VI
Rhonwen caught up with them when they were almost back at Chester, on Eleyne’s name day. She halted her horses at the smithy in the village and wearily asked the way to the manor house.
‘Is the countess there?’ she asked the smith as he came out into the sunlight, blinking after the darkness of the forge.
‘Oh, aye, she’s there, God bless her.’ The smith grinned and rubbed his hands down the front of his leather apron. ‘I went up there nobbut three days ago to shoe that great stallion of hers.’
Rhonwen closed her eyes with relief. ‘And the earl? He is here too?’
‘Oh, aye. He’s here. They’re staying here awhile, so I heard.’ The man ran a professional eye over her mounts. ‘You’ll have come a long way.’
Rhonwen gave a grim smile. ‘Indeed I have. Here.’ She reached into her scrip and found the last halfpenny of her hoard. She tossed it to him. ‘Take this for your trouble, my friend.’ She hauled on her horse’s reins and set off in the direction he had pointed, her servants trailing in her wake. The smith watched until she was out of sight, then he stared down at the half coin. He bit it tentatively: it was good. The woman must have been mad.
She rode into an orchard, pink with apple blossom, and dismounted beneath the trees. ‘Go and find Luned, Lady Chester’s maiden. Tell her to come to me here. Speak to no one else, do you hear,’ she directed the serving girl who had dismounted beside her. ‘Hurry.’ Now that she was so close she could not wait to see Eleyne again, but she had to be careful. What if Lord Chester arrested her? What if he sent her back to Gwynedd to face trial? For her sake, as well as Eleyne’s, Lord Chester would have to be dealt with. Leaving the horses to the manservant, she walked slowly across the orchard and leaned on the lichen-covered gate. At last she had found her child.
The sun had travelled across the orchard and settled into the mist behind the wood before anyone came. It was Luned. She ran across the dew-wet grass and threw herself into Rhonwen’s arms. ‘We never thought we’d see you again. They told us you were dead!’ They clung together for a long time, then Rhonwen pushed her away.
‘How is Eleyne? I long to see her.’
‘She’s well.’ Luned clutched her hand. ‘She’s very well, she and the earl are happy.’
‘She is happy, thinking I am dead?’ Rhonwen could not keep the shock from her voice.
‘No, no, of course not. She misses you terribly. We all did. But she had no way of finding out what had
