Child of the Phoenix (64 page)

At least to begin with they were to live at Fotheringhay. Eleyne took comfort from the familiar surroundings, which had seen so much of her marriage to John, but it was small compensation for the misery of her new life. She was trapped. Her dreams had come to nothing. Einion’s predictions were so much dust, blown and vanished on the wind. To keep herself sane, she allowed a tenuous thread of hope to remain deep inside her, that Alexander would hear of her plight and find the means to rescue her and declare her marriage invalid – but reality was too pressing and too unhappy to allow her time for dreams.

Robert had not mentioned the missing wedding ring. He had taken note of her threats and ceased his overt tormenting of her, often drinking himself insensible in the hall and sleeping there amongst his companions. But when he was sober enough to come to her room, he took every opportunity to assert his will, and in bed, where she had no choice but to obey him, he hurt her viciously and frequently, never enough to leave a mark, but enough to make her dread each day’s end. There was little to distract him save hunting: there was no earldom now, no great estates to administer. Eleyne’s dower lands were still the subject of royal enquiry; even the manor and castle of Fotheringhay might be taken from her, though now she had letters confirming that she could for the time being consider Fotheringhay, Nassington and Baddow as part of her inheritance to give her and Robert an income to live. Robert instructed bailiffs in her name to visit them and raise money.

When the chance came at last to ride to London, they both – for their own reasons – seized it with alacrity. The court was at Westminster and Robert’s brother, Lord Winchester, had suggested that they join him in the south as the February ice began to give way to the long-hoped-for thaw.

They were guests in a stone-built house in one of the new fashionable suburbs of London south of the River Thames at Southwark and there a letter came for Eleyne. She took it with a glance at her husband, hoping he had not seen it, but he had spotted it at once. The seal was blurred. She could not immediately recognise it.

‘A letter, madam,’ he said with the smooth smile which she had come to loathe. ‘Please, allow me to see it.’

‘It is addressed to me, sir,’ Eleyne retorted, her voice tight with anger. She saw the raised eyebrows of her husband’s family around them and forced herself to smile. ‘Come, you cannot ask to see my billets-doux. What would my lovers think!’

The message was from Rhonwen, she was sure of it. Dear God, how could the woman have been so foolish as to send it openly here? It was three months since Rhonwen and Luned had ridden out of Chester Castle into the icy winter’s night. They had not been heard of since.

Robert laughed heavily. ‘If that is a billet-doux, sweetheart, all the more reason for your husband to see it. I wish to know who your secret admirers are.’ Stepping forward he snatched the letter from her hand. She saw his brother’s frown of disapproval. The Earl of Winchester seemed to have little time, normally, for his youngest brother and she suspected that their invitation now was due solely to his curiosity about his new sister-in-law.

She glanced at Robert as he broke open the seal on the letter and watched his face nervously as he read the contents. It was several moments before he looked up. Far from registering fury he looked pleased.

‘This is from your aunt, the Queen of Scots. She has arrived in London and wishes you to call upon her.’

‘Aunt Joanna?’ Eleyne was quite unprepared for the jolt of shock and excitement which swept through her. ‘And the King of Scots? He is not in London?’ She realised it was impossible even as she said it. Her heart had started beating very fast. Terrified he might see the longing in her eyes she looked down at the floor.

‘Of course not.’ He tossed the letter on to the table. ‘The queen has been visiting the shrine of St Thomas at Canterbury, it seems. She is on her way back to Scotland.’

‘Then I shall go to her.’ Eleyne could not hide the happiness in her eyes. ‘It is a long time since I saw Aunt Joanna, and she was so ill then. I shall go today.’

‘You will go when I can spare you,’ Robert said heavily. ‘And then I shall go with you.’

Eleyne stared at him, her heart sinking. ‘But, has she asked to see you too?’

‘You do not go alone.’ Robert scooped the letter off the table and walked deliberately across the small room to drop it on the fire. Eleyne had not had the chance to see it at all.

Lord Winchester frowned. ‘You cannot go to see her grace of Scotland, Robert, if she has invited Eleyne for a private family visit. I have heard that the queen’s health is still not good. She will not wish to receive you.’

‘Then Eleyne must wait until she does.’ Robert scowled. ‘She will in any case be busy with me at court. We are to call upon her uncle tomorrow.’ He had ordered himself a complete set of new clothes at Eleyne’s expense: an embroidered, long-sleeved tunic over which would go a rich tabard. With these would go new stockings, cross-gartered in scarlet, and soft shoes buckled in silver. Over the whole outfit he planned to throw a new mantle, lined with miniver. His wife, he had decided without consulting her, would wear her silver gown, something she had not worn since their wedding day, and with it the ornate head-dress that the Queen of Scots had sent her as a wedding gift.

He himself had given her a cloak lined with sables paid for by her rents. It pleased him that it would contrast nicely with his own.

Eleyne did not argue. It did not matter to her what she wore; what mattered was that she should manage to catch the king’s ear alone and she was afraid this was almost certain to be impossible. She wanted the king to know what he had done in marrying her to Robert de Quincy and she had to try to obtain the pardon for Rhonwen.

There had been no word from the latter, no clue as to where she and Luned might be staying, and there was nowhere she could send to find out. She did not trust any of the servants now, nor seek to make special friends of them. They all liked her, of that she was fairly certain, but it would not be fair to expose any of them to her husband’s vindictive wrath. She had seen him flog a page boy for dropping a basin of water which splashed across his master’s shoes. The child had nearly died. If anyone defied Robert de Quincy it could only be his wife, and she defied him, she knew, at her peril.

The Norman Abbey of Westminster with at its east end the new Lady Chapel which housed the shrine of St Edward the Confessor lay bathed in sunshine next morning as the Countess of Chester and her husband made their way to the Palace of Westminster and into the presence of the king. With him was his young queen, Eleanor, and beside her sat the Queen of Scots and Margaret, Countess of Pembroke.

‘So, niece, how do you like your new husband?’ Henry called out jovially as she appeared. He reached across for the queen’s hand. Eleyne, curtseying before him, did not answer. Her face was bleak. ‘It is good to see you again, my uncle.’

He frowned with a glance over her shoulder at Robert who had bowed before him with an elaborate flourish. Then he went on. ‘As you see, your Aunt Joanna is here. And the Princess Margaret. They especially asked to be here when I told them you were coming this morning.’ He smiled across at his sister and then at the woman with whom he had once been so in love.

Joanna looked very pale and tired. Her eyes were full of unhappiness as she smiled at Eleyne. ‘I hope you will come and visit me at my lodgings in the Tower, Eleyne. I return to Scotland soon and I would like to talk.’

‘I should like that too, your grace,’ Eleyned smiled. ‘If I can persuade my husband to allow me out of his sight.’ She softened the words with a smile but there was no mistaking the harsh note in her voice.

Henry raised an eyebrow. ‘I am sure he will allow you to visit whoever you wish, Eleyne.’ Not for the first time he felt a twinge of conscience about the way he had hustled his niece into this marriage. He had comforted himself that Robert was a handsome young blade and must be a damn sight better husband than the constantly sick Earl of Chester had ever been, but seeing them together he knew in his heart that was not the case. Robert’s obsequious smile did not extend to his eyes, and however smart he looked – the king took a minute to examine the cut of his clothes with a professional eye – he could not hide the unpleasant arrogance of his demeanour, nor the possessive way he now took his wife’s arm. Henry’s gaze lingered on the place where Robert’s fingers crushed the silk of her sleeve.

‘I shall require you to wait on me here, Sir Robert,’ he said firmly. ‘And you will allow Eleyne time to visit her aunt whenever she wishes.’

The gratitude in her eyes did not make him feel any more comfortable.

VI
THE TOWER OF LONDON
February 1238

‘Why did you marry him?’ Joanna was reclining in her bed, her ladies banished to the far side of the room so she and Eleyne could talk privately.

‘I had no choice.’ Eleyne outlined what had happened, as her aunt’s eyes rounded in horror.

‘Alexander knew nothing of this, I am sure of it. When he met Henry at York, they spoke of you, he told me so. He told me Henry said you had agreed to the marriage and were pleased with it.’ Joanna lay back and closed her eyes. ‘It made him angry that you should be married to someone without title. He said you must have fallen desperately in love with the young man and the king was granting your whim.’

Eleyne stared at her in horror. ‘How could anyone think that I would choose to marry Robert?’ she cried. ‘I hate him!’

Joanna bit her lip. ‘I can see you do. Poor, sweet Eleyne. My brother is a fool. Had it been a dynastic marriage no one could have queried what he ordered. But to marry you to a nobody –’ She shuddered.

‘It was to insult my father.’ Eleyne wrapped her arms around herself, cold in spite of the huge fire which burned in the grate. ‘I can think of no other reason for him to act so quickly and so cruelly. It made papa so angry.’ She shook her head. ‘And yet the king allowed my sister, Margaret, to marry the man she loved.’

‘I remember,’ Joanna said, ‘but she obtained a release from him in writing. You told me.’ She glanced at Eleyne thoughtfully. ‘Do you love someone then, someone you could have married?’

Eleyne could feel the heat in her cheeks. ‘No, there is no one I could have married.’

‘I see.’ It was several seconds before Joanna went on. ‘That must make it a little less hard to bear.’

‘No, it doesn’t. I have to spend the rest of my life with that man; I have to obey him. I have to carry his children!’

It was a thoughtless remark. She knew it as soon as she had said it. ‘I’m sorry, I forgot.’

Joanna said, ‘I went to the shrine of St Thomas at Canterbury and I have visited the shrine of St Edward at Westminster. I have prayed that they will intercede, as I have prayed to our own Blessed Margaret and to St Bride. I have lit enough candles to bring daylight into the great hall at Westminster Palace!’ She smiled wanly. ‘One of them will hear me.’

‘Of course they will.’ Eleyne took her hands and squeezed them gently. ‘You are but young still, so much younger than mama when she had me.’

‘I am twenty-eight. By the time she was my age your mother already had four children.’ Joanna lay back listlessly.

Eleyne smiled ruefully. ‘I understand a little. I prayed so hard that I would have John’s baby, but it was not to be.’

They sat in silence and, taking a cue from their obvious sadness, Joanna’s lady-in-waiting, Auda, moved towards them with her lute and began softly to play.

VII
LORD WINCHESTER’S HOUSE, SOUTHWARK

‘So, did you remember your obedience to me?’ Robert was standing with his back to the fire, his arms folded across his chest. The servants had left them for the night.

Eleyne was combing out her hair, making the task last as long as she could. ‘I tried not to remember you at all,’ she said tartly. ‘The Queen of Scots and I talked of family matters.’

‘And you did not complain to her that I abuse you?’

‘What would be the use of complaining?’ Eleyne swung round to face him. ‘The queen could do nothing. It is her brother, the King of England, who will act if I ask him.’

‘But you won’t ask him.’ Robert’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Will you?’

She held his gaze. ‘He is responsible for marrying me to you,’ she said softly, almost unaware of the thread of menace in her voice. ‘And he is sorry for it.’