The Devil's Diadem

by Sara Douglass

  ‘Thank you, my lord,’ Raife said. He aided me to rise, and I dipped in courtesy before the king, who was still gazing at me with watchful concern, then we left the great hall and entered the king’s privy chamber via one of the connecting arches — I silently thanked sweet Jesu we did not have to use the gallery.

  There were people about in the privy chamber, but there were silent, private spaces, too, and Raife sat me down on a bench in one of them. He sat close to me, and took my hands.

  Still distressed, but more relieved than I can say to be with Raife, I allowed the tears to flow freely, and for some time all I did was weep as Raife tried to dry my tears away.

  ‘For God’s sake,’ he said, ‘what has happened?’ He paused. ‘Maeb?’ he said, with the same amount of frustration as the king.

  I swallowed my tears and, somewhat haltingly at first, told him of the conversation with Henry and d’Ecouis.

  ‘They think your father became privy to “secrets”?’ Raife said. ‘That he made off with something, some jewels?’

  I nodded.

  ‘What did they mean?’ Raife said.

  ‘I don’t know!’ I replied.

  ‘Your father did not return from the Holy Lands with any jewels? Of any description? He did not leave you any “baubles”?’

  ‘No. He left me nothing save some rags and a good enough name to join your household. There were no jewels. No secrets. Nothing.’

  Raife sat back a little, one of his hands resting on the purse I had stitched for him, his fingers tapping, looking at me although I could tell his mind was far away. Then, just as he was about to speak, one of the king’s men appeared before us, saying that our horses and retinue awaited.

  Chapter Seven

  We arrived home. I was exhausted and fraught. I could see Evelyn wanted to know what had happened, but I did not want to tell her and she kept her peace. All I wanted was my bed and Raife to hold me for the night.

  In the morning I lay abed as Raife dressed. Once garbed, he waved Charles away and sat on the side of the bed.

  ‘You will stay quiet for the day,’ he said.

  I nodded. There was nothing I wanted more.

  ‘Edmond will want to know what happened,’ he said.

  ‘Tell him,’ I said. I had not wanted to talk with Edmond last night because I knew I would do little more than weep, as I had with Raife, but there was nothing about that conversation I needed to hide, nor wished to. I still had no idea what Henry and d’Ecouis wanted, or what they meant.

  Once Raife had gone I summoned Evelyn, and she helped me dress. We prayed, then broke our fast in the solar. I felt better now, and I gave Evelyn a lively account of what my day at court had been like, leaving out only that time Henry and d’Ecouis had me trapped in the gallery. I did not want to answer questions about it, and I feared that Evelyn would have nothing but advice for me, which I could not stomach. I said that the day had wearied me and that I had felt indisposed, which is why I’d been so pale and silent the night before.

  The house steward fitzErfast came to speak with me mid-morning to arrange some household matters, and then, almost as soon as he had left Lady Alianor de Lacy arrived.

  Her cheerful face was welcome, and I rose to kiss her as she came into the chamber.

  Evelyn, who had been sitting with me, now gathered her needlework and left us alone, and Alianor and I spent the morning chatting, and recalling yesterday’s events. She, too, wanted to know why I had left so precipitously, and I had no hesitation in telling her. I did not know why Henry and d’Ecouis accused me, or even of what they accused me, but I wanted word to spread through court of my indignation and innocence before they could spread rumour of whatever sin they imagined me guilty.

  I had learned yesterday’s lessons in court-craft well.

  ‘Alianor,’ I said, ‘I have no idea what the Templars want of me, or of what they suspect me. Do you know?’

  The direct question, and its indirect reference to her kinsman Sir Gilbert, the other Templar we had seen at court yesterday, surprised Alianor.

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘I do not know. I can make gentle enquiry of Sir Gilbert. Maybe he knows. But he is more a Templar, and far less a de Lacy. He will remember his loyalty to them first when he answers.’

  Thus her answer. The de Lacys were not likely to shed any light on the mystery. I nodded, and accepted it. I’d had no expectations of Alianor on this matter, but I had wanted to remind her that I knew how close by blood she was to the Templars.

  I had learned yesterday’s lessons in court-craft well.

  Close to sext, when a servitor brought us a light meal, fitzErfast came to tell me a knight from Edmond’s retinue had arrived and would I see him.

  Curious, I nodded, and a short while later fitzErfast escorted a handsome and well-dressed young man of my own age into the solar. He bowed deeply before me, and introduced himself as Roger de Douai. He was so good looking and had such an open air of honesty about him, that I liked him instantly.

  He sat at my invitation, withdrawing a small fabric-wrapped parcel from a pocket deep within his surcoat.

  ‘My lady,’ he said, extending the parcel to me, ‘please accept this small gift from my lord king, who has asked me to attend you today.’

  ‘A gift?’ I said, hesitating to accept it.

  Alianor caught my eye and gave an imperceptible nod.

  I reached out and took the parcel from de Douai.

  ‘My lord king wishes you to know of his concern,’ de Douai said. ‘He is worried that you were somehow discomposed at his court, and also worried for your health and that of your child. This gift is a token of his concern, and wishes that you will accept it as such only.’

  That ‘only’ carried with it an entire conversation’s worth of words. He was concerned, and it was concern only which prompted this gift. It was not meant to bribe me into his bed.

  It was also not an apology on behalf of his son who, if Raife had not already told him, Edmond must have suspected of having some hand in my distress.

  I was genuinely touched by Edmond’s concern, and understood the lack of apology on behalf of his son. I untied the ribbon holding the fabric and slowly unwrapped my gift.

  Nestled into a delicately embroidered square of fine woollen cloth was the loveliest mantle clasp I had ever seen. Made of gold, it was intricately worked and twisted, embedded all about with garnets and tiny pearls.

  It was a precious, precious gift.

  I stared at it a long moment, then looked to Alianor. She was also gazing at it with round eyes, and her surprise made me realise that Edmond did not routinely lavish gifts such as this on women of his court.

  I wondered where it had come from, for Edmond certainly could not have caused it to be crafted in the space of a single night.

  ‘The clasp once belonged to Edmond’s lady mother,’ de Douai said, as if he had read my mind, ‘who my lord king honoured and respected.’

  Now I was truly shocked. This clasp had once adorned a queen. That gave it wealth and meaning far beyond its value in gold and gems.

  Again I glanced at Alianor, and saw that she was now quite stunned. This clasp was an astounding gift.

  I wondered what Henry would do if he saw me wearing it at court.

  ‘Sir Roger,’ I said in a voice surprisingly calm, given my deep emotion, ‘I cannot thank my lord king enough for the gift and the care and concern that lies behind it. This must have been a treasured piece, and to gift it to me … please tell him I am deeply, deeply honoured, and will cherish this clasp.’

  De Douai’s face relaxed a little and I realised that he — and the king — had held some concern I may not have accepted the clasp. We passed a little while in idle conversation, de Douai refusing an offer of wine, and then he made a gracious withdrawal.

  Once he had left the solar, Alianor took a deep breath. ‘My Lady Maeb … that is an extraordinary gift.’ She paused. ‘It shows such uncommon favour …’ Again she paused. ‘Maeb, be
careful. That gift will win you as many enemies as it will flatterers.’

  ‘Perhaps I should not wear it.’

  ‘Oh, you must wear it. Edmond will expect it. Besides, word of this will have already spread. The choice of de Douai as its bearer was a careful decision by Edmond. De Douai may be a favoured knight in the king’s retinue, but he is also known as an idle gossip. When Edmond wants word of something to spread, he uses de Douai. There are so many layers of meaning to this gift, Maeb.’

  I stared at the clasp in my hands. After what Alianor said, I knew that this was not ‘only’ a gift of concern. It was also an amulet of powerful protection.

  Harm her, it said, and you harm me.

  Once de Douai had departed, Alianor and I ate lightly of a platter of fruit, nuts, bread and cheese that one of the servitors laid before us, and finally Alianor came to perhaps the real reason of her visit — apart from her genuine desire to discover how I was after my distress at court, of course.

  ‘My lord earl has told me you need another attending lady,’ she said.

  I inclined my head, and wondered, who?

  ‘May I suggest a kinswoman?’ Alianor said. ‘I have spoken to the earl about her and he approves.’

  What choice I, then?

  ‘Your kinswoman?’ I said.

  ‘Isouda de Lacy,’ Alianor said. ‘She is widowed now, and with no children. She is only a few years older than you, but versed in matters courtly, and,’ Alianor broke into a wide smile, ‘she is a most amiable woman. You shall adore her.’

  Indeed I might, but I doubted I’d trust her.

  ‘She shall do well, then,’ I said. ‘Is she at court now?’

  ‘She is not far. She can be here within the week.’

  Alianor phrased the last as a question, and I nodded, giving my assent. I wondered what Evelyn would make of her.

  When Raife returned later that afternoon I told him of Alianor’s visit, and the offer of her kinswoman as my new attending lady.

  ‘She said you approved,’ I said.

  He gave a noncommittal nod.

  ‘The de Lacys must be powerful allies,’ I said.

  ‘And so will you trust her as you do Evelyn?’

  ‘No.’

  Raife nodded. ‘Good. The de Lacys are powerful allies. Having the Lady Isouda as your attending woman will be fine for that alliance. Nonetheless …’

  ‘Nonetheless,’ I said, and we were in agreement. ‘Raife,’ I went on, ‘Edmond sent me a gift today.’ I showed him the clasp.

  Raife looked almost as shocked as Alianor had. ‘I remember this from Edmond’s mother’s mantle. Sweet saints, Maeb …’

  ‘It is a powerful gift.’

  ‘Beyond powerful.’ Raife handed it back to me, studying me carefully. ‘How shall you thank Edmond?’

  ‘Not by betraying you.’

  Again, a long look, then he gave a nod, accepting it. ‘Maeb, I am going north for a few weeks. I need to visit my estates and lordships there, and this is the last chance I will get before the worst of winter.’

  My face must have shown my complete dismay, for Raife suddenly laughed, and leaned forward to kiss me.

  ‘And that look did more than your words to reassure me that you will not betray me,’ he said.

  He sat on the bench beside me. ‘Mae, do not worry. These weeks shall pass quickly, and then I will be back. I must be back, for Edmond will hold winter council and wants me here for it.’

  ‘I shall hide in this house.’

  ‘No. You must not do that. Attend court, several times a week if you can. Other times open up the hall here, that you may hold court in the afternoons and evenings. You have high rank now and, between them, Edmond and de Douai have made certain the knowledge of your favour in Edmond’s eyes. You need only sit, and be gracious, and let people come to you.’

  ‘I fear that I will unwittingly betray you, or embarrass you.’

  ‘The de Lacys, Alianor and Robert, will be at your side often, Lady Isouda almost continuously. But do not look past fitzErfast. I trust him completely, as few others, and he knows the court, its alliances and feuds, as also this city, like no other. He can get a message to me fast, if needed. Pembroke is also an ally, and will aid you if he can. And, as much as it pains me to say this, I think you can trust Edmond, too. At least some of the way.’

  ‘So long as I do nothing to threaten him.’

  A slow smile. ‘You have learned fast, Maeb. You will do well enough while I am gone. Just be wary always of what you say and do.’

  ‘But where are you going? I know nothing of your northern estates. I cannot come?’

  ‘I will be riding fast and hard, Maeb. It will be no ride for you, and most certainly not in the north, where the autumn gales have already begun. As for where, to Eurvicscire first, where I have lands abutting those of the de Lacys. They are my most northern lands. Then on the ride south I go to Lincolescire and Sudfulc. Then back to you, and the delights of Edmond’s winter court.

  ‘Maeb, be careful always. Watch your every word, guard your every action.’ He leaned close, and kissed me. ‘Be here for me when I return.’

  He kissed me again, deeper, cradling my head in his hand, and I wished desperately that he would not leave.

  Chapter Eight

  Raife took me back to court one more time before he left. This was not a formal visit: rather than dine, or pass the hour in idle (yet watchful) chatter in the lesser hall, we spent the day attending military and equestrian games in the fields to the west of the Conqueror’s Tower. It was a fine day, but cold, and we were chilled further by a persistent wind from the north, and thus I wore a thick mantle, secured by Edmond’s gift.

  I saw Edmond only briefly, but I dipped graciously before him, touched the clasp, and said but two simple words: Thank you. I did not need to say further. They were enough. Edmond gave me a nod, we passed a few words, and then Raife and I took our seats on the large raised dais on which Edmond sat. We sat next to the Earl of Pembroke, Gilbert de Clare, and his wife Isabel. Raife had told me Pembroke was to be trusted — I had already met the earl and his wife during my dinner with the king — and both the earl and his countess went to some lengths to assure me that they would keep me good company while Raife was away. They also kept a London house, some distance from ours, and this day spent in their company gave me much confidence about the forthcoming weeks.

  Gradually, I was building friendships at court.

  I enjoyed the games, despite the shouting, the jostling, the violence, the blood and the single death. I thought it as if all the hidden intrigues of court had, for just one day, come to life on the green swath before me. The games were, indeed, a courtly dance — if enacted with drawn weapons — and by the end of them not a few lords had tripped over their own feet as they lost the beat of the discordant music.

  As Alianor had predicted, on this day I saw two other women wearing their hair braided loosely and over the succeeding weeks I saw many others take up the fashion.

  It was, indeed, a lesson in power.

  The next day Raife left. I cried, even though I had not meant to, and now I was on my own.

  The first week passed pleasantly enough. Lady Isouda de Lacy arrived and she was installed in my household as my attending lady.

  Evelyn did not like her. I was not surprised. Evelyn’s and my friendship had cooled somewhat since I had become the countess; it cooled even further when she was joined by a woman of much higher rank than herself. Lady Isouda instantly became my senior companion, the one who had closest contact with me, who woke me in the mornings, who knelt at my side during prayer, and who kissed me goodnight at the end of the day. Evelyn was relegated to my low-ranking companion, who always walked behind, and who shouldered the burden of tedious tasks when, formerly, she had been my closest companion.

  Isouda was a charming, pretty woman, much like Alianor with her warmth and ease of manner although they were not blood kin. I found her company restful and she was, as Alianor
had said, a woman to whom I could turn for all manner of advice and knowledge.

  In most things I knew I could trust her. I knew also, however, that sometimes I would not be able to trust her, or depend on her loyalty, and I kept myself watchful for these times.

  For the moment, Isouda became a good friend, and I relied on her immensely.

  I kept court myself — entertaining honoured guests in the solar during the day, and, after nones, keeping a larger company in the hall. Here nobles, knights and squires came, as well as jesters and jugglers and minstrels and poets, filling the hall with their chatter and sweet music. I did this latter only when I knew Edmond did not keep court — that he had spent the day hunting, or travelling to a nearby priory or manor, and would not be keeping formal court later in the day. I did not want to compete. The de Lacys and the Pembrokes were frequent visitors, as was the Earl of Chestre and his wife, and sundry minor nobles.

  Thankfully, Henry and the Templars kept their distance; they never attended court at my house, nor did I see them at Edmond’s court.

  One of my visitors was Ranulph Saint-Valery. He came one day when Alianor was with me, but she sat at some distance away in the solar, working on her stitching, to give us some privacy to speak.

  ‘I had hoped I would be the man to wed you,’ Saint-Valery said with a wry smile.

  ‘I am sorry, Ranulph,’ I said. ‘Life was turned upside down and before I knew it my lord Pengraic had determined we should wed.’ I gave my own wry smile. ‘I had little say in that matter.’

  ‘But you are happy.’

  Now my smile was far more genuine and wide. ‘Yes. He is a good husband to me.’

  ‘I remember once that you feared him.’

  I gave a soft laugh. ‘Once, if I had known I would become his wife then I would have fainted with terror! But he is a good husband and I regard him well.’

  ‘Better than well,’ Saint-Valery said. ‘Lady Maeb, I would have married you, and honoured you, even when you were but Mistress Langtofte.’

  ‘I know, Ranulph,’ I said. ‘I am sorry.’