Child of the Phoenix (8 page)

‘It was a dream, Eleyne.’ Rhonwen was gazing over her head at the empty sea. She was completely cold. ‘A dream, nothing more.’

‘Am I going mad, Rhonwen?’ Eleyne clung to her.

‘No, no, of course not.’ Rhonwen pulled her closer. ‘I don’t know why it happened. Too much excitement this morning perhaps. Come, let’s catch the ponies and go back to the others. The wind is getting chill.’

Behind them a line of cats’ paws ran down the channel and high on the misty peaks the dying sun brought darkness to the high gullies.

IV

‘You are sure she has the Sight?’ Cenydd leaned forward and refilled Rhonwen’s wine goblet. He frowned down at the fire which burned between them. Behind them in the body of the hall men and women busied themselves at their various tasks. The children had retired to their sleeping chamber and Rhonwen had just returned from seeing that Eleyne was all right. She and Luned lay cuddled in each other’s arms, dead to the world. Rhonwen had stared down at them for several minutes in the light of her candle before she turned away and returned to the hall.

‘What else can it be? I don’t know what to do, Cenydd.’

‘Why must you do anything?’

‘Because if she has this gift from the gods, she has to be trained. I have to tell Einion that she is ready.’

‘No!’ Cenydd slammed his goblet down on the table at his elbow. ‘You are not to give her to those murdering meddlers in magic. Her father would never allow it.’

‘Sssh!’ Rhonwen said. ‘Her father would never know. Listen, if it is her destiny, who are we to deny it? Do you think I haven’t been praying this wouldn’t happen again?’

‘It’s happened before?’

‘When we were at Hay. She saw the destruction of the castle.’

‘Does she realise –?’

‘I told her it was a dream. The first time I think she believed me. This time, no. She knows in her heart it was no dream, at least no ordinary dream.’

‘Did she see past or future?’

Rhonwen shrugged. ‘I didn’t like to question her too far. That’s for the seer. He’ll know what to do.’

She had struggled with her conscience for months, ever since the vision at Hay. If Eleyne had powers, they had to be trained, for the sake of her country and its cause under Gruffydd of freedom from England; she knew that. But once the seers and bards heard of Eleyne’s gift Rhonwen would lose her to them and to her destiny.

‘You’re a fool if you tell him. He’ll never let her go.’ Cenydd reached for the flagon of wine. ‘You wouldn’t bring him here?’

‘I must. I dare not defy the princess again. Anyway, there’s too much unrest and unhappiness at Aber. Later – I don’t know. It will be for him to speak to the prince if he thinks she has been chosen.’

‘And her husband? What of the child’s husband? He will surely not approve of his wife being dragged into paganism and heresy; I hear the Earl of Huntingdon is a devout follower of the church.’

‘The marriage can be annulled.’ Rhonwen dismissed the Earl of Huntingdon as she always dismissed him, with as little thought as possible. She groped surreptitiously for the amulet she wore around her neck beneath her gown. ‘Everything can be arranged if it is the wish of the goddess, Cenydd.’

He frowned. He saw his cousin’s passionate faith as alternately amusingly harmless and extremely dangerous. He did not like the idea of that pretty, vivacious child being turned into a black-draped, sinister servant of the moon. On the other hand, he shuddered superstitiously, if she had the Sight, then perhaps she was already chosen.

V

Eleyne was sitting at her embroidery lesson three days later when a servant brought the message that Rhonwen wanted to see her. She threw down her silks with alacrity. Although already a neat, accurate sempstress, with a flair for setting the colours on the pale linen, she soon grew bored with the lack of activity when she was sewing. Any variation of the routine was to be seized with enthusiasm.

Rhonwen sat at the table in the solar with an old man. There was no sign of Cenydd. Disappointed, Eleyne closed the door and went to stand near them.

‘Eleyne, this is Einion Gweledydd. As you know, he is one of your father’s bards,’ Rhonwen said.

Eleyne dropped a small respectful curtsey but her curiosity already had the better of her. She loved the bards with their constant supply of stories and music, their recitations of history and the tales of her ancestors. She peered at him, not immediately recognising him. He was a tall, thin-faced, ascetic man, with brilliant intelligent eyes. His long hair was grizzled, as was his beard, and he wore a heavy, richly embroidered gown of the deepest blue.

He held out his hand to her, and hesitating she went to him.

‘So, child. The Lady Rhonwen tells me you have had some strange dreams.’ His hand was cold as marble. It grasped her hot fingers tightly. Frightened, she pulled away. ‘Tell me about them,’ he went on. He had not smiled and she felt a tremor of fear.

‘They were nothing – just silly dreams.’

This time he did give an austere smile, visibly reminding himself that this was a child. ‘Tell me all the same. I like dreams.’

She told him haltingly, her shyness slowly evaporating as she realised that he was listening with flattering concentration to every word she said. By the end of her story he was nodding.

‘What you saw, child, was something which happened here more than a thousand years ago, when the Roman legions marched across our land. Their leader, Suetonius, gave orders that the Druids were to be killed. The Romans came here, to Anglesey, which was, as it still is, a sacred island. At first they were too afraid to cross the strait and attack, for they saw the Druids waiting on the shore. Do you know who the Druids were, child?’ He waited a second, then seeing her nod, he went on. ‘Even their women were there, ready to fight with their men, and the sight terrified the Romans. But at last they embarked across Traeth Lafan, just as you did when you first saw their ships, and they killed all the Druid people, burning the survivors of that battle in their sacred oak groves. They went on and destroyed every oak tree on the island.’

He was watching Eleyne closely. She had gone pale, her eyes fixed on his. It was several seconds before she whispered, enrapt, ‘Was no one left at all?’

‘Very few.’

‘Why did the Romans do it?’

‘Because they were afraid. The Druids were wise and fierce and brave and they did not want the Romans in Wales.’

Still she had not questioned the fact that she had seen these things.

Breaking eye contact with him with an effort, Eleyne walked across to the narrow window. She could see across the pasture to the shore where it had happened and from there across the strait. The mountains of Eryri were shrouded in cloud today; the tide high, the water the colour of black slate.

‘Are you not curious, Eleyne, as to why you saw these things?’ he asked gently.

Rhonwen sat watching them both, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap.

‘It’s because I walked in the place where it happened,’ Eleyne answered simply.

‘But why did you see it, and not the Lady Rhonwen?’ he persisted.

She turned to face him and at last he saw a puzzled frown come to her face. ‘Perhaps she wasn’t looking.’

‘And you were looking?’

‘No. But sometimes I know things are there to see if I want to. I always thought it was the same for everyone, only no one talked about it, but now … now, I’m not sure.’ She looked unhappy.

It had never happened to Isabella. When Eleyne had told her friend about her strange feelings at Hay, Isabella had laughed. She had never dared tell anyone else. Save Rhonwen.

‘It’s not the same for everyone, Eleyne. You have a precious gift.’ He smiled again. ‘I too can see into the past and into the future.’

‘You can?’ Her relief was obvious.

‘It’s a gift of our race. We are descended, you and I, from the survivors of those Druids you saw. Some of them escaped. Some of them lived to lead the opposition to Rome which finally chased out the legions. Your father descends from the ancient kings of Britain, and I from the Druid priests. And you, amongst all the children of your father, have been chosen for the gift of the Sight, for you are his seventh child.’

Eleyne’s mouth had gone dry. Suddenly she wanted to run away. His seriousness oppressed her. The room was airless and hot. She glanced past Rhonwen to the driftwood fire which smouldered low in the hearth. The flames flickered up: red-blue fingers, beckoning, licking the wood they consumed. The smoke was acrid – salt from the old plank remnants of a boat thrown up by the gales.

‘Can I go back to my embroidery now?’ She directed the question urgently at Rhonwen. Her skin was icy with fear.

Rhonwen said nothing. She was staring helplessly at Einion.

It is my fault
, she was repeating to herself,
I needn’t have told him.
Now he will never let her go
.

Once again he smiled. ‘Of course you may return to your embroidery. But we shall see each other again soon. I am going to come here to Llanfaes to give you lessons myself.’

‘What sort of lessons?’ Eleyne asked suspiciously.

‘Interesting lessons. You will enjoy them.’ Again the smile. ‘There is only one thing you must promise me. That you will keep our meetings a secret. Can you keep a secret, Eleyne?’

‘Of course I can.’

‘Good. No one must know I come here, save you and the Lady Rhonwen and I. Not even your little friend, Luned. Do you think you can keep a secret from her?’

‘Easily.’ She was scornful. ‘I have lots of secrets from her.’

‘Good.’ He stood up. He was tall, lean, not stooped. Eleyne looked up at him in awe.

‘I shall return in three days.’ He turned to Rhonwen as he picked up his long wooden staff. ‘By then I shall have chosen somewhere safe to meet. See that you have a story to cover her absence all day from the prince’s hall. You did well, my daughter, to tell me about her.’

VI

‘I don’t want to go!’ Two days later Eleyne was confronting Rhonwen with clenched fists. ‘I didn’t like him. What can he teach me? You teach me all I need to know.’

Rhonwen took a deep breath. ‘You have to go – ’

‘I don’t. My father doesn’t know about it, does he? He would not approve. Nor my mother.’ She pursed her lips primly. For two days she had pondered why Einion’s lessons had to be secret. This seemed to be the only explanation.

Rhonwen took another deep breath. ‘Eleyne, they are for your own good.’

‘Why? What is he going to teach me?’

‘I don’t know exactly – ’

‘Then how do you know it will be good for me?’

‘I just know. They are secret things, Eleyne. Even I may not know them. But you are special, as Einion told you. You are the descendant of the ancient kings. You have the Sight.’

‘And he is going to teach me about what I saw? About the history of long ago?’

Rhonwen shrugged. ‘I suppose that may be part of it.’

Eleyne paused. At last her curiosity was beginning to overcome her inexplicable feeling of dread. ‘You will come with me, won’t you?’

‘I don’t know.’ Rhonwen looked away evasively.

‘You must go with her.’ Cenydd had appeared silently, pushing through the curtained doorway and pausing in the shadows, a frown on his face. ‘You cannot let her go alone.’

Rhonwen went white. ‘You don’t know what we’re talking about.’

‘You are talking about Einion Gweledydd. I warned you, Rhonwen!’ he sighed. ‘I told you not to do it.’

Eleyne looked from one to the other, confused. ‘Rhonwen?’

‘Take no notice,
cariad
. Cenydd is jealous. He wanted to teach you himself.’

‘And so I shall!’ Cenydd smiled at her fondly. ‘As soon as I return. I am summoned to Aber,’ he added to Rhonwen in a low voice. ‘There has been renewed fighting in the border march.’

‘And Gruffydd?’

‘He is still at Degannwy. Prince Llywelyn has sent Senena and the boys to join him there and he has kept Dafydd at his side.’

Rhonwen swore softly. ‘So, Dafydd consolidates his position! We have to do something to help Gruffydd – ’

‘Dafydd has a new embarrassment on his hands which could help.’ Cenydd smiled. ‘It seems that the prince has captured de Braose.’

Eleyne’s attention was caught by the name. ‘Isabella’s father?’

‘Exactly.’ Cenydd laughed out loud. ‘It will be interesting to see how the negotiators handle that one. I suspect Llywelyn still hankers after the de Braose alliance. It neutralises Sir William, for all he rides with the king at the moment, and with the marriage formalised Prince Llywelyn will have an ally in mid-Wales.’

‘What will happen to Gwladus now that Sir Reginald is dead?’ Eleyne asked suddenly. ‘Will she come home?’

‘She will marry again,
cariad
,’ Rhonwen said gently. ‘Don’t look to see her here. I doubt if she would want anyway to come back beneath her mother’s roof.’