The Devil's Diadem

by Sara Douglass

  Lady Adelie’s colour was, frankly, appalling. Her skin had a yellowish-grey pallor to it and always seemed to have a sheen of cold sweat. She appeared exhausted by the child, moving only from her bed to a chair by the window in her chamber, then back to her bed again. She rarely spoke, and never smiled, as if even words or emotion were simply too much for her. Lady Adelie had initially appeared to recover from the journey from Rosseley, but over the past few days her health had deteriorated once more.

  Yvette paused in her folding of a linen. ‘She is well enough, Maeb. Our Lady Adelie’s colour has never been good, and her cough is but a mild summer chill, exacerbated by the baby pressing on her lungs. Do not fret. She will do well enough, for she is a courageous woman and strong, despite her apparent frailty.’

  I was not sure of Mistress Yvette’s explanation and apparent confidence, but then she knew the Lady Adelie far better than I. ‘I worry that the child drains her strength,’ I said.

  ‘She is not a young woman, but she has birthed many infants. Do not worry, mistress. All be well enough, I am sure.’

  Once more I spared a moment’s resentment for the earl, as I had that first day I’d come into his household, that he required of his lady so much effort in her later years. Had he not already enough sons?

  I clutched the eaglestone and hoped its powerful protective magic would serve to aid my lady.

  Two days after this conversation Stephen came to the solar and sought permission from his mother to enter her privy chamber. Now that Lady Adelie had retired to her chamber in preparation for the birth she normally would not have seen any man, not even her son, but apparently Stephen convinced Yvette — who carried word to and fro from Lady Adelie — that it was necessary and important, and so my lady admitted him after a brief whisper with Yvette.

  Gilda and Jocea were also in the privy chamber, hunched silent and watchful in a shadowy corner, as were Alice and Emmette. The two girls sat most of the day with their lady mother, sometimes reading to her from her prayer book, or otherwise engaged in stitchery.

  Apart from a brief glance as he entered, Stephen paid both the midwives and his sisters no attention. I stood slightly to one side of my lady’s bed and Stephen spared me a slightly longer look. I searched for any deeper message in that look, but there was nothing there save distraction and worry — which instantly set me to distraction and worry.

  As he greeted his mother and she him, I moved as if to leave my place, but Lady Adelie motioned me to stay, then crooked her finger at Yvette to bring her closer.

  ‘I share my troubles these days, Stephen,’ she said, with the ghost of a smile, ‘and I see by your face that you carry troublesome news.’

  ‘And good news, my lady,’ Stephen said, almost managing to raise his own smile. ‘I have heard this morning from my lord father.’

  Lady Adelie’s face brightened as I had not seen it do for many weeks. ‘Raife? How is he? What news? Where is he? Oh, Stephen, speak!’

  I had not realised, until this very moment, that my lady loved her husband. I had known there existed respect between them, but not, until now, that so also did love.

  ‘He sent word,’ said Stephen, ‘that he is now in Elesberie with the king — the plague came to Oxeneford and the king moved his court to his royal manor at Elesberie. He is well, my lady, and sends you his regards and affection.’

  Lady Adelie visibly relaxed and actually smiled — my first indication that she had been silently fretting about the earl. I felt shame that I had not known, nor even thought, that she might have been so worried.

  ‘Praise the saints that he is well,’ she said. ‘And the king. But it is poor news that Oxeneford has been struck with the plague. Poor news indeed.’

  ‘We did well to leave,’ Stephen said, ‘for even Rosseley has succumbed.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Lady Adelie, ‘our poor people … I will pray for them, Stephen. Lord Jesu help them all.’

  ‘My father sends prayers for your safe delivery,’ Stephen continued, holding his mother’s hand between his own, ‘and says that he thinks constantly on you, and worries.’

  ‘Then he should not,’ said Lady Adelie, ‘for both I and my child shall be well. Did he speak of the south-east, Stephen, and what he discovered there?’

  Stephen’s face darkened. ‘Only a little, madam. He said that it was terrible, and that he was truly glad that you were safe here in Pengraic.’

  He was lying, I knew it instantly. Not that whatever Pengraic had found was ‘terrible’, but that he had only spoken so briefly of it. I felt certain that Stephen had received a far more detailed report from his father.

  ‘Then what is it that troubles you, Stephen?’ Lady Adelie said.

  His hands tightened slightly about that of his mother. ‘The rider who brought my father’s news also brought grim tidings. My lady, the plague draws closer to Pengraic. It travels faster than any thought it might. It —’

  ‘It has reached past Oxeneford?’ Lady Adelie said. ‘It is far closer than Oxeneford,’ Stephen said. ‘It appears to have travelled along the drover trails and the pilgrimage tracks, almost as if …’

  He stopped, but I knew what he had not said. Almost as if it were following us.

  ‘It has devastated Witenie,’ he said, glancing at me, ‘as it has Cirecestre, and there are reports of people falling sick as close to us as Glowecestre and Monemude.’

  Absolute silence greeted his words. Alice and Emmette, who had been listening, clasped each other’s hands, their eyes round. I was appalled that Witenie suffered — who among my friends had died terribly? I caught Yvette’s eyes — she looked as stricken as I felt — then looked at Lady Adelie.

  She had gone white. ‘Then we must secure the castle,’ she said, and Stephen nodded.

  ‘I have spoken with d’Avranches,’ he said. ‘The gates are being closed as we speak. No one will leave and no one enter from this hour forth.’

  ‘Pray it is enough!’ Lady Adelie whispered, then spoke more strongly. ‘Stephen, do we have enough provisions? I had not considered that —’

  ‘Do not fret on this matter,’ Stephen said. ‘D’Avranches and I had thought this day might come. We have been provisioning, bolstering what we already had.’ He attempted a smile, that did not quite work. ‘We shall eat and drink and make merry ably enough for many months to come, and for all the mouths that these walls contain. Think only of yourself, my lady, and of your child. The plague shall not enter these walls. It shall not touch us. We are all well and shall remain so.’

  My lady and Yvette exchanged a glance, their faces strained.

  ‘Nonetheless,’ Lady Adelie said, ‘I shall ask Owain to lead prayers to the Saints Roche and Stephen for the entire fortress tonight.’

  She sat back, withdrawing her hand from Stephen’s clasp. ‘I wish I were stronger,’ she said, almost to herself, ‘that I might the better lead us through the trials ahead.’

  My lady’s chamber was a subdued world for the rest of that day. I tried to speak of Stephen’s news, but Lady Adelie would have none of it.

  ‘We must not worry unnecessarily,’ she said, her tone indicating the subject was not to be raised again.

  Nonetheless, late that afternoon she summoned Owain, and he led us in prayers well into the evening.

  When he was done and taking his leave of my lady, I asked if I might accompany him back to the chapel, and Lady Adelie, tired and strained and white-faced, nodded her permission.

  ‘What have you heard, Owain?’ I said as we entered the central courtyard of the great keep.

  He gave a small smile. ‘Why do you think that I have heard any news that you have not?’

  ‘Because you and Lord Stephen are close, and he trusts you.’

  He grunted. ‘You are very observant.’

  He said nothing else until we were clear of the great keep and into the relatively secluded space of his herb garden near the chapel. Here we stopped and talked.

  ‘Plague is close,’ I said
.

  ‘Yes,’ Owain replied, ‘it has devastated Cirecestre and is rapidly tightening its vicious claws on Glowecestre and Monemude.’

  ‘What have you heard?’ I asked.

  Owain hesitated.

  ‘I was privy to a discussion between the king, the earl and several other nobles about the plague,’ I said. ‘I know how bad it is.’

  ‘They say half of Cirecestre has burned to the ground,’ Owain said.

  The final horror of the plague: the fungus that was composed of heat and which was inflammable.

  ‘Sweet Jesu, Owain, will all of England burn?’

  Owain opened his mouth to say something, but just then one of the guards atop the twin towers that bracketed the gate (now tightly secured) shouted down into the inner bailey.

  ‘My lord! My lord!’

  His voice was faint, but the urgency within it was clearly audible.

  ‘My lord!’

  I looked about and saw Stephen talking with d’Avranches and two other knights halfway between where Owain and I stood and the closed main gates.

  ‘My lord!’

  Stephen looked up at the man, turning a little toward him.

  ‘My lord,’ the guard again shouted, ‘there is one who pleads entrance.’

  ‘You have your orders,’ d’Avranches shouted, no doubt irritated with the man for disturbing Stephen and himself.

  ‘It is the countess’ woman,’ the man shouted. ‘Mistress Evelyn Kendal.’

  ‘Evelyn!’ I cried and, skirts in hand, hastened toward the gates.

  ‘She may not enter,’ Stephen shouted at the guard. I was almost to him now, and I cried out. ‘No! My lord, allow her in, I pray you!’

  He turned to look at me, angry, and in that moment I saw his father in him. I stumbled to a halt.

  ‘The castle is secured, Maeb. No one enters. But people can leave. If you wish it, I can arrange your departure.’

  I stared at him, horrified not so much by his words but by his almost complete transformation into his father.

  Owain had joined us by now. ‘Maeb, you must accept Lord —’

  ‘My lord, it is only this past hour you have battened down the castle,’ I said to Stephen. ‘Just an hour!’

  ‘The gates remain closed,’ Stephen said, his voice as hard as the rock of the castle walls.

  ‘I beg you,’ I said softly. ‘Lady Adelie has a close bond with Mistress Evelyn. Your lady mother would be bereft if she heard you had turned away her favoured servant at the gates, only a short time after the decision to secure them. And she so close to her confinement and fragile.’

  I knew I pushed too hard. This was no respectful manner to speak to Stephen before d’Avranches and the knights. I could see Stephen was angry, but I held his eyes and bit my tongue from uttering that one final phrase which I knew would ruin me: Do this for me.

  He knew I could have said more, I think. Still holding my eyes in a furious glare, he said to one of the guards by the gates, ‘Let Mistress Kendal enter, but only her, via the wicket gate.’

  There was a smaller but no less solid gate set into the main gates and two of the guards set to drawing the bolts. It swung open, a moment passed, then Evelyn herself came in, atop a small brown horse.

  ‘Evelyn —’ I began, taking a step toward where she had pulled up her horse.

  ‘Stay here!’ Stephen snapped, walking over to Evelyn’s side — although keeping at a safe distance of a pace or two.

  They were close enough that I could hear their conversation.

  ‘From whence have you come, Mistress Evelyn?’

  Evelyn threw me a glance, but answered Stephen readily enough. ‘From the lands of Roger de Tosny, my lord. His manor is near Redmeleie, a day’s ride north of Glowecestre. It is where my daughter serves.’

  ‘And your route here to Pengraic?’

  ‘We had heard that the plague raged in Monemude, my lord, so we rode south-west through the Depdene forest along the droveways, avoiding all the towns. My lord, may my escort enter? They are as tired and in need of rest and food as myself.’

  Stephen considered her. ‘Did you see any sickness as you passed? Tell me true, mistress.’

  Again Evelyn flicked a glance at me. ‘No, my lord. All was well in the peoples we passed.’

  Stephen continued to regard her, thinking. Then he turned to face me. ‘Be it on your head, Maeb.’ He looked back to Evelyn. ‘You may enter, your escort may not. They can find rest and succour enough at Crickhoel. Tell them they may use my name.’

  I could not keep the grin off my face. I thanked Stephen as he strode past me, his face impassive. I shifted impatiently from foot to foot as Evelyn spoke to her escort just beyond the gate, then headed her horse toward me.

  ‘Evelyn!’ I cried, and she slid from her saddle and held out her arms.

  Chapter Four

  We went straight to Lady Adelie. I was thrilled to have Evelyn back and we chatted, our words falling over themselves, as we climbed the stairs to the solar and went into our lady’s privy chamber.

  Lady Adelie was still abed, asleep now, Yvette by her side and the ever-watchful midwives in their corner. She woke only after we entered, and smiled sweetly as soon as she saw Evelyn, holding out a hand.

  Evelyn sank into a courteous dip. I’d had my eyes on Evelyn’s face the moment she first saw Lady Adelie, and although she hid it almost instantly, I saw the shock there and it immediately made me worry even more about Lady Adelie.

  ‘My lady!’ Evelyn said, sitting on the bed and taking the countess’ hand as Stephen had not so long previously. ‘How do you? I wanted so to return before your confinement.’

  ‘I am well enough, Evelyn,’ Lady Adelie said. ‘A little tired — thus you catch me abed when I should be risen. How is it my son allowed you entry?’

  ‘Because Mistress Maeb begged him, my lady. She said you would want me by your side, and it was but an hour since he had commanded the castle closed.’

  ‘And so I do want you by my side. Tell me, how is your daughter?’

  ‘She is truly well, my lady. Grown into a fine young woman and she has a good place in Roger de Tosny’s household.’

  ‘He has lands above Glowecestre, yes?’

  ‘Yes, my lady.’

  ‘And the plague has not yet reached there?’

  ‘No, my lady, we have kept safe.’

  ‘It has devastated Cirecestre and is now in Monemude,’ Yvette said.

  ‘Aye,’ said Evelyn. ‘I worry about my daughter, my lady, but I worried about you more.’

  ‘And have left your daughter to attend me,’ Lady Adelie said. ‘You are a good and kind woman, Evelyn, for you must fear for her.’

  ‘My Lord de Tosny is taking his household and riding to more northerly estates, my lady,’ Evelyn said. ‘My choice was to ride with him or to come here. I chose here.’

  ‘Praise sweet Jesu for you, Evelyn,’ Lady Adelie said, patting Evelyn’s hand. ‘I need all my loyal ladies about me for this birth. I am in so much fear of it. So much fear.’

  Her voice trembled on those last words and everyone in the room looked aghast. I had never seen my lady express such anxiety regarding the birth before.

  Sweet Mary, she must be dreading this birth, indeed.

  Now Lady Adelie appeared discomfited at her display of emotion. She let Evelyn’s hand go, brushing away imaginary crumbs from her bed linen, as if bored, or distracted. ‘Thank you, Evelyn.’

  Evelyn and I did not get a chance for private conversation until later that night, when we went to our bed in the solar. I was very glad to have her back, and despite the warmth of the early summer night we lay close as we whispered. For a while she told me of her daughter and the joy she’d had in visiting her, but soon the topic turned to Lady Adelie.

  ‘By the heavenly saints, Maeb, when did Lady Adelie sicken so badly?’

  I had truly not realised how ill Lady Adelie was until I had seen Evelyn’s shocked reaction on entering our lady’s privy c
hamber.

  ‘She has been sickening for weeks now, Evelyn. She was weak before we even started to Pengraic, but she has become worse since we arrived here, after an initial rally. She coughs at night, often, although Mistress Yvette tells me it is only a summer chill. I had not truly realised how ill she was until I saw your face when you first set eyes on her.’

  ‘Her complexion is dreadful, and her face so gaunt. Has she a fever, Maeb?’

  ‘I thought that perhaps it was the child …’

  ‘No. I have seen her carry and birth five children in my time in this household. Lady Adelie is one of those women who seem to find breeding easy. She has never had any difficulty carrying a child, nor birthing it. Not even the twins.’

  ‘But she is so old now.’

  Evelyn chuckled. ‘And you are so young!’

  I smiled too, and for a moment we lay there in companionable amusement.

  ‘Does she complain of any illness, Maeb?’

  ‘Not to me, although what she says to Mistress Yvette I do not know. I talked to Yvette about Lady Adelie recently, but she evaded my questions. Yvette now cares for my lady almost completely — I no longer even help with her dressing in the mornings.’

  ‘Mistress Yvette and our lady were ever close,’ Evelyn said. ‘Maeb …’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘What other news about this plague? Surely you have heard more.’

  ‘Only what you have already heard,’ I said to her. ‘That it has reached Glowecestre and Monemude … and that only this morning, when Lord Stephen brought us the tidings.’

  ‘And what of Lord Stephen?’ Evelyn asked.

  I smiled. ‘I have given myself to him entirely, and he promises to wed me in the autumn.’

  ‘Maeb!’

  I laughed. ‘I jest only, Evelyn. I have been good, as you asked. I do not wish to lose my place in this household.’

  I felt her body relax beside mine. ‘Do not tease me on this, Maeb. I was worried for you.’

  ‘There is no need.’

  ‘Is there word on the earl?’

  ‘Only that he is with the king in Elesberie.’