Child of the Phoenix (104 page)

Donald looked down at the flower. He wanted to tell Eleyne that she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen; she was so gracious, so lovely, so flawless in spite of the burn marks on her face and hands. He longed to kiss her, to feel her skin beneath his lips. She was so voluptuous compared with the maidens whom his parents paraded before him; so cool and composed compared to the queen’s ladies who giggled and simpered and ogled him behind their hands. Sweet Blessed Virgin, how he wanted her!

He frowned, torn. He must not, could not, think of her like that, she was a perfect wife, chaste, pure, the mother of two little boys, yet here she was in front of him in the moonlight, here in obedience to his summons. He clenched his fists and raised his eyes.

‘This is madness.’ She could feel him, that other presence, her king, her phantom lover, nearby. He was angry. The air crackled with cold impotent fury.

Donald smiled and nodded, holding out his hands to her. ‘I want you,’ he said helplessly.

She almost went to him. She reached out her hand, then lowered it. ‘Donald – ’

‘I’m sorry.’ He made a supreme effort to control himself. ‘I had no right, forgive me.’

‘There’s nothing to forgive.’ She smiled. ‘What woman could be angry with you?’

Reaching up she kissed him, once, lightly on the cheek, then, turning, she fled.

XII

William of Mar was pacing up and down the room when Donald appeared. He swung to face his son. ‘So there you are. Where have you been?’

Donald took a step back at the anger in his father’s voice. ‘With the horses, father.’ His face coloured slightly.

‘The horses or the whore?’ William’s voice dropped to a hiss. ‘God’s blood! If what I hear is true I shall flay you alive, boy!’

Donald straightened. ‘I am no longer a boy, father.’

‘Really? Did she tell you that?’ William’s voice slid into a sneer.

Donald looked his father in the eye. He respected William and had always gone rather in awe of him, but now his temper flared. ‘I don’t know what you have heard, father, or who you heard it from,’ he said with enormous dignity. ‘But I have formed no liaisons of which I should be ashamed and I have done nothing to dishonour myself or any lady at this court.’ He had wanted to – Sweet Virgin how he had wanted to. But he had respected her wishes. He had not followed her; instead he had stood for what had seemed like hours alone in the icy garden, staring up at the moon.

William took a turn around the table, his hands beating sonorous time, fist on palm, as he tried to regain control of his temper. ‘I understand your feelings, Donald, believe me. She is a beautiful woman. She’s almost led better men than you to their doom. You do know she was the old king’s mistress?’

Donald scowled at him. ‘That’s a lie!’

‘No, boy, it started before you were born.
Before you were born
,’ he repeated. ‘Sweet Jesu, Donald, the woman is twice your age! She carried Alexander’s bastard. There was a time when he wanted to marry her, to make it his heir. Thank Christ good sense prevailed and he married Marie. Have you never wondered why Queen Marie hates Lady Fife so much? Have you never wondered why Lady Fife is the king’s godmother?’ He regarded his son with sympathy. ‘She’s an attractive woman, Donald, damned attractive. But not for you. Not for anyone. She’s married, and Lord Fife would tolerate no one meddling with his wife. Up to now he has seen your attentions as a joke. He hasn’t taken them seriously. But if he hears the rumours I have heard, he will find it a joke no longer.’

‘But she loves me.’ Donald’s chin stuck out mutinously.

‘I dare say she does, you’re a handsome enough young man and I hear her fleshly appetites are insatiable! No doubt she has used her magical arts to ensnare you just as she did the king.’ He sighed. ‘But you have to leave her alone.’

‘She has not ensnared me. I love her. I have loved her from the first moment I saw her. I have loved her all her life …’

‘I don’t care if you’ve loved her for all eternity!’ William suddenly lost patience. ‘You will not see her again. And you will go back to Kildrummy with me if I have to knock you senseless and tie you across your horse.’ He glared at his son. ‘And to make your decision easier, you may as well know that Lord Fife is taking his wife away from court. A word in his ear was all it took.’

‘You told him?’ Donald was white to the lips.

‘Of course I didn’t tell him. Do you think I want my son and heir gralloched like a slaughtered stag? He has been told that his presence is not required in the government and that it would be as well if he and his wife returned to Fife for the time being.’

XIII

Donald met Eleyne that night in the dark angle of the herb garden wall.

‘What is it?’ She put her hand to his cheek; his note had been so abrupt, so urgent she had been unable to ignore it.

‘My father knows,’ he blurted out. ‘We must have been seen! He has ordered me back to Kildrummy.’

Eleyne’s hand dropped to her side; perhaps it was as well. ‘So,’ she said listlessly. ‘And are you going to obey him?’

He shook his head violently. ‘How could I leave you? But he said … he said you and your husband were leaving.’

She gave a wry smile. ‘We are. Malcolm has been excluded from the king’s council. I thought it was because they did not trust him, but it seems that it is my fault.’

‘If my father knows I love you, your husband will find out,’ Donald said.

Eleyne stood leaning against the wall. The stone was icy. ‘I don’t care that much for what Malcolm thinks.’ She snapped her fingers in the air. ‘But he is a jealous man, Donald. He would kill you if he thought I returned your love.’ The matter-of-factness in her voice made the hairs prickle on the back of his neck. ‘Perhaps it would be better for you to go to Kildrummy and forget me.’ And better for me. The words were unspoken. Before my foolishness leads us both into real danger.

‘No.’

She faced him, scanning his face with serious eyes in the icy starlight: ‘You would risk so much for me?’

‘More, much more, my lady. Dragons, monsters of the deep!’

She laughed. ‘Oh, Donald! And ghosts? Would you brave ghosts?’ The question hovered in the silence.

‘And more still! Manticoras; unicorns; the deadly cockatrice!’ Without thinking he pulled her into his arms, his eyes sparkling. ‘Oh, my darling!’

‘Wait –’ she tensed – ‘someone is coming.’ She pushed him away.

Donald listened, ‘No, it’s the wind.’ He caught her hand and drew her to him again. ‘There’s a storm coming. You can hear the trees in the park outside the walls.’

Was it the wind? Or was it Alexander, watching from the shadows? Eleyne could feel a coldness on her skin, a sense of dread in the air. Then, as suddenly as it had come, it was gone.

She relaxed. ‘Dragons fighting perhaps.’

‘Or mating in the dark. The roar you hear is their cry of ecstasy.’ He put his arms around her. ‘Don’t go with him tomorrow, please.’

This time she did not push him away. ‘I have to,’ she whispered, ‘I have to, Donald, or we’ll both be lost!’ She touched his face gently. ‘I have to see my children.’

‘But you will come back to court?’

She caught her breath, frightened by the longing, so like a hunger, which overwhelmed her as he pulled her against him again. ‘Of course I shall come back.’

‘Soon.’

‘Soon, I promise.’ She glanced over her shoulder. ‘I must go.’

Donald frowned. ‘You won’t –’ He paused, unable to summon the words. ‘You won’t let Lord Fife touch you –’ His voice trailed into silence.

Eleyne touched his lips with her forefinger. ‘He is my husband, Donald,’ she said gently, ‘I cannot prevent him.’

As she made her way back alone towards the great keep of the castle, its doors and windows alight with candlelight, there were tears in her eyes. She had let it all go too far; she must not see him again. For a wonderful, glorious moment she had begun to see Donald of Mar as her lover, but for his sake, and for hers, that could never be.

XIV
FALKLAND CASTLE
Christmas 1257

Rhonwen eyed Malcolm warily; this man had always earned her grudging respect in spite of the violence of his methods and Eleyne seemed content with him. She was prepared to listen to anything he had to say.

Malcolm smiled to himself as he read correctly what was going on in her mind. He had listened in silence to John Keith’s account of the murder of Robert de Quincy and, like him, had felt a shudder of horror at the thought of a woman capable of such cold-blooded killing. Such a man he would have welcomed amongst his followers; about a woman, whose loyalty was to his wife and not to himself, he was far less sanguine. She had meekly resumed her duties in the nursery, without once, as far as he knew, arousing Eleyne’s suspicion. Was there madness in those eyes, he wondered, behind that cold stare? Once again he shivered.

‘You did well in London, Lady Rhonwen,’ he said. ‘My thanks.’

Rhonwen bowed.

‘You would do much I think for my wife,’ he went on thoughtfully.

‘I would die for her.’

‘Let us hope that will not be necessary,’ Malcolm said grimly. He strolled across to the table. ‘I heard disturbing rumours while she and I were at Dunfermline and I am at a loss as to how to deal with them,’ he went on carefully. He took a letter from the table and held it up, his back still towards her. ‘I wonder whether you can advise me.’

Rhonwen made no reply and after a moment he went on: ‘It seems that she is being pursued by a young court gallant.’ He turned, his face carefully expressionless. He had thought Donald’s attentions a joke. His informant, anonymous, but seemingly knowledgeable, thought otherwise. ‘The young man is the son of a colleague – a friend – whom I have no wish to upset. However, the boy’s attentions are causing Eleyne much distress. Much distress,’ he repeated with emphasis. ‘That is one of the reasons I insisted that she return here with me, but I fear he may try to follow her here.’

‘And pursue her under your roof?’ Rhonwen raised an eyebrow.

He shrugged elaborately. ‘He has a way with words, I understand.’

‘A way my lady can’t resist?’ Rhonwen was incredulous.

‘He saps her will to fight.’ Malcolm’s voice grew angry. ‘When she is here, apart from him, she is in despair, begging to be saved from his bewitchment, then she falls back under his spell and asks me to do nothing; to spare him for his youth and foolishness.’ He leaned towards her. ‘She has pleaded with me to save her. I ride back to Stirling this afternoon to rejoin the court. You must come with me and remain behind when I return to Falkland.’ He held her gaze. ‘I think you will know what to do, Lady Rhonwen, now that you have experience in these matters. You do understand me?’

Rhonwen nodded.

‘And you will not speak to my wife of your mission. It would only distress her unnecessarily.’

Rhonwen’s eyes narrowed. ‘I would not act without knowing what she wanted. I only do what I think is best for her. Ever.’

Malcolm took a deep breath. ‘I have already told you what she wants, Lady Rhonwen. That is why she is begging for our help. She is enslaved by this young man. That is why I have asked you to assist me. Do you think I would have done so did I not want someone who understands my wife and who loves her unreservedly? I could send anyone to dispose of him. John Keith would do my bidding without a second thought as you know well. But I would rather it were you.’

Rhonwen was half flattered, half wary, but he swept on, not giving her time to think. ‘He threatens your lady’s happiness; he threatens her very life, Lady Rhonwen. Don’t fail her.’

He met her eye and held it and she wondered if he knew. Was he aware of his wife’s secret lover? Did he know that he shared her with a ghost? Was this what he was saying: that Alexander, too, wanted the boy’s death?

‘Help me, I beg you,’ he repeated quietly. ‘You would be above suspicion; you would have access to him and he will come to you, knowing you are her friend, hoping to enlist your aid.’ He smiled coldly. ‘You would have the perfect opportunity, Lady Rhonwen. It can be done quickly and quietly, without fuss, in a way which would cause the minimum distress.’