Kitabı oku: «Child of the Phoenix», sayfa 5

VI

‘I don’t want to go!’ Two days later Eleyne was confronting Rhonwen with clenched fists. ‘I didn’t like him. What can he teach me? You teach me all I need to know.’

Rhonwen took a deep breath. ‘You have to go – ’

‘I don’t. My father doesn’t know about it, does he? He would not approve. Nor my mother.’ She pursed her lips primly. For two days she had pondered why Einion’s lessons had to be secret. This seemed to be the only explanation.

Rhonwen took another deep breath. ‘Eleyne, they are for your own good.’

‘Why? What is he going to teach me?’

‘I don’t know exactly – ’

‘Then how do you know it will be good for me?’

‘I just know. They are secret things, Eleyne. Even I may not know them. But you are special, as Einion told you. You are the descendant of the ancient kings. You have the Sight.’

‘And he is going to teach me about what I saw? About the history of long ago?’

Rhonwen shrugged. ‘I suppose that may be part of it.’

Eleyne paused. At last her curiosity was beginning to overcome her inexplicable feeling of dread. ‘You will come with me, won’t you?’

‘I don’t know.’ Rhonwen looked away evasively.

‘You must go with her.’ Cenydd had appeared silently, pushing through the curtained doorway and pausing in the shadows, a frown on his face. ‘You cannot let her go alone.’

Rhonwen went white. ‘You don’t know what we’re talking about.’

‘You are talking about Einion Gweledydd. I warned you, Rhonwen!’ he sighed. ‘I told you not to do it.’

Eleyne looked from one to the other, confused. ‘Rhonwen?’

‘Take no notice, cariad. Cenydd is jealous. He wanted to teach you himself.’

‘And so I shall!’ Cenydd smiled at her fondly. ‘As soon as I return. I am summoned to Aber,’ he added to Rhonwen in a low voice. ‘There has been renewed fighting in the border march.’

‘And Gruffydd?’

‘He is still at Degannwy. Prince Llywelyn has sent Senena and the boys to join him there and he has kept Dafydd at his side.’

Rhonwen swore softly. ‘So, Dafydd consolidates his position! We have to do something to help Gruffydd – ’

‘Dafydd has a new embarrassment on his hands which could help.’ Cenydd smiled. ‘It seems that the prince has captured de Braose.’

Eleyne’s attention was caught by the name. ‘Isabella’s father?’

‘Exactly.’ Cenydd laughed out loud. ‘It will be interesting to see how the negotiators handle that one. I suspect Llywelyn still hankers after the de Braose alliance. It neutralises Sir William, for all he rides with the king at the moment, and with the marriage formalised Prince Llywelyn will have an ally in mid-Wales.’

‘What will happen to Gwladus now that Sir Reginald is dead?’ Eleyne asked suddenly. ‘Will she come home?’

‘She will marry again, cariad,’ Rhonwen said gently. ‘Don’t look to see her here. I doubt if she would want anyway to come back beneath her mother’s roof.’

‘And she’ll want a younger man this time, I’ll warrant!’ Cenydd laughed quietly.

‘Then I shall pray for her sake she gets one. But we will not discuss that now.’ Rhonwen scowled at him.

‘Will they bring Sir William to Aber?’ Eleyne had missed the interchange. ‘I would love it if he came with Invictus.’

‘I don’t know, child,’ Rhonwen frowned again. ‘I doubt if they’ll bring him north. He will probably buy himself his freedom before we know it. We shall have to wait and see.’

VII

Einion had picked a deserted hermit’s cell in the woods behind Penmon.

Rhonwen dismounted, staring at the closed door of the stone-built shack. A haze of smoke was escaping through the holes in the turf roof. Eleyne remained in her saddle, her fingers firmly wound into Cadi’s mane. ‘You won’t leave me.’

‘I must if Einion orders it.’ Rhonwen approached the door and after a slight hesitation she knocked. For several moments nothing happened, then slowly it opened. Einion was wearing a long black mantle over his embroidered tunic. In the shadowy doorway it made him look wraithlike, almost invisible.

‘So, you are here. Where’s the child?’ He peered beyond Rhonwen into the trees where Eleyne waited. It was raining heavily, the raindrops drumming on the leaves, tearing them from the trees. The trunks glistened with moisture and the ground was a morass of mud beneath their horses’ hooves.

Eleyne dismounted. She was wrapped in a heavy woollen cloak against the rain, and it dragged on the ground as she walked unhappily towards him.

‘Good. You may come back for her at dusk.’

‘No.’ Eleyne turned and ran back to Rhonwen, clinging to her arm. ‘No, I want her to stay!’

The old man studied her. ‘Strange, I had not marked you for a coward, princess.’

‘I am not a coward!’ Stung, Eleyne straightened her shoulders.

‘Good. Then you will do well. Come in.’ He stood back, motioning her into the hut. As she stepped hesitantly into the darkness he glared over his shoulder at Rhonwen who hesitated in the rain. ‘Dusk!’ he said brusquely. ‘And not a moment sooner.’

Eleyne peered around the dim interior, her heart thumping with fear as he shut the door. As her eyes grew accustomed to the light, she saw the cell was empty save for a table placed against the wall. On it a rush light burned with a feeble flame. In the middle of the floor a small circular fire had been lit in the centre of a ring of stones. It smoked fitfully, and her eyes burned with the acrid smoke.

She glanced fearfully at Einion. In the faint light his tall figure cast a huge shadow on the wall as he moved slowly to the table and shuffled various small boxes around on it.

‘Sit down, child.’ He spoke softly now, his voice more gentle. ‘Don’t be afraid.’

She looked for something to sit on and saw nothing in the semidarkness save a folded blanket on the floor. After a moment’s hesitation she sat down on it, putting the fire between herself and the man who stood with his back to her. Straining her ears in the silence, she heard him taking the lid off something and the rattle of some object inside a box.

‘Listen.’ He held up his hand. ‘Tell me what you hear.’

Eleyne held her breath. The hut was full of sounds. The crackling and spitting of the fire as drops of water found their way through the roof, the rain outside on the trees, the heavy breathing of the man – but she could hear nothing else.

‘I can’t hear anything,’ she whispered.

‘Nothing?’ He swung round to face her. ‘Listen again.’

She swallowed. ‘There is the rain,’ she stammered, ‘and the fire.’

‘Good.’

‘And our breathing.’

‘Good. Listen now. And watch.’

He threw whatever he had in his hand into the fire. For a moment nothing happened, then there was a burst of clear bright flame and a hum from the burning wood.

Eleyne watched, enchanted. ‘A man told me once the burning logs remember the songs of birds,’ she whispered.

Einion smiled. ‘So they do. And more. Much more. Look. Look close into the flames. Tell me what you see.’

Kneeling up, she peered into the heart of the flames. The heat burned her face and her eyes grew sore. ‘Just the fire. The red centre of the fire.’

‘And now.’ He poured a scoop of some powdered herbs and another of juniper berries on to the logs. At once the fire died and threw off a bitter thick smoke. Eleyne shrank back, coughing, her eyes streaming. She was terrified.

‘There is mugwort and wormwood and yarrow to help you to see. And sandalwood from the east and cedar. Look, look hard.’ His voice was persistent. ‘Tell me what you see.’

‘I can’t see anything – ’

‘Look, look harder.’

‘It’s all black.’

‘Look.’

She stared as hard as she could, her eyes smarting. Now the heart of the fire was burning a deep clear red. She leaned forward, pushing her hair back from her hot face, then she reached out her hands.

‘Look,’ he whispered, ‘look.’

‘I can see –’ She hesitated. ‘I can see a sort of face …’

‘Yes!’ It was a hiss of triumph.

‘A man’s face, in the shadows.’

‘Whose face?’

‘I don’t know. It’s not clear.’ Suddenly she was crying. The picture was fading. Desperately she tried to hold it, screwing up her eyes. Her head was aching and she felt sick.

‘Enough.’ Walking over to her, he put a cool hand on her forehead. ‘Close your eyes. Let the pain go.’ He left his hand on her head for a few moments. She felt the pain lessen. Slowly she relaxed. When she opened her eyes, the pain had gone. He walked over to the door and threw it open, letting the cold woodland air into the hut.

Nervously she looked at the fire. It smoked gently on its bed of ash.

‘Throw on some twigs. The pile is behind you, in the corner.’ He was like a man trying to train a child not to be afraid of a wild beast. ‘There, see how it takes the fuel from your hand. It’s an ordinary fire again. There’s nothing to fear. Now, for another lesson. Something less arduous.’

‘That was a lesson?’ Eleyne was still staring at the fire.

‘Oh yes, child. You have to learn to command the visions. They must never rule you. That way leads to madness. You must learn to be their mistress. Now, how would you like to learn about the birds?’

‘The birds?’ She looked up hopefully.

‘Legends about the birds; the omens of which they speak. The messages they bring us.’

‘The curlews were there, crying of death when the Romans came in my dream.’ She scrambled to her feet and went to the door. ‘Where do all the birds go in the rain?’

‘They find shelter when the weather is hard, but usually they go about their business. There’s an oil on their feathers which casts off the rain.’

Now that he was speaking quietly, she found her fear had left her. She listened eagerly as the morning progressed. By midday the rain had stopped and a fitful sunshine slid between the branches of the trees. They walked for a long time in the woods, and he pointed out bird after bird which she had failed to see, telling her their names and the messages their appearance foretold. The sun slowly dropped in the sky. Her stomach growled with hunger but he talked on, pausing now and then to fire questions at her to check she was still attentive.

Twice she begged him to stop so they could eat or drink. He refused. ‘You must learn to rule your body, princess. You do not run because it wants meat. You must tell it to wait.’

He knew exactly the moment when she began to grow light-headed and once more he took her to the hut and closed the door. He motioned her to sit again before the fire and once more he threw on a scoop of powder.

She put her hands over her eyes. ‘No more, I’m tired.’

‘Look.’ He leaned over and tore her fingers away from her face. ‘Look. Look into the fire.’

This time the picture was there, cold and clear. She stared at it in wonder. ‘I see people standing about waiting for something to happen; crowds of people. The sky is blue and the sun is still low in the east behind the hills near Aber. It must be dawn. They are talking – now they are shouting. Someone is coming. A man. I see a man and they are putting a noose around his neck. They are – no! No!’ Suddenly she was sobbing. She scrambled to her feet and pushed past him to the door. Scrabbling frantically at the sneck she pulled it open as, behind her, the acrid smoke cleared, and ran outside.

It was nearly dark and it took a few moments before her stinging eyes could make out the figure of Rhonwen waiting beneath the trees. The two horses were tethered behind her.

‘Take me home!’ She ran to Rhonwen and clung to her. ‘Take me home. Please.’

Rhonwen looked over her head at the darkened doorway. It was some time before Einion appeared. He seemed unmoved by the child’s tears. ‘She did well. Bring her to me again in three days.’

‘Who was it?’ Eleyne spun round. ‘Who did I see?’

He shrugged. ‘You did not hold the vision. That takes time to learn. Maybe when you come again we shall understand what you saw and read the warning, if there is one.’

‘No. I don’t want to see it again. It was horrible.’ She pulled her cloak around her with a shudder. ‘And I don’t want to come again.’

Einion smiled coldly. He turned back to the hut. ‘Bring her,’ he called over his shoulder, ‘in three days.’

VIII

‘NO!’ The next morning, having eaten and slept well, Eleyne’s courage had returned. ‘I will not go back, Rhonwen. I don’t want to go to him. What he’s doing is evil.’

‘It’s not evil!’ Rhonwen was shocked into temper. ‘Don’t ever say such a thing. And you will go, if I have to carry you!’

‘I won’t. I refuse.’ Eleyne’s eyes were as defiant as her own.

‘You will.’

‘I shall run away.’

‘Nonsense.’ Rhonwen forced herself to speak calmly. ‘Where can you go? I should find you anywhere on the island!’

‘Then I shall leave the island and go to papa. If I tell him what you made me do, he’ll put you in prison!’ Her fists clenched, Eleyne was close to tears. The events in Einion’s cell had frightened her badly. Under no circumstances was she going to return there, and instinctively she knew her father would be her ally in this. He had no idea, she was sure, that the stories and songs which Rhonwen had told her night after night since she was a baby were but a frame for a more sinister purpose. ‘I don’t want to learn from him, Rhonwen. I don’t, and I won’t. I’m going back to Aber. Now.’ She turned and ran from the room.

‘Eleyne!’ Rhonwen shouted after her. ‘Eleyne, stop! No boatman will take you without my orders. You cannot go. Don’t be so foolish!’

Eleyne raced across the great hall and out into the courtyard towards the stables.

‘Eleyne!’

She heard Rhonwen close behind her, but she did not stop. Hurtling into Cadi’s stall, she untied the pony’s halter and backed her out. She had just managed to leap on to the pony’s back when Rhonwen stormed into the stables. Nearly knocking her down, Eleyne kicked Cadi past her at a gallop, careering across the yard, scattering the manor servants as she fled out of the gates, down towards the shore.

There were no boats moored against the quayside in the harbour. Slowing Cadi, Eleyne bit her lip with frustration. Her pride would not permit her to go back. Rhonwen must not be allowed to win this quarrel.

She heard a shout behind her. Three riders were galloping after her, and glancing around she recognised Rhonwen’s head-dress. There were two men with her.

Digging her knees into Cadi’s sides, she put her at a gallop out of the small port and up the beach. There might be a fisherman mending his nets on the sands who would take her across the strait for a fee. She groped at her neck and was relieved to find her gold chain safely in place. That would no doubt buy her a trip to the ends of the earth if she should wish to go there.

There were no fishermen; as far as she could see round the ragged coastline the beaches were empty. The tide was midway, the water sparkling cheerfully in the light breeze.

The other, larger horses were gaining on her and she felt a surge of anger. Just because she was small they could force her to do what they wanted. It was unfair – unfair and wrong! She looked once more across the water towards the farther shore and the safety which was Aber. Almost without realising it, she began to steer Cadi with knees and halter towards the water. She had seen the Roman soldiers swim the strait. Why not Cadi? The tide was not too high, the water calm.

The pony’s hooves splashed in the bright clear ripples. In two strides the water was up to her fetlocks. In two more to her knees. Eleyne heard the cries behind her grow more urgent.

Her own feet were in the water now. It was bitterly cold and she caught her breath. She felt Cadi hesitate. ‘Come on, my darling. Courage. You can do it,’ she whispered, urging the pony on. ‘Come on. It’s not so far.’

As if understanding what her young mistress wanted, the pony began to swim.

CHAPTER THREE

I

The water was icy. As it rose up her body, Eleyne began to tremble with cold. She leaned forward, throwing her arms around the pony’s neck, feeling the sturdy pull of Cadi’s legs as she struck out into the waves. She could hear nothing now of the shouts behind her; her ears were full of the rush of the sea. She clung desperately to Cadi, feeling the water pulling her away from the pony’s back.

‘Come on, my darling, come on, it’s not far,’ she whispered again, and the pony’s ears flicked back at the sound of her voice.

On the shore Cenydd hurled himself from his horse. Tearing off his gown and mantle he ran for the sea, clad only in his drawers. Running through the waves, he dived into the deeper water and began swimming fast. The pony, hampered by the drag of her rider, swam slowly and doggedly. It was only a matter of moments before he was drawing near them. He did not waste his breath shouting; only when he was within easy earshot did he call out.

‘Princess!’ He saw the girl’s head turn, saw her white, frightened face.

‘Turn her head round, gently. Turn her now, or she’ll drown.’ With two more strokes, he was at the pony’s side. He put his hand into the headband and began to pull the pony round, trying to avoid the flailing hooves.

‘Hold on, princess, hold on.’ He managed an encouraging smile. The pony was responding. He suspected that it too had reached the conclusion that the swim was too far and the tide too strong.

Slowly they made their way back, the man and the horse tired now, the child clinging between them. It seemed an eternity before the thrashing hooves found the sand and Eleyne threw herself into Rhonwen’s arms, to be enveloped in the warmth of her cloak. It was Rhonwen who was sobbing as she hugged the shivering child to her.

II

‘You should give her a damn good thrashing!’ Cenydd was halfway down his second horn of wine.

‘I have never beaten her!’ Rhonwen retorted. She had put Eleyne to bed with a hot stone wrapped in flannel at her feet, and a whispered promise that there would be no more visits to Einion in his cell in the woods.

‘That’s the trouble. She’s never known any discipline! She could have drowned, woman!’

‘I know.’ Rhonwen sat down, pulling her cloak around her. ‘It was my fault. I wouldn’t listen. I said she had to go back.’

Cenydd laughed bitterly. ‘I told you no good would come of that. You are a fool, cousin, and Einion will not let go. I’ve heard stories about him. He uses his powers to get his way, even with the prince.’

‘No, he would not bewitch the prince!’ She shook her head. ‘He cares for Gwynedd above all else – for the whole of Wales. All he does is for the good of Wales.’

Cenydd raised a cynical eyebrow. ‘By which I suppose you mean that he supports Gruffydd’s claim as heir to the principality?’

Rhonwen looked nervously over her shoulder. ‘For pity’s sake, lower your voice! Of course he does. So does anyone of any sense. I had thought you were no supporter of the English party, Cenydd, or you would not be my friend.’ She paused to take another drink of wine. ‘I shall take her back to Aber. I can leave a message for Einion that the prince has sent for her. Even he cannot argue with that.’

‘And when you get there? How will you confront the Princess Joan?’

Rhonwen shrugged. ‘I shall tell her there was an accident. Tell her that Eleyne needed to be with her mother …’

Cenydd laughed. ‘You imagine she would believe that?’

III

‘So, Eleyne, you tried to swim the Menai Strait on a pony.’ Llywelyn sat in his chair by the fire in the great hall at Aber. Near him Sir William de Braose lifted a goblet of wine. Both men were carefully concealing their admiration for the child. ‘What made you think you could do such a thing?’

‘The Romans did it, papa.’

‘The Romans did it.’ Llywelyn leaned back in his chair. ‘But the Romans waited until low tide, Eleyne, as the drovers do, and they had a reason.’

‘I had a reason.’ She coloured indignantly.

‘And what was that?’

How could she tell him that it was because here at her father’s court she would be safe from Einion? Rhonwen had assured her that he would be told they had been summoned back to Aber, and that he would be content to wait. But wait for what? She was afraid. She had tried to wall off in some remote corner of her mind the strange vision she had seen in the depths of his fire, but it haunted her. It had not been a dream; it had come from outside. And she, under his instruction, had summoned it. But why? Why had she seen a man with a noose around his neck? A man being led to the gallows? Why, and who was he? Why had she not seen his face?

She met her father’s eyes as calmly as she could. However much she disliked Einion and feared him, he had sworn her to secrecy and she would keep his secret. ‘I was bored at Llanfaes,’ she improvised bravely. ‘I am too old for children’s lessons. And I heard Sir William was here. I thought perhaps Isabella had come with him.’

Sir William smiled. ‘I am not here voluntarily, little princess. Have you not heard? I was captured in battle. I am your father’s prisoner.’ He did not seem to be too upset by the situation, nor too uncomfortable, as he sat beside Llywelyn’s fire, drinking his captor’s wine. ‘Isabella is not with me.’

‘But she is still going to marry Dafydd?’ Eleyne glanced from one man to the other anxiously, all her eager plans threatening to crumble before her eyes.

‘That is one of the matters we are discussing, Eleyne.’ Her father stood up. ‘You may safely leave it to us. Now, what am I going to do with you?’ He turned to look into the corner of the room where Sir William’s guards stood to attention by the door. ‘One of you, send to Princess Joan and ask her if she would grace us with her presence for a few minutes.’

‘Did you bring Invictus?’ Firmly ignoring the knot of unease in her stomach at the thought of her mother’s presence, Eleyne sat down on a stool near Sir William.

He smiled. ‘In a manner of speaking. He brought me.’

‘Can I go and see him?’ She found herself responding to his smile with a warm glow of happiness, and edged closer to him.

‘That is for your father to say, little princess. Sadly, I am not allowed near him in case I escape.’ His smile deepened.

‘Then who is exercising him?’ Eleyne’s eyes were bright with excitement.

‘Oh no, I’m not walking into that one.’ Sir William laughed. ‘You must ask your father.’ The child was irresistible, with her beauty and her charm. Already she knew how to twist a man around her little finger.

‘Could I, papa? Please, could I ride Invictus? He knows me. He likes me. I’ve ridden him before, at Hay. And,’ she added ingenuously, ‘Cadi is still so tired after her swim.’

‘I take it that Invictus is that great chestnut brute you rode at Montgomery.’ Llywelyn beckoned a page forward and jerked a thumb towards his empty goblet. ‘No horse for a child, I should have said.’

‘No ordinary child, no.’ Sir William winked at Eleyne. ‘Your daughter, your highness, is a witch with horses. Invictus would do anything for her. As I suspect any animal would.’

‘Indeed?’ Llywelyn looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Why did you not tell me this before, Eleyne?’

‘Because I forbade her to waste your time.’ Princess Joan appeared at her husband’s elbow. Both men rose. She was looking exquisitely beautiful in a gown of rose silk trimmed with silver thread and a mantle of deepest green velvet.

Eleyne saw Sir William’s eyes light up with appreciation, and she felt a treacherous surge of jealousy as Joan greeted the two men calmly and took Sir William’s proffered seat.

‘What are we going to do with Eleyne, my dear?’ Llywelyn put his arm around his daughter and pulled her against him fondly. Studying her mother, Eleyne was aware for the first time in her life of her own clothes. Her blue gown was too short at the wrists and showed her ankles. She had never before realised what an attractive woman her mother was.

‘Why is she here?’ Joan gave Eleyne a cursory glance and turned away.

‘Because she grew bored at Llanfaes.’

‘Bored!’ Joan snapped. She did not hide her irritation. ‘Has she completed her lessons then? Can she read and write and sew and sing and play the harp?’

‘Yes, mother.’

‘And she can ride like the wind,’ Sir William put in softly.

Joan’s eyes narrowed. ‘Then perhaps we should teach her to ride like a lady.’

‘She could not help but be that, your highness, being your daughter,’ Sir William smiled. ‘You must help me to persuade Prince Llywelyn to allow the little princess to ride Invictus for me. It’s time he learned to carry a lady.’

Joan met his gaze, and gave a quick half-smile. Watching, Eleyne sensed a lightning spark of excitement flicker between them, but her father appeared to have noticed nothing. Suddenly she wanted to run away again. She did not want to stay in this claustrophobic palace with the adults; she wanted to be out under the sky, on a horse, with the wind in her hair and one of her father’s great wolfhounds striding out at her side.

Her mother’s smile had disappeared and was replaced by a scowl. ‘No, it will not do. She must go back to Llanfaes,’ Joan said crisply. ‘I will not have my orders flouted in this way, and if the Lady Rhonwen cannot obey me she will be dismissed and someone who will obey me will take her place. This child is out of control. She must have discipline.’

‘No.’ Eleyne had gone white at her words, all her fear of Einion returning. ‘No, I don’t want to go back.’

Her father frowned. ‘That’s enough for now. We’ll discuss this tomorrow.’

‘Papa, please.’ Eleyne flung herself at her father and put her arms around his neck. ‘Don’t send me back to Llanfaes. I don’t like it there.’

He looked down at her thoughtfully. ‘You’re happy with the Lady Rhonwen?’ His scrutiny of his daughter’s face had uncovered something far deeper than boredom in her eyes.

‘Yes, I love Rhonwen.’

‘Then what is wrong?’

‘Nothing.’

‘There is something.’

‘No, papa. Only I should like to stay here with you.’

He frowned. ‘As to that, sweetheart, your mother and I will have to discuss it.’ The smile he directed at his wife was warm. Then he turned back to Eleyne and scowled. ‘I understand Cenydd saved your life when you tried to swim the strait.’

Eleyne looked down at her feet and nodded. ‘He saved Cadi too.’

Llywelyn smiled. He pulled her on to his knee. ‘I want you to promise me that you will take him with you wherever you go from now on. He is a brave man. I have already spoken to him and he’s willing to be your personal escort and bodyguard. Later, when you are older, he shall be your steward. As a princess of Wales and Countess of Huntingdon you need more protection than I have hitherto given you. If there’s anything frightening you, Eleyne, you must tell me, and you must tell him. He will be there to protect you. And,’ he paused, ‘your mother is right. You must try to behave a little more like a lady. A lady would not swim the Menai Strait.’ He put his hand to his mouth to hide a smile of pride.

Eleyne looked down again. ‘I’m sorry, papa.’

Gently he pushed her down from his knee. ‘Good. Now go to your rooms. Your mother and I will discuss what to do with you later.’