Child of the Phoenix

by Barbara Erskine

  ‘Don’t say anything to anyone,’ she said to Hylde. ‘I’ll talk to her. If she’s casting spells to make me bear a child, at my age, I shall be very cross.’ She smiled. ‘I love my children dearly, but if Our Lady has seen fit to make me barren at last, then so be it. I shall not complain!’

  And with that Hylde had to be content.

  II

  Eleyne summoned Rhonwen to her chamber that very evening when supper was finished. Dismissing her other ladies, she turned on the old woman as soon as they were alone.

  ‘I hear you have been spying on me. Why?’ Her eyes were hard. She was afraid. Rhonwen was the one person she could not deceive.

  Rhonwen sat down slowly by the fire and looked at Eleyne. ‘I know.’

  ‘You know what?’

  ‘I saw him.’

  There was a long silence as Eleyne gazed steadily at her, trying to gauge what she meant. ‘Who exactly did you see?’ she asked.

  ‘The king.’ Rhonwen spoke in a whisper. ‘Don’t worry, cariad, your secret is safe with me. You have been chosen for great things, and I can help you.’ She smiled confidently. ‘I spoke to him, you see. I told him I would help you – ’

  ‘You spoke to him!’ Eleyne was as white as a sheet. ‘You saw him?’

  Rhonwen nodded emphatically. ‘You will bear his child, cariad. A child who will be a king – just as Einion Gweledydd foretold. He spoke the truth, all those years ago. You see? It has all come right in the end.’

  ‘I will bear the king’s child?’ Eleyne stared at her incredulously. ‘No, you don’t understand, it’s not like that. He’s not real.’ She twisted her fingers together unhappily. ‘You should not have spied on me, Rhonwen. That was wrong, and you know it.’

  Rhonwen shook her head. ‘He was pleased. He needs my help to get rid of Lord Fife. We have to get rid of Lord Fife, cariad. He’s in the way now – ’

  ‘No!’ Eleyne squatted beside her and took her hands in her own. Rhonwen had begun to look like an old woman, but her eyes had the cold steadiness of the fanatic. Looking at them, Eleyne was afraid. ‘Rhonwen, you must not harm Lord Fife. I am sure the king did not tell you to. You haven’t done anything yet, have you?’

  Rhonwen shook her head. ‘With the earl away – ’

  ‘He is coming back soon. And I do not want him harmed, do you understand?’ Eleyne clasped her hands tightly. She was frightened, not of Rhonwen knowing, but of what she might do; terrified even of acknowledging her fears of what Rhonwen was capable of doing. ‘He did not take me from Alexander, that was Robert. Malcolm is the father of my children, and if, if I should ever bear another child, before the whole world Malcolm would be its father. What would happen if I had a child and I was a widow? Think, Rhonwen, think what would be said!’

  ‘But the king – ’

  ‘Leave the king to me, my dear.’ Eleyne dropped a light kiss on the older woman’s head. ‘Now, go to bed and leave me. I want to hear no more about this, do you understand?’

  Rhonwen stood up slowly. ‘If you need me – ’

  ‘If I need your help, I will call on you, I promise.’

  Eleyne sat for a long time after Rhonwen had gone. Not once did she stare into the shadows. She shivered and sat closer to the fire. If Rhonwen had really seen him, he was growing stronger, and she was suddenly very afraid.

  III

  October 1263

  The news Malcolm brought on his return put all other thoughts out of Eleyne’s head.

  ‘You can’t do it!’ She looked at her husband in horror. ‘There can be no question of a marriage alliance with the Durwards!’

  Malcolm scowled. ‘It’s all arranged!’

  ‘Then you must unarrange it. My son will not marry a child of that ambitious, lying, cheating, jumped-up nobody!’

  ‘I told you, Eleyne, it’s done.’ Malcolm’s face darkened with anger. ‘The match pleases me.’

  ‘Well, it doesn’t please me!’ she retorted. ‘Think, Malcolm, think who they are.’

  ‘Little Anna is the grand-daughter of the late king,’ Malcolm said with deceptive mildness. His eyes gleamed. ‘That should please you.’

  ‘Please me!’ Eleyne wondered for a moment if he had forgotten or if he were being deliberately obtuse. ‘That her mother was King Alexander’s bastard?’ She paused, afraid suddenly even to be saying his name out loud. ‘And perhaps it should also please me that Durward has been pursuing the earldom of Mar through the Vatican courts in a pathetic attempt to cheat himself into the noble blood he does not possess – a claim he was quick to drop when his own legitimacy was questioned!’ She was white with rage.

  ‘You are strangely defensive about the earldom of Mar, my dear.’ Malcolm took her wrist and pulled her towards him sharply. ‘I had thought that business with Donald of Mar finished. Can it be that I was wrong? Why should you care a jot for the earldom of Mar and who holds it?’

  ‘I don’t care!’ Eleyne rounded on him in fury. ‘I don’t care at all except that it proves the lengths to which Durward will go, to try to win himself position and influence in one of the ancient earldoms of this land. Don’t you see? He failed to get himself the earldom of Mar. Now he wants Fife!’

  ‘And his daughter shall have it,’ Malcolm growled, ‘with my blessing!’

  IV

  Later he sat staring glumly at the empty flagon of wine on the table. His belly ached and he felt sick and old. He looked around dazedly and gave a painful belch. His sons had gone out riding with their hawks after Eleyne had stormed out and he found himself feeling lonely. He sighed. Not so very long ago he would have worried that perhaps she still dangled after the Mar boy. Boy! He checked himself. Donald was in his twenties now. But Lady Rhonwen had put his mind at rest on that subject years ago. Donald of Mar’s infatuation had waned as quickly as it had begun. There was nothing to fear there. Eleyne had been kind to the boy, no more, and yet, sometimes, he had wondered. He had caught sight of her face at an unguarded moment, seen the secret dreaminess in her eyes and, just occasionally, he thought she had the look of a woman who had a lover.

  He had given orders that she be watched, but Donald of Mar was far away, and no other man had been seen in her company. She had remained a good and faithful wife. And beautiful. It was a pity there had been no more children, but he was very proud of his two sons.

  It was Sir Alan Durward who had made the suggestion: a marriage between his spirited daughter, Anna, and Colban. Malcolm had known that Eleyne would hate the idea. She had never liked Sir Alan. But he intended the marriage to go through. He was still out of the immediate government, but his initial anger at being excluded had waned when he found others in the same boat: Eleyne’s nephew, Robert Bruce, Lord of Annandale, for instance. And in the inner council or not, he had remained close to Durward and, more important still, close to the king, who had now been in full control of the country for four years or more. Little Queen Margaret too had grown up at last and was even now expecting her first child. That was good for Scotland; it would bring back some feeling of stability to the succession.

  He eased his position in his chair and groaned again. The marriage should take place without delay, then he would once more be accepted into the king’s closest circle. That was part of the deal, that and the girl’s dowry, a fair exchange for the fact that Sir Alan’s daughter would one day be the Countess of Fife. One day sooner rather than later, if this accursed pain did not go away.

  V

  FIFE

  Eleyne kicked the grey palfrey into a gallop, feeling the cold wind whipping tears into her eyes, seeing the two great dogs, Raoulet and Sabina, lengthen their strides to catch up as she bent low on the horse’s neck. Her anger was still white-hot, but there was nothing she could do; she had long ago learned that. If Malcolm had made up his mind, then Colban would marry Anna Durward and nothing she could say would alter the fact.

  It was a long time since she had consulted Adam and she had never before visited him in the cave he called home, but
her anger and frustration after her latest quarrel with Malcolm had driven her to seek him out for Colban’s sake. Adam would know; she was sure he knew more about Colban than he had told her.

  The track narrowed as it came close to the edge of the low cliffs. Below her she saw the gleam of the Firth of Forth through the trees. The water glittered in the icy wind, tossing white-topped wavelets on to the narrow curve of the beach. Her wild ride had brought her to a part of the coast near Macduff ’s Castle.

  The low cliffs flattened out at the end of the bay, and the rocks ran in great black ribs out into the sea. Squinting into the brightness, she could see the Isle of May and beyond it the great mist-shrouded hump of the Bass Rock. She reined her horse in and looked out to sea. The rush of the wind and the sea filled her ears, and she strained to hear beyond them. She glanced around. There was no one there. Nothing but the wind dancing in the tossing birch and alder, and no one but the impatient horse and the two eager dogs. She walked the palfrey on, and it was barely a quarter of a mile before she saw the path. It led, zigzag, down the cliff face to the beach below. Sliding from the saddle, she tied the horse to a tree and calling the dogs to heel she began to walk down, sliding on the loose earth and sand, clutching at the coarse stems of grass to steady herself, her ears full of the rush and ebb of the sea.

  The boy was at her side almost before she realised he was there, running towards her up the beach on bare feet. He bowed, gazing warily at the dogs, and stopped several yards from her.

  ‘My master says you are welcome, my lady.’ He grinned, a friendly cheeky grin from a dirty face, lit by two brilliant blue eyes. He gestured towards the rocks as though they formed an anteroom to a presence chamber. It was almost as if she were expected! Eleyne smiled at him, intrigued, liking his brazen, confident gaze.

  ‘And who might your master be, young sir?’ She had already guessed, but she wanted to be sure. She put her hand on Raoulet’s head as he growled warningly in his throat. The boy’s eyes went to the dog’s face and she saw him hesitate nervously. ‘He won’t hurt you,’ she reassured him.

  He took a cautious step closer. ‘My master is the greatest wizard in all Scotland.’ He did not take his eyes off Raoulet’s teeth as the dog sat panting at Eleyne’s side.

  Relieved that she had found Adam so easily, she looked around. The cave where he spent the short summer months had, so she had been told, belonged to Michael and before him probably to a long line of seers and holy men.

  The implications of the boy’s welcome sank in. ‘Your master was expecting me?’

  ‘Oh yes.’ The boy nodded vigorously. ‘He said that today was the conjunction of two destinies.’ He repeated the words carefully. ‘He saw it in the stars many months ago and then again when he read the signs.’ He straightened his shoulders, full of self-importance. ‘It was me who fetched Lord Donald. I had to ride to Dunfermline on the mule and take a message to the king’s hall.’

  ‘Lord Donald?’ Eleyne echoed. A knot of excitement tightened in her stomach.

  She began to run up the beach in the direction from which the boy had appeared, the two dogs bounding beside her, barking. Her shoes filled with sand and she stumbled on her skirts as she flew panting towards the base of the low cliffs, where already she had spotted the entrance to the cave.

  It was dark inside, and she stood still, blinded after the bright sunshine. As her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, she saw a faint gleam coming from the wall ahead of her. The cave led back into the cliff and then took a right-angled bend towards the source of the warm glow of candlelight. She snapped her fingers at the two dogs, who immediately fell behind, crouching on the sand floor of the cave to wait. Then she tiptoed forward. Her heart was pounding in her throat as she reached the bend in the cave wall and peered around it. The walls of the cave were carved with strange symbols – signs of the old gods and with them early Christian crosses. This had long been a special, sacred place. The two figures bent over the driftwood table with its single candle were lost in thought, their concentration on something which she could not see. Adam’s tall spare figure, so stooped at the shoulders, was turned away from her. It was the other man she was staring at. His face clearly lit by the flickering candle flame, Donald of Mar was tracing something on the table with his finger.

  Her heart ached with longing. He had changed in the last six months. His shoulders had broadened even more, his face had grown heavier and had more authority, but it had, she noticed sadly, lost something of its wistful dreaminess.

  ‘Please come in, my lady.’ Adam had not turned, but his voice echoed around the cave. ‘We have been waiting for you.’

  She edged forward obediently, half mesmerised, and stood in the candlelight, her eyes on Donald’s face. She saw his eyes narrow, though he did not look surprised to see her there.

  ‘How did you know I would come?’ To her astonishment, her voice was quite steady.

  ‘I saw.’ Adam straightened at last. ‘It was written. I took the liberty of lending fate a helping hand by arranging for Lord Donald to come here to wait for you. Time is short. Nothing can be left to chance.’

  ‘It sounds as though you don’t believe in chance at all,’ she replied softly. She felt something strange happening to her insides, as though a great stone were melting inside her. Her misery and hurt, so carefully hidden and buried after that terrible night at Macduff ’s Castle, when Donald had walked out on her and ridden back to the great dark mountains of the north, were dissolving into a strange half-dreaming warmth.

  Adam folded his arms austerely. ‘One can hinder the gods as one can help them. One can never defy them. Sometimes one man’s destiny is out of step with another’s; one dies, and another must step in to fulfil his fate. All will follow the ordained path in the end.’

  There was a short silence. Eleyne and Donald were gazing at each other, half dazzled by the candlelight.

  ‘And my destiny is here?’ Eleyne asked at last.

  ‘Your destiny is in Mar,’ Adam said slowly.

  VI

  It was two days later.

  ‘Where is she?’

  Malcolm was pacing the great hall at Falkland. ‘For the love of the Blessed Virgin, she can’t have disappeared off the face of the earth.’

  ‘She has her dogs with her, my lord.’ John Keith stood before the earl, his face creased with worry. ‘She is not in any danger with those great creatures to protect her, and I’m sure she is safe. She’s decided to take refuge somewhere from the storms, that’s all. There are scores of places where she could have gone.’

  Outside the thunder rolled again around the Lomonds and shook the window screens. In the forest to the north of the castle the leaves were being torn from the ancient oaks, streaming on the wind like gold coins to lie in soggy heaps, their glory eclipsed. Sir Alan Durward was standing by the fire, warming his hands. ‘She’s sulking. You said as much yourself. She’ll come back when she finds out the wedding will take place whether she approves it or not.’ Colban was sitting restlessly at the trestle table, forcing himself to concentrate on a game of backgammon with his brother; Macduff was beating him with ease.

  Durward and Malcolm had just fixed the date of the wedding: it would be three weeks hence.

  Malcolm frowned. There was something wrong; he could sense it. And it was more than just the fact that he and Eleyne had had a fight. Something had changed in the air and he watched as a lightning flash lit the high narrow windows of the great hall, followed by another crash of thunder.

  She came back three days later, unrepentant, refusing to tell him where she had been. But there was a new lightness to her step and a glow on her skin which stirred his old desire. His wife was radiant.

  VII

  FALKLAND CASTLE October 1263

  She was afraid. Not of Malcolm, he would discover nothing. But of Alexander – he knew, and he was angry. She erected a wall against him and surrounded herself with it, a mental screen behind which she did not think of him, dream of h
im or even remember him. He was a thing of the past. She had taken off the phoenix and wrapping it carefully in a dark silk scarf, she locked it in a small casket and tucked the casket into a chest in her solar. Then, deliberately, she put Alexander out of her mind.

  Her whole present and future were centred on Donald and the need to be with him. But she could do nothing before the wedding. And when she did, she could not involve Rhonwen in her plans. Rhonwen belonged to Alexander.

  VIII

  The marriage of Colban and Anna Durward took place on a stormy day at the end of the month. The bride was a plump and cheerful fourteen-year-old; the bridegroom, excited, confident, boasting his prowess, was just twelve. Within months his wife had confirmed she was with child.

  Donald was vastly amused. ‘Why are you so shocked?’ He was stroking Eleyne’s shoulders as she sat on the floor, leaning against his knees before the fire at Macduff ’s Castle, where at last they had met again. The rugs heaped before the hearth were already tumbled with their lovemaking. The light of the flames played across their naked bodies, resting and relaxed. He saw her heavy breasts, the rounded flesh of her thighs and felt the excitement begin to build again. Her body was taut and hard; she had the figure still of a woman half her age, but it was her maturity, her ripeness which excited him. The bouncy charm of a young woman like Anna Durward left him completely unmoved.

  ‘I suppose I’m shocked because Colban is still my child. It’s such a short time since he was a baby.’ She shrugged. ‘I can’t see him as a man.’

  ‘He isn’t a man,’ Donald snorted. ‘He’s a precocious boy, but he will be a man soon enough. Give him some freedom, let him find his feet.’ His hands began to roam across her body commandingly. ‘Now forget him and forget Durward. I have. You pay attention to me, my lady.’