Donald and Eleyne looked at one another as the minstrel tuned his lute. Both had felt a shadow hover over the hall before the music soared towards the high rafters. Eleyne shivered. The happiness of the visit was spoiled.
X
By the time they returned to Kildrummy she knew she was pregnant again.
Instinctively certain that her condition kept her safe from Alexander, she tried to hide it from Donald for as long as possible. When at last she told him, he was overjoyed, but in spite of his reassurances and her pleas he left her even sooner this time. The red-haired girl in the dairy was married to the castle baker and hugely pregnant herself, and he had sworn he would not look, ever, at another woman, but even so he found it necessary to ride south to join his father at Dunfermline and she was left alone.
Rhonwen confronted her at once. ‘So, cariad, he has left you again. Do you still swear that he loves you?’
Eleyne was sitting in the window embrasure, and did not turn round. ‘I wouldn’t blame him if he found me ugly. But it is his mother. He cannot argue with her. The church says it’s a sin to touch me while I am great with child.’ She wrapped her arms around herself miserably.
Rhonwen snorted. ‘The church says,’ she echoed mockingly. ‘Your bitter, twisted church.’ She bent close to Eleyne. ‘Lord Donald is not for you, cariad. Have you not seen that yet? Have you not seen who it is who truly loves you?’
Eleyne turned to look at her, almost afraid of what she would see. Her face was drawn as she met Rhonwen’s eyes. ‘No one loves me while I am pregnant,’ she said wearily. ‘Alexander has no use for me while I carry another man’s child.’
‘I can bring him to you,’ Rhonwen whispered. ‘Look.’ She produced her hand from behind her back. In it something sparkled, and as the enamelled jewel swung on its chain free of Rhonwen’s fingers, Eleyne caught her breath.
‘I hid that – ’
‘And he showed me where.’ Rhonwen dangled it in front of Eleyne’s eyes. ‘He guided me to it, he commanded me to bring it to you. It binds you to him. You cannot throw it away. You cannot hide it. It will always find you.’
Eleyne reached out but Rhonwen took a quick step backwards. ‘I’m going to take care of it, cariad. We cannot have it lost again, can we?’
Eleyne’s eyes blazed with anger. ‘You are meddling in matters which don’t concern you, Rhonwen. Give that to me!’
Rhonwen shook her head. Turning, she skipped out of reach with surprising agility, slipping the phoenix through the slit in her skirt and into the pocket she wore at the waist of her shift. ‘The king told me to guard it well,’ she said triumphantly.
‘He won’t come.’ Eleyne did not try to chase her. Aware of her dignity, she sat down and turned back to the window. ‘He will never come while I am carrying Donald’s child.’
XI
Day after day Eleyne found herself seated next to Elizabeth at the high table. They ate in a silence occasionally broken by the gallant chatter of Hugh Leslie, Father Gillespie the castle chaplain, and Sir Duncan Comyn, Elizabeth’s cousin and head of her personal household.
Elizabeth had grown very thin over the last twelve months. She kept more often to her rooms and sometimes failed to appear at meals at all, but when she did her tight-lipped dislike of Eleyne showed no respite.
Twice Elizabeth’s brother, the Earl of Buchan, had come to Mar and on both occasions he brought his wife. With Elizabeth de Quincy at Lady Mar’s side, Eleyne felt outnumbered.
‘They sit side by side and glare at me,’ she told Morna, taking little Mairi on her knee. ‘I don’t know which one of them hates me most.’
‘Poor lady.’ Morna laughed. ‘You threaten them. You are young – oh yes you are, compared with them – you are beautiful and above all you are fertile, whilst their wombs have shrivelled and died.’ Morna sat down on the grassy bank next to her. ‘And neither of them can forget that you are loved by a king.’
‘So, the story reaches even the glens of Mar.’ She shivered.
‘I need no gossips to know what happens to the people I love.’ Morna sounded reproachful. ‘I hear the news on the wind; I hear it in the rain and see it written in the clouds.’
‘And the fire,’ Eleyne said softly. ‘Do you ever see it in the fire?’ She touched Mairi’s face with her fingertip.
For a moment Morna said nothing, studying Eleyne. ‘No,’ she said at last, ‘I don’t see things in the fire.’
There was a long silence. ‘I hear things from the gossips as well, of course,’ Morna went on in a more energetic tone. ‘For instance they told me that your nephew Llywelyn has now been recognised as Prince of all Wales by Henry of England.’
Eleyne smiled. ‘It’s strange how the shadows from Yr Wyddfa stretch as far as the mountains of Scotland.’ She shivered. ‘I pray all goes well with him.’
‘But you see trouble for him in the future?’ Morna asked tentatively.
‘Perhaps. I don’t know what I see, except that destiny sits heavily on our family.’ Eleyne sighed. When the news had come only the week before of her sister Angharad’s death, she had wept bitterly. But it was so long since she had seen any of her sisters. Margaret, who had written to her to tell her the news, had herself been widowed for the second time only three years before and had been too ill to go to Angharad’s funeral.
Morna was watching her. ‘Destiny sits heavy on you, my friend, certainly.’ She smiled. ‘To be loved by two men at once is never easy. It’s even harder if you love them both in return.’
Eleyne looked up at her. ‘You know that Alexander has followed me to Mar?’
Morna shrugged. ‘As I said, I hear it in the wind and rain. One day you will have to make a choice.’
‘But not yet.’ It was a plea. Eleyne wrapped her arms around herself with a shiver. ‘He doesn’t come near me when I’m pregnant. It’s as though he never existed, as though he were just a dream. I find it hard to believe in him at all when he’s not there.’
‘Perhaps he is a dream.’
‘Perhaps I don’t exist for him. Perhaps I’m the dream.’ Eleyne put Mairi down and climbed restlessly to her feet. ‘Oh, Morna, why did Donald go away again? Do I cease to exist for him too when I’m with child?’
‘Perhaps.’ Morna pulled her daughter to her and dropped a kiss on the toddler’s head. ‘But you still exist for yourself and that’s the only true reality,’ she said enigmatically. ‘You are too much ruled by your passions, my dear.’
‘I can’t help it.’ Eleyne shook her head. ‘I love him so much.’
It was Donald she meant.
Elizabeth of Mar followed her on her next visit to Morna, her chestnut palfrey flanked by four mounted knights.
‘So, this is where you come. I thought perhaps there was a man.’ She snapped her fingers at one of her escorts. He dismounted and helped her down.
Little Mairi had fallen asleep in Eleyne’s arms. Carefully she laid the child on the ground without waking her and stood up, controlling her anger with difficulty. ‘How kind of you to be worried. As you see, I am not with a man, I am visiting a friend.’
‘A friend?’ The Countess of Mar looked down at Morna, who was sitting on the grass by the river, and raised a haughty eyebrow.
Morna smiled at her, unruffled. ‘I could be a friend to you too, Lady Mar, if you would let me.’ Her low voice halted Elizabeth in her tracks. ‘I can see the pain inside you and I could help you, if you would let me.’
Elizabeth stared at her. Her face was white, her thin, lined face drawn with the effort of the long ride. ‘Why? Are you some kind of leech?’ For a moment there was something like longing in her eyes, then it was gone.
‘No, but I know something of healing,’ Morna replied, ‘and I know of a holy well, the waters of which would help you and bless you with long life.’
‘Indeed.’ Elizabeth hesitated for only a fraction of a second, then she turned back to her horse. ‘Then I suggest you use your knowledge in the clachan, where no doub
t it would be of some use. Eleyne, accompany me, please.’
‘I shall follow soon.’ Eleyne kept her voice even. ‘I had planned to return in time for the midday meal.’ She made no move towards her horse, which waited with those of the two men who had escorted her. They were sitting playing a lazy game of knucklebones at the far end of the glen, well out of earshot of Morna’s cottage. After a moment’s hesitation Elizabeth beckoned the knight forward to help her mount, and rode off without looking back.
XII
‘Why did you follow me?’ Eleyne went straight to Elizabeth’s chamber when she returned to the castle.
Her ladies, sitting around the broad table with their embroidery and their spindles, looked up in astonishment.
‘Your husband suspects you of being unfaithful,’ Elizabeth said.
‘No, that would never cross Donald’s mind. Not unless you suggested it to him, as you suggested to him that he leave my bed.’ Eleyne held Elizabeth’s gaze without wavering, and was gratified to see the countess look away first.
‘I suggested he leave your bed, madam, to relieve you of a presence which must have become intolerable,’ Elizabeth said stiffly. ‘As for the other, it is as well I told him of your rides. No faithful wife goes completely alone, day after day, into the hills.’
‘It is something I have always done,’ Eleyne replied, ‘and something I shall continue to do. When Donald is here, he often rides with me.’
‘Indeed.’ Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. ‘How annoying for you. So, unwittingly I have done you a favour, it seems, in reminding my son of his duties at his father’s side. You can once more ride alone. Though I must say, I’m astonished that you persist in riding in your condition. Tell me –’ She changed the subject unexpectedly. ‘Have your lonely rides taken you to this sacred well? Do you know where it is?’
‘I know,’ Eleyne said quietly. Guided by Morna, she had ridden there and splashed the crystal water over her face and breasts, leaving an offering to the gods in the hope that the magic waters would keep her young. Only days later she had conceived this second child.
XIII
When Eleyne arrived at Morna’s cottage a few days later, she found her friend seated by the cool brown water of the river. The birch trees had scattered golden leaves in the whirling pools of the backwater eddies, and Morna was watching as Mairi tried to catch the flying leaves on the bank.
‘Your mother-in-law was here again this morning,’ Morna said as Eleyne sat down beside her. ‘She arrived with such an escort I felt sure she had come to arrest me.’
‘And why did she come?’
‘To ask my help. Her heart pains her a great deal and she doesn’t dare ask the castle physicians in case they tell her she is mortally sick.’
‘And what did you tell her?’ Eleyne raised an eyebrow.
‘I told her, as I told her before, that I was no physician. If she doesn’t want the doctor at the castle, she could send for the infirmarian at Cabrach. I sent her home with water from the sacred spring, and I told her to rest.’ She smiled. ‘And I told her you were a faithful and obedient wife.’
‘Thank you.’ Eleyne groaned as she sat down. ‘What else could I be, like this? Look at me! I’ve never been so huge.’
‘It won’t be long,’ Morna said comfortingly. ‘Then you’ll be slim again. And I will tell you what to do to prevent another baby coming.’
Eleyne stared at her. ‘You can?’
The other woman nodded. ‘When the time is right I will show you. But you must say nothing to anyone, especially your husband. Such things are considered a sin against God.’
XIV
September 1267
Eleyne was resting on her bed; her back ached and she was tired. The child in her womb did not kick so much now, held too tightly in its dark prison. She was larger than she had been with any of her other children. A few weeks before, while there was still room, it had kicked and flailed endlessly until Eleyne had wondered if she were going to give birth to a litter of pups, just as Sabina had done a few months before. She sighed, trying to ease her position on the bed. The command to go at once to Elizabeth’s chamber did not please her at all.
Lady Mar was lying on her bed, her face very pale. It had been a hot day and the stone of the castle held the heat as one of the first of the heavy dews of autumn started to fall.
‘You said you knew where the sacred well is?’ Elizabeth began without preamble.
Eleyne nodded. A century or so before a hermit had built himself a stone hut beside it and now it sheltered pilgrims who came to bathe in its healing waters or make offerings to the saint who guarded it.
‘I want to go there.’ Elizabeth’s hand was pressed against her chest.
Eleyne stared at her in astonishment. ‘But it’s a long way. It’s up in the hills and hard to reach. Morna will give you more water from the spring – ’
‘That’s no use!’ Elizabeth lay back on the pillow, pressing her lips together tightly as a wave of pain hit her. ‘Morna is away from her bothy. I hear she is sometimes away for days or weeks on end. I can’t wait until she gets back. I want to go to the well myself.’
‘You can’t possibly!’ Eleyne was shocked out of her attempt to comfort the woman. ‘It’s a long steep ride; even for someone who is fit it’s difficult. Water can be fetched …’
‘I want to go there. I have to go there,’ Elizabeth repeated stubbornly, willing herself into a sitting position. ‘I shall order a litter first thing tomorrow and you will guide me there.’
‘I can’t. It would be madness,’ Eleyne cried. She was sorry for the anguish and fear she saw in the other woman’s eyes; the fear of illness and death. ‘It would be foolish for you to try to ride that far when you are unwell.’
‘It will kill me if I don’t go.’ Elizabeth shook her head. ‘I have to go, don’t you see? I’ve been thinking about it for weeks. I remember hearing of the spring when I was a child in Buchan. My grandfather, Fergus, was full of old tales of the hills. He said if you bathed in its holy waters you would live forever. I had forgotten about it until that spaewife told me the story again. I have to get there, it’s my only chance.’
Eleyne shook her head and put her hand to her stomach. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t ride that far, even if you can. My time is close …’
‘I see!’ Elizabeth’s voice was mocking. ‘You protest that you must ride all day to please yourself, but to save my life you’re not prepared to ride at all – ’
‘That’s not true!’
‘Then come with me.’ Elizabeth stood up. She staggered slightly, then straightened. ‘I will order you a litter too. We have two I believe.’
‘No.’ Eleyne was looking at her in disbelief. ‘Please. Neither of us is in a fit state to go.’
‘I have to.’ Elizabeth’s face tightened in a grimace of pain. ‘You are my daughter-in-law, it’s your duty to obey me in this.’ She snapped her fingers at one of her ladies. ‘Go and order the litters and an escort of armed men. Tell them to be ready tomorrow after mass.’ She turned again to Eleyne. ‘Of course we have to take into account the fact that you are no longer as young as you were,’ she said spitefully. ‘But you have always insisted your age made no difference to your activities. Is that it? Are you afraid?’
Eleyne clenched her fists. ‘Of course not.’
‘Then you will come with me.’
XV
They had an escort of ten men. Elizabeth had forbidden any of her ladies to accompany them. Eleyne looked up at the sky as her groom brought her horse, and she shook her head. However much she hated the litter, she knew she could not ride.
The clouds were high and wild, though on the ground the air was still. Wind would come later, and with it rain. She could smell the cold and salt from the distant sea. She pulled her cloak more closely around her as one of her attendants came to help her awkwardly on to the cushions and she felt the baby move resentfully.
They travelled very slowly, leaving the track almost
immediately and heading across the rough, slowly rising ground. Eleyne’s litter was at the front of the riders, Ancret and Lyulf close beside her, a deeply disapproving Sir Duncan Comyn riding at her side. He had insisted on accompanying them and had hand-picked their escort.
Eleyne’s back ached and she was very tired. Every now and then she called a halt, peering around to orientate herself to the unaccustomed view from the litter.
At one of the halts Duncan turned in his saddle. ‘Do you think we should check to see if she is all right?’
Wearily Eleyne nodded, glad of the rest. She waited, slumped uncomfortably on the cushions, whilst he rode back. Above the rising wind she heard Elizabeth’s harsh voice demanding to know why the devil they had stopped, and even more clearly, as he rode back towards her, she heard Sir Duncan’s muttered imprecation that his cousin was a selfish vicious old harridan and deserved to roast in hell. She smiled. It was reassuring to know that she was not without allies on this journey.
They found the spring in the end and she climbed wearily out of the litter, gratefully allowing Sir Duncan to help her into the stone chapel and settle her on the long low ledge which had served the hermit all those years before both as seat and bed. He called his men to build a fire in the ring of blackened stones which had obviously formed the hearth over the centuries. Only then did he leave her to help Elizabeth from her litter.
The spring bubbled gently from beneath an overhang of rock, filling a shallow pool rimmed by smooth stones which had been used since time immemorial as a resting-place for people’s offerings. Coloured bits of rag, stones and coins lay in the glistening spray, protected by small curling ferns, brilliant green in the late afternoon sun.
‘Now, I want you to leave my daughter-in-law and me here. Take all your men. I want no one left here with us.’ Elizabeth’s grating voice was still strong as Sir Duncan helped her from the litter. ‘You may return tomorrow at noon.’