‘What will happen to me now?’ Eleyne still had her back to them. Her hands were gripping the stone sill of the window as she tried to clamp down on the horror and fear which had broken through the barriers and flooded through her. She was shaking.
‘It means you can stay here in Gwynedd. When you are old enough Einion will tell your father what has happened.’ Rhonwen’s voice was calm and soothing.
‘I won’t have to go and live with Lord Huntingdon?’
‘No.’
No, you will be given to the Druids; who will use your body for worship; for a temple; or for their plaything. Oh, great goddess, have I done right? Would she have been happier married to Huntingdon, living far away …?
‘I don’t want to see the future, Rhonwen.’ Eleyne was looking out at the russet hillside. There the old gods lived; the stones of their temple lay there still, tumbled on the hillside.
‘You have no choice, child. You have the gift.’
‘Einion would never have known if you hadn’t told him.’
‘I had to, Eleyne,’ Rhonwen said guiltily. ‘It would have destroyed you. Don’t you see? He will tell you how to use your powers for good. To help your father, to help Gruffydd and perhaps Owain and little Llywelyn after him. For Wales. Besides, don’t you see? I have saved you from marriage. I have saved you from going to a stranger like your sisters.’
There was a long silence. Then Eleyne turned back to her. ‘I am not going to stay here. I never want to see him again.’
‘Eleyne! You have no choice, cariad. You belong to him now.’
‘No!’
‘There is nothing to be afraid of – ’
‘No!’ Eleyne was silent, then she turned back to the window. ‘I will never belong to Einion. Never. You should not have allowed him to give me to the gods. My father is a devout follower of holy church, Rhonwen. I know he favours the canons of Ynys Lannog, who follow the way of the old anchorites, and he welcomes the friars and the Knights Hospitaller to Wales. Many feel he is too broad-minded, but he will not want me to turn back to the old faith.’ She said it quietly and with absolute certainty.
Rhonwen felt a clutch of fear. The child had grown up overnight. Far from being more docile, there was a confidence in Eleyne’s voice which brooked no argument. ‘Nonsense,’ she said uncertainly, ‘he reveres the old ways in private.’
‘No, Rhonwen. He respects them and he listens to the bards and the wizards of the mountains, but he had me baptised in the Cathedral of St Deiniol at Bangor. It was you who told me that.’ Eleyne gave a tight little smile. ‘And he will want my marriage to go on. The alliance with the Earl of Chester is vital. I heard him tell my mother. Lord Huntingdon will be Earl of Chester when his uncle dies. Father wants no more wars with Chester.’
‘The days when Gwynedd and Chester were at war are over, Eleyne.’
‘Exactly! And to seal that peace, father married me to Lord Huntingdon. He will not put that treaty at risk because Einion wants me for the old faith. Einion won’t be allowed to take me.’
Rhonwen closed her eyes. ‘It’s too late, Eleyne. He already has you, cariad. You are his.’
Eleyne spun round. ‘Never, I told you, never!’ Suddenly she was a child again. She stamped her foot, then ran across the room and pulled the door open. ‘And if you won’t save me from him,’ she sobbed, ‘I must save myself!’
VIII
Rhonwen caught Eleyne in the stables as she was watching Sir William’s groom throw the saddle up on to Invictus.
‘Where are you going?’
‘To Degannwy. I shall be safe there with Gruffydd.’ The tears had gone. The girl’s face was set and determined.
‘You can’t go without your father’s permission.’
‘Then you must get his permission, Rhonwen. Now. Quickly. I’m not going to stay here.’ Eleyne’s hands had started to shake and she clutched them together, waiting impatiently as the groom fitted the sharp bit between the stallion’s teeth and settled the elaborate reins over his neck.
They both jumped as Cenydd appeared from the shadows. He was frowning as he saw the preparations for the ride. ‘I gave your father my word that I would guard you, my lady. I must come with you if you are going out.’
Eleyne smiled uncertainly. ‘Just as long as you don’t try to stop me. My father gave me permission to ride Invictus.’
‘I’ll not try to stop you.’ Cenydd threw a glance at Rhonwen. ‘Is the Lady Rhonwen coming too?’
‘No.’ Eleyne scowled.
‘Eleyne, please, cariad, wait,’ Rhonwen cried. ‘You can’t go to Degannwy. You will only get Gruffydd into more trouble.’
Eleyne paused. ‘Very well then, you go and ask papa if I can go. But I am going to ride on ahead. Now.’ Any moment, she was sure, Einion would appear and manage to stop her.
Rhonwen had put her hand on Invictus’s bridle. ‘Lord Einion would want you to stay,’ she whispered.
‘No.’ Eleyne shook her head.
Cenydd raised an eyebrow. ‘I told you, Rhonwen. You were a fool to meddle. You had best make a clean breast of all this to his highness. Then at least the prince will thank you for saving his daughter for her husband.’
‘But I am not. I don’t want her to marry – ’
‘I am married, Rhonwen.’ Eleyne stamped her foot again. ‘Nothing can change that.’
‘But it can, don’t you see? The marriage is not consummated. It can be annulled. It must be annulled!’
‘Don’t be a fool, Rhonwen! The prince would never allow it.’ Cenydd stepped forward, narrowing his eyes against the cold wind which whistled across the courtyard and into the stables. ‘Accept the facts, woman.’ He drew Rhonwen aside, his face angry. ‘You didn’t just do this to give her to your gods; or to save her from marriage. You did it to keep her for yourself, didn’t you? But you won’t keep her. The seer will get her unless you help her.’
Eleyne was staring at Rhonwen, her face white and pinched. ‘Is that true?’
‘No, of course it’s not true.’ Rhonwen held out her hands in anguish. ‘I love you, Eleyne. I want only what is best for you.’
‘Then you’ll help me go to Degannwy.’ At Degannwy she would be with Gruffydd and Senena whom she loved and the two little boys she adored. She signalled the groom to lift her on to the horse. ‘I shall be safe with Gruffydd,’ she said firmly, ‘he won’t let anything happen to me.’
Cenydd and Rhonwen looked at each other. Gruffydd was in no position to help her, but neither of them reminded her of the fact. Rhonwen reached up and touched her hand. ‘Very well then, cariad. But wait. Wait for your father’s permission. Otherwise you’ll be in more trouble.’
Eleyne’s face grew mutinous. ‘I shall write to papa. He will understand.’ She turned the horse, still terrified that Einion would be lying in wait for her in the shadows outside the gate.
The valley beyond the village lay in silence, sheltered from the wind and still bathed in mist as Invictus trotted on to the track which curved beside the river. Cenydd rode a few paces to the rear, his hand upon his sword; behind him were two of the prince’s grooms, hastily beckoned from their work.
In