Barbara Erskine - Child of the Phoenix

Gwladus was a complete contrast to Rhonwen. She was a tall, tempestuous, handsome woman with black hair, a sallow complexion and dark flashing eyes beneath heavy eyebrows: colouring which had earned her the soubriquet of Gwladus Ddu. Looking haughtily at Rhonwen, she raised an eyebrow.

‘If you mean Eleyne is bad for Isabella, I agree. However, it’s too soon. I haven’t completed my letters for father, and the emissaries who came with you are still talking with Reginald and William about the marriage agreement.’

She sat down on an elaborately carved chair near the fire and gestured Rhonwen to a stool nearby. ‘You do know why you’re here? It’s not so the girls can be playmates. My father wants Isabella as a wife for my brother. Why?’

‘Why, my lady?’ Rhonwen shifted uncomfortably on the stool. ‘Surely it would be a good match for Dafydd bach . Isabella is young and strong, and pretty as a picture.’ She allowed herself a tight smile. ‘And she’s your husband’s grand-daughter. The de Braose alliance is still very important to Prince Llywelyn.’

The de Braose family had been brought low by King John eighteen years before, but Reginald and his brother, Giles, Bishop of Hereford, co-heirs to the estates of their dead parents, had managed to reclaim them before the king’s death in 1215, and the family was once again powerful in the Welsh borders.

‘Exactly.’ Gwladus pursed her lips. ‘That was why he married me to Reginald, after Gracia died. What I want to know is, why does he need another marriage between the families?’

Rhonwen looked down at her hands. Did the woman want an honest answer? Could she not see that her husband was dying? She shrugged diplomatically. ‘I am merely Eleyne’s nurse and teacher, Lady Gwladus. Your father does not include me in his confidences.’

‘No?’ The dark eyes beneath the heavy black brows were piercing. ‘How strange. I felt sure he would have.’

There was a long silence. Gwladus stood up restlessly and swept across to the window with a shiver. ‘I hate this place! I keep begging Reginald to let us live somewhere else. She’s still here, you know. His mother. She haunts the castle. She haunts the whole family!’ She crossed herself and, closing her eyes, took a deep breath. ‘If you are here merely as Eleyne’s companion you’d better go and look after her. And stop her upsetting Isabella!’

The children were not in their bedchamber. Rhonwen set her lips grimly.

‘Well?’ She shook one of the nursemaids who had been sleeping just inside the door. ‘Where are they?’

The frightened girl stared at the empty bed in the light of Rhonwen’s streaming candle. ‘I don’t know. They were here when we went to sleep.’

Both servants were awake now, scrambling from their straw pallets to gaze round the room with frightened eyes. They were much in awe of the tall Welsh guardian of the little girl who was the wife of a prince of Scotland and the daughter of a prince of Wales. Secretly, they sympathised with her; the girl was a tomboy, uncontrollable according to the Lady Eva, Gwladus’s daughter-in-law, constantly getting herself and her companion into scrapes.

Rhonwen strode across the room and glanced into the bedchamber beyond. The three small heads on the pillow showed that Isabella’s sisters had not been included in tonight’s escapade. She glanced at the shuttered window and sighed. Outside the wind and rain had increased threefold since darkness had set in. Whatever Eleyne had decided on, and she knew it was Eleyne, she hoped it was indoors.

From her nest in the straw at the horse’s feet Eleyne reached up and stroked the muzzle of the great stallion belonging to Isabella’s father. It nuzzled her hair and blew at her companionably.

‘I wish they’d let me ride you,’ she murmured. ‘We’d fly like the wind, you and I.’

She glanced up sharply as she saw the horse’s ears prick. He raised his great head to stare into the darkness beyond her. A faint light appeared in the doorway and moments later a figure materialised out of the shadows. Thomas, the groom who had special care of his master’s best warhorse, was carrying a lantern as he patrolled down the line of stalls. Small and wizened, his face was as brown as a hazelnut beneath his wild white hair.

‘You again, my lady? I can’t keep you away, can I?’ He put the lantern down carefully, away from the straw, and leaned against the partition of the stall. Unsurprised by the appearance of the girl in the horse’s bed, he pulled a wisp of hay from the net slung by the manger and began to chew it. The horse nudged his tunic hopefully, looking for titbits.

‘You’re not safe down there, child. He might step on you.’

‘He wouldn’t hurt me.’ Eleyne hadn’t moved.

‘He wouldn’t even know he’d done it. Look at the size of his feet!’ Thomas ducked under the headrope and catching her arm swung her to her feet. ‘Up, my little one. You should be in your bed.’

Eleyne pulled a face. ‘Can’t I stay here? Please. I’m not sleepy. And Isabella snores.’ She flung her arms around the stallion’s muscular neck. ‘One day I’ll ride him.’

‘I don’t doubt it,’ said Thomas with a wry smile, ‘but not without Sir William’s permission, you won’t. Now, away with you. I’m the one who’ll get into trouble if you’re caught here.’

Reluctantly she followed him out of the stable. ‘I’ll ask Sir William. I know he’ll let me -’ She stopped abruptly as a tall figure appeared out of the gloom in front of her.

‘And what, little princess, will you ask me?’ William de Braose, Isabella’s father, shook the rain from his mantle as he ducked under the thatched roof. He did not seem surprised to see the child in his horse’s stable so late at night.

Eleyne took a deep breath. ‘I want to ride Invictus. Oh please, I know I could.’ She caught his hand and looked up at him, her large green eyes pleading. He was the tallest man she had ever seen, his handsome features framed by wavy chestnut hair, darkened by the rain. His eyes, narrowed in the lantern light, were warm, alight with amusement.

He laughed. ‘Why not? Tomorrow, princess, if the ground has dried a little, you shall take him for a gallop, if you dare. See to it, Thomas.’

‘But, sir -’ Thomas looked far from happy. ‘The Lady Rhonwen would never let her – ’

‘Then we won’t tell the Lady Rhonwen.’ Sir William glared at him impatiently. ‘This child has the heart of a boy, let her enjoy herself while she can. Would that I had a son with half as much courage!’

Thomas watched him thoughtfully as he strode away. ‘Would that he had a son at all,’ he said softly. ‘Four girls, poor man. That bodes ill for the succession to the lordship. Still, there’s time yet, God willing.’

‘My brother will be his son if Bella marries him,’ Eleyne said. She felt, inexplicably, that she had to provide some words of comfort.

‘Aye, God help us all, for the Welsh alliance will only lead to trouble. It always does.’ Thomas frowned, then he shook his head. ‘Forget I said that, little one.’ He began to walk slowly back towards his quarters at the end of the stable lines.

Eleyne followed him. ‘When can I ride Invictus?’

‘When you can escape the Lady Rhonwen. Don’t you come to me with her in tow.’ He gave an exaggerated shudder. Ducking inside he pulled off the sack he had draped over his shoulders against the rain and threw it into the corner. The other grooms and stable hands who shared the room were absent: probably playing knucklebones in the kitchens, he thought with a chuckle. Well and good, he’d have some peace for once. A small fire burned in one corner. Throwing on a branch, he held out his hands to the warmth with a groan of pleasure.