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want to take her to Degannwy?’

      Joan smiled. ‘A good idea. Why not? She can stay with Gruffydd and Senena.’ Her face betrayed the unfinished end to her sentence: three trouble-makers together, out of harm’s way.

      Rhonwen nodded, deciding to make the most of her unexpected ally. ‘She can continue her studies there as Lord Gruffydd already has tutors for little Owain. They could help her.’ Behind her a figure had entered the hall and was walking towards them. Her heart turned over with dread. She did not need to turn to know that it was Einion. She looked beseechingly at the prince, cold sweat suddenly filming her palms. ‘May I go, your highness?’ she whispered.

      Llywelyn frowned. ‘I see no reason why not. In fact, I shall give you a letter for Gruffydd. I don’t want the boy to think I have forgotten him entirely.’

      Joan’s eyes narrowed. ‘Surely that will merely encourage him to make more trouble.’

      ‘He is my son.’ Llywelyn silenced her firmly. He turned to Einion. ‘Good morning, Sir Bard. You are welcome.’

      Einion, leaning heavily on his staff, bowed before the prince but he was studying Rhonwen’s face with narrowed black eyes. ‘How is the princess, your charge, this morning?’ he asked.

      ‘Well,’ Rhonwen murmured. Her mouth had gone dry.

      ‘We have decided to let her go to Degannwy,’ Joan put in, pulling her cloak more tightly against the cold of the hall. She eyed Einion with dislike.

      Einion frowned. ‘No, she must not leave Aber.’

      Rhonwen felt her cheeks grow pale.

      ‘Why not, pray?’ Llywelyn frowned.

      ‘Her place is with you, sir. At your side. It would be unwise to let her go to her brother at this stage.’ Einion spoke with authority. He looked again at Rhonwen and it seemed to her that his eyes were sharp with suspicion.

      ‘Why, my friend?’ Llywelyn asked again.

      Rhonwen held her breath. As the two men looked at each other Rhonwen felt the power of the older man’s mind reaching out to his prince, trying to sway him. Llywelyn shook his head slightly as if feeling the pressure as a physical pain.

      He doesn’t know! Suddenly Rhonwen realised the truth – Einion was not all-seeing. He didn’t know that Eleyne had already gone. She felt weak with relief.

      Before Einion had a chance to reply Joan stood up abruptly. Her dislike of her husband’s most senior bard was obvious. ‘It is not your concern, Lord Einion, where our daughter goes, or why,’ she said coldly, and with a sharp imperious nod to Rhonwen she turned away. The matter was closed.

      X

      The mountains on both sides of the road were shrouded in mist. The horses’ hooves were muffled in mud. Looking behind her nervously for the tenth time, Rhonwen narrowed her eyes, searching the track for signs of pursuit. Surely Einion had seen her go? She had managed to arrange an escort and leave without the prince demanding to see Eleyne before she left, and she had been no more than two hours behind her charge when she turned east into the mountains. She rode fast, anxious to catch up, terrified even now that Einion would find a way to bring her back. In front of her, on the old Roman roadway, patches of mist drifted and swam, blocking out the view more than a hundred feet or so ahead. Trees vanished and reappeared, and in the silence she could hear, above the creak of the harness and the thud of the horses’ hooves, the sound of the river. Then that too faded as the road turned away from its banks and across the hills.

      It was early evening before Rhonwen came to the great river near the Abbey of Aberconwy which Eleyne’s father had founded thirty years earlier, and caught up at last with Eleyne and Cenydd as they waited for a boat to take them across the water to Degannwy. To reach the castle they had to cross the river where it narrowed before the broad estuary opened out to the north, and then from the jetty on the far side make their way on foot up to the great castle, built around the twin scree-covered peaks of the Vardre.

      There was no sign of pursuit. The road behind them was empty, shrouded in mist, and the water at their feet lapped dankly on the rocks with the rising tide. Rhonwen touched Eleyne’s shoulder. ‘The escort must take Invictus back to Aber. We’ll be safe now.’

      Eleyne hesitated. ‘You’re sure? You haven’t told him where I am?’ She gazed at Rhonwen: ‘You have. You’ve told him!’ Her voice rose in terror.

      ‘Your mother told him, not me,’ Rhonwen said. ‘There was nothing I could do. But he cannot reach you here, cariad. You’ll be safe here.’

      XI

       DEGANNWY CASTLE October 1228

      Gruffydd and Senena were waiting for them in the prince’s solar. Eleyne hurled herself into her half-brother’s arms and he swung her high off the floor.

      ‘Oh, Gruffydd, I’m so pleased to be safe here with you.’ She clung to him.

      He frowned. ‘What is it, little sister?’ He had never seen her afraid. ‘Sweetheart! you’re trembling.’ Setting her down, he glared at Rhonwen. ‘What’s happened? Why are you here?’

      Eleyne collected herself. She drew herself up, walked away from her brother and stood in front of the fire, her hands to the flames, her back turned squarely towards him. ‘Nothing has happened. I’m trembling because I’m cold.’ She changed the subject hastily. ‘Why do you keep making papa so angry, Gruffydd? You play right into Dafydd’s hands every time you do it!’

      ‘I know, sweetheart, I know.’ Gruffydd grimaced ruefully. ‘I curse myself and my stupid temper twenty times a day.’

      ‘And I curse him another twenty!’ Senena put in. She kissed Eleyne on the top of her head.

      ‘So, little sister.’ Gruffydd looked at her thoughtfully. ‘What have you done to be sent to this prison? It seems a fearful sentence for one so young.’

      ‘The Lady Eleyne is here to visit you, sir,’ Rhonwen put in. ‘She is not a prisoner.’

      ‘No?’ Gruffydd laughed bitterly. ‘Are you sure? The children of Llywelyn are only sent here when they are in disgrace. Near enough to Aber for papa to keep an eye on us, but far enough away to forget us too!’

      ‘Even so, sir, Eleyne is no prisoner,’ Rhonwen insisted.

      ‘No. I ran away,’ Eleyne put in softly. ‘I was afraid.’ She was about to say more when she caught Rhonwen’s eye and bit her lip.

      ‘The Princess Joan was angry when we came back uninvited from Llanfaes,’ Rhonwen explained. ‘She would not forgive Eleyne for that.’

      ‘Mother never likes me to be at Aber,’ Eleyne went on. ‘And Sir William de Braose likes me. That made her even angrier.’ She said it wistfully. ‘I think she likes him herself. So when I said I’d like to come here she agreed at once.’

      Rhonwen and Gruffydd exchanged glances and Gruffydd let out a soft whistle. ‘So, can the iron-willed Princess Joan be susceptible to mere human frailty after all? He is attractive to the ladies, is he, this Sir William?’

      ‘Indeed he is!’ Senena put in, teasing.

      ‘And you like him too, do you, sweetheart?’ Gruffydd chucked his sister under the chin.

      Eleyne blushed. ‘I like his horse.’

      Gruffydd let out a roar of laughter. ‘His horse, is it! Oh, sweet Eleyne! You’ve a little growing up to do, yet, I see.’

      XII

      Eleyne was playing with her little nephew, Owain, in the courtyard. He had set up a line of roughly

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