Читать книгу Child of the Phoenix - Barbara Erskine - Страница 22

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.’