He laughed. Why not? Tomorrow, princess, if the ground has dried a little, you shall take him for a gallop, if you dare. See to it, Thomas.
But, sir - Thomas looked far from happy. The Lady Rhonwen would never let her
Then we wont tell the Lady Rhonwen. Sir William glared at him impatiently. This child has the heart of a boy, let her enjoy herself while she can. Would that I had a son with half as much courage!
Thomas watched him thoughtfully as he strode away. Would that he had a son at all, he said softly. Four girls, poor man. That bodes ill for the succession to the lordship. Still, theres time yet, God willing.
My brother will be his son if Bella marries him, Eleyne said. She felt, inexplicably, that she had to provide some words of comfort.
Aye, God help us all, for the Welsh alliance will only lead to trouble. It always does. Thomas frowned, then he shook his head. Forget I said that, little one. He began to walk slowly back towards his quarters at the end of the stable lines.
Eleyne followed him. When can I ride Invictus?
When you can escape the Lady Rhonwen. Dont you come to me with her in tow. He gave an exaggerated shudder. Ducking inside he pulled off the sack he had draped over his shoulders against the rain and threw it into the corner. The other grooms and stable hands who shared the room were absent: probably playing knucklebones in the kitchens, he thought with a chuckle. Well and good, hed have some peace for once. A small fire burned in one corner. Throwing on a branch, he held out his hands to the warmth with a groan of pleasure.
Eleyne had followed him in. She stood warily, staring at the flames. If I came early. At first light. Will that be all right? She did not think that Rhonwen was going to be a problem.
Whatever you want. Just so long as you come alone. He studied her in the flickering light of the flames. She was a tall, thin child, with a fair complexion and deep red-gold hair so unlike her sister it was hard to think they came from the same parents. He frowned. Lady de Braose Gwladus Ddu Black Gwladus was the crow amongst the golden brood of Llywelyn ap Iorwerth of Gwynedd. He saw Eleyne shiver and he said, Here, come close to the fire and get yourself warm, then you must go.
Eleyne stayed where she was, but held out her hands to the heat, staring at the fire. Do you ever see pictures in the flames, Thomas?
Of course. Everyone does. He grinned. And if you listen to a fire, youll hear the logs singing. Can you hear them? Listen. He held up his hand. Trees memorise the song of every bird that sings in their branches, he went on thoughtfully. When the wood is burned it remembers the songs and sings them in turn as it dies. He rubbed his gnarled hands together.
Eleynes eyes widened. Thats beautiful. But so sad - She drew a step nearer the flames. I can see a house. Look! With flames licking out of its windows and up its walls - She was gazing unblinking into its depths.
Thomas gave a superstitious shiver. Enough of that, my girl. Of course there are flames. Youre looking at a fire! Off you go now, and get some sleep. If youre tired you wont have the strength to hold that horse when you do ride him.
Eleyne tore her eyes away from the fire with an effort. I shant have to hold him, she said after a moments dreamy silence. Ill whisper to him and hell do whatever I want!
Thomas stood deep in thought for a long time after she had gone, a frown on his face. At last he shrugged. He kicked the door closed and settled down beside the fire with a sigh. With a bit of luck hed get some sleep before the others came back with their winnings.
V
Horses had been part of Eleynes life ever since she could remember, and Rhonwen, who in all other matters was strict and even overprotective, never interfered unduly with her when she was in the stables. Horses adored the child; they trusted her; the stout Welsh ponies at her fathers court, the finer palfreys, the great warhorses, let her climb all over them.
Let her be. Einion Gweledydd had watched her from a distance and nodded his approval. She has the hand of Epona. The animals sense it. They will never hurt her.
The old man, one of the most revered bards at Llywelyns court, was one of those few survivors who, though he paid grudging lip service to the Christian church, in secret embraced the ancient beliefs which existed still in pockets in the mountains and forests of Britain. As a child Rhonwen had been taken to him by her fey, aristocratic mother and given to the great goddess. The rest of the family had disowned mother and child when they found out and later the heartbroken mother had died. Rhonwen was brought up by Llywelyns beautiful lady, Tangwystl, his eldest son Gruffydds mother. But Rhonwen had always remembered her destiny and remained faithful to her goddess and obedient to Einion.
It was Einion who secretly supervised Eleynes education, although he never went near her himself. Ostensibly it was Rhonwen who taught her everything she knew. How to read and write in Welsh and French and English; how to count; how to sew and weave and how to sing and play the harp; and it was Rhonwen who told her the stories of her fathers principality, of the ancient kingdoms of Wales and the old gods and heroes who walked their mountains and forests. The child was bright and eager and learned quickly. Her father and Einion were both satisfied.
Princess Joan, Llywelyns wife, who had in many eyes usurped the position of Tangwystl, and whose son Dafydd was destined to take Gruffydds place as his fathers heir, showed no interest in Eleyne, her youngest child. The rest of her brood were grown; her maternal feelings had been exhausted by them. It was left to Llywelyn to show Eleyne parental affection and this he did often. He adored her. The fact that he had married her as a two-year-old baby to the heir of his powerful neighbour, the Earl of Chester, a young man who was also heir presumptive to the King of Scots, was almost forgotten. She would not go to her husband until she was fourteen. Until then she was his daughter and his delight.
Both the Prince of Aberffraw and Eleynes distant husband were happy to leave the child in Rhonwens care. She was competent and she was dedicated. Joan had been less happy with the choice of Rhonwen when she found out the young womans background, but she was quiet and she was dutiful and Joan had better things to think about. After a while she put her objections to Rhonwen out of her mind, although she never bothered to hide her dislike. Had she known Rhonwens feelings towards her and the nurses passionate attachment to Tangwystls son and the native Welsh cause, she would have been far more concerned. As both she and her husband would have been had they known that Rhonwen was still a follower of the ancient faith and that she and Einion Gweledydd had marked Eleyne for their own.
VI
Eleyne gave Rhonwen the slip the next morning, sensing, as old Thomas had, that she would not approve of the ride. Minutes later she was racing to the stables, praying Invictus was there and not out being exercised by one of the knights or a groom. Sir William was, she knew, in the great hall, seated with his father, Reginald, at one of the trestle tables. Reginald de Braose was better this morning. He appeared to have shaken off his fever and had come down to the hall to talk to his son. The two men were in deep discussion, a jug of wine on the table between them. With a quick evasive smile at them, Eleyne pulled her cloak around her and ducked out into the spring sunshine.
The heavy rain of the previous few days had stopped at last and the Wye Valley was brilliant in the clear air. Above her head she heard the hoarse call of a raven and she glanced up with narrowed eyes to watch it tumbling against the blue sky before it closed its wings and dived for the high ruined window of the tower. In daylight she could see the height of that window and she trembled at the thought that she and Isabella had been up there, so high above the ground. She turned away, the raven forgotten almost at once. Today she had a more important appointment.
Thomas saddled the charger, taller and rangier than the average battle horse, built for speed as much as weight, his dished head betraying the traces of Arabian blood amongst his ancestors, his huge dark eyes kind in the chestnut head. Thomas lifted her high on to the horses broad back, then swung himself on to one of the palfreys. They had nearly reached the castle gates when Eleyne heard Rhonwens cry.
What do you think youre doing? Get that child off that horse! Rhonwen had seen her from the doorway to the tower.
Eleyne glanced at Thomas, tempted to kick Invictus into a gallop, but Thomas had put a steadying hand on her rein.
Sir William said I could, she said defiantly as Rhonwen ran towards them.
I dont believe you. Rhonwen tightened her lips. No one would give permission for a child to ride that animal. That horse must be seventeen hands.
Eleyne smiled. Yes, isnt he gorgeous? And hes as gentle as a lamb, really.
Get off! Rhonwens eyes were flashing dangerously. Get off him this minute. You are not going to ride him!
Why not, pray? Behind her Sir William had appeared in the courtyard. As he strode towards them, they could see his father standing in the doorway in the distance watching them. Sir Reginald was leaning on a stick, his face grey with pain in the bright sunlight. I gave her permission to ride Invictus, Lady Rhonwen. Shell be safe with him.
I dont want her on that horse. Rhonwen stood in front of Sir William, her fists clenched. Eleyne is my charge. If I forbid her to ride, she will not ride. She loathed this man with his easy arrogant charm, his assumption that every female near him, child or adult, would succumb to his smile.
Eleyne is my guest, madam. Williams eyes were suddenly hard. And this is my castle. She will do as she pleases here.
Eleyne caught her breath, looking from one to the other. Without even realising it, she had wound her fingers deep into the stallions mane. She was torn. She was passionately loyal to Rhonwen and she didnt want to see her bested, but this was a battle she wanted Sir William to win.
Rhonwens eyes had narrowed. You would risk the life of this child? Are you aware, Sir William, that this girl is the Countess of Huntingdon. She is a princess of Scotland. The alliance and friendship of three nations rests in her!