LITMIR.BIZ

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Your father descends from the ancient kings of Britain, and I from the Druid priests. And you, amongst all the children of your father, have been chosen for the gift of the Sight, for you are his seventh child.’

      Eleyne’s mouth had gone dry. Suddenly she wanted to run away. His seriousness oppressed her. The room was airless and hot. She glanced past Rhonwen to the driftwood fire which smouldered low in the hearth. The flames flickered up: red-blue fingers, beckoning, licking the wood they consumed. The smoke was acrid – salt from the old plank remnants of a boat thrown up by the gales.

      ‘Can I go back to my embroidery now?’ She directed the question urgently at Rhonwen. Her skin was icy with fear.

      Rhonwen said nothing. She was staring helplessly at Einion.

      It is my fault, she was repeating to herself, I needn’t have told him. Now he will never let her go.

      Once again he smiled. ‘Of course you may return to your embroidery. But we shall see each other again soon. I am going to come here to Llanfaes to give you lessons myself.’

      ‘What sort of lessons?’ Eleyne asked suspiciously.

      ‘Interesting lessons. You will enjoy them.’ Again the smile. ‘There is only one thing you must promise me. That you will keep our meetings a secret. Can you keep a secret, Eleyne?’

      ‘Of course I can.’

      ‘Good. No one must know I come here, save you and the Lady Rhonwen and I. Not even your little friend, Luned. Do you think you can keep a secret from her?’

      ‘Easily.’ She was scornful. ‘I have lots of secrets from her.’

      ‘Good.’ He stood up. He was tall, lean, not stooped. Eleyne looked up at him in awe.

      ‘I shall return in three days.’ He turned to Rhonwen as he picked up his long wooden staff. ‘By then I shall have chosen somewhere safe to meet. See that you have a story to cover her absence all day from the prince’s hall. You did well, my daughter, to tell me about her.’

      VI

      ‘I don’t want to go!’ Two days later Eleyne was confronting Rhonwen with clenched fists. ‘I didn’t like him. What can he teach me? You teach me all I need to know.’

      Rhonwen took a deep breath. ‘You have to go – ’

      ‘I don’t. My father doesn’t know about it, does he? He would not approve. Nor my mother.’ She pursed her lips primly. For two days she had pondered why Einion’s lessons had to be secret. This seemed to be the only explanation.

      Rhonwen took another deep breath. ‘Eleyne, they are for your own good.’

      ‘Why? What is he going to teach me?’

      ‘I don’t know exactly – ’

      ‘Then how do you know it will be good for me?’

      ‘I just know. They are secret things, Eleyne. Even I may not know them. But you are special, as Einion told you. You are the descendant of the ancient kings. You have the Sight.’

      ‘And he is going to teach me about what I saw? About the history of long ago?’

      Rhonwen shrugged. ‘I suppose that may be part of it.’

      Eleyne paused. At last her curiosity was beginning to overcome her inexplicable feeling of dread. ‘You will come with me, won’t you?’

      ‘I don’t know.’ Rhonwen looked away evasively.

      ‘You must go with her.’ Cenydd had appeared silently, pushing through the curtained doorway and pausing in the shadows, a frown on his face. ‘You cannot let her go alone.’

      Rhonwen went white. ‘You don’t know what we’re talking about.’

      ‘You are talking about Einion Gweledydd. I warned you, Rhonwen!’ he sighed. ‘I told you not to do it.’

      Eleyne looked from one to the other, confused. ‘Rhonwen?’

      ‘Take no notice, cariad. Cenydd is jealous. He wanted to teach you himself.’

      ‘And so I shall!’ Cenydd smiled at her fondly. ‘As soon as I return. I am summoned to Aber,’ he added to Rhonwen in a low voice. ‘There has been renewed fighting in the border march.’

      ‘And Gruffydd?’

      ‘He is still at Degannwy. Prince Llywelyn has sent Senena and the boys to join him there and he has kept Dafydd at his side.’

      Rhonwen swore softly. ‘So, Dafydd consolidates his position! We have to do something to help Gruffydd – ’

      ‘Dafydd has a new embarrassment on his hands which could help.’ Cenydd smiled. ‘It seems that the prince has captured de Braose.’

      Eleyne’s attention was caught by the name. ‘Isabella’s father?’

      ‘Exactly.’ Cenydd laughed out loud. ‘It will be interesting to see how the negotiators handle that one. I suspect Llywelyn still hankers after the de Braose alliance. It neutralises Sir William, for all he rides with the king at the moment, and with the marriage formalised Prince Llywelyn will have an ally in mid-Wales.’

      ‘What will happen to Gwladus now that Sir Reginald is dead?’ Eleyne asked suddenly. ‘Will she come home?’

      ‘She will marry again, cariad,’ Rhonwen said gently. ‘Don’t look to see her here. I doubt if she would want anyway to come back beneath her mother’s roof.’

      ‘And she’ll want a younger man this time, I’ll warrant!’ Cenydd laughed quietly.

      ‘Then I shall pray for her sake she gets one. But we will not discuss that now.’ Rhonwen scowled at him.

      ‘Will they bring Sir William to Aber?’ Eleyne had missed the interchange. ‘I would love it if he came with Invictus.’

      ‘I don’t know, child,’ Rhonwen frowned again. ‘I doubt if they’ll bring him north. He will probably buy himself his freedom before we know it. We shall have to wait and see.’

      VII

      Einion had picked a deserted hermit’s cell in the woods behind Penmon.

      Rhonwen dismounted, staring at the closed door of the stone-built shack. A haze of smoke was escaping through the holes in the turf roof. Eleyne remained in her saddle, her fingers firmly wound into Cadi’s mane. ‘You won’t leave me.’

      ‘I must if Einion orders it.’ Rhonwen approached the door and after a slight hesitation she knocked. For several moments nothing happened, then slowly it opened. Einion was wearing a long black mantle over his embroidered tunic. In the shadowy doorway it made him look wraithlike, almost invisible.

      ‘So, you are here. Where’s the child?’ He peered beyond Rhonwen into the trees where Eleyne waited. It was raining heavily, the raindrops drumming on the leaves, tearing them from the trees. The trunks glistened with moisture and the ground was a morass of mud beneath their horses’ hooves.

      Eleyne dismounted. She was wrapped in a heavy woollen cloak against the rain, and it dragged on the ground as she walked unhappily towards him.

      ‘Good. You may come back for her at dusk.’

      ‘No.’ Eleyne turned and ran back to Rhonwen, clinging to her arm. ‘No, I want her to stay!’

      The old man studied her. ‘Strange, I had not marked you for a coward, princess.’

      ‘I am not a coward!’ Stung, Eleyne straightened her shoulders.

      ‘Good. Then you will do well. Come in.’ He stood back, motioning her into the hut. As she stepped hesitantly into the

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