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 the stable yard, Rhonwen, her heart in her mouth, turned to find the prince.
IX
Llywelyn frowned. ‘You want to take her to Degannwy?’
Joan smiled. ‘A good idea. Why not? She can stay with Gruffydd and Senena.’ Her face betrayed the unfinished end to her sentence: three trouble-makers together, out of harm’s way.
Rhonwen nodded, deciding to make the most of her unexpected ally. ‘She can continue her studies there as Lord Gruffydd already has tutors for little Owain. They could help her.’ Behind her a figure had entered the hall and was walking towards them. Her heart turned over with dread. She did not need to turn to know that it was Einion. She looked beseechingly at the prince, cold sweat suddenly filming her palms. ‘May I go, your highness?’ she whispered.
Llywelyn frowned. ‘I see no reason why not. In fact, I shall give you a letter for Gruffydd. I don’t want the boy to think I have forgotten him entirely.’
Joan’s eyes narrowed. ‘Surely that will merely encourage him to make more trouble.’
‘He is my son.’ Llywelyn silenced her firmly. He turned to Einion. ‘Good morning, Sir Bard. You are welcome.’
Einion, leaning heavily on his staff, bowed before the prince but he was studying Rhonwen’s face with narrowed black eyes. ‘How is the princess, your charge, this morning?’ he asked.
‘Well,’ Rhonwen murmured. Her mouth had gone dry.
‘We have decided to let her go to Degannwy,’ Joan put in, pulling her cloak more tightly against the cold of the hall. She eyed Einion with dislike.
Einion frowned. ‘No, she must not leave Aber.’
Rhonwen felt her cheeks grow pale.
‘Why not, pray?’ Llywelyn frowned.
‘Her place is with you, sir. At your side. It would be unwise to let her go to her brother at this stage.’ Einion spoke with authority. He looked again at Rhonwen and it seemed to her that his eyes were sharp with suspicion.
‘Why, my friend?’ Llywelyn asked again.
Rhonwen held her breath. As the two men looked at each other Rhonwen felt the power of the older man’s mind reaching out to his prince, trying to sway him. Llywelyn shook his head slightly as if feeling the pressure as a physical pain.
He
‘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 the stable yard, Rhonwen, her heart in her mouth, turned to find the prince.
IX
Llywelyn frowned. ‘You want to take her to Degannwy?’
Joan smiled. ‘A good idea. Why not? She can stay with Gruffydd and Senena.’ Her face betrayed the unfinished end to her sentence: three trouble-makers together, out of harm’s way.
Rhonwen nodded, deciding to make the most of her unexpected ally. ‘She can continue her studies there as Lord Gruffydd already has tutors for little Owain. They could help her.’ Behind her a figure had entered the hall and was walking towards them. Her heart turned over with dread. She did not need to turn to know that it was Einion. She looked beseechingly at the prince, cold sweat suddenly filming her palms. ‘May I go, your highness?’ she whispered.
Llywelyn frowned. ‘I see no reason why not. In fact, I shall give you a letter for Gruffydd. I don’t want the boy to think I have forgotten him entirely.’
Joan’s eyes narrowed. ‘Surely that will merely encourage him to make more trouble.’
‘He is my son.’ Llywelyn silenced her firmly. He turned to Einion. ‘Good morning, Sir Bard. You are welcome.’
Einion, leaning heavily on his staff, bowed before the prince but he was studying Rhonwen’s face with narrowed black eyes. ‘How is the princess, your charge, this morning?’ he asked.
‘Well,’ Rhonwen murmured. Her mouth had gone dry.
‘We have decided to let her go to Degannwy,’ Joan put in, pulling her cloak more tightly against the cold of the hall. She eyed Einion with dislike.
Einion frowned. ‘No, she must not leave Aber.’
Rhonwen felt her cheeks grow pale.
‘Why not, pray?’ Llywelyn frowned.
‘Her place is with you, sir. At your side. It would be unwise to let her go to her brother at this stage.’ Einion spoke with authority. He looked again at Rhonwen and it seemed to her that his eyes were sharp with suspicion.
‘Why, my friend?’ Llywelyn asked again.
Rhonwen held her breath. As the two men looked at each other Rhonwen felt the power of the older man’s mind reaching out to his prince, trying to sway him. Llywelyn shook his head slightly as if feeling the pressure as a physical pain.
He
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