should have told my guest master to arrest her, but -’ He sighed and shook his head. ‘Perhaps I did wrong, but I felt compelled merely to send her on her way. She had sought Christian hospitality, and was given food and water to wash in. I could not send her to the gallows after that.’
Eleyne licked her lips, which had gone dry. ‘What made you think she was an outlaw, my lord abbot?’
The abbot sighed. ‘I was at Chester when word went round of what she did. I am sorry, Lady Chester, but everyone knew your lady, Rhonwen. She was too vivid, too striking for men not to remember her. When my guest master came to me and said he was worried because a guest under our roof had said she would not hear mass, I came to speak to her, thinking I could offer her some advice or reassurance. Then I recognised her and sent her on her way. I kept her servants here, and gave them absolution this morning, then I dismissed them with a small payment which will enable them to move on until they find new employment.’
‘And Rhonwen. Where did she go?’ Eleyne asked at last. The wine was untouched in the goblet in her hand.
‘She went into the forest. What else could she do?’
‘And you think that a Christian action? To send an unprotected, gently born woman into the forest to live amongst outlaws and thieves and murderers?’ Eleyne stood up. A little of the wine slopped on to her skirt but she didn’t notice. ‘My lord abbot, I think you have done her a great wrong.’
‘You think she was innocent?’ The abbot had risen as well.
‘She killed a man, but it was in self-defence. She had no option.’
The abbot raised an eyebrow. ‘Forgive me, my lady, but that is not the way I heard the story. However, it is not for me to judge. I sent her on her way and she has gone with her horse and her life. No doubt the earl can find her; he has but to put the word around and offer a reward and every cutpurse in the country will search for her.’ He paused, his face full of compassion. ‘I understand she was your nurse, my lady, and I realise you must have loved her, but don’t be misled by her. That lady is a danger to everyone around her. She is evil. I recognised it in every part of my body and soul.’
Eleyne put the goblet down untouched and turned towards the door. ‘As you said, my lord abbot, she was my nurse and she loves me, she said. ‘And I love her.’
IX
John was sitting playing chess with Robin when Eleyne walked at last into the great hall. Both men rose.
‘Where have you been?’ John asked. ‘It’s late. You missed both dinner and supper.’
She pulled off her gloves and threw them down next to the chessboard. ‘I am well aware of that,’ she said sharply. She was hungry and tired and disappointed. ‘I rode to the abbey. The abbot delayed me there and then on the way back through the forest we took the wrong track.’
‘Then what you need is some wine and some delicious titbits to tempt your appetite, my lady.’ Robin pulled forward his own heavy chair. ‘Here, sit by the fire. Don’t bully her, John. Your lady is not to be upset!’ He grinned at his cousin impudently. ‘She can tell us about her adventures when she is rested and not before.’ He lifted Eleyne’s cloak from her shoulders and guided her to the chair.
Eleyne saw that John was watching her closely, but his worry was only for her safety, she was sure of that. He had not guessed about Rhonwen. How could he? Unless Rhonwen came to the house he would never know that she was nearby. But would she come to the house? Eleyne remembered Luned and looked for her, but there was no sign of her in the crowded hall; Luned, who had comforted her on the return ride with the words: ‘She knows where you are. She’ll find you… somehow.’
In spite of herself, Eleyne began to enjoy the evening. Robin had brought her wine, serving her on one knee with a clean napkin over his arm. Then he had brought her a silver platter, full of dainty pieces of food, somehow reheated, although, she was sure, the great oven fires must long ago have been damped and the kitchens swept clean.
Secure in her love, John no longer found himself racked with jealousy as his cousin flirted and laughed with Eleyne. He was glad that the pain which had shown around her eyes when she walked in had gone. Whatever had been worrying her had been forgotten. He relaxed and found himself laughing, responding to the young man’s charm and humour, wishing, not for the first time, that he had a son like Robin. Eleyne laughed and opened her mouth as Robin poked a piece of pastry at her. John sighed and pushed the thought away, beckoning the musicians who had been waiting hopefully at the foot of the dais.
The noise lessened as men and women found themselves seats on the forms ranged around the edge of the hall, or on their spread cloaks on the rush-strewn floor. The dogs settled before the fire and with an expectant hush the eyes of everyone present turned to the musicians as they began to tune up. The leader of the troop bowed to Eleyne.
‘My Lady Chester. What would you like us to play? A love song perhaps?’ He raised his eyebrow suggestively.
‘Yes.’ Eleyne smiled. ‘A love song, please.’ She held out her hand to John. He came and stood behind her, taking her fingers and pressing them to his lips. Robin watched them for a moment, then with a little shrug he stood back and, offering John his chair, he went and squatted on his haunches by the fire.
They sat a long time that evening, contentedly listening to the music. Eleyne was too tired to move from her chair. She leaned sideways until her head was on John’s shoulder, feeling his warmth through his mantle. Robin sat by the fire, his arms wrapped around his legs, his chin sunk thoughtfully on his knees, his eyes shut. The great hall was silent save for the occasional snore, quickly hushed, from a man-at-arms asleep in the corner. The night was cold and clear; the stars seemed very far away.
X
Near the door a kitchen maid was lying beside one of the pantry-men. He had spread his cloak over them both and his hands were busy under her skirt. She lay still, trying not to giggle, feeling the excitement mounting, knowing that soon they would creep away into the stables. Opening her eyes sleepily, she saw that the door was close by. No one would notice if they crept outside. She turned to the man at her side and firmly removed his hand from between her legs. He scowled, then understood. He stood up and, picking up the cloak, took her hand. They tiptoed along the edge of the hall, stepping over other somnolent bodies, and made their way towards the door.
The courtyard was very cold. Their breath showed in clouds of white as, unable to wait, he pulled her to him and thrust his hands inside her gown, fumbling at her breasts.
‘Not here. The countess would send me off if she found out. In the stables – it’s warmer,’ she breathed. Capturing his hand, she began to lead him across the courtyard, but almost at once she stopped.
‘What is it?’ It was his turn to pull her.
‘I don’t know, look.’ She found she was holding her breath.
‘Where?’ There had been fear in her voice, and he found he was no longer feeling quite so lusty.
The white figure was standing in the shadows near the angle of the wall and the western range of buildings. It was indistinct, a wraith in the mist which seemed to surround it. It began to move, gliding towards the door of the great hall.
‘Blessed Virgin!’ the man gasped. He stood paralysed, unable to turn or run. Beside him the girl seemed to have stopped breathing.
They watched the figure as it moved away from them towards the corner of the hall. There it stopped, seemingly unable to decide whether or not to go in, then it turned and glided away again. Seconds later it had disappeared into the darkness.
XI
