Child of the Phoenix. Barbara Erskine
I don’t want to go to him. What he’s doing is evil.’
‘It’s not evil!’ Rhonwen was shocked into temper. ‘Don’t ever say such a thing. And you will go, if I have to carry you!’
‘I won’t. I refuse.’ Eleyne’s eyes were as defiant as her own.
‘You will.’
‘I shall run away.’
‘Nonsense.’ Rhonwen forced herself to speak calmly. ‘Where can you go? I should find you anywhere on the island!’
‘Then I shall leave the island and go to papa. If I tell him what you made me do, he’ll put you in prison!’ Her fists clenched, Eleyne was close to tears. The events in Einion’s cell had frightened her badly. Under no circumstances was she going to return there, and instinctively she knew her father would be her ally in this. He had no idea, she was sure, that the stories and songs which Rhonwen had told her night after night since she was a baby were but a frame for a more sinister purpose. ‘I don’t want to learn from him, Rhonwen. I don’t, and I won’t. I’m going back to Aber. Now.’ She turned and ran from the room.
‘Eleyne!’ Rhonwen shouted after her. ‘Eleyne, stop! No boatman will take you without my orders. You cannot go. Don’t be so foolish!’
Eleyne raced across the great hall and out into the courtyard towards the stables.
‘Eleyne!’
She heard Rhonwen close behind her, but she did not stop. Hurtling into Cadi’s stall, she untied the pony’s halter and backed her out. She had just managed to leap on to the pony’s back when Rhonwen stormed into the stables. Nearly knocking her down, Eleyne kicked Cadi past her at a gallop, careering across the yard, scattering the manor servants as she fled out of the gates, down towards the shore.
There were no boats moored against the quayside in the harbour. Slowing Cadi, Eleyne bit her lip with frustration. Her pride would not permit her to go back. Rhonwen must not be allowed to win this quarrel.
She heard a shout behind her. Three riders were galloping after her, and glancing around she recognised Rhonwen’s head-dress. There were two men with her.
Digging her knees into Cadi’s sides, she put her at a gallop out of the small port and up the beach. There might be a fisherman mending his nets on the sands who would take her across the strait for a fee. She groped at her neck and was relieved to find her gold chain safely in place. That would no doubt buy her a trip to the ends of the earth if she should wish to go there.
There were no fishermen; as far as she could see round the ragged coastline the beaches were empty. The tide was midway, the water sparkling cheerfully in the light breeze.
The other, larger horses were gaining on her and she felt a surge of anger. Just because she was small they could force her to do what they wanted. It was unfair – unfair and wrong! She looked once more across the water towards the farther shore and the safety which was Aber. Almost without realising it, she began to steer Cadi with knees and halter towards the water. She had seen the Roman soldiers swim the strait. Why not Cadi? The tide was not too high, the water calm.
The pony’s hooves splashed in the bright clear ripples. In two strides the water was up to her fetlocks. In two more to her knees. Eleyne heard the cries behind her grow more urgent.
Her own feet were in the water now. It was bitterly cold and she caught her breath. She felt Cadi hesitate. ‘Come on, my darling. Courage. You can do it,’ she whispered, urging the pony on. ‘Come on. It’s not so far.’
As if understanding what her young mistress wanted, the pony began to swim.
I
The water was icy. As it rose up her body, Eleyne began to tremble with cold. She leaned forward, throwing her arms around the pony’s neck, feeling the sturdy pull of Cadi’s legs as she struck out into the waves. She could hear nothing now of the shouts behind her; her ears were full of the rush of the sea. She clung desperately to Cadi, feeling the water pulling her away from the pony’s back.
‘Come on, my darling, come on, it’s not far,’ she whispered again, and the pony’s ears flicked back at the sound of her voice.
On the shore Cenydd hurled himself from his horse. Tearing off his gown and mantle he ran for the sea, clad only in his drawers. Running through the waves, he dived into the deeper water and began swimming fast. The pony, hampered by the drag of her rider, swam slowly and doggedly. It was only a matter of moments before he was drawing near them. He did not waste his breath shouting; only when he was within easy earshot did he call out.
‘Princess!’ He saw the girl’s head turn, saw her white, frightened face.
‘Turn her head round, gently. Turn her now, or she’ll drown.’ With two more strokes, he was at the pony’s side. He put his hand into the headband and began to pull the pony round, trying to avoid the flailing hooves.
‘Hold on, princess, hold on.’ He managed an encouraging smile. The pony was responding. He suspected that it too had reached the conclusion that the swim was too far and the tide too strong.
Slowly they made their way back, the man and the horse tired now, the child clinging between them. It seemed an eternity before the thrashing hooves found the sand and Eleyne threw herself into Rhonwen’s arms, to be enveloped in the warmth of her cloak. It was Rhonwen who was sobbing as she hugged the shivering child to her.
II
‘You should give her a damn good thrashing!’ Cenydd was halfway down his second horn of wine.
‘I have never beaten her!’ Rhonwen retorted. She had put Eleyne to bed with a hot stone wrapped in flannel at her feet, and a whispered promise that there would be no more visits to Einion in his cell in the woods.
‘That’s the trouble. She’s never known any discipline! She could have drowned, woman!’
‘I know.’ Rhonwen sat down, pulling her cloak around her. ‘It was my fault. I wouldn’t listen. I said she had to go back.’
Cenydd laughed bitterly. ‘I told you no good would come of that. You are a fool, cousin, and Einion will not let go. I’ve heard stories about him. He uses his powers to get his way, even with the prince.’
‘No, he would not bewitch the prince!’ She shook her head. ‘He cares for Gwynedd above all else – for the whole of Wales. All he does is for the good of Wales.’
Cenydd raised a cynical eyebrow. ‘By which I suppose you mean that he supports Gruffydd’s claim as heir to the principality?’
Rhonwen looked nervously over her shoulder. ‘For pity’s sake, lower your voice! Of course he does. So does anyone of any sense. I had thought you were no supporter of the English party, Cenydd, or you would not be my friend.’ She paused to take another drink of wine. ‘I shall take her back to Aber. I can leave a message for Einion that the prince has sent for her. Even he cannot argue with that.’
‘And when you get there? How will you confront the Princess Joan?’
Rhonwen shrugged. ‘I shall tell her there was an accident. Tell her that Eleyne needed to be with her mother …’
Cenydd laughed. ‘You imagine she would believe that?’
III
‘So, Eleyne, you tried to swim the Menai Strait on a pony.’ Llywelyn sat in his chair by the fire in the great hall at Aber. Near him Sir William de Braose lifted a goblet of wine. Both men were carefully