Читать книгу Child of the Phoenix - Barbara Erskine - Страница 60

That night Eleyne lay awake for hours, her stomach cramped again into tight knots of fear. Just before dawn she rose from her bed at last and crept down the stairs. It took her a long time, wandering through draughty corridors and cold stone passages, to find a way out into the courtyard where the stables were, and once there to creep between the horse lines to find her own particular friends. She found Cadi first and spent a long time with the gentle little mare, kissing her soft nose. Then she crept on, looking for Invictus. He was harder to find. He was already with the earl’s horses, a groom constantly on hand should the animals become restless. Silent as a shadow, Eleyne slipped into the box and put her arms around the horse’s huge head. She kissed his nose and his cheeks and felt her hot tears drip on to his coat. Walled up in the corner of her mind was the picture of the man who had loved this horse and of the noose around his neck. It was something she could not face.

The idea came with the dawn. As the castle came to life with the opening of the gates and the arrival of the first wagons loaded with produce from the city, Eleyne peered silently into the courtyard from the warm darkness of the stall. The stables were near the gatehouse. The guards were at ease, barely checking the incoming wagons, ignoring the men and women who bustled past them into the streets beyond the gates. The place was crowded, chaotic. No one paid any attention to anyone else. Silently she untied Invictus’s halter. Scrambling on to the stall partition, she clambered on to his back and with the barest touch of her heels guided him down the line of stalls and out into the courtyard. A few people stared at the red-haired child astride the stallion, but no one recognised her and no one tried to stop her. Sitting very straight, her heart in her mouth, she smiled as confidently as she could at the guard as she turned the horse beneath the gatehouse arch. His hooves rang loud and hollow for a moment, then they were through and across the bridge. Holding her breath, she nudged Invictus into a trot, then a canter, turning east along the edge of the wharf rather than back into the city itself, following the road towards the city wall.

She was stopped almost at once by the Bridge Gate, which was still barred. As she turned uncertainly northwards into the city, she heard a shout behind her. In a panic she saw four horsemen galloping after her, weaving through the crowds. They wore the livery of the Earl of Chester over their mail. Desperately she looked round for a place to hide, but within seconds they were on her, two each side. Outraged, Invictus reared up and she grabbed at his mane to stop herself falling.

They took her straight to Lord Huntingdon. She was still barefoot, her hair loose, dressed only in her shift and bed gown – a dirty, unruly and stubborn child, her cheeks streaked by tears.

He looked at her for a long time after he had dismissed her escort. At last he spoke. ‘Where were you going, Eleyne?’ he asked gently.

She stared back at him defiantly. She had expected him to be angry, not gentle. ‘To the forest.’

‘The forest?’ he repeated, astonished. ‘Why?’

‘I won’t live here without Rhonwen. I can’t. I’d rather be an outlaw or a beggar.’ Tears began to trickle down her cheeks in spite of her efforts to stop them. ‘I don’t want to be a countess. I want Rhonwen.’

John walked across to his chair and sat down, perplexed. He didn’t know what to do to comfort her, this ragged urchin who was his wife.

‘Please, Eleyne, don’t cry.’ He knew he should be angry. Probably he should whip her. Certainly he should send her for a bath. The child smelt strongly of the stables.

‘Please don’t send Rhonwen away.’ Her huge eyes, fixed on his face, were brimming with tears. ‘Please, my lord –’ She still didn’t know how to address this tall stranger who was her husband. ‘Please let Rhonwen stay.’ Her sleepless night and the weight of her tears had reddened her eyes and underlined them with shadows.

He frowned. Certainly he regretted his summary dismissal of the entire Welsh entourage. Lord Chester was wrong. Such an action would antagonise the prince and needlessly make this child unhappier than she already was.

He rubbed his thumb against his chin. ‘We are to travel across England to my lands in the Honour of Huntingdon, Eleyne. Would she wish to follow you there? She would find it very strange so far from Wales,’ he said at last.

Eleyne stared at him, her eyes alight with hope. ‘She would go with me anywhere, my lord.’ She did not point out that she too would find it strange.

‘Then perhaps I could change my mind and allow a few of your servants to remain with you. If it would make you happy and stop you running away again.’

‘Luned and Marared and Ethil?’ The girl’s eyes were shining.

He nodded tolerantly. ‘Very well. If it will convince you to stay with me you may keep half a dozen of your own ladies. But that is all– ’

‘And Cenydd. Cenydd saved my life when I swam the strait.’

‘When you – what?’ He blinked at her in astonishment.

Abashed she looked down. She should not have told him that. ‘My father asked him to be my bodyguard,’ she amended cautiously. ‘He would die to protect me.’

‘There are many here whose job will be to protect you with their lives,’ he said gently. And he would want to know today exactly where they all were, to allow the Countess of Huntingdon to ride out of the castle as she had without an escort. ‘But, yes, for now you may keep Cenydd too. But that is all.’

For a moment he thought she would fling her arms around his neck and kiss him but she remembered in time. Looking down, she gave a little curtsey. ‘Thank you, my lord,’ she said.