Child of the Phoenix (157 page)

It was a long time before she realised that she was no longer alone.

You can watch over them
, she pleaded silently.
You can go with them.
Please help them
.

He was standing near her. She could feel his presence and his pain. Did he understand her agony and her frustration, the despair of being locked inside the frail body of an old woman when her spirit wanted to ride the wind, to fight, to be beside the king when at last he came into his own?

She opened her eyes. There was no one there. Just the empty chapel, lighter now as the dawn began to colour the east window, its tall narrow lancets inset with stained glass. She was leaning with both hands on the handle of her stick. There were no prayers in her heart. Nothing. She could not marshal her thoughts. She wanted to rest her head on his shoulder, feel his arms around her, comforting and supporting her. She wanted someone to look after her and take away the misery and the fear which overwhelmed her. But already he had gone and she was again alone.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

I
July 1306

T
he dream had returned. The ground was slimy with blood; horses were screaming; men were dying beneath their hooves. In the mist she could see little save the gleam of swords and axes as they cut through bone and fell to the wet mud. Somewhere in the thick of the battle she saw the scarlet lion flag fall to the ground, where it was trampled until it disappeared from sight. Then came the flames: the roar of fire, the howl of the storm which would wake her. Each time Bethoc or one of the others soothed her, making her chamomile tea and sitting with her until she slept again. Each time left her weaker.

Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to walk the castle walls, staring down the strath into the heat haze, seeing the summer lightning flash around the hills. Several times she ordered a fire lit in spite of the heat and she sat gazing into the embers trying to see. But no pictures came to order. Nothing came save an increasing feeling of impending doom.

The scouts saw the straggling group of riders as soon as they appeared on the track from the west. Long before they could identify them Eleyne had ordered the great gates open. She was waiting for them in the courtyard when they arrived.

The party was larger this time. Nigel Bruce was accompanied by John Atholl and several men as well as the queen, the king’s sisters, little Marjorie and Isobel. All were exhausted and bedraggled, their clothes torn and filthy. Half their horses were lame.

Eleyne watched as the riders dismounted, then she moved to Isobel’s side and kissed the girl tenderly. ‘Thank God you are safe. I had such terrible dreams. Where is Robert?’

Isobel shrugged, tears streaming down her face. It was Nigel who told Eleyne of the second terrible defeat of Robert’s hastily reconstituted army in the mountains beyond Strathfillan and of the king’s decision that he could not after all keep his loved ones safe. ‘He is hoping to lead the enemy away into the far west. He wants you to give us your hospitality again and to keep the ladies here after all.’ He grimaced wearily. ‘Either he will join us, or he will go to Ireland. He thinks it might be best if we go on from here and try and reach Norway, but I’m damned if I’ll leave Scotland now.’

‘Poor Nigel – a nursemaid for the second time.’ Eleyne pressed his arm sympathetically. ‘Stay here, you’ll be safe at Kildrummy.’

The travellers recovered slowly and they settled once more into the steady routine of castle life. Each in their own way was under enormous strain, but they all tried to hide it. Only Isobel, growing daily thinner, the dark circles under her eyes becoming more and more marked, found it impossible to hide her grief, but even she spoke seldom of Robert, trying to follow the queen’s example and put on a brave face as time passed and there was still no news.

The long dreary days were filled with chores, with spinning and embroidery, playing with the children and then at last with the harvest.

The harvest was good. The granaries were filled to overflowing and rather than use the outlying granges Eleyne ordered the superfluous grain to be stored within the castle itself, in the towers, against the walls and even in the great hall. There was now only the smallest garrison at Kildrummy, but the old men and the boys all helped the women of the township bring in the corn and side by side with them worked the king’s family. Even Eleyne herself went into the fields, sitting in the shade of the hedgerows, a man’s broad-brimmed hat over her veil to protect her from the sun, watching the younger people work amongst the splashed scarlet of late poppies.

There was no more news from Drumalban. The king had vanished into the haze.

II
September 1306

It was afternoon and Eleyne was playing chess with the queen when John Atholl burst into the solar. ‘I’m afraid our idyll is at an end,’ he said grimly. His face was white and strained. ‘The English army has been sighted heading into Mar.’

Elizabeth and Eleyne looked at him in horror. For a moment none of them spoke. Then the silence was broken by a sharp crack as the ivory piece in Elizabeth’s hand snapped between her tightly clasped fingers. It was her queen. The eyes of every person in the room were on the splintered pieces as she dropped them on the table.

A meeting was called at once in the great hall.

‘How far away are they?’ Nigel asked.

‘Perhaps a day’s ride. Their outriders are moving fast. Too fast.’ John Atholl’s face was bleak. ‘And they march here under the banner of the Prince of Wales.’ He glanced up as he heard Eleyne catch her breath. ‘We cannot stay here. We must go on. We have to save the women at all cost. We must take them north and try to reach Norway. We’ll be safe there with Nigel’s sister, the Queen of Norway.’

They were all in a state of shock. Kildrummy’s size and power had lulled them into a feeling of security. Its position in the north had made it seem unlikely that the English armies would attack them. They had felt safe there.

John Atholl looked at the queen. ‘We can’t abandon Kildrummy; we have to hold it for Robert. But we must get you ladies away to safety in case the worst happens.’ He looked back at Nigel who had seated himself gloomily on one of the piled sacks of barley. ‘How can we do it?’

Nigel stood up. ‘What do you say, shall we toss for it, John? One of us will go with the ladies, and one of us will stay and hold the castle for Robert.’

Nigel lost the toss. It was he who must stay. He gave Eleyne a gallant bow, trying hard to hide his disappointment. ‘It’s my job to hold the castle for its earl and I shall stay. But this time you should go.’

Eleyne shook her head. ‘My mind has not changed, Nigel. I intend to stay here. I am too old to excite Edward any more. It’s the king’s immediate family he wants. I shall stay here and take care of the children. Kildrummy will hold out for months if necessary. Edward of Caernarfon –’ she pronounced it the Welsh way, her tongue accentuating the word which had once been so familiar – ‘will grow bored with besieging us long before we run out of food. And our well runs deep and pure. We will hold out until doomsday.’

They were ready to leave as soon as darkness fell. Eleyne made her way out into the courtyard, lit by a dozen spluttering torches. It was crowded with people as the townsfolk and crofters made their way in to the safety of the castle’s great walls, driving their animals with them, knowing full well that when they eventually came out again, their homes and fields would have been burned.

Lord Atholl’s small band – two of his best men, their wounds healed, and the women – was ready, wrapped in black cloaks which would give them some cover in the dark, and leading Eleyne’s last horses, those which remained after the men had gone to join Robert’s standard. Nearby the blacksmith, Hal Osborne, stood scowling. He had demanded to go with them, but Nigel had refused. ‘With your damaged leg you’ll slow them down, man. You’re more use to us here,’ he commanded brusquely. ‘We need weapons and we need some strong men to man the walls.’

When the last man was inside the great gates, they heard the grating of the portcullis as it came down and the squeak of wood on metal as the drawbridge was raised and the gates were closed for the last time. The only way into or out of the castle now was by the postern gate which led directly into the back den.

There was a hush in the courtyard, broken only by the stamping of the horses and the hiss of the resin-burning torches. Eleyne looked round, trying to hide the sudden fear which had made her heart thump unsteadily beneath her ribs, the desperate urge to change her mind, to go with them, to escape from this great castle which had been her home for so long, but was now a trap. Her hand went to the pendant at her breast. Forcing herself to smile, she stepped forward. One by one she kissed the women who were leaving, giving Kirsty and Isobel special long hugs which left all of them near tears. Then she took John Atholl’s hand. ‘Take care of them, John, they are all very precious people.’ She dropped her voice so that Kirsty could not hear. ‘I thank God daily that your Marjorie is safe and far away with the children. At least that’s one thing you needn’t worry about.’

Bending, he kissed her. ‘You’ll be safe too. My bet is that they will besiege you for a few weeks then grow bored when they realise the castle is impregnable. The Prince of Wales is not one to sit around doing nothing all day. He’ll crave glory, especially if his father starts to chase him for results. Be patient, mama-in-law, and keep your courage up.’

‘I shall, John. Don’t give us a thought. You concentrate on saving yourselves. Now go; before the clouds clear and the moon gives you away.’

She followed them to the postern and stood back as one by one the party led their horses through it and down the zigzag path into the deep ravine. As soon as the last man was through, the door was pushed shut and the bars dropped into place; behind it the small postern portcullis was lowered for the last time. Kildrummy was sealed.

III

Eleyne had retired to her solar after they had gone. She looked at the empty hearth, tempted to order a page to call for logs. Then she remembered: firewood and peats too must be conserved. If the siege lasted more than a few weeks – if it ran on for months – they would be glad of heat when the nights grew really cold. Huddled in a fur to keep her old bones warm against the chill of the September dark, she stood at the window which looked down across the broad strath. The candlelight turned the thick glass opaque with shadows; she could see nothing beyond the window and after a while she turned away.

The lookouts on the walls could see little either. The attack when it came took the whole castle by surprise. The shouts, the rain of arrows, the thundering upon the gates and the first hurled missiles from hastily erected siege engines bouncing harmlessly from the great walls, began almost exactly at midnight and went on for several hours. No one within the castle was hurt. From the walls the archers shot back at the enemy and hurled the first of their stockpiled rocks. Some fired flaming arrows to start a few harmless scrub fires in the dry grass and several found their mark, judging from the screams below. By dawn the enemy had pulled back to a safe distance.

All the next day they watched the besieging army moving into place around the castle, erecting tents and pavilions, dragging more and more siege engines into place and digging defensive ramparts behind which their archers could stand. Eleyne went up on to the battlements after mass and stood beside Nigel looking down through the arrow loops at the activity below. ‘I can’t believe it,’ she murmured. ‘Not here. Not Kildrummy. This place has always been so safe.’

‘And it will remain safe.’ Nigel put his arm around her shoulder.

‘Do you think the others got away?’ Eleyne peered towards the distant peak of Tap o’Noth and the hills to the north.

‘Of course they did. John Atholl would never let anything happen to them. You know that as well as I do. Besides,’ Nigel shrugged, ‘being totally realistic, we both know that, if they had been cap tured, young Edward there would not be able to resist letting us know. John’s head would be on a pole outside his tent by now.’ He shuddered. They both stared down at the largest pavilion which marked the prince’s base. Above it, on the huge banner, the three Plantagenet leopards ramped merrily across their scarlet field in the wind. It was twice the size of that of the Earl of Pembroke with its bars and birds, which flew beside it.