The Devil's Diadem (10 page)

‘Oh, it does, my lord.’ I thought for a moment. ‘My lord, I am curious as to why the king, together with the Earls of Summersete and Scersberie, came to Rosseley with my Lord Pengraic. I know of the reason why they travel to Oxeneford, as must you —’

‘Elegantly put, mistress. For that you have my admiration.’

‘— but why did they accompany my Lord Pengraic? Surely they could have ridden straight for Oxeneford? Allowed my Lord Pengraic to collect his household and join them there?’

We continued in silence a brief while, Saint-Valery looking to the road ahead while he thought. Eventually he glanced over to ensure that Alice and Emmette were not close — they were chatting between themselves and had fallen back a little — before he spoke.

‘Matters are difficult,’ Saint-Valery said, ‘as well you know. There is the … sickness … and there is also increasing unrest.’ He paused again, picking his words carefully. ‘Pengraic is a powerful Marcher Lord, Maeb. He is the most independent and powerful of Edmond’s nobles. He controls great wealth and land and thus men-at-arms. He is, in effect, a king in all but name. Edmond, as well Scersberie and Summersete, accompanied him to Rosseley to ensure that Pengraic did, in fact, come to Oxeneford and not make straight for the Welsh Marches where he might collect his mighty garrison and … well … Edmond merely wanted to make sure Pengraic was at his side as an ally and not at his back like … well …’

I was horrified, and more than a little angry on my lord’s behalf. I did not like the man, and feared him, yet I felt intensely loyal to him if only for my lady’s sake.

‘Has not Edmond enough enemies and evils at his door,’ I said, not thinking that the words might go straight back to the king, ‘that he needs to start inventing new ones?’

Saint-Valery looked at me, then he burst into laughter as he had when I’d snapped at him during the feast. He calmed somewhat. ‘You are so much the —’ he began.

‘Saint-Valery,’ snapped a voice behind us, and we both swivelled in our saddles.

Pengraic was directly behind us, his horse’s head nodding between the rumps of Saint-Valery’s horse and Dulcette.

Sweet Jesu, I thought, how long has he been there?

Saint-Valery evidently thought the same thing, for he had gone white. ‘To the front, if you will,’ Pengraic said to Saint-Valery, and the man gave a nod and kicked his horse forward.

Pengraic drew his bright bay courser level with Dulcette, graced me momentarily with one of his expressionless looks, then moved forward himself.

I sat Dulcette, shaking as badly as a leaf in a storm. Pengraic had almost certainly overheard what Saint-Valery said, and then my reply. I was not so foolish as to congratulate myself for saying what was, as it happened, precisely the right thing at the right moment. Instead I realised again how close I had come to losing my place in the Pengraic household and embracing penury. I could just as easily have nodded and smiled at Saint-Valery. Even agreed with him, simply to appear gracious to a man who had so recently accused me of ungraciousness.

My shaking grew as I thought that, on the other hand, Saint-Valery might believe that I
had
known Pengraic was there, and had thus structured my outraged response for the earl’s benefit — and Saint-Valery’s (and through him the king’s) discomfort.

And how had Pengraic come to be so close behind us? I had thought him at the head of the column. I did not remember seeing him ride past us to the rear.

I
was
glad I was going to Pengraic Castle. The court and its treacherous eddies were too frightening and dangerous for me. I could not wait to escape them — and Pengraic himself.

Dark and damned the castle might be, but I thought it would prove considerably safer than these sun-drenched lowlands.

Chapter Nine

W
e reached Oxeneford late in the afternoon. The king had a palace outside the city walls, and it was there we would stay for a few days before travelling on to Pengraic in the Welsh Marches.

We skirted the city, turning for the north-western meadows, and suddenly I saw laid out in the fields beyond the palace the encampment of what appeared to me to be a large army. There were scores of tents with pennants flying the colours and heraldic arms of their occupants, long horse lines, cooking fires, men at weapon practice or standing about idling, and maille-smiths sweating over their work. It made the threat of unrest, even outright rebellion, seem very real to me, whereas before it had only been something lurking in the shadows of words and frowns.

Much of the column peeled off into this encampment, but Edmond, his closest retainers (including Saint-Valery), Scersberie and Pengraic and his household continued into the palace. I helped Lady Adelie and Evelyn out of the cart, then took control of John and Rosamund. Evelyn was moving better now, although she was still stiff and sore. We went inside the palace and were shown to our chambers. We were all glad to be allowed to rest, before the evening meal in the king’s great hall.

Unlike the meal at Rosseley, Evelyn and myself, and even Mistress Yvette, sat at places far down the hall tables, where we only talked among ourselves during a repast I thought indifferent to that offered at Rosseley. Evelyn was feeling uncomfortable, and no one noticed when I decided to accompany her back to our chamber where I thought I would help her to bed.

I stayed with her for a while, until Mistress Yvette returned and then went with her to help Lady Adelie to her bed. The earl and his countess had a magnificent chamber on the top floor of the main palace building, with a cleverly arched and panelled ceiling, and with its own great fireplace. Their bed, heavily draped in well-worked crimson hangings and festooned with furs, dominated the room and I spent more than a few minutes in some envy at their comforts.

The earl was elsewhere, and once Mistress Yvette and I had disrobed Lady Adelie and helped her into the luxurious bed, Yvette and I carefully folded the countess’ robes and lay them in one of the two chests in the chamber.

‘Maeb?’

I turned to the countess, sitting in her bed with her ever-present book of devotion in her hands.

‘Maeb, Yvette is weary, although she will not speak of it, and is troubled by an ache in her temples. Will you attend me tomorrow morning, at rising? I would allow Yvette a morning to lie abed, for her own rest.’

‘Of course, madam.’ I was both pleased and a little nervous. I had attended the countess on occasion in the morning, aiding her to rise, but always with Mistress Yvette present.

‘In that hour before dawn, if you will,’ Lady Adelie said. ‘I would rise early for my prayer on the morrow.’

Privately I thought the countess could do with a lie abed herself, for she looked strained, but I merely nodded, dipped in courtesy, made sure that neither the countess nor Mistress Yvette needed me for anything else, and returned to the chamber I shared with Evelyn.

I had thought to find Evelyn asleep, but she was awake, and in some discomfort.

‘Evelyn? What is it?’

‘Oh, nothing too troublesome, Maeb. Do not fret. It is but this back. It cramps and will not let me sleep.’

‘I will fetch a hot poultice for you, Evelyn. It will relax the griping.’

I could see Evelyn struggling with herself. I knew Evelyn well. Part of her would not wish to trouble me, the other part desperately yearned for that poultice.

I laughed. ‘Do not fret, Evelyn. I know the way to the kitchens, for I went there earlier for madam’s posset. I will fetch the poultice, and then you will rest easy.’

Evelyn’s face relaxed in relief. ‘Thank you, Maeb.’

I found the kitchen easily enough, and tried to keep out of the cooks’ and servants’ way as I made a warm barley and herb poultice for Evelyn’s back. I wrapped it in some linen, then begged a wooden bowl from one of the cooks that I might carry it more easily.

It was late night now, and many of the torches had burned low. I crossed the small courtyard to the building where our chamber lay, but somehow took the wrong door. I only realised I had mislaid my way when I walked into a store chamber filled with barrels and realised that I had not passed through it on my way to the kitchen. It was very dark, the only light coming from a couple of open windows high in the walls, and I muttered to myself, cross that I had lost my way.

I turned for the door, intending to retrace my steps back into the courtyard where I might find the right door, when I stopped, so terrified that I froze, unable to move or even think.

The door was open, and there must have been a torch in the chamber beyond, for what stood —
crouched
— in the door was clearly silhouetted.

It was an imp — my mind registered that at least. How often had I seen them, crawling in stone across the walls of churches, or grinning down from their gutters high above?

It had a grotesque lumpy body, its limbs thin and stick-like, its hands and feet over-sized and splayed as it rested on all fours, watching me.

A long, skinny tail snaked out behind it, threshing to and fro, like a cat stalking.

Its face was round, with a pig’s snout, its teeth small and sharp.

A red forked tongue flicked out as I watched, and its luminous eyes slowly blinked.

Then it hissed and rose on its back legs as if to strike out. Standing, it was taller than a man.

I shrieked, stumbling backward, certain that it would take my life and carry my soul down to hell.

Suddenly something caught me about the waist and I was violently wrenched to one side.

‘Get thee back to thy foul master, imp!’ a man’s voice cried, and I heard the sound of steel being drawn.

I had stumbled against a barrel, and it was only after I had found my balance and could look up that I realised it was Pengraic who stood there, stepping forth to the imp with his sword drawn. He made a lunge toward it and the imp gave a soft sibilant hissing sound, as if thwarted, and abruptly vanished.

A low cry came from my throat, and everything momentarily blurred and darkened about me. I felt the earl grab me about the waist again, and he guided me to sit down on a barrel that lay on its side. He sat holding me until he was sure that I would no longer faint.

‘
Saints damn you!
What do you here?’

‘I am s… s… sorry, my lord. I came only for a poultice for Evelyn’s back.’ Amazingly, I realised I still held the thing in my hands. I had been confronted by an imp from hell, but I had not dropped Evelyn’s poultice. ‘I lost my way … I am … I am … sorry.’

‘You are a most foolish woman, mistress!’ the earl said as his hands relaxed away from my waist.

I thought to rise, almost as fearful of the earl in his bad temper as I had been of the imp, but he stopped me.

‘Wait. We need to talk, then I will escort you back to your chamber.’

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘You will not say anything, not to anyone, about what you saw here tonight.’

‘No, my lord.’

‘Not to anyone, Maeb! Swear it!’

‘I
swear
, my lord!’

‘Not to Evelyn, not to my lady wife, not to Stephen. To
no one
. It would cause panic and dismay, and that we do not need.’

‘I will not speak, my lord.’

We were close enough that I could see his face, and I could see that he watched me carefully, his eyes narrowed. Finally he gave a small nod. ‘Yes, I will trust you. You will not speak.’

What if he had decided the other way? That I could not be trusted? What would he have done?

I had been trembling, but now I trembled more.

‘You are not in danger, Maeb. The imp will not trouble you again … but stray here no more. Stay close to your lady and your chamber.’

I nodded. ‘But the imp has seen me, my lord … did it come for me? How do I know it won’t return?’

‘Maeb, just trust me. It will not return for you. It was not you it wanted.’

‘Then who? I —’

‘Stop questioning my words, Maeb!’

I cringed at the sharpness of his voice, and he sighed. ‘Maeb, now I am sorry for my roughness of speech. And I have yet to express my gratitude for what you said to Saint-Valery this day. That was well said, and I thank you for it.’

I knew he was trying to take my mind away from the imp, but still I appreciated his words. ‘Thank you, my lord.’

I wanted to leave. I kept glancing toward the door, but the earl sat as if he still had something to say but could not quite find the words for it. I grew more uncomfortable by the moment, and wished desperately I was back in my chamber, curled up with Evelyn, finding refuge in a deep, unknowing sleep.

The earl turned a little, enough so that he faced me directly. ‘Maeb, there is a dark flood coming. You will need to be strong.’

‘My lord?’

‘The plague. It will be worse than you could ever imagine, worse than you have been told.’

I did not know what to say, for his words struck great fear into me.

‘Remember that you promised all your care for my wife.’

‘I will be strong, for my lady’s sake.’

‘Good.’ His voice had relaxed now, so I dared also to relax.

A little too soon, as it happened.

‘Saint-Valery has asked for your hand in marriage,’ he said.

‘No!’ I said.

‘You know full well why he has asked for you, don’t you.’

Of course I knew. The king did not want to touch me until I had been wed. It was his idea of courtesy. Saint-Valery would do anything to smooth the path for his master. I was to be used and then discarded in the king’s casual game of lust at court. I felt ill, and I think some of what I felt showed on my face.

‘Do not worry, Maeb. You will go to Pengraic and there you will be safe. Who knows who or what will be left standing when this flood recedes.’

‘Thank you, my lord.’ I did not truly know what to say. They were the safest words I could think of.

‘Now take that poultice to Evelyn, and forget all you have seen and heard this night — save your vow of silence.’

‘I will, my lord,’ I said.

I rose, dipped in courtesy, and left the store room. The earl seemed to have forgotten his promise to escort me to my chamber, but I did not mind. I was glad enough to leave him.