‘Pengraic should have defended you more in council,’ he said. ‘I was angry at him for not speaking out earlier than he did.’
I shrugged my shoulders.
‘I would have spoken out far more boldly had I been your husband,’ Edmond said.
‘You did speak out boldly, my lord.’
‘And you may be sure, Maeb, that not a day goes by that I wish I was, indeed, your husband.’
Now I truly did not know what to say.
‘But how could you want me,’ he said, so soft, ‘when you know already what a poor husband I be?’
I knew well before he laid his mouth to mine that he would kiss me, but I did nothing to evade it. The kiss was very gentle, yet deep, and I found myself leaning in to him, allowing him to run his hand behind my head, down my back, over my hip.
The baby kicked suddenly, and I pulled back.
‘I must not,’ I said.
‘And yet you did.’ Edmond touched my face, running tender fingers from my temple down my cheek to my mouth. ‘And even now, having found your resolve, you do not run.’
‘How could I?’ I asked. ‘In this state.’
We both smiled, and Edmond gave me another, quicker kiss. ‘One day, Maeb …’
‘One day is very far away.’
‘I wonder,’ he said, his fingers and eyes back on my mouth. ‘I wonder.’
Part Six
The Bearscathe Mountains
Chapter One
I had been exceedingly unsettled by that chapel visit, and was glad when Edmond departed within two days for Elesberie manor where lay his wife’s corpse. He said that he would be attentive to her in death as he should have been in life, and meant to give her the burial she wanted — before the altar of the recently completed Hereford Cathedral.
Richard and John went with their father. Of Henry there had been no word. No one knew — or if they did were not saying — where he was. It worried me more than a little. Henry was a bad enemy to both me and Raife, and we would have preferred him in plain sight.
It was not a good time to leave London, but Edmond was insistent. His guilt over his lack of care for Adelaide ran deep indeed. He left Raife as Constable over all London to direct the rebuilding and reorganisation of the city, as well as its preparations for the plague which came closer every day. My husband, who I think may have preferred to have returned to Pengraic, was thus stuck in the city. Much of the court went with Edmond, too. There was to be a stately funeral procession from Elesberie through the counties of Bochinghamscire, Oxenefordscire, Glowecestrescire to Herefordscire and then two weeks of mourning and funeral ceremonies at Hereford Cathedral.
Every day news grew of the plague drawing closer. It had reached, and consumed, Oxeneford, and now moved along the roads which led to London.
It took the precise path Raife and I had taken on our journey to London. It took no detours. This plague wanted London, and nothing else.
No one who had heard Hugh of Argentine speak could put his words out of their minds. When those few left in the Tower who had heard his words — Alan de Bretagne, the Constable of the Tower, the Bishop of Wincestre, those city aldermen who occasionally came to speak with Raife — passed me within the Tower, or held conversation with me, I could see the speculation in their eyes.
Does the Countess of Pengraic have this diadem? If she admitted it, and handed it over, then could this Devil-sent plague be averted?
I felt like screaming at them that if I did have the diadem then I would throw it from the top of the Tower to any who would catch it, if they thought that might help.
I could see the question shadowing Raife’s eyes, too, and I felt it created a distance between us, as if he no longer trusted me.
I felt marked by the Devil, although I had never wittingly allowed him near.
I wished I could raise my father from his grave to either set these rumours to rest once and for all, or to say where he’d left the damned diadem, if he had, indeed, taken it.
I cursed the Templars daily, and wished I had any other birth name than Langtofte.
Raife and I spent most of our time apart. He was consumed by London and its troubles, and spent many nights away from our bed, claiming he kept such late nights at London’s problems, and such early mornings, that oft times it was easier for him to bed down somewhere in the city, even in our house on Cornhill. In my darker moments I imagined him tearing that house apart while I was not there, looking for the diadem. I don’t know why he could have wanted it … perhaps to save me from the persecution of the Templars, or perhaps for power, which all nobles lusted after.
I was big with child now, and I feared my body had grown unattractive to my husband. On those nights we did spend together Raife said he was weary and was not interested in love-making.
Images of his former mistresses swam through my dreams. Both were still in London, and I wondered where he spent his nights, truly. I suppose I suffered the anxieties and insecurities of every wife at some time or the other, but even if I tried to reassure myself of that, it did not help me sleep better at night.
Edmond found me desirable enough, even big with child. Why not my husband?
I could not even remember the last time Raife had kissed me.
One night, again spent on my own, I could not sleep. I worried about Raife and his absence. I worried about the Templars. I worried about the plague. I worried about whether or not my father had died in unconfessed sin, wearing the mantle of a thief. I carried the weight of the world on my shoulders that night, I think. I rose sometime, late, and wrapped myself in a gown to make the journey to the privy which, in these apartments, was far down the end of a corridor. I slipped through the solar, pausing to tell Isouda — who had waked as I opened the connecting door between my chamber and theirs — that I was only going to the privy, and made my way to the cubicle set into the outside wall of the building.
On my return, walking along the corridor, I heard my husband’s voice. I stopped, astounded and delighted. He had returned after all! I stood still, trying to locate him — he was speaking very low — and then walked several paces further to a small chamber which was used to store our household plate and linens. I did not even wonder why Raife was holding a conversation with someone in there, or why at such a late hour.
I was simply happy that he had decided to come back to me this night, after all.
I knew at some deep level that it was all wrong even before I had pushed the door open. The foul stink would have registered at some level, but it didn’t register soon enough to make me stop pushing the door fully open, nor soon enough to stop me stepping into the chamber.
I surprised them. I caught them totally unawares, which meant that I saw Raife, sitting on a chest, completely relaxed, half smiling, engaged in a conversation with the imp who stood, equally at ease, leaning against a wall.
It was that sense of friendship and utter relaxation between them which, on later reflection, I found almost as shocking as the sight of my husband engaged in a conversation with an imp from hell.
They both stood straight when they saw me.
Raife’s face registered profound horror, the imp’s complete disdain, even hatred. It hissed, so violently that spittle flew across the room, and reached its clawed hands forward.
‘Begone!’ Raife said. ‘Now!’
I don’t know who he was speaking to, me or the imp, but we both took action.
The imp took a step back and dissolved into the stone wall behind him, and I turned, my hand on the door, mouth open, about to shriek as I ran into the corridor.
Raife seized my wrist and dragged me into the chamber, closing the door behind us and leaning against it so I had no hope of escape.
I could hardly breathe. I was shocked, frightened, and the imp’s stink still thickened and fouled the air.
‘By God, Maeb, why did you disturb us?’ Raife said, and I thought I heard his voice break.
I turned my head, retching, and Raife caught m
e to him, trying to support me.
I twisted to one side, fighting him with my fists, wanting only to get away.
‘Maeb, listen to me!’
‘No! Release me! Release me!’
He seized both my wrists, and wrestled me to stillness.
‘You have been talking to these imps?’ I said. ‘Why? Why?’
‘Maeb —’
‘They’ve been following you all this time! Not me! Always in your house … and that imp in Edmond’s palace was about to meet you when I —’
‘Maeb, silence!’
I stared at him, terrified. I kept trying to pull my wrists away but he had them in such a grip that I knew by morning they would be bruised.
If I was still alive.
‘Who are you?’ I whispered. ‘What?’ ‘Damn you for disturbing me! Damn you!’
I was so terrified that now I was weeping. I knew he was about to kill me. I sobbed, wretched convulsive sobs that tore through my body.
Raife cursed, then grabbed me to him, trying to comfort me. I could not be comforted by him. Not by him, not now.
‘Why? Why? Why?’
‘Maeb, you must not speak of this. I —’
‘No! You want me to keep silent about this? I saw you talking to that imp as if … as if you were brothers! What is happening Raife? What?’
‘Maeb, you must keep this silent!’
‘No!’ I screamed the word, and Raife had to grapple with me and slap his hand over my mouth so that I did not continue to scream and wake the entire household.
‘For God’s sake, woman, calm yourself! You are with child, and you might harm the —’
‘What have I got in my belly, Raife?’ I said, managing to wrench my mouth away. ‘What are you?’
He took a deep breath. ‘If I tell you, will you keep calm?’
I did not reply.
‘God’s justice, Maeb, if I tell you will you keep calm?’
I gave a terse nod and his grip on me relaxed somewhat.
‘Sit down here, Maeb.’ He indicated a dusty stool, and I sat, noting that Raife still kept his back to the door.
My hands were shaking, and I gripped them to try and ease their tremble.
‘Whatever I say now, Maeb, remember that once I asked you to always trust me completely. Whatever happened. You agreed.’
‘Fool that I was,’ I muttered. ‘Please trust me, Maeb.’
I did not answer, and Raife sighed.
‘The Devil has sent his imps to find this diadem,’ Raife said.
I gave a nod. This the Templars had said already.
‘Thus the Devil has also sent the plague to —’
‘Sniff the cursed crown out. Yes, I know.’
There was a silence, and I looked at Raife. He was struggling with himself, and I realised he needed to force out the next words.
‘The Devil has also sent me,’ he said, ‘to retrieve the diadem once the pestilence has sniffed it out.’
I did not at first take in his words. I just looked at him, my mind trying to rearrange what he’d said so that it made better sense than ‘The Devil has also sent me’.
‘The plague is to show me where the diadem hides,’ he said, ‘and I am to retrieve it and take it back for the Devil.’
I remembered Raife’s preoccupation about how far and to where the plague had spread. All his maps.
I remembered how he had worried so that his love for me might deflect him from his purpose. Then, I had thought it the usual aristocratic ambition, but now …
And that time so recently, when I was to undergo the ordeal, and Raife had said that I knew not the power he commanded that he could bring to bear to save me.
So many things, that I had misinterpreted at the time in my innocence. Sweet Jesu, the signs had been there all along that Raife was no true man!
‘You come from hell?’ I said, my voice not working as it should. ‘Are you … an imp?’
‘No. I am a man. A sinner sent to hell for my misdeeds. Over the centuries I have worked my way to being the Devil’s most trusted lieutenant. Maeb … please trust me.’
‘Trust you? Trust you?’ Then the import of what he’d said a moment earlier sunk in. ‘You married me because you thought I had the diadem? Is that why?’
Is that the only reason he took me to wife, because he thought I had the diadem?
Pain and hurt knifed through me, so deep, so sharp, I once more found it difficult to breathe. All those sweet words. Lies. All those tender kisses and caresses. Pretence.
Sweet Jesu … sweet Jesu … sweet Jesu …
He dropped down on his knees before me, grabbing at my hands. ‘No! I married you because I loved you, Maeb. What the Templars said was as new to me as it was to you. I had no idea, oh God, Maeb, I have never loved any as I love you. Trust me, please, God, please!’
‘You hated me the moment you saw me! You always have!’
‘Do you want to know why I snarled at you in that damned, damned dirt hole of Alaric’s? Do you? It was because I had just walked to that door, and I had seen the way Stephen looked at you and you at him. God, I was jealous beyond redemption —’
‘You are far beyond any redemption!’
‘This is God’s truth, Maeb, nothing else! I had loved you from the instant I first set eyes on you. All I had wanted was you!’
‘And thus you set your entire family to die so that you could have me?’
‘No! No! The Devil was supposed to spare my family. I had asked it of him and he had agreed. Oh God, Maeb, I love you, I loved my children, I wanted to see none of you die. I had truly thought you would all be safe at Pengraic! I could not believe he’d set the plague on them. Maeb, Maeb, I have done nothing but love you from the moment I first beheld you.’
‘Get away from me.’
‘Maeb —’
‘Get away from me!’
‘Maeb, you promised you would trust me. I ask you to keep that promise now.’
‘I shall keep no promise to the Devil’s spawn. Get away from me!’ I said that last on a rising shriek, and he let go my hands and stood.
I noticed that he was shaking, too, and I thought it because he feared I might reveal him to all.
But how could I do that? How could I walk out that door and reveal that I had taken the Devil’s servant to my bed, that I was carrying his child? Accusations of witchcraft would again be raised, and this time people would believe them.
Everyone would think that I had survived that ordeal through the Devil’s graces, not God’s.
I would be burned. Not even Edmond could save me.
Not even Edmond would want to save me.
And all for this ‘man’ who had betrayed me in the worst possible way. ‘Get away from me,’ I whispered. I felt sickened, tainted, my belly filled with vileness.
I had loved this man. I had given him everything I was without question, without any price.
And look now what wickedness and depravity he returned to me.
Chapter Two
I returned to our privy chamber, not answering Isouda when she lifted her head and remarked that I had been a long time in the privy and was I well? I am not too sure how I managed to get back to that chamber on my own legs, nor when precisely Raife let me go. I know he pleaded with me to trust him (how could I?) and to keep silent (how could I not?).
To be honest, I did not even know how I continued to breathe.
My husband. Servant of the Devil. Come to earth from hell. Here to do the Devil’s work.
And I tied to him as wife. My fate tied to him. I could no more plead for help from an ecclesiastic or noble than I could command the sun from the sky. No one would believe I had not also been in league with Raife, particularly not after all the seeds of doubt Henry planted in people’s minds, nor after my miraculous ordeal.
Sweet Jesu, one way or another he would drag me to hell along with him. And he wanted me to trust him?
I don’t know where Raife went after that terrible time i
n the storage chamber. Maybe he went to weep on the imp’s shoulder. I don’t know. I didn’t care.
I sat in the dark in our privy chamber, shaking with fear and cold and shock, not knowing what to do.
At dawn, Isouda and Gytha came in, and rushed to my side, no doubt seeing from my face that I was not well.
‘My lady!’ cried Isouda. ‘What ails you?’
‘I am not well.’
‘My lady? Should we call the midwife?’
I gave a shake of my head. ‘I have had the most terrible nightmare,’ I said. ‘It almost seemed real.’
Isouda hugged me — she was not one to hide her emotions. ‘Then we shall see you washed and dressed and set to rights with the morning sun,’ she said.
If only, I thought. If only the morning sun could set all to rights.
She chatted over me as she aided me to wash and garb myself, Gytha, silent as always, attending to my hair.
I did not know what to do with my day. It was if my entire life had come to a halt and I could not see what step to take next.
Raife walked into the chamber just as I was dressed and sitting again, staring vaguely into the chamber, trying to think what I needed to do.
‘Leave us,’ he said to Isouda and Gytha.
‘Stay,’ I said to them.
His face tightened, and I knew he was angry. What could he do against my disobedience? Call on me the fires of hell?
‘As you wish,’ he said, his voice grating through his teeth.
Isouda and Gytha sensed the tension, and backed into the shadows, their eyes watchful.
‘I have decided,’ Raife said, ‘that it would be better for you to go to —’
‘Pengraic,’ I said, suddenly realising that I wanted to be there more than anywhere. I could pray over Stephen’s grave. Talk to Owain.
I could talk to Owain when I could talk to no other.
‘Have you lost your wits, woman?’ Raife said.
‘I have lost all else I hold dear,’ I shot back at him.
‘You cannot undertake a journey like that! You are near to your confinement, and —’
‘Adelie did it. What she did, so can I.’
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