The Devil’s Diadem

‘Raife,’ Lady Adelie murmured.

‘I will tell Saint-Valery that the matter will be settled once the threat of the plague has passed,’ Pengraic continued. ‘Until then, mistress, you will endeavour to keep your tongue still in that waspish mouth of yours until you are well clear of this court and on your way home to Pengraic. You will not refuse Saint-Valery outright; the matter can remain in abeyance for the time being. Madam,’ he turned to Lady Adelie, ‘you have a long journey to the Marches in which you can instil some manners into this girl. God help us all if she behaves like this at court!’

With that, he was off, slamming the door behind him.

I fell to my knees before Lady Adelie, my tears now spilling over. ‘Madam,’ I said, ‘I am truly sorry for what I said. It was fear that spoke.’

‘You must surely loathe the idea of marriage to Saint-Valery,’ she said. ‘But, girl, do you expect to choose your own husband? It will never be. I was not allowed to choose my husband, nor did I have any say in who that husband might be. Saint-Valery is not a bad man, and he is of a far better rank and of greater wealth and estates than you could ever have hoped!’

‘But it shall be a sham so that the king can —’

‘The king’s fancy will last but a season,’ Lady Adelie said, ‘and in the meantime you will have won for yourself a position in society that but a few weeks ago was as far beyond you as are the stars in the firmament. The marriage will be no sham; it will be honoured by Saint-Valery, who will receive the king’s favour for it. It is an advantageous marriage to you and to this household.’

Ah, the nub of it. Both the earl and the countess saw this match as a means of placing their own factor in the court and bed of the king, while Saint-Valery was likely anticipating yet more favours from the king for doing his will.

‘Maeb,’ the countess said, her tone kindly, ‘you have come from a simple and uncomplicated world and in a short time have been hurled into such … events. It is overwhelming.’

‘You and the earl are asking me to forsake my vows of marriage,’ I said, unable to believe the devout countess could overlook this small detail.

‘Sometimes,’ she said, ‘in worldly matters, one has to bend with the wind.’

‘Would you have done so, madam?’

Again I risked her anger, but I was still upset and more than a little angry myself.

‘For what favour and advantage it would bring to my family,’ she said, ‘yes, I would. Oh, Maeb. It is but a man. They are simple creatures and so easily sated. You have such a wit and spirit about you …’ She paused, sighing softly. ‘My dear, such an alliance can purchase you influence; wealth, if that is what you desire, or offices and favours for your children. Marriage among our rank is not merely affection between a man and a woman, but a power-building exercise, a constant accumulation of rank and privilege and estates and offices for ourselves, but more so for our children. It is a game, Maeb, and one you do not wish to lose.

‘Now, come with me to chapel, and let us say our prayers. Remember, always in life there is a priest to whom you can confess, and wash away your sins.’

Later that morning, when we had returned to Lady Adelie’s chamber, she noticed that the earl had left behind his gloves.

‘Oh,’ she said, ‘he will be cross, but no doubt is too busy to return for them. Maeb, will you take them to him? He will not be far — ask any of the king’s servants or men-at-arms and they will tell you.’

It was not a task I felt happy about, but I could surely leave them with a servant somewhere to hand to the earl.

I made for the main quarters of the king, where I knew he met with his advisers and nobles. I would not be allowed in, so I felt sure that I could safely leave the offending gloves with a guard.

But the earl was not there.

‘He has just left,’ said one of the guards. ‘He and his son are heading for the chapel.’

My heart sank, because now I would need to speak to the earl, stand face to face with him, meet his eye, and I did not think I was quite courageous for that yet, not after our morning’s confrontation. Already I was regretting pushing him so far, for I did not think now he would treat me kindly in future dealings.

I hurried for the chapel, crossing the main courtyard, and saw the distinctive figure of the earl in the distance, Stephen to one side of him, and another man to his other, to whom I did not pay attention. I wanted only to hand these damned gloves to the earl and then return to my lady, with whom I had much mending of fences to accomplish.

I hurried as fast as I dared over the cobbles, slippery from a recent shower of rain, but even as I drew close the men started to run lightly up the steps toward the open door of the chapel.

The last thing I wanted was to be forced into sidling up to the earl at his devotions.

‘My lord!’ I cried.

All three stopped, and turned, as one.

A ray of sunshine suddenly broke through the low clouds and illumed the three of them: Stephen, Pengraic … and the king, Edmond.

I couldn’t move. I was frozen by the vision on the steps. They all had their gaze on me. Stephen’s face was creased in a wide, open grin. Whatever the earl felt was locked away tight behind his impassive façade. The king … Edmond looked at me with a warm regard, and it suddenly struck me that what I feared in the proposed marriage to Saint-Valery was not Edmond, or what he asked, but Saint-Valery and a lifetime of regret at his side.

The sun’s ray bathed the three men in a golden, ethereal light, and I knew God had handed me this moment. It caught me in the thrall of premonition, and I realised then, in that instant, that my life would be bounded by the knight, the earl and the king, and no other.

What I did not know then was that this was the last time I would ever see these three men together.

‘Mistress Maeb?’ said the earl, and somehow I freed myself from my thrall, and walked up the steps toward him.

‘Your gloves, my lord,’ I said, handing them over, then I dipped in courtesy toward Edmond, nodded at Stephen, and turned my back on them and walked away.

I walked easy, for somehow, in a manner I could yet not discern, my entire life was settled in that one golden moment.

Whatever happened now was in fate’s hands, and no manner of struggling would change a thing.

CHAPTER TEN

The next day Evelyn woke me. She’d been up early to go down to the kitchens, returning one of the bowls I had used for a poultice.

‘Maeb! Maeb!’

I opened my eyes grudgingly. Mistress Yvette was back tending our lady this morning, and I’d been allowed to sleep until Evelyn and I joined them in chapel for our morning prayers.

‘Maeb! I have heard news — of a plague. Everyone is talking of it.’

I sat up, wondering what I should say.

‘I have heard such terrible things. Sweet Mother Mary, Maeb, is this what you had heard in the solar?’

I nodded. No point in trying to deny it now.

‘And why we are fleeing back to Pengraic?’

I nodded again.

Evelyn was white, and she sat down on the bed as I rose, washed my face and dressed.

‘Is it as terrible as the rumours say?’ she said.

‘I don’t truly know, Evelyn. I have only heard of it in the vaguest way. I know it is why Edmond has fled here, and why we head for Pengraic.’

‘The soldiers … the encampment. Is there treachery? Unrest?’

‘Unrest, I think, but I know little more.’

‘Sweet Mother of God,’ Evelyn muttered again.

‘We shall be safe in Pengraic Castle,’ I said, hoping it might be enough to comfort Evelyn.

‘Maybe. But I worry for my daughter.’

‘I am sure she shall be well, Evelyn. The plague is in the south-eastern counties, far, far away from de Tosny’s lands north of Glowecestre.’

Evelyn nodded, but her face was tight, and I knew I had not eased her worry at all.

I spent that day with Lady Adelie and Mistress Yvette in the countess’ chamber. The earl was nowhere to be seen. The day was uneventful save that shortly before our noon meal Ranulph Saint-Valery attended upon my lady.

Me, rather.

It was a somewhat awkward meeting. Saint-Valery had come to press his marriage suit and to discover how the land lay so far as I was concerned. I supposed he had not worried over this, as few might have foreseen me refusing such an outstanding offer.

I was wrong. Saint-Valery was actually somewhat nervous.

He entered and bowed to the countess, asking after her health and that of the child she carried.

They exchanged pleasantries, then Saint-Valery greeted Mistress Yvette, then turned to me.

‘Mistress Maeb, I beg your forgiveness for this intrusion. I … ah … my lord earl tells me that he has informed you of my, um, offer.’

From the corner of my eye I saw Lady Adelie look at me somewhat sharply.

I inclined my head. ‘You do me much honour, my lord. Will you sit?’

I moved a little along the bench on which I sat, to give him room, and he perched somewhat stiffly at the other end of the seat.

There was a small silence.

Saint-Valery gave a nervous smile. ‘Mistress Maeb. I doubt you could be more surprised over the suddenness of my offer than I was myself. You made a great impression on me that night at Rosseley. I have not been able to put you from my mind since.’

‘My lord, it was but a night — an hour or two, perhaps. Yes, it seems strange to me that on such short acquaintance, and with my complete lack of dowry, that you would make such a generous offer.’

‘You seem suspicious, mistress.’

‘I am,’ I said. Lady Adelie was back to glancing sharply at me. ‘I cannot think why you have made the offer, my lord. I have little to recommend me.’

Saint-Valery’s eyes widened slightly. ‘You have a great deal to recommend you, Maeb. May I speak plainly, for I have little time before Iride out. The offer is genuine, Maeb. You may look for the courtly subterfuge, but there is none.’

My face must clearly have registered my disbelief.

‘There is no other voice behind mine,’ Saint-Valery said. ‘No shadow overlaying mine. Discard whatever rumour you may have heard.’

Both his eyes and voice were steady. I no longer knew what to think. I was still caught in the vision I’d had the day previously of the three men illumed in the shaft of sunlight, and I could not bring myself to believe Saint-Valery would play any significant role in my life. The knight, the earl and the king, yes, but not the poet.

‘I must leave court this afternoon to travel to the queen at Elesberie,’ he said. ‘You leave tomorrow for the Welsh Marches. All of our lives are uncertain now. Perhaps this winter, when all is settled and the plague passed, I may come and press my suit to you, Mistress Maeb. You shall need a good reason to say nay to me then, if you still wish to hesitate. I wish you well, Maeb, in the trials ahead.’

He rose, and bowed toward the countess. ‘My lady, I beg your leave.’

She half raised a hand. ‘Before you go, Saint-Valery. What news is there? I know that overnight rumours have throbbed about this palace, but as yet I’ve had no hard report.’

‘The news is bad, my lady. Many die, from Dovre to Meddastone, and moving ever further west. This plague is so vicious that fields are left untended and the sick are left to die alone. Towns burn. I know you have heard of how terribly the plague kills.’

Lady Adelie gave a sharp nod.

‘People flee,’ Saint-Valery said, ‘seeking refuge elsewhere. Edmond fears that they will spread the sickness further. He has commanded that soldiers man the roads that lead into the south-east and turn all back who seek to flee. Cantuaberie is a catastrophe. Much of it has burned. There is unrest and brigandry where the plague strikes hardest. I … There are no good tidings, madam, I am sorry. Move west as fast as you can and as soon as you can. I pray God and his saints protect you.’

We three women simply sat and stared at Saint-Valery.

He looked us each in the eye, then he bowed and left us.

I wondered if I would ever see him again.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

We left very early the next morning. I was glad, for the king’s palace and military encampment at Oxeneford had become an unsettling place. I wanted nothing more than to journey westward, all the way into the Welsh Marches, where surely the plague could not follow and life would not be so complicated. Between what I had heard in the solar, the news Saint-Valery had given us (as well as his marriage offer), the imp I had seen, and the earl’s warning about the dark flood, I simply wanted to get away. I was growing ever more frightened, and I was not afraid to admit it.

I was not alone in my fright. I slept little on the night before we left, and I know Evelyn did not either. We lay side by side, wide awake, sometimes exchanging a word or two, but mostly lost in our thoughts as we contemplated the terror that had gripped the south-east of the country. When we rose, far earlier than we needed, it was to find that the countess and Mistress Yvette were also awake, dressed and pacing to and fro waiting for the horses to be saddled and harnessed and our escort to be ready.

Evelyn, the nurse and I had the children down in the courtyard well before dawn. Early it might be, but the courtyard was a bustle of activity. Torches burned feverishly in their wall brackets, grooms and servants hurried this way and that. Horses, sensing everyone’s underlying unrest, were nervous and difficult to handle. We kept the children well out of the way, and were glad when the groom who drove the cart the Lady Adelie and they were to ride in brought the cart to us and we could pack our belongings and the children inside.

‘Mistresses. Good morn.’

It was Stephen. He looked drawn and tired, and sterner than I had ever seen him. He wore a dark mantle about his shoulders against the chill, caught with a jewelled pin, but I was dismayed to see the glint of maille underneath and his coif folded down over the collar of the mantle. He was wearing his hauberk, and a sword and dagger besides. Nothing indicated the seriousness of our situation more than that he was armoured.

‘Are you ready to leave?’ he said. ‘Evelyn, are you riding or journeying in the cart?’

‘Riding, my lord,’ she said. ‘My back is well enough, and it will do me good to ride.’

He nodded, then looked at me, the merest hint of a smile on his face. ‘Dulcette is saddled waiting for you, Maeb. I think she has missed you, for she is stamping her feet in impatience to be off.’

I could see something of the man he would become in his face this morning, and it calmed me. ‘And I am anxious to see her, my lord, and set her head to the road.’

He looked over my shoulder. ‘Ah, my lady mother and lord father.’ He walked over to them, helping his mother into the cart, then engaging in a conversation with his father.

A groom came over, leading Dulcette along with Evelyn’s horse and he aided us both into the saddle. Dulcette was eager to go, jittery on her feet, skidding this way and that and tossing her head. I hoped we would leave soon, for it was proving difficult to keep her calm in this crowded courtyard. From the corner of my eye I saw Stephen mount up, barking out an order to the column of men already mounted.

I pulled Dulcette to one side, not wanting to get in the way. I was looking to the centre of the courtyard, watching Stephen and the mounted knights and soldiers, and jumped when someone grabbed Dulcette’s rein and pulled us closer to the wall.

‘Maeb.’ It was the earl. He stood close by Dulcette’s shoulder, looking up at me. ‘You will be safe at Pengraic.’

‘Yes, my lord. Thank you.’

‘Listen to Stephen. Do what he commands. Until you travel beyond Glowecestre you will not truly be safe.’

‘Yes, my lord.’

He hesitated, then moved very close and spoke quietly. ‘Remember your vow of silence about the imp, Maeb. Never speak of it to anyone: not Evelyn, not Stephen, not my wife, not any priest you may feel like confessing to, or impressing.’

‘I will not speak, my lord.’

Again he looked at me searchingly.

‘I will not,’ I said. ‘I vow it.’

‘Very well. Make certain you keep that vow.’

‘My lord, what if another imp comes back? I worry —’

‘You will be safe enough, Maeb. You will not be troubled by such again.’

‘Truly?’

‘Truly. The imps are after other prey than you.’

Something in the way he spoke made me relax. I believed him utterly. There would be no more imps. ‘Thank you, my lord.’

He patted Dulcette’s neck and released her rein. ‘Go then, Maeb. May God and His saints travel with you.’

He stepped away and vanished into a shadowy doorway. I looked a long moment, trying to find him again, but Stephen rode his courser near. ‘Maeb! Pull over here by the cart. And stay close to it. Do not wander to this side or the other. Yes?’

‘Yes, my lord.’

He was off, shouting to Evelyn and to his sister Alice to also keep close, then we were moving, the horses skittering and snorting, the carts rumbling, and on the road to Pengraic Castle.

As we left the courtyard I twisted in the saddle, thinking to see the earl again, and perhaps even the king, for some small conceited part of me fancied he would come out to see us (me) off, but there was no sign of either man. I sighed, and looked to the front and the journey ahead.

We were a goodly company. In addition to the cart which carried my lady, Mistress Yvette, the nurse, Rosamund and John, there were the twelve other carts carrying various household goods, including gold and silver plate and expensive hangings and cloths that were to return to Pengraic Castle. Myself, Evelyn, Alice and Emmette rode good palfreys; the twin boys, Ancel and Robert were no longer with us, for they had joined Summersete’s household at Walengefort.

There were several senior house servants who rode with us, as well as a cleric who would be leaving us at Glowecestre, and two minstrels who wanted to travel westward to Cirecestre and had joined our company for the protection it afforded — their payment for this privilege was to keep us entertained in the evenings. Eight grooms led strings of spare horses and the war destriers that were not currently being ridden.

To protect us came a large company of knights and horsed soldiers. There were two score knights, all heavily weaponed and all wearing their maille, and some fifty of the soldiers.

I thought the entire assemblage almost a small army. While I felt safe, I wondered at the ease with which we would travel. Sweet Jesu, who would put us up? How would we manage on the roads?

As it happened, I need not have worried. Stephen and his father had plotted out a journey that used the lesser travelled holloways and driftways that snaked through the countryside. While they were not the main roads, they were nonetheless well maintained and reasonably wide, for they were used for the droves of cattle and sheep that moved from market to market across the country. The holloways and driftways felt safe, having relatively little traffic on them (the majority of the droving traffic would not truly start until the autumn fairs), and they made for swift and easy travelling. They were exceedingly pleasant, for spring flowers covered their banks and they wound through some of the loveliest country I had yet seen.

We did not travel as fast or as hard as we had on the two day journey from Rosseley to Oxeneford. Instead, we moved at a comfortable, steady pace which covered perhaps half the distance each day, sometimes a little more. It was easier on everyone — as well as the horses — and particularly on Lady Adelie, who found the journey more difficult than others.

We met few people: a handful of pilgrims, some shepherds driving small flocks of sheep, one or two travelling friars, a pedlar or two, a few lines of pack animals and their drivers. There was no trouble on the roads, nor from any of the villages and manors we passed along the way. We did meet with people who asked us for news of what lay behind us, but Stephen was circumspect (as he instructed us to be) and so far as I know did not once mention the plague or the unrest further to the east. I know it was to protect us, but I often wondered what happened to those good folk we met going the other way.

At night we stayed at either religious houses, some of the king’s own royal houses and estates along the way (Stephen carried the king’s seal, which granted us access whenever we needed it), as well as a few of the earl’s outlying manors.

From Oxeneford we travelled to Badentone, and from there to Etherope. We arrived in Cirecestre on the fourth day of our travel, losing the minstrels, and there rested for a day before continuing to Brimesfelde. By this time Stephen had relaxed enough to allow the knights and soldiers to cease wearing their maille, for which I believe all were grateful, for the days grew much warmer as we moved into May and the chain had hung heavy and hot about them. The column grew immediately more cheerful and relaxed once the maille was set into the carts and the men could move more comfortably.

Stephen rode close to the head of the column for the first few days, or back a little further with some of the knights, and I saw little of him during the day. In the evenings he gathered for a while with Lady Adelie, myself, Evelyn, Mistress Yvette and those children not in bed, listening for a while to our chatter, but he did not stay long, for he needed to organise the next day’s ride, and I know he spent some time at dicing with some of the knights.

But from the day when he had ordered that the men need not don their hauberks, Stephen became more relaxed and often rode further back in the column. At first he rode next to the cart with his mother, chatting to her, but she grew tired easily, and soon he pulled his horse back to where Evelyn and I rode with Alice and Emmette.

I admit that my heart turned over whenever he did this. The sight of his handsome face, and his easy, charming smile invariably tongue-tied me for long minutes and it was Evelyn who initially responded to his questions and conversation. But I would relax, and join in, and these long hours spent ambling down the back driftways of Glowecestrescire, laughing in easy conversation, were among the happiest of my life.

Sometimes Rosamund, sitting in the cart with her mother, would cry to join us and make such a fuss that Lady Adelie would signal Stephen, who would ride close to the cart and lift the laughing girl into the saddle before him. After a while, she would beg to join me, and so Stephen pulled in close so he could lift Rosamund across to sit before me in the saddle, and I would warm with pleasure at the bumping of our legs and the graze of his warm hand against mine as he lifted her over.

Rosamund was a sweet child and no bother (and Dulcette, too, was sweet, and did not mind the girl). Usually, after chatting and clapping her hands gleefully for a while, Rosamund would nod off, and I rode along, one arm about her soft, relaxed body leaning in against mine, and Stephen and I would talk as if we had known each other since infancy.

Stephen fooled no one that his interest was chiefly in me. Generally at least one among Evelyn, Alice and Emmette rode with us, but occasionally all three would be riding elsewhere, or called to Lady Adelie’s side, or their horses would gradually drop back and they might be caught in a conversation with someone behind us.

Then the conversation between Stephen and myself would veer to more intimate matters, and I found it so easy to talk to him that within a day or two I felt as if I could broach any subject I wanted.