The Devil's Diadem (14 page)

‘The Black Mountains,’ she said. ‘Pengraic Castle sits at one of the southern spurs of those mountains, overlooking the Usk Valley.’

I nodded, not moving my eyes from the mountains. As the clouds shifted, so pools of sunlight raced across them. They looked wild and untamed, and a shiver went down my spine.

There lay Pengraic.

We came upon Pengraic on the fifth day, as Stephen had predicted. We’d reached the small town of Bergeveny at mid-afternoon the previous day, the mountains now so close it felt as though I only needed reach out my hand to touch them. I was in a state of part excitement, part dread. Stephen had spoken well of Pengraic, but almost everyone else appeared to have sunk ever further into themselves as we drew close. The past few days I’d barely had more than two words of conversation with anyone. During the day Lady Adelie slipped into a deep reverie as she rocked back and forth in her cart, Mistress Yvette always close by her side; at night she said little as she ate sparingly and then went to her bed.

The girls, Alice and Emmette, hardly talked to me once we’d passed Monemude. It was if, this close to home, they had retreated to a distance befitting nobility, for they no longer rode with me and instead preferred to ride with their brother further ahead in the column.

I was left to trail Lady Adelie’s cart on Dulcette by myself, with no company save for the greetings of a passing soldier or knight as he moved up and down the column.

Without Evelyn I felt very alone.

Stephen also no longer came back to talk to me. He did ride back to check on his mother many times during the day, and on these occasions he would nod a greeting to me, but he did not speak.

I wondered if his mother had spoken to him, as well.

Even Rosamund, who had so often enjoyed riding with me, now appeared to disdain the very idea and shrieked if I rode Dulcette to the side of the cart, as if she thought I was about to snatch her from its comforts.

Thus, by the time we left Bergeveny for the morning’s journey to Pengraic Castle, I felt quite alone in the world.

That last day we rode swiftly, for no doubt everyone just wanted to be out of the saddle, or the deep discomfort of the tray of a cart. We rode toward a gap in the mountains — the Usk Valley, one of the soldiers told me when I asked. We splashed through many streams and rivulets, across fields and meadows and, close to noon, we entered the valley.

It was wide and fairly flat, a green valley that wound into the distance, bounded on either side by hills and mountains — the Black Mountains to the north, the Bearscathe Mountains to the south. The road followed the path of the River Usk, and was flat and well maintained. The sun shone, the trees on the riverbank dipped and swayed in the breeze, and late spring flowers littered the banks of the road.

It was not what I had expected. All my life I’d heard tales of the Welsh and of their savagery; all children feared them. Yet here we were, deep in the Welsh Marches, and the countryside here was, if anything, prettier than any I had yet seen along the journey. Even the mountains and hills to either side had lost their threatening aspect. Their lower reaches had been cleared for fields, their crowns sometimes bare, sometimes cloaked in thick forest. The Usk was on my left as I rode into the valley, its banks covered by trees whose branches dipped into the water, so that my view of the river was veiled by shifting leaves.

This was not, surely, the dark, damned country of Lady Adelie’s description.

We turned a little north, away from the river, and followed a road toward a small village that someone told me was called Crickhoel. I had my gaze set on it, not thinking that we might be very close to the castle, when suddenly Stephen was at my side again.

I jumped, for I had not seen him approach. He nodded to my right, to a spot much higher than the village. ‘My home,’ he said, and I turned my head, lifted my gaze …

And gasped.

There it was. Pengraic Castle, sitting far up the side of a mountain, high, high above us.

‘There is a spur of land,’ Stephen said, pointing with one hand, ‘that runs south from the flank of the mountain — the Welsh call it Pen Cerrigcalch. At the end of the spur is a plateau, and it is on that plateau that Pengraic sits.’

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. I had never seen any castle as mighty as this one. We were still some two miles from it, far down in the valley, yet even so it dominated the entire landscape.

Built of weathered grey stone, it rose into the sky — untold battlements and parapets, and sheer walls that rose to merge with the low clouds.

‘All you can see of the castle from this spot,’ Stephen said, ‘is the great keep. But behind that the castle stretches toward the mountain. Through the inner bailey, then into the northern keep and then the outer bailey beyond that. Ah, Maeb, I hope you will love it as much as I.’

I glanced at him then, and I saw such love on his face as he gazed upward that it stunned me.

‘It is legend,’ Stephen said, very softly, ‘that the rock on which Pengraic Castle sits has been sacred since that time when only the Old People roamed these hills.’ He dropped his eyes very suddenly to mine. ‘Perhaps so,’ he said, ‘and perhaps they’ve never left.’

‘Old People?’

‘The name given to those ancient folk who lived here even before the English or even the Welsh came to live on this island.’

The Old People. I shivered, but forgot them almost immediately as soon afterward we turned our horses and began our climb upward.

It was hard work, for the way was steep, and the cart horses moved very slowly. I gave Dulcette as loose a rein as I could and let her find her own pace — soon her head was low and bobbing up and down as she picked her way from one side of the roadway to the other, wherever she thought she saw an easier path.

Very gradually we drew closer to the castle. We approached from the south-eastern side, and as we came about I could clearly see that the castle stretched right along the spur of land that descended from the southern flank of Pen Cerrig-calch. I could not comprehend its size; the great keep alone would have awed me, but to see the entire castle stretch back along the spur, its walls and battlements punctuated at regular intervals by towers … in its entirety I thought the castle became a mountain itself, one mountain of grey stone that grew out of another.

The sides of the mountain that led up to the castle were very steep, sloping down on the castle’s southern, western and eastern flanks. The only gentle gradient lay behind the castle, as the spur of land rose to join with Pen Cerrig-calch.

I thought the castle must be impregnable.

The roadway doglegged up the steep hillside. We moved northward almost halfway along the long eastern flank of the castle before executing a tight turn — the carts only barely managing to keep to the road — and climbing south back toward the main gate situated in the south wall by the great keep.

When we drew close, within twenty or so paces, the walls of the castle towered over me; they blotted out the sun, casting everyone in deep, cold shadow, and I shivered.

I tried to twist about, to see what I could of the castle, but suddenly Dulcette picked up her pace and entered the gateway and I was surrounded by walls of stone.

And then, as if by magic, Dulcette emerged into bright sunshine and I was inside Pengraic Castle.

Part Two
The Death

Chapter One

P
engraic Castle was a marvel, but it also disconcerted me as it was so vast. I felt lost amid its huge chambers and the tight, winding stairwells that appeared suddenly in the most surprising of spaces.

My days were mostly spent in the great keep, and those mostly on the upper level … here was the solar and the lord’s privy chamber, as well the male and female dormitories for servants and guards. The ground level housed the great hall, the kitchens, and the storage and stabling areas. Because the earl was not in residence and Lady Adelie was not well, I did not eat in the great hall, which was where the majority of the servants, soldiers and knights dined, but rather took my meals with the countess in either the solar or her chamber.

I was awed not only by the size of the castle, and its complexity (which took me weeks to fathom), but also by the richness of its amenities and furnishings. The great hall, the solar, and even the lord’s chamber, were well furnished with enormous fireplaces which had chimneys to take away the smoke (the great hall had
two
fireplaces, which would keep it warm on the coldest of nights).

The wooden floors were spread with woven rugs, the walls hung with tapestries of such skilled work that they amazed me, and often, when the countess did not require my presence, I spent much time in tracing the story lines embroidered into their fabric.

The countess kept mainly to the solar during the day, and her privy chamber in the evening and night. She rarely ventured beyond those two chambers. All her meals were taken here. I assisted her morning and night to robe and then disrobe, and attend to her needs at those times, but during the day Mistress Yvette mostly kept her company, and I was left free for other duties.

As at Rosseley, these mostly involved the children. Ancel and Robert, the twins, were no longer with the household so their mischief no longer concerned me. Alice and Emmette, almost grown ladies, tended to keep to themselves, or else sat with their mother learning their stitching and embroideries. That left John, the baby, and Rosamund, and as the nurse tended John for most of the time, it meant that Rosamund and I spent much of our days together.

I did not mind, for she was a delightful child and I loved her dearly. Sometimes she and I played in the solar, but the noise of our merriment oft disturbed the countess, and we sought our amusements elsewhere.

The children, as did the nurse, slept in the female dormitory (itself portioned into different apartments) which ran immediately off the solar (the men’s dormitory lay on the western side of the keep). After a few days of running and playing in there, I decided we both needed to venture further than the living quarters on the upper level.

I took Rosamund into the solar, where the countess sat with Mistress Yvette, Alice and Emmette.

‘My lady,’ I said, ‘Rosamund needs to run, and we both need the fresh air. May I take her for a walk in the inner bailey?’

‘Be wary of the horses,’ said Lady Adelie, ‘and do not get in the way of the knights or soldiers.’

‘I will be careful, my lady.’

And thus we were free to explore a little. I was thrilled. While I marvelled at the richness and luxury of the lord’s chambers, I still longed for the open air and the sun on my face. I took Rosamund by the hand and together we descended the stairwell.

The kitchens and the courtyard of the great keep were alive with activity: servants hurried to and fro, and the courtyard had a half score of horses being groomed. I gathered Rosamund in my arms, not wanting her to be trampled, and together we walked through the gate to the inner bailey.

I’d only had a glimpse of the inner bailey when we’d first arrived, as upon entering the main gate I’d been directed into the great keep’s courtyard. I’d had a sense of great space, and I knew I’d seen trees and gardens, which had surprised me.

Now, as I slipped through the keep’s gateway to the inner bailey, I could see that the walls enclosed a vast area, two large portions of which were given over to orchards, herb and food gardens. I turned to my left where there was a garden growing in the space bounded by the keep, the outer ring of defence wall and the chapel, a large and gracious building which ran from the outer wall into the centre of the bailey. It was a large garden, sheltered from the constant movement of men and horses through the inner bailey by a waist-height picket fence, and so I was happy to let Rosamund run free once we’d walked through the fence’s gateway.

I kept an eye on Rosamund, making sure she disturbed none of the plants, but mostly I let her be as I strolled along the garden paths. The scent from the flowers and the pungent leaves of the herbs, the gentle hum of the bees, the sun on my face … I breathed in deeply, closing my eyes briefly as I relaxed.

When I opened them again I saw that a man approached from a door in the chapel; the castle priest, from his robes and tonsure.

‘You must be Mistress Maeb Langtofte,’ he said as he came to a halt before me. He had a pleasant face, well featured, with a strong nose, warm brown eyes and a fringe of dark hair that flopped over his brow. He was only some five or six years older than me.

‘You know me?’ I said, surprised.

‘Who else could you be?’ the priest said, then inclined his head. ‘I am Brother Owain.’ He nodded at the chapel. ‘And there my realm. I knew you because I know all of the countess’ women … save for her new attending woman. Thus, you must be she.’

‘I am indeed,’ I said. I indicated the garden. ‘Should I not be here, Brother Owain? I could not resist. Both Rosamund and myself needed the sun on our faces, and the fresh air. I thought …’

‘You are most welcome to the garden,’ Owain said. ‘Its purpose is to soothe the soul as much as the flesh. But keep Rosamund away from that far corner. It harbours dark plants I use in my herbals, and if she were to eat them, then it would not go well for her.’

I nodded, glancing about to make sure Rosamund was nowhere near the dangerous herbs. She was wandering through the garden close to the chapel, studying various flower heads in childish wonder, and I relaxed.

‘How do you find Pengraic, mistress?’ Owain said.

For a moment I thought he meant the earl, then realised he talked of the castle.

‘I find it very formidable,’ I said. ‘I feel a little lost.’

‘It
is
overwhelming when first you enter it,’ Owain said. ‘Initially you only see its towering walls, and the great slabs of stone. But after a while …’

‘Yes?’

‘After a while you begin to see its loveliness, too.’