The Devil’s Diadem by Sara Douglass

Before either Edmond or I could speak, Raife struck the knife a hard blow on the edge of the table.

The knobbed end of the handle flew off, rattling several paces away on the floor.

Then Raife upended the knife over the table, and gave it a gentle shake.

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.