LITMIR.BIZ

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of loss as if she had been excluded from something private and special.

      ‘Eleyne, come here and sit by me.’ The prince indicated a stool near his feet, but his eyes were on his wife’s face and Eleyne, sympathetic, knew he felt the same as she. Instinctively she reached up and touched her father’s hand. Llywelyn smiled and pressed her shoulder gently. At least he would never have cause to doubt his daughter’s love and loyalty as he had begun, Christ forgive him, to doubt his wife’s. He turned and nodded to the bard.

      XVI

       ABER

      Rhonwen woke suddenly, every sense alert and straining, holding her breath as her eyes peered wildly around the silent chamber. The night was completely dark. Outside the narrow windows the valley was blanketed with mist; there were no stars; no moonlight pierced the gloom.

      The tall figure was standing in the deeper darkness of the shadowed corner near her bed. Arms folded, he stared down at her.

      ‘Where is the child?’

      Rhonwen sat up slowly, holding the bedclothes tightly beneath her chin. ‘What are you doing here? How did you get in?’ She was terrified.

      He ignored her question. ‘Where is the child?’

      Swallowing, Rhonwen could not stop herself looking across at the corner of the room where Eleyne’s bed was invisible in the darkness. Without going near it, she could sense that only Luned lay there, fast asleep.

      She shrugged. ‘I don’t know where she is. She often wanders around at night.’

      ‘Find her. The lessons must continue.’

      Rhonwen swallowed. ‘She’s afraid. Could you not leave it until she is older? Please …’

      ‘It will be too late when she is older. Find her. I shall wait by the alders as before.’

      Rhonwen closed her eyes. ‘Please –’ Her plea met with silence.

      He had vanished. Climbing out of bed, she groped with shaking hands for the candle on the coffer near the door and thrust it into the fire. The light sent the shadows leaping and cavorting up the walls, running up the bed hangings and across the ceiling, racing across the floor and towards the door. The room was empty. She pulled open the door. The short spiral stair leading down into the darkness was deserted. The rush light in its holder at the first curved angle of the wall burned with a steady flame. No one’s passing had caused it to flicker.

      Closing the door, she went back to the bed and sat down, shivering. Had it been a dream or had Einion slipped through the walls, his body a wraith without substance as he sought the child? She glanced at Eleyne’s bed again. Where was she and what was she doing?

      XVII

      Eleyne was in the stables. A small slim figure, wrapped in a thick dark cloak, she had slipped past the grooms unnoticed, ducking into Invictus’s stall. He whickered a greeting, nuzzling her hands for titbits, and she gave him the crusts of wastel bread saved especially from the kitchens. She settled at his feet in the deep hay. Einion would not find her here.

      She too had woken suddenly, aware of the questing mind of the bard seeking hers. She had sat up in the darkness, hearing the steady breathing of Luned and Rhonwen, feeling the warm solid weight of Luned’s sleeping form in the bed with her. Hugging her knees miserably, she tried to blank off her mind, fighting him, shaking her head, pressing her hands against her ears, then she snatched her clothes, threw them on and tiptoed out of the room. In the stables, she knew instinctively, she would be safe.

      ‘Well, well, what have we here!’ The voice, loud, attractive, pulled her unwillingly out of sleep. ‘Do you claim the ride because you were here first, little princess?’ Sir William de Braose stepped into the stallion’s stall and stood looking down at her, amused. The early morning sun blazed into the courtyard.

      Eleyne stretched her cramped legs and yawned as the great horse lowered his head and nuzzled her hair, blowing companionably in her ear. She kissed his soft nose and then climbed sheepishly to her feet. ‘I couldn’t sleep last night. I often come to see the horses when I am –’ She stopped. She had been about to say ‘frightened’ but that would never do. In daylight, with the palace bustling with activity, she would not admit even to herself her fear of Einion. ‘When I can’t sleep. I love it out here at night.’ She smiled at him shyly. That at least was true. She never found the darkness frightening. The cool still magic time of night when everyone else was asleep and the halls and castles were silent, patrolled only by the night guard, was very special to her.

      ‘So, are you ready for our ride?’ As one of the grooms hefted in the heavy wooden saddle, Sir William stood back and put his arm around her shoulders companionably. He glanced down at the glowing, tangled red-gold hair and again found himself wishing he could have had a son with half her spirit.

      Eleyne’s eyes were shining. ‘Are we going to toss for who rides Invictus?’ She could not disguise the wistful longing in her voice.

      He shook his head with a smile. ‘No, there’s a horse of your father’s I’m keen to try.’ He had decided the night before there must be no risk of disappointing her. ‘You may take Invictus.’

      It was as they mounted in the courtyard that the Princess Joan appeared, in a flurry of silks and furs, with two of her women attendants.

      ‘I have decided to go with you, Sir William,’ she called. She gestured at a groom to fetch her horse. ‘I want to see this daughter of mine ride. I had no idea she was such a fine horsewoman!’

      Eleyne looked at her in dismay. Her mother, beautiful, charming, her lovely eyes fixed on Sir William’s face, had not once glanced at her. Already Eleyne knew the ride was spoiled, and she became conscious suddenly of her old, torn gown, snatched on anyhow in the dark, and stuck through with stems of hay from her night in the stable. Her mother’s gown was new: a flattering gold, stitched with crimson silk.

      Sir William leaped off his bay stallion and bowed to Joan. ‘She’s worth watching, your highness,’ he said with a humorous glance across at the scowling child. ‘And we shall both be honoured to have you with us.’

      The two gazed at each other and Eleyne felt a shaft of jealousy knife through her. It was a reflex action to kick Invictus forward in a great bound and turn him for the gates. She did not look back. She knew the guards would follow her. So, in their own time, no doubt, would her mother and Sir William. Except that now Sir William would have no more eyes for her. He would, she knew, ride beside her mother.

      ‘What’s the matter, little princess?’

      As they stopped to take breakfast after two hours’ riding, Sir William walked across to Eleyne and sat beside her on the ground. Behind them the woods were pale green with new, reluctant leaves of birch and alder.

      She stared down into the cup of ale which she had been given. ‘Nothing’s the matter.’

      ‘Nothing?’ He smiled. ‘You didn’t want your mother to come, did you?’ He was watching her closely.

      ‘She spoils everything.’ Eleyne frowned. ‘We have to go slowly because of her.’

      ‘She loves you very much, you know.’ Sir William was not aware that his expression softened as he glanced across at Joan, seated decorously on a fallen log between her ladies, a white napkin on her knees.

      ‘She doesn’t love me at all.’ Eleyne was practical and unsentimental. ‘And she’s not interested in how I ride. She wanted an excuse to be with you.’ She scowled.

      Sir William did not deny it. ‘I’ll have a race with you, after you’ve drunk your ale,’ he whispered. ‘I bet you five silver pennies Invictus can’t beat your father’s new stallion.’

      Eleyne looked up, her eyes sparkling. ‘Of course he can.’

      Sir

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