Child of the Phoenix. Barbara Erskine

Isabella who cornered her later. ‘The princess doesn’t know who betrayed her to her husband.’

      Rhonwen stepped back in front of the small whirlwind who had entered the bower and slammed the door behind her. The two of them were alone.

      ‘You were with Eleyne! You could have stopped her! You could have saved my father!’

      ‘I could have done nothing!’ Rhonwen’s temper flared. ‘If I hadn’t found them, others would have. They were careless, flagrant; the whole court had seen them.’

      ‘That is not true! She seduced my father …’

      ‘No, lady, no.’ Rhonwen felt sudden pity for this woman who was no more than a child, only a year older than her own Eleyne. ‘Don’t be under any illusion. They seduced each other. They could no more have stayed apart than could two moths from a candle. If Eleyne had said nothing, others would have spoken. There were too many whispers already. But why talk of it now? The past cannot be undone. Your father is dead, God rest his unhappy soul, and Llywelyn has forgiven his wife. Let it rest, lady.’ She turned and picked up an armful of clean linen to return to the lavender-scented coffer.

      ‘I’ll never let it rest!’ Isabella’s eyes were blazing. ‘I loved my father and one day I’ll clear his name. I’ll prove she seduced him. And I’ll prove you and Eleyne trapped him deliberately – ’

      ‘Lady Isabella – ’

      ‘No, it’s true. Perhaps the princess was part of it. Perhaps she did it just to ensnare and betray him. After all,’ her voice dropped to a hiss, ‘what happened to her? Two years in comfortable exile then she is back at Llywelyn’s side as though nothing had happened. Dafydd says his father trusts her totally. He is using her as his adviser and negotiator as though nothing had happened. He has forced Ednyfed Fychen to accept her in her old role as ambassador. He is allowing her to negotiate with her brother the king as though nothing had happened. And my father is dead!’ The last sentence came out as an anguished sob.

      Rhonwen was silent. For a brief moment she had glimpsed the lonely and frightened child inside the brash young woman, and remembered the urchin who, bare-legged, had climbed the scaffolding at Hay with Eleyne. Then the child was gone. Isabella straightened her shoulders.

      ‘Did Eleyne send you away?’

      ‘No.’ Rhonwen could not keep the pain from her voice.

      ‘But her husband did. And Princess Joan doesn’t want you. And neither do I.’ She paused. ‘I can have you dismissed if I want. I can have you sent into the mountains to starve.’ She smiled brightly. ‘Remember that, Lady Rhonwen, if I ever ask you to do anything for me.’ Fumbling with the door handle, she left the room.

      After that Rhonwen did her best to remain out of sight, choosing to eat and sleep with some of Princess Joan’s less important ladies rather than run the risk of drawing attention to herself. And she had written. Several times she had written, enclosing her letter with those from Llywelyn to Lord Chester and Lord Huntingdon, and once she had paid for a messenger of her own from her meagre savings, directing him straight to Bramber and bidding him put the letter into Eleyne’s own hands. None of the letters had received an answer.

      Disconsolately she followed the court from Aber to Llanfaes, to Cemaes in the far north of Anglesey, then down to Caernarfon and back to Aber. And now they had come over the water again to Rhosyr on the edge of the drifting sands.

      Twice she had seen Einion and both times he had asked after Eleyne. Her news had not pleased him. Shaking his head he had sighed. ‘She needs me. Her gift will destroy her. This man, her husband, does he understand her?’

      Rhonwen shrugged. ‘He is kind to her,’ she admitted reluctantly. ‘He has not forced her. He is a good Christian.’ She said the last under her breath.

      ‘She is sworn to the goddess, Lady Rhonwen. Nothing and no one can change that. And nothing can change her destiny. When the time is right, she will return to us.’

      Standing in the carved, ornate doorway to the hall, Rhonwen stared across the narrow strip of sea towards the wooded mainland. If there were a letter for her, would Joan tell her or would she throw it upon the fire as Lord Huntingdon presumably disposed of those she wrote to Eleyne?

      ‘Are you waiting for someone or merely eavesdropping as usual, Lady Rhonwen?’ Isabella’s light voice made her jump guiltily. Beyond her a gull, flying low over the silver water, let out a long yelping cry.

      Her slim body clothed in madder silks, her black hair covered in a net of silk sewn with pearls, Isabella looked a picture of elegance.

      Rhonwen forced herself to smile. ‘I was waiting to see if the messenger had brought me any letters – ’

      ‘Then why wait here? Why not come in and ask?’ Isabella flounced past her and, pushing the door wide, hurried up the shadowed aisle of the hall to drop a pretty curtsey before her mother-in-law.

      ‘The Lady Rhonwen is anxious to know if there is any news of Eleyne,’ she announced.

      Following her slowly, Rhonwen too curtseyed before the princess. Her heart was beating painfully.

      Joan looked up and frowned. ‘Indeed there is.’ Her voice was thin and strained as she stood up with a rustle of silks and put her arm around Isabella’s shoulder. ‘My dear, I am afraid I have some terrible, terrible news.’ Rhonwen went cold. Had something happened to Eleyne? Joan’s hands, she noticed, were shaking. ‘I have a letter from Bramber, from Lady Matilda de Braose. It is about your cousin, John. He has been killed. He was thrown by that wretched horse, the horse –’ Her voice broke and the tears began to run down her cheeks. ‘The horse your father gave to Eleyne!’

      II

       BRAMBER CASTLE

      The chapel had been filled to overflowing for the requiem mass and the congregation had spilled out on to the hillside around the small square building with its squat Norman tower, built by the first William de Braose two hundred years before outside the walls of his castle.

      Eleyne, swathed in black mourning veil like her sister and John’s mother, had sobbed uncontrollably throughout the service.

      It was my fault. She repeated the words again and again. It was my fault. I could have stopped it. I could have seen what was going to happen.

      But she hadn’t seen it and when the lady in the shadows had tried to warn her, she had not understood.

      ‘Oh, my dear.’ Mattie had taken her into her arms. ‘You mustn’t blame yourself, you mustn’t. You did everything you could. You begged him not to ride the horse.’

      It was Mattie who had countermanded Margaret’s hysterical command that the stallion be destroyed. ‘It could have happened at any time. John was a careless rider. He was too confident, too uncaring. He hurt the creature. Several people told me so.’

      ‘She tried to warn me. She tried to tell me to go away.’ Clinging to Mattie, Eleyne turned a tear-stained face to her. ‘She knew!’

      ‘So it seems.’ Mattie held her close. ‘My dear, we cannot change what is to be. We have to accept God’s will. It is He who decides these things, not us. One thing at least is sure. John is with his beloved grandmama now. I have seen so much death, my dear, so much sorrow, so much suffering in my life. There has to be a reason for it. God must have a reason.’ She steadied her voice with difficulty. ‘At least John did not suffer. He died instantly.’

      She did not speak out loud the cry in her heart. Why? Why when he was young and strong and healthy? Why could he not have outlived her? She, who had borne so many deaths, so many sorrows. Could not God have spared this one more? Why had he sent Eleyne, grandchild of King John, to take away her son, as the child’s grandfather had taken away her husband?

      Eleyne stood up restlessly and walked over to the window. For a long time