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.’
IV
Einion stood patiently in the shadow of the wall, his arms folded, his eyes closed. He would know when she was near. He had long ago schooled himself in the absolute control of his emotions. Until he needed them, until he wanted to act he was relaxed, to an outsider indifferent, even asleep as the russet evening sun pierced the boughs of a mountain ash tree near the doorway to the great hall at Aber and warmed the rusty black of his mantle. In the silence he could hear the chuckling water in the river below as it tumbled over its rocky bed.
When Rhonwen walked around the corner, he opened his eyes and put out a hand to grasp her wrist.
‘Where is she?’
Rhonwen caught her breath with fear. ‘I left you a message. There was nothing I could do.’
‘Where is she?’
‘With her father.’ The low sun was shining directly into her eyes.
‘You must send her to me.’
‘She won’t come.’
‘She must.’ He tightened his grip. ‘I have to see her again. I have to have her oath, child though she is.’ His eyes were deep and expressionless like still lake water. ‘I do not want to lose her; the gods, my gods, want her for their own. It must be soon or she will slip from me. And without me, without them, she will not know how to control her visions and will live in torment for the rest of her life.’ He paused. ‘You brought her here to avoid me.’
Faced with that cool all-seeing gaze, Rhonwen did not dare to deny it. ‘She was so frightened,’ she heard herself pleading. ‘Besides, I could not stop her. She tried to swim … she’s so young – ’
‘It’s because she is young that she needs me so much.’ He released her suddenly. ‘She’s too young to understand the powers she has been given. She needs strength and guidance.’
‘She doesn’t want to see you again. Please, Lord Einion. Wait a little; just until she is older.’ Rhonwen despised herself for her weakness, but she could not help herself.
He took a deep breath. ‘That is not possible, my lady. I have to see her again. Now, today. Bring her to me.’
‘What if she won’t come?’
‘She will come. Tell her that her father has commanded her to visit the hermit of the woods.’ He smiled cynically. ‘Tell her there is a horse for her to see. Tell her there are blackberries to pick. I am sure you can think of something. Bring her to me, Lady Rhonwen. You begged me to see to it that her marriage is annulled, but I will not do that until she has been initiated and blessed. Only after that shall I see that she belongs to no man. Bring her to me – now. I shall wait by the river beyond the village.’
Rhonwen stared after him. He had not waited for her agreement; he merely turned and walked away from the wall, beneath the gatehouse and down the hill towards the village with its mill and forge and church and the huddle of houses where the harp maker, the silversmith, the potter and the tradesmen and craftsmen lived, side by side with the twenty-four families who farmed the Aber land. He raised his hand in greeting and blessing to the men and women he passed.
Rhonwen swallowed hard. She did not dare to disobey him.
V
Eleyne was playing cats’ cradles with Luned in the window embrasure, where the last of the sunlight lit their entwined hands. In another moment the sun would drop below the mountains and the llys would be in shadow.
‘Is it nearly time for supper, Lady Rhonwen?’ Luned asked.
‘No, it’s not that late.’ Rhonwen was flustered as she came in. ‘Please, Eleyne, come with me, your father has sent for you!’
‘Me too?’ Distracted, Luned let the string slip from her thumb and the intricate net of knots collapsed. Eleyne threw it down. Standing up, she gave Luned a gentle push. ‘No, not you. You’ve got to untie the cradle.’
Luned’s face fell, but she sat down obediently with the tangled string.
Rhonwen breathed a quiet prayer of thanks. Catching Eleyne’s hand, she led her down the stairs and out of the ty hir into the courtyard. They hurried across it to the gatehouse. ‘Down by the river.’ She had to think of some reason for the walk, so that the meeting with Einion would seem an accident. If not, Eleyne would never trust her again. ‘Your father wanted you to see some wild ponies on the hill beyond the village.’
Eleyne stopped. Her eyes were shining, but she looked puzzled. ‘Why? Why especially tonight?’
Rhonwen shrugged. ‘Perhaps he wants to catch one for you before they move away over the mountains now he knows how much you love horses. Perhaps he’s noticed how you’re growing. Soon you’ll be too big for Cadi.’ She hustled Eleyne down the track.
She did not want Einion to have Eleyne, but if the goddess had chosen the child who was she to fight her? Besides, it was better Eleyne stay here in the hills than go to a foreign husband – a man neither of them knew; a man fourteen years the child’s senior. And it would happen. In four years’ time John the Scot, the Earl of Huntingdon, would demand his bride. Rhonwen trembled at the thought of a man touching her child, her baby, mauling her, frightening her, hurting her, using her any way he wished. Almost as much she dreaded the thought that he might seduce her with sweet talk and
gentleness, and steal away her loyalty and love. No, that must never happen. Better she be given to the goddess. That way she would remain a virgin; cold, chaste, pure as the silver moon. It was for Eleyne’s good.
She had never lain with a man herself. Dimly in the far-off recesses of her memory before she and her mother had come to the house of Tangwystl, there had been a man; a man who had pawed and hurt her mother and made her cry before he had turned his attention to the little girl. Rhonwen’s mind had blocked out the rest of what had happened, but it had left her with a loathing and horror of men which she seldom bothered to hide.
Holding their skirts off the muddy path as they moved out of sight of the llys and through the village, they ducked beneath the tangled trees which grew down the deserted hillsides to where the river ran swiftly over the rocks. The sun had long gone from the deep valley and the air was cold and sharp. Old trees had fallen, rotting, across the river. The air was full of the rich scent of decay. They could feel the chill striking up from the wet boulders in the icy water. Everywhere carpets of moss and lichen clung to tree trunks, to the rocks, and even to the path beneath their feet.
Eleyne paused and looked round. ‘Rhonwen, we shouldn’t come here. It’s too far from the hall – ’
‘I thought you loved the woods and the darkness,’ Rhonwen retorted. ‘I know you manage to slip out sometimes when you think I’m not looking. Besides, what danger could there be?’ She was picking her way over the slippery stones, resisting the urge to take the girl’s hand and pull her on.
‘I don’t know.’ The skin at the back of Eleyne’s neck was prickling. ‘There’s something wrong here. Please, Rhonwen, let’s go back. We can come and look at the ponies tomorrow. It’s getting too dark to see them anyway.’
‘Only a little further.’ Rhonwen walked on doggedly, praying that Eleyne would follow. The track was soft leafmould here, where the trees grew closer together by the water: alder and birch; hazel, ash and ancient oak, linking branches across the stream.
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