'Gaveston the demon-worshipper!' she hissed. 'Gaveston the limb of Satan! Gaveston the sodomite!'

She calmed herself. And the rest of the coven? Lady Amelia Proudfoot, Prioress, in whose nunnery she was now staying, and Proudfoot's silent shadows, Dames Frances and Catherine? They would do anything to keep her here; poison, the dagger, the garrotte, or the sudden fall…

Eleanor smiled and hugged herself. Oh, she had been so careful, so cautious, watching what she had eaten and drunk, where she had walked, politely refusing any offer to go hunting. After all, the Lady Eleanor smiled sourly to herself, hunting accidents were common. True, she had been sick but this was due to evil humours of the mind caused by loneliness and anxiety. Indeed she had begun to despair, but at last help had come. Some weeks ago, she had found a message here in her chamber, bidden in a small leather wallet. The writer had told her to be of good heart, not to worry, and to look for further messages in the hollowed oak tree near the Galilee Walk on the far side of the chapel. Her well-wisher, whoever he was, had promised to deliver her today so she had told her companions to leave her and go to Compline. Only the ancient ones, Dame Elizabeth and Dame Martha, had remained whilst Lady Amelia and her henchwomen would soon be enthroned in the chapel glorying in their power. Lady Eleanor turned as she heard the old building creak beneath her. A haunted place, people said, apparently ghosts walked here. It was certainly no abode for a young lady, mistress to one of the greatest men in the land.

Eleanor sat back on the bed, chewing her Up, then got up agitatedly, putting her cloak on and playing with the ring on her finger, the Prince's last gift to her, a huge blue sapphire which always shimmered in the light.