The Devil's Diadem (38 page)

At one point, left to our own devices for a short while, Alianor leaned close and touched my loosely braided hair. ‘Why do you wear it so, Maeb?’

‘I wore it thus one day, and Raife commented that he liked it so much that I have continued ever since. Why? Is it unbecoming for court?’

She gave a soft laugh and squeezed my arm. ‘No! I had thought it the most artful piece of politic cunning when first I saw you! Here you are, your hair dressed so simply, and yet so glorious in its richness and gleam, and, while all the men of court admire it — it is true! I have seen all their eyes slip to it sooner rather than later — all the women regard it with envious eyes. They have thickened and lengthened their braids with horsehair and ribbons and pins and beads and baubles and bells so that they drag on the floor, and yet here you sit, glorious in your natural beauty, your hair outshining all of their wily tricked braiding. Wait and see, Maeb, for the next time you return to court I swear you will see a number of these women here discard their horsehair and baubles, and try to emulate your simplicity. And when you see that, Maeb,
know your power
.’

We chatted a little while, watching people moving about the hall.

I asked Alianor where was the queen, for I had thought she would be at court with her husband.

‘Adelaide suffered a bad miscarriage not a month past. She is old for childbearing and the loss was ruinous to her health. She, and Edmond’s two younger sons, remain at their manor at Elesberie.’

‘Oh, I am sorry,’ I said, meaning it. I would vastly have preferred the queen to be here.

Then I thought I would surprise Alianor with a very different question.

‘Which of these women present,’ I said, ‘have been my husband’s mistresses?’

Alianor looked shocked and I think it was genuine. ‘My sweet lord, Maeb, you are not such the country naïf after all! Well, as to your question, that woman standing there in the red kirtle, and the lady in the far corner, with the blue ribbons through her braids.’

I felt the stab of a terrible jealousy, almost physically hurtful, and I wished I had not asked the question. Both women had talked to me in the past hours — and they had shared Raife’s bed? I felt sick.

‘But they are long-past mistresses, Maeb. I think you have no need to worry. I have seen how Pengraic looked at sweet Adelie, and I have seen the way he looks at you and, no, you have no need to fret.’ She smiled a little. ‘I admire you for the courage of asking the question, and am heartened that you
knew
to ask the question.’

I wanted to ask her more, but just then two men wandered over. It was Saint-Valery and the tall, dark, brooding man in the plain white tunic.

‘Ah,’ said Alianor, ‘our court poet, as well as my lord d’Ecouis.’

Saint-Valery bowed, then took my hand and kissed it. ‘Jewels suit you, my lady.’

I blushed, wondering if criticism underlay the remark. ‘The world has turned upside down since last we met, my lord.’

‘And my heart inside out. We shall need to talk of it later. My lady, I believe you have not met Sir Fulke d’Ecouis. Forgive his plain apparel — he is of the Templars and has foresworn frippery.’

The Templars.
My heart gave an uncomfortable flip. I had half lifted my hand, expecting d’Ecouis to follow Saint-Valery’s example and kiss it, but d’Ecouis stood his ground, not even giving me a nod, let alone a bow.

‘Countess,’ he said, grinding the word out as if under torture. ‘There was another of your brothers upstairs,’ I said, if only for words to utter.

‘Ah, you spotted him,’ said Alianor brightly. ‘That is my husband’s kinsman, Gilbert.’ She waved a hand in the air. ‘Lord of some vast estate somewhere or the other.’

Alianor’s kinsman by marriage was a Templar? My heart sank. I did not trust the Templars, for I blamed them for keeping my father too long in the Holy Land, and our family’s difficulties because of it.

Suddenly d’Ecouis’ patent disapproval of me and his boredom at having to endure being presented to me, spurred my anger. ‘My father rode with your Order for some years,’ I said to him. ‘It was too much for him, and he died well before his years.’

Finally, I had caught d’Ecouis’ attention. ‘To die within the Order and at its work is to be assigned a place at God’s right hand,’ he intoned sententiously. ‘May I enquire as to your father’s name?’

‘Godfrey Langtofte,’ I said, meaning to say that he had not died
in
the Order’s service, but was stopped precipitously by the look on d’Ecouis’ face. He had gone completely white, almost as white as his spotless tunic.

‘You are Langtofte’s daughter?’ he said. ‘I —’

‘My lady,’ Saint-Valery said, ‘the king’s household chamberlain is seeking your attention.’

I looked to where he indicated, and saw a man standing by the entrance to the chamber beyond the hall gesturing at me.

‘It is time for us to go, my lords,’ said Alianor smoothly, standing up and sliding her arm through mine as I, too, rose. ‘The king has returned.’

‘I hope we have time to speak at more length later, my lady,’ Saint-Valery said, and I gave him a smile, shot d’Ecouis a more ambiguous glance, then walked toward the chamberlain with Alianor.

‘Your father was a Templar?’ Alianor murmured.

‘Only for a few years. After my mother died he went as a pilgrim to Jerusalem and stayed, joining the Order as a sergeant. Then ill-health plagued him, and he came home and died soon after.’

‘Does your husband know this?’

Did Raife know? Raife had never asked about my father, save on that very first day we’d met. I couldn’t imagine that he cared overmuch and, besides, my father had never held any office of importance within the Order — he had done little but count the Templars’ coin from one table to another.

‘I doubt he cares,’ I said. ‘Mention it to him,’ Alianor said, and then we were at the chamberlain, who waved us through into the king’s privy chamber.

The hunting party had returned, and were filled with jovial humour and much flattery as each praised another for their bravery and skill in the heat and blood of battle. Alianor and I shared a glance, laughed, and rolled our eyes.

‘The ladies dispute our skills!’ said Edmond. He was standing by a small table on which stood a bowl of water. Both he and Raife, standing with him, had stripped back to their linen braes and hose and were splashing water over their chests and faces as they washed away the sweat of the chase.

A servant handed each of them a towel and they dried off with rough, impatient strokes.

‘You mistake us, my lord king,’ said Alianor. ‘We were so overcome with the joy of seeing you safe after your dangerous adventure our eyes rolled as we near fainted in relief.’

Raife had donned his linen shirt, and, taking his richly embroidered tunic from the servant, pulled it on as he walked over. ‘Did you spend your morning well, wife?’ he said.

‘Very well, my lord. My Lady Alianor has been a good friend.’

The skin about Raife’s eyes relaxed a little.

The king had similarly donned his tunic — he was garbed as richly as Raife now — and walked over. ‘We dine at nones,’ he said. ‘My lady countess, will you do me the honour of accompanying me at table?’

Such a suggestion, even early this morning, would have had me in a tremble of nerves, but after the experience of the past hours, and Alianor’s gentle instruction, it did not frighten me overmuch. I dipped in courtesy.

‘I thank you, sir. You can tell me how my husband managed at hunt.’

The king smiled. ‘He may tell you himself now, and then I shall tell you later, and you can decide for yourself how well the two accounts marry. Pengraic, we wait an hour or two until we dine. Why don’t you show your wife the chapel?’

As much as I liked Alianor, and had grown somewhat easier with the number of people at court, it was a relief to spend some time alone with Raife. We walked arm in arm out to the northern gallery, then toward the north-east tower where we turned down the eastern gallery which led to the chapel.

‘You encountered no problems today?’ Raife said as we came toward the entrance to the chapel.

‘No,’ I said. ‘Alianor has proven a good friend. Thank you for her introduction. And I have kept my tongue well, my lord.’

He gave my arm a soft squeeze. ‘Thank you, Maeb.’

We walked through into the chapel, and we stopped as I took in a deep breath.

It was stunning. A large vaulted chamber of cream stone that glowed in the sun streaming through its upper windows. A succession of thick columns created two aisles, and supported a large gallery above. The walls and columns were painted in bright colours, as were the two rood screens. Candles flickered at the altar where gilt and gold glowed, and somewhere incense burned.

‘The chapel of Saint John the Evangelist,’ Raife said. ‘Often the one peaceful place to be found within the tower.’

We walked slowly through the aisles.

‘What did you discover this morning,’ he said to me.

‘Two of your mistresses.’

He stopped, looking at me. ‘Long past, now.’

‘Good,’ I said. ‘I also found a Templar, of uncertain temper.’

Raife chuckled as we resumed our slow pacing.

‘I did not know they were in England,’ I said.

‘They arrived a few years ago. They have a church on Holbournestrate but are petitioning Edmond for a parcel of land just outside Lud Gate. Their wealth and influence grows. I do not like them. Edmond does not like them either — their loyalty is to the pope, not to him. But I fear we shall have to endure their presence.’

‘My father was a member.’

‘Your father?’

We had stopped again, and now Raife looked at me curiously.

‘After my mother died he went on pilgrimage to Jerusalem. There he joined the Templars.’

‘He was in Jerusalem? Among the Knights of the Temple?’ Raife’s interest had sharpened.

‘Not a knight, and I do not know if he was at the Temple. He was a sergeant, involved only in coin counting, and I believe he soon became disenchanted with the Order. He returned home, where he died soon after.’

‘The Order is rigorous, and not for all.’

‘I think he missed his home.’

Raife had lost his interest in my father now, and began pointing out the devices on some shields hung on the walls. I asked him if he had enquired of the king why he was at the Conqueror’s Tower rather than the palace at Westminster, and Raife said that the king had felt it necessary to stay in London while the plague threatened the country.

‘To show his people that he does not run and hide,’ Raife said. ‘And also, probably, because if there is civil unrest in London, as there has been in the south-east of the realm, then Edmond is more directly placed to respond to it.’

We talked a while longer, and then left the chapel and returned to the king’s privy apartments, where Alianor introduced me to her husband, and the four of us sat chatting in a quiet corner until it was time for us to proceed in to dine.

Chapter Six

I
accompanied the king in to dinner, which was a great honour, and then sat at his side to eat, sharing a platter with him. I was cautious of what I said, and possibly over-watchful of my table manners, but Edmond was a calming companion and, unlike his son, I did not feel I had to watch every word I said.

I would lie if I denied that sitting at the king’s hand to eat and sharing his platter while the eyes of the court were upon me, did not give me some small pleasure and thrill of excitement. I looked at the lower tables, at the many noble men and women, dressed in such richness, eating from the gleaming gilt and pewter of the king’s plate, and wondered how it was that I had come to this means.

Raife sat down the end of the high table with a bishop and Henry (I did not envy my husband his company, and was grateful that Henry was seated so far from me), while on my side of the table sat the earls of Warwick and Pembroke, Roger de Beaumont and Gilbert de Clare, and their wives, who were pleasant company.

I soon relaxed and ate daintily, both through not wanting to appear the pig before Edmond (and the watching eyes) and because my stomach had recently become queasy, and I did not want, as Evelyn had once so delicately put it, to spew across high table. Most of the time, I used my old silver eating knife to cut my meat into ever smaller pieces, moving them about the plate, and occasionally lifting a tiny morsel to my mouth.

The initial stages of the meal were spent sipping wine and sharing general conversation with those near me, the earls and their wives to my left, and Edmond and a bishop (I forgot his name and titles as soon as I heard them) to my right.

But, as the platters of food began to arrive in earnest, Edmond became my exclusive conversational companion.

Our conversation was of the most ordinary kind at first, then Edmond asked me to describe for him what it was like at Pengraic when the plague struck.

I had just sipped from my cup of wine. Now I put it down and, my eyes gleaming with tears, told him as much as I could without veering onto the nightmarish subject of Stephen’s, Rosamund’s and John’s deaths. Edmond was a sympathetic listener, stopping me occasionally to seek further detail from me.

I felt comfortable with him. Edmond’s manner was warm and sympathetic, and he had a way of putting me so completely at ease that the fact he was also King of England receded completely from my mind. All the gossip I had heard about him — and had intuited about him previously — as a man always on the hunt for a new mistress, also receded completely.

I felt as I did with Owain. That he was a friend and that I could say to him anything I wished.

Still, I was careful.

‘I cannot imagine the pain you have been through, Maeb,’ Edmond said. ‘The terror. Pengraic thought the castle safe, as did I, and when the news came …’ He broke off, shaking his head. ‘It cut many hearts open, Maeb.’

‘It has been terrible for many people, my lord. On the ride to London Raife and I saw so much suffering, the burned villages and towns, the deserted fields, the people on the road. In the south-east of the country, I believe it was also bad?’