The Devil's Diadem

by Sara Douglass

  What happened next is barely credible, but I swear I saw it with my own eyes. There was a glimmer of gold as something poured out of the hollow knife handle, and then, in the next moment, a small flash as it landed on the top of the table.

  We had all risen to our feet at the flash, and now we stood, staring. Resting on the table lay the Devil’s diadem, a full-sized crown of gold and gems.

  The diadem was beyond beautiful. I cannot find words adequate enough for it. I had thought the Devil’s diadem would be a thing of darkness, of loathsomeness.

  But this … yes, this I would have fought for, too.

  It was a full circlet twisted by extraordinary workmanship into sweeps and arcs that supported the heavens — sun and stars and moon, all made from gems far brighter, indescribably more fiery and more glorious than diamonds. It spoke to me of unrestrained gaiety, of elegance, of grace, of wisdom beyond knowing, of power beyond comprehension.

  Raife picked it up. He stood there with this wondrous thing in his hands, and then his hands moved, and for one astonishing moment I thought he was going to put the diadem on his own head.

  But before he could do that — if, indeed, that was his intention — hell came to visit the Conqueror’s Tower.

  Chapter Six

  ‘Jesu!’ Edmond exclaimed, and I turned to look at the south wall of the chamber, where he stared.

  The stones in the wall seemed disfigured, as if shapes writhed beneath them. Then I gasped in horror, for I realised that those shapes were imps, struggling to emerge from the stone.

  Is this how they travelled from hell to this mortal realm?

  I had no further time for thought, for Raife snatched me by the wrist and strode toward the door leading to the gallery.

  I cried out, but I could not resist him. Raife dragged me through the door, my wrist in one hand, the diadem in the other, and pulled me toward the stairs. I thought he would drag me down them, but to my surprise he pulled me upward, toward the roof and parapets.

  Edmond was just behind us, and I heard him unsheathe his sword.

  ‘Raife!’ I cried, but he only pulled me harder, and he dragged me up those steps rather than that I climbed them.

  ‘Let her go, Raife!’ Edmond called as we emerged onto the roof. There was a narrow walkway from the parapets that bridged between the old Roman walls and the Tower, and Raife pulled me at a run along the top of the walls until we reached the southern wall abutting the Thames.

  Just before we got there I managed to pull my wrist free. Instantly, Edmond grabbed me about the waist, pulling me to a halt tight against him some three or four paces from where Raife stood against the southern parapet.

  ‘Edmond,’ Raife said, ‘let her go. Please.’

  ‘Be damned if you wish,’ Edmond said, ‘but don’t take her with you.’

  ‘Maeb …’ Raife said, and there was such plea in his voice and face that I began to weep.

  Edmond’s arm tightened about me until I could scarce breathe.

  ‘Maeb,’ Raife said one last time, ‘trust me.’

  He climbed onto the parapet, and looked behind him briefly at the terrible drop.

  ‘Trust me,’ he said again. ‘I love you, and will do you no harm. I would never do anything to harm you. Trust me.’

  He wanted me to trust him?

  Uda had pleaded with me to trust him, and in that moment I wavered, but then I remembered that imp appearing in our chamber; how the revolting thing had crawled over my body, its vile flesh dragging across my flesh, and how, if Raife wanted me to trust him, I would spend an eternity with those foul creatures as my playmates.

  I couldn’t. I couldn’t.

  As if to confirm my decision, a malignant stink surrounded us, and I knew that the imps had emerged from the Tower and were now on the top of the walls with us.

  Raife held out his hand.

  ‘Maeb, come with me, please.’

  He wanted me to jump from the parapets? All I could think of was Mevanou, her body twisting through the air as it fell from the parapets, her body splattered on the ground beneath the Tower.

  ‘I can’t!’ I cried, ‘Oh God, Raife, I can’t.’

  ‘I will never harm you,’ Raife said.

  ‘Please …’ Then his eyes focused on something behind Edmond and myself, and I knew it to be the imps.

  ‘Christ save us,’ Edmond muttered, and I could feel him move to look behind him.

  ‘I can’t,’ I whispered.

  ‘I’m sorry, Raife, I can’t … I can’t … Please don’t jump, please don’t —’

  ‘Maeb,’ Raife said, and his voice was full of such sorrow and regret and pain that I could not bear it, ‘I love you.’

  Then he put the diadem on his head and in a smooth, graceful movement, turned and leapt from the parapet.

  I cried out, my voice hoarse with shock and horror, and then both Edmond and I were slammed against the parapets as five imps seethed past us and, without a single hesitation, leapt after Raife.

  Edmond and I rushed to the parapet and looked down. It was a moonlit night and we could see the water clearly.

  There were circles of ripples where Raife and the imps had gone in. And for one, perhaps imagined, moment, I thought I could see the flash of gems deep beneath the water.

  ‘Stay here,’ Edmond said.

  ‘Stay here.’

  I nodded numbly.

  ‘Will you be all right?’

  I nodded again. I could not tear my eyes from the water.

  He hesitated, then he was running down a wooden staircase into the inner bailey, shouting.

  I stared at the water. Behind me the inner bailey and the Tower came alive with men running and shouting, but all that existed for me was that patch of water, now rapidly calming.

  Raife was gone.

  Gone back to hell.

  I sobbed, and wished now that I had gone with him. I clung to the stonework, looking down, wondering if it were too late for me to throw myself over.

  Would he catch me, somewhere deep under the water?

  Or would I merely die in agony as my crushed body sank down, down, down?

  I saw a boat push out into the river, then two, and guardsmen started to probe the waters with their pikes.

  I was too late.

  Too late.

  Sobs tore through me, and I sank to the stone flooring, shaking in horror and grief.

  De Warenne emerged out of the Tower, and moved toward me.

  ‘My lady!’ He reached down, then flinched back as I struck him.

  ‘Get away! Get away!’

  He stood back several paces, helpless.

  ‘Enough, de Warenne, go.’

  It was Edmond. He waited until de Warenne had gone, then he walked over and lifted me to my feet, before holding me tight.

  ‘Thank God you are safe,’ he said. ‘Thank God.’

  Chapter Seven

  We went to the Tower and down the stairwell. I thought Edmond would take me back to his privy apartments, but he took me to the first level and then down the outer stairs to the inner bailey. There were horses saddled and waiting there, including Dulcette.

  ‘You can’t stay here,’ Edmond said, and I was glad, because more than anything I needed to get away from both Tower and river.

  I was still crying and shaking. Edmond looked at Dulcette, then told one of his soldiers to lead her. He hoisted me onto his big courser, and mounted behind me, holding me tight as he kicked the horse into a canter, six or seven soldiers following us.

  We rode hard through the streets of London. I thought initially Edmond was taking me back to the Cornhill house, but we rode west instead of north and before I knew it we were out of Lud Gate and riding through the country, at first west and then turning south along the curve of the river.

  Here Edmond pushed his horse into a gallop, and he held on tight to me as we raced through the night. Eventually we drew close to, then passed, an impressive abbey and I knew we must be at Westminster.


  Edmond finally slowed our pace and we rode into the courtyard, surrounded on all sides by substantial stone buildings.

  He jumped off the horse, then lifted me down.

  ‘Can you walk?’ he said, and I nodded.

  He led me through a massive doorway. We were met inside by a man I later knew as Nigel fitzRolf, the palace chamberlain. He carried a torch, and wore a deeply worried expression.

  ‘My lord king!’ he said.

  ‘We were not expecting you … I had no idea … no word of warning …’

  ‘Then I offer my apologies, fitzRolf,’ said Edmond.

  ‘Our arrival is somewhat unexpected, I grant you.’

  ‘There is nothing ready, no chambers warmed —’

  ‘Then light fires and set linens to bed and order something warm from the kitchen — they must have a fire going, for God’s sake. Is the way to my chambers lit?’

  Apparently not, for fitzRolf led the way himself, muttering as he occasionally darted to the side of a chamber to light a torch with the one he carried.

  I paid no attention to what or where we were going. Edmond kept a light arm about my waist, occasionally glancing at me as we went.

  FitzRolf led us finally to a large privy chamber. Servants scurried from behind our backs to set and light a fire in the fireplace, and to put linens and coverlets on the bed pushed against one wall.

  ‘Send for wine and food,’ Edmond said, and fitzRolf bustled away on his new mission, still muttering away to himself.

  As soon as the servants had lit the fire, Edmond pulled over a chair close to it and sat me down, squatting beside the chair and taking one of my hands.

  ‘Maeb,’ he said, ‘it is over, now. It is done.’

  There was nothing to say to that, so I said nothing.

  ‘You are safe here,’ Edmond said.

  I did not reply. I could think of nothing to say. Nothing in my head made sense.

  ‘We will search the waters,’ Edmond said, and I gave a nod. I did not think they would find anything.

  ‘I need to make sure he is gone,’ Edmond added, and at that silent tears rolled down my cheeks again.

  Edmond murmured a curse. I felt sorry for him … he obviously was not sure how to deal with me.

  A servant came in with wine and some bread and cheese and dried fruits. He set them down near us, and Edmond waved him away.

  Edmond poured out a cup of wine, took a gulp himself, then brought it over to me.

  ‘Drink,’ he said, and I surprised myself by doing so.

  I emptied the cup in several swallows, and Edmond refilled it, and brought it back, lifting my hands to it so that I held it.

  I took another mouthful while Edmond poured his own cup and emptied it in one draught.

  ‘God’s truth,’ he said.

  ‘Were those imps from hell?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  ‘Jesu … they crawled from the wall!’

  ‘Yes.’

  Edmond poured himself another cup, then brought over the ewer and refilled my cup.

  This was strong wine, and I thought we would both be drunk very soon.

  ‘They stank,’ Edmond said, and I nodded.

  He pulled over a chair to mine and sat down, putting the ewer of wine on the floor beside him.

  We both ignored the food.

  ‘What am I going to do?’ I said.

  ‘You need not worry.’

  No. I supposed not. I drank my wine and held out my cup for Edmond to pour me some more.

  ‘I will send for your women in the morning,’ he said.

  ‘And your belongings.’

  I drank the wine. My head was swimming now, and I knew I should stop.

  ‘I want to sleep,’ I said, and Edmond nodded, set aside his cup, and held out his hand.

  I rose, and let him lead me toward the bed.

  ‘Turn about,’ he said, and he unlaced my kirtle then held it as I stepped out of it.

  I pulled my chemise over my head, handing it to him.

  His eyes were very dark.

  Then, naked, I crawled into bed, pulling the covers close.

  Edmond leaned over and kissed my cheek.

  ‘I will watch over you,’ he said. I would have replied, save I fell straight to sleep.

  I woke some time later. It was still deep night, not yet close to dawn. My mouth had a sour taste in it from the wine, and my head ached a little.

  I opened my eyes.

  Edmond was asleep in one of the chairs, his feet resting on the other one.

  I lay there a while, then I rose, as quietly as I could, wrapping a woollen coverlet about me. I opened the door, and asked the guard standing there where the privy was.

  When I returned, Edmond was awake, sitting in the chair, rubbing his face as if very tired.

  There was a pitcher of small beer set on a table, together with cups. My mouth still tasted horrible, and I poured myself a cup, swilling the beer about my mouth, getting rid of the taste. I raised my eyebrows at Edmond, and he nodded, so I poured him a cup and carried it to him.

  He drank it, and I took his cup and set it aside, then slid my hand into his.

  ‘Come to bed,’ I said.

  I suppose it is easy to criticise and say, You only just lost the man you loved, why now take another to your bed?

  I had my reasons.

  I badly needed comfort, and Edmond would provide that.

  I was a woman alone and in a dangerous world, and Edmond would protect me. There had been only Edmond and myself on the parapets when Raife jumped, and I was sure that soon rumours would start about whether or not he had jumped or if he had been pushed. Perhaps Edmond was above the rumours, but I knew that fingers would point my way. I’d had too much scandal attached to me already; this could tip me over the edge. I needed Edmond’s protection, very, very badly, and I needed to ensure I had it.

  I needed protection for my and Raife’s infant son, too. He was only a few months old, with vast estates and wealth — I needed Edmond so that Geoffrey could hold on to his inheritance. I knew that aristocratic vultures would be circling the earldom of Pengraic by morning.

  And, finally, I suspected strongly that I was now carrying another child of Raife’s. I cannot say how, for it was only days since Raife and I had bedded, but somehow I knew it. I wanted Edmond to think this was his child, and thus also afford it his protection.

  Edmond was my hold on life, my single protector, and I needed to consummate that protection as soon as I could.

  Besides, I would be a liar to say that I was not already well on the path to loving him. I loved Raife with a passion, Edmond with a quiet, solid regard.

  Edmond was no fool, and knew precisely my reasons behind my leading him to the bed. He may not have suspected that I was breeding again (although he might have done, for he was aware that Raife and I had spent a night together), but he certainly understood all the other reasons.

  He loved me, I knew, and lusted for me, but he apprehended also that when he bedded me he solidified his control of the vast wealth of the earldom of Pengraic. My son Geoffrey would become his ward, and until Geoffrey reached his majority Edmond would control all the Pengraic wealth and estates. It would help Edmond enormously if the boy’s mother was compliant and willing and not a force pulling Geoffrey the other way. Edmond as king was already a powerful man. With the wealth (and the subsequent military resources) of Pengraic behind him, he was virtually untouchable, personally controlling a third of the land in England as well as almost half of the Welsh Marches.

  Bedding a scandal-ridden widowed countess was a small price to pay to ensure such power. Keeping me from another noble’s bed was an absolute necessity, because if he didn’t then his hold over Geoffrey’s wealth might be compromised.

  But … as much as a king and countess took to the bed that night, it was also man and woman, and a man and a woman who had been moving toward each other for some time. Our love-making was sweet and simple; comforting, w
arm, full of aching promise and hope and, perhaps, even a little redemption.

  When we were done I lay in his arms and cried for everything I had lost, and he held me and comforted me, and did not mind my tears. One of the things I came to love about Edmond was that he did not resent Raife, nor was he jealous of him. I could, and did, weep for Raife often in the coming months and years, but Edmond allowed me that, and did not complain.

  From that night, Edmond became the centre of my existence.

  Of my new life.

  Part Eight

  The Falloway Man

  Chapter One

  As I had known it would, terrible scandal erupted the day after Raife’s death. The only witnesses to his death had been Edmond and myself (and five imps, but neither Edmond nor myself deluded ourselves that they would spring to our defence!). There was not even a body. Some refused to believe Raife was dead at all — the rumours that the Earl of Pengraic had been seen here, there, over that mountain or beyond the seas in Normandy or other realms within Europe continued for many years. He was even spotted in the Holy Lands, and beyond, in those exotic empires far to the east.

  It was the rumours that either myself or Edmond had pushed him to his death that were the most damaging, however. We both stood to profit from Raife’s death: Edmond gained control of Raife’s vast wealth and power; I gained the king. Edmond had never hidden his interest in me, and the fact — noised about within the day by servants from the palace of Westminster — that I had gone straight from the tragedy of my husband’s death to the king’s bed did neither myself nor Edmond any favours.

  It was a tense six months. The country had been devastated by plague and, subsequently, there was still unrest in many parts, while Raife’s untimely death prompted a power struggle within the aristocracy and a small, but no less unnerving, power struggle against the king. I saw little of Edmond for many months as he rode about the country at the head of what amounted to a medium-sized army, gleaned from his own lands as well as those of the earldom of Pengraic.

  The Church and the Templars, now a powerful force within English and European society, aided Edmond, backing him against claims he had murdered Raife. They did not back me. I think both Church and Templars would have happily thrown me over the parapets of the Conqueror’s Tower after Raife if they thought they could manage it.