Child of the Phoenix (63 page)

‘Boy!’ Robert bellowed for the servant who had followed them from the hall. ‘More lights. I want to see what I am doing!’ He threw himself down on the chair by the fire and watched as the boy moved round the room, lighting branch after branch of candles. On the far side of the chamber, the bed loomed dark beneath its hangings.

‘Enough. Now fetch a bucket of water.’ Robert sounded completely sober.

‘Water?’ Eleyne echoed.

‘Water,’ he repeated, and he laughed.

‘Why do you want water?’ A small unacknowledged knot of fear tightened in her stomach.

‘You will see.’ He folded his arms.

It was a long time before the boy reappeared, panting, with a large bucket of water. He put it on the floor with relief, slopping some over his shoes. From the door and down the stairs a wet trail showed the way he had come with his burden from the well.

Robert smiled; he did not seem to have grown impatient with the long wait. ‘Throw it on the fire.’

‘Sir Robert?’ The boy stared at him.

‘You heard me. Throw it on the fire.’ Robert stood up and the boy hastily picked up the heavy pail. Staggering slightly, he carried it to the hearth and tipped the water over the fire, which hissed and died in clouds of steam. Immediately the room began to grow chill.

Robert nodded grim approval. ‘Now leave us.’

The boy ran for the door, the pail banging against his knees.

‘Why did you put out the fire?’ Eleyne kept her voice steady with difficulty. She could feel her anger and fear mounting.

He folded his arms. ‘I’ve done it for your sake, wife. We don’t want you staring into the future too often, do we? Particularly if what you see frightens you.’

He began to unfasten his cloak. ‘Now, you may remove my shoes, if you please.’

She moved away from him. ‘No, I am not your servant.’

‘Oh, but you are, if I say so.’ He let his cloak fall to the floor. ‘Think of the Lady Rhonwen, my dear, with the rope around her neck.’ He moved so swiftly she did not have time to dodge. ‘I think you have to learn a little about obedience. I think your grand titles have gone to your head! Now, undress me.’

She side-stepped. ‘No. You are a knight, sir. You should be undressed by a man, by your squire. Surely it demeans you to be undressed by a woman.’ She could not keep the scorn out of her voice.

‘Not if that woman is a princess,’ he sneered. ‘Are you going to do as I say?’

‘No.’ Even the danger to Rhonwen was forgotten. ‘I shall go to my uncle the king. I shall show him what you have done to me.’ She fingered her cheek. ‘He will protect me.’

Just for a moment he hesitated, then he shook his head. ‘You will have to reach him first, my dear. Oh, I want you to see the king; I want you to see that I am given office at court, but first we are going to have to ensure that you have learned to be a good wife.’ His voice dropped menacingly. ‘Perhaps in future we should see that your bruises are not quite so obvious.’ As he lunged, she ducked away, dodging him, hearing his breath rasping in his throat as he spun around to follow her. She threw herself at the heavy door, her fingers scrabbling for the latch. She found it and pulled it half open but he was right behind her and, slamming it shut with his fist, he shot the bolt across. As he gripped her arm and swung her to face him, she caught the full blast of his wine-sodden breath and realised just how drunk he was.

She kicked at him but he ignored her, cursing as he dragged her across the room towards the bed. She fought him but he was too strong for her. He had no difficulty holding her with one hand as he ripped down the ornate woven cord which held back the bed hangings, letting the heavy curtains fall around the end of the bed. He pulled the cord tightly around her flailing wrists and pushed her face down on to the bed, binding the rope again and again around the oak bedpost, pinioning her securely.

He was panting as he stood back to survey his handiwork. Her veil had been torn off in the struggle, and her hair had fallen loose around her shoulders. Looking at her as she lay helpless before him, he smiled again then carefully he drew his dagger. His smile deepened as he heard her frightened intake of breath at the sight of the gleaming blade. He tested it with his thumb, enjoying her fear, then methodically, with exaggerated care, he began to cut off her clothes, reducing gown and mantle and shift to a tangle of brilliant rags.

Satisfied that she was naked, he left her and went to the coffer by the wall. He had obviously put the slender birch whip there during the day in anticipation of this moment. He took it out and flexed it, the smile still frozen on his face. ‘Your bruises will be where even the king will not see them, princess mine,’ he said softly.

She was helpless. All she could do was bite her lips, so as not to give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry out as he hit her again and again. When at last he stopped, she lay slumped across the mattress only half conscious that he was untying her.

‘Are you still going to tell the king?’ His mouth was close to her ear; she felt his hot stinking breath on her face. ‘If you do, I shall give you Rhonwen’s head to take to him as a present.’

Pushing himself away from the bed, he began to remove his own clothes. She raised her face, her hair in her eyes, her face burning in spite of the bitter cold of the room. Her whole body ached, the welts across her thighs and buttocks stung, and she felt the stickiness of the blood from the worst of the wounds, but she was not going to give him the satisfaction of thinking he had defeated her. She dragged herself to her feet as he removed the last of his garments.

‘Where do you think you are going?’ He was smiling again, naked now as she was, his hands on his hips, his member massively erect. ‘Get back on that bed.’

She found the courage to shake her head. ‘No.’ Her mouth was so dry she could hardly speak. ‘No, I will not sleep with you. Get out.’ It was not a plea; it was a command.

His face darkened and he stepped forward, meaning to catch her wrist, but she was too quick for him. Her fingers clawed, she dragged them down his face, seeing with satisfaction three ribs of black oozing blood open down his cheek. He let out an explosive curse and grabbed her, throwing her to the floor, then he reached with both hands for her hair. She screamed with pain as he pulled her on to her knees and held her for a moment, her head forced back, before he made her take his red, engorged penis in her mouth. Retching, she clawed at him, blind with fury and disgust, but she could not free herself until, satisfied at last, he pushed her away.

As he threw himself on to the bed, laughing, she crawled to the garderobe and vomited again and again down the latrine hole into the darkness, her naked body ice-cold and sheened with sweat. She knelt there for a long time, her forehead resting on the rim of the cold wooden seat before she found the strength to stand. Her hands still numb from the ropes, she pulled off the wedding ring her husband had given her the day before. She cupped it in her palm, feeling the weight of it for a moment, then let it fall four storeys into the fetid ditch below.

She was shaking uncontrollably as she walked back into the bedchamber. Robert was snoring. She pulled the torn curtain from its hook and wrapped it around her shoulders, then she turned away, fighting back a new wave of nausea. She had time to take only a few steps towards the bolted door before she collapsed on to the stone floor.

II

When she awoke, she was so bruised and stiff she could hardly move. The bed was empty; the fire had been made up, and Luned was bending over her.

‘Where is he?’ As Eleyne sat up a wave of dizziness swept over her.

Luned was tight-lipped. ‘I’ve sent for hot water and salves.’

The smears of blood on the curtain were evidence enough of what had happened. Silently Luned helped Eleyne to wash and anoint her bruises and cuts, then she dressed her in a shift of softest silk before putting on her gown.

‘I put the whip on the fire,’ she said as she brushed Eleyne’s hair.

‘Good.’ Their eyes met. ‘Did you see him this morning?’

For the first time Luned smiled. ‘Everyone saw him. He will carry those scars on his face for a very long time.’

III

‘You have to go, don’t you see?’ Eleyne shook Rhonwen’s arm. ‘As long as you are here he has a hold over me. He can make me do anything he wants. I can’t fight him while you are here.’

‘The man is an animal!’ Rhonwen spat at her. ‘He can’t be allowed to live! I can get rid of him for you. I can see to it that he dies – ’

Eleyne turned away. ‘No, that is not the answer.’ She pushed away the thought of John dying in her arms; of the empty goblet of dark green, earth-smelling infusion which he had drunk. She could never again allow that suspicion to rise to the surface of her mind.

‘Then what shall I do? I have to help you …’ Rhonwen’s eyes were narrow with hate.

‘You have to go while I work out how to deal with the situation.’ It was too painful to sit down. She leaned against the table, conscious that her sleeves, long as they were, failed to hide the rope marks on one of her hands.

Rhonwen frowned. ‘How can you deal with him? He can always resort to violence. That is the only language men understand, and before it we are powerless.’

‘I will think of something,’ Eleyne said grimly. ‘But you must go, don’t you see?’

Rhonwen sighed. ‘Where?’

‘As we planned before. I can give you money –’ Eleyne paused, realising that even that was no longer certain. ‘You must go where no one knows you and you can live under an assumed name. I know it will be hard, but you will be safe. I shall obtain a pardon for you somehow, I promise. One thing I know already: my husband longs to have a position in court. Secretly I think he delights in being married to the king’s niece, but he will have to take me to the king if he wants preferment.’

Countess Clemence helped her. She had swiftly formed a shrewd opinion of the young man who stood now at Eleyne’s side. He was obviously shallow, greedy and vicious and nothing Eleyne told her disabused her of this view. She nodded at once at Eleyne’s whispered, heavily censored tale, and said, ‘I shall give Rhonwen and Luned money. They can go to London, where I have houses. It is unthinkable that you should be threatened like this.’ She frowned, ‘Be careful, child. He is a spiteful young man.’

‘I’ll be careful.’ Eleyne took Clemence’s hands in hers. ‘You have been like a mother to me. I shall miss you so much when we leave Chester.’

Clemence smiled sadly. ‘And you have been the daughter I never had. You will always be in my prayers. I don’t know what will happen to the earldom of Chester now. I know your husband hopes he will get it through his marriage to you.’ She snorted derisively. ‘John de Lacy thinks he will be given it too, but I think the king will make the lack of a direct heir the excuse to take the earldom into his own hands. I shall have to move on of course. I’ll not stay under this roof with the king’s men in charge. I shall go to my own dower lands, and offer a home there to Lady Rhonwen and to your little Luned if they wish it. But in the meantime they will be safe in London.’

IV

The night after Rhonwen had left Eleyne countermanded her husband’s order about the fire.

‘Leave it,’ she ordered as the servant staggered in with the water to douse the flames. ‘We will keep a fire tonight.’

Robert frowned. ‘I said it should be put out.’

‘Not tonight.’ She spoke so forcefully that he hesitated and she seized the advantage. ‘You may go, take the bucket away. Sir Robert has changed his mind about sleeping in a cold room.’ She smiled at the boy, waiting to hear Robert’s shout of fury, but it didn’t come. He waited until the door had closed.

‘You will be sorry you did that,’ he said softly. ‘I do not expect my wife to defy me.’ Three parallel scratches flared angrily on his cheek.

Eleyne had been waiting for this moment, her fear eclipsed by her fury. ‘If you wish to sleep in the cold, sir, I suggest you go out to the stable. If you wish to sleep with me, you will behave as a knight and a gentleman. If not, the king shall hear of it. I have already written to him telling him that I am coming to see him. And do not think, sir, that I would be afraid to show the king my backside as evidence of your treatment to me. I will show him every inch of my body if I have to.’ The words echoed in the silence.

Robert looked uncertain. ‘Are you challenging me?’

‘I am telling you how this marriage will be conducted in future.’

‘A future without your nurse presumably.’ His eyes glittered.

She nodded. ‘A future free of your threats. Rhonwen has gone, so has Luned. There is no one here now that I care that much for – ’ She snapped her fingers beneath his nose. ‘If you wish to be a husband to me, sir, it will be on my terms if you hope for a career in the king’s service.’

He could of course lock her up and keep her from the king; he could, by law and custom, do anything he liked with her, except actually kill her, but she was fairly sure he wouldn’t. He wanted the king’s favour, and she was his only route to it.

V
December 1237

When the time came to leave Chester the baggage train was shorter than anything Eleyne was used to. It included her horses, her belongings, her dower plate and bedding, the wedding gifts she had received including two silver basins and a jewelled chaplet from the Queen of Scotland and a tapestry from Arras from her uncle the king. There were only a few servants: Robert announced on the last day that he could afford no more. It was hardly an escort fit for the Countess of Chester.