The Devil’s Diadem by Sara Douglass

I travel the falloways, sometimes with the wolves, sometimes with the bears. They are both my friends.

Once, someone found me rubbing the cheeks of a wild wolf while on a hunt. Now they call me Hugh the Wolf. It amuses me — it also adds to my aura and thus my power. But I need to be careful. As my mother truly stated, I have inherited her propensity to make enemies, and in John and Geoffrey, perhaps even Richard, I have very dangerous enemies indeed.

Ah, I have digressed when all I intended to do was write the ending of my mother’s life and of what happened then. But I will add one last thing to my mother’s testimony, make one further observation.

My mother Maeb tried desperately to protect my father through her testimony. Having discovered the reason why my father could never tell her who he really was — the words would reach the ears of the Devil, and thus ruin my father’s chances of stealing back his own diadem — my mother then tried very hard throughout her testimony not to alert the Devil herself.

She failed, of course (I smile as I write this, for it is but another example of how my mother’s innocence lasted to her very end). I am sure that if the Devil had been listening to her somewhat extended testimony then he would have understood quite well what Maeb tried so hard not to say.

But the Devil, of course, would have known who my father was the instant my father put that diadem to his head. From that moment he was beyond the Devil’s reach.

Since that night, my father has wanted nothing else but to have my mother back at his side. If people, including myself (I learned the true tale very early from the mouth of Stephen, who one day took me to a dark place far beyond the falloways to tell me), have kept our mouths shut then it was to protect Maeb herself. We wanted her to be reunited with my father, but were not sure if the Devil was still interested in her, or interested in revenging himself on her, so we were careful — thus, my rather tortured effort with the tapestry I had caused to be stitched. Someone had to let her know the truth, somehow.

Ah, if only she had known her letters, how much easier it would have been. A scribbled line or two from my father and all would have been sorted!

Would she have jumped with my father that night if she had truly understood?

I don’t know. As my mother said herself, she has never regretted those thirty years with Edmond. She loved both men.

None of it matters now.

I will finish in a moment by relating the tale of my mother’s passing. Then I will return to my mother’s estate of Remany, collect my daughter Guietta (yes, even Gytha was one of my youthful conquests) and take her to one of my estates … perhaps not Rosseley at which I have installed my wife and legitimate brood of children.

I will give Guietta the testimony to keep; for her children, perhaps.

Guietta is of the old blood, too, like her mother, and like Owain. None of my other children bear the blood.

So, to the tale of my mother’s passing. Forgive me if I mix tears with the ink on this page.

Gytha, Owain and I took my lady mother back to Pengraic. It was a relatively short journey, but Maeb was already so ill it almost killed her. We arrived late one night, I desperate to get my mother inside and at some rest, only to be met by Geoffrey’s wife, Erheld.

She did not appreciate the fact we had not asked her husband’s permission — Geoffrey currently being at court, thank the saints, or else we may have been left out in the cold.

Our party waited just outside the wicket gate, she stood just inside it, whining.

I didn’t have time for Erheld.

I dismounted, pushed past her, and shouted to the guards to open the gates. They obeyed me instantly, further darkening Erheld’s temper. The moment we got my mother’s litter inside I picked her up (sweet Jesu, she was as light as a child) and carried her into the great keep, shouting ahead to the servants to make ready the privy chamber for her.

Erheld would have to sleep elsewhere.

Mother Maeb was not long for this world. Once she was comfortable I stood with Owain and Gytha in the solar.

‘It will be tonight,’ I said, soft, lest Erheld sitting in her chair by the fire overheard.

Both Owain and Gytha nodded.

‘How will we …?’ Gytha said, looking pointedly at Erheld, and then at the servants standing about.

‘All will be well,’ I said, and again both Gytha and Owain nodded. Then they glanced at each other.

‘My lord,’ said Owain, ‘Gytha and I have talked. We wonder if … if it is possible that …’

‘You want to go with her?’ I said.

Gytha’s eyes filled with tears.

‘Yes, my lord. We will not leave her.’ I studied them a moment.

‘You know what this means?’

‘Yes, my lord. We trust you with the task,’ Gytha said. Then, ‘Guietta will need her father now, my lord.’

‘I will take care of her, Gytha. But, Owain, Gytha, I must ask this one last time. If I do as you ask then you will turn your back for all time on God and his saints. Is that what you wish? Owain, even you?’

‘I have loved God and his Son and saints,’ said Owain, ‘but not so much as I have loved the Old People. I have always had a foot in both worlds, my lord. You know that. Now I would step fully into that world where my blood lies. And where my loyalty lies — to your mother and father.’

I nodded at him, then looked to Gytha, raising my eyebrows.

‘I love your mother as much as you,’ said Gytha.

‘My life, and my eternity, will be empty without her. Even the blessing of sweet Christ Jesu cannot fill that void. I will follow Lady Maeb. Please, my lord, allow me this.’

I gave her a nod, too, and a small smile.

‘Owain, Gytha, thank you. You have been better family to my mother than,’ I tipped my head toward Erheld, the gesture also taking in the absent Geoffrey, ‘her own family. My brother and sisters well knew how ill my lady mother was, and yet you two are the ones standing here, not they. Be ready then, for those hours before dawn.’

I did not sleep. I sat by my mother’s side, watching her grey face, hearing her labour for her breath and waited for the castle to quieten. Owain and Gytha also sat in the chamber on the other side of the bed.

Deep into the night I rose, looking at Owain and Gytha.

‘You are certain?’ I asked one more time.

‘Yes, my lord,’ they said.

I reached for my sword belt and buckled it on.

‘My lord,’ Owain said, ‘you knew that over the past two weeks your mother has been giving me her testimony?’

I nodded. I knew it.

‘My lord,’ Owain said, ‘I cannot finish it. Not now. It lies among my possessions, there.’ He tipped his head toward a small bag to one side.’

‘I know, Owain. I will take care of it.’

‘Geoffrey must not —’ Owain began.

‘I know, Owain. I will take care of it. But for now we must move.’

Then I closed my eyes and reached for the realm of the Old People, opening the falloways.

‘It is done,’ I said, opening my eyes. ‘We must go.’

Very gently I lifted my mother. She moaned a little, but otherwise made no sign that she was aware of any of our presences.

‘She will need a warm wrap,’ Gytha said, reaching behind her.

‘It does not matter now,’ I said, and Gytha straightened again.

We left the privy chamber.

Everyone was asleep and appeared hazy, as if they were insubstantial. We were in the falloway — I had opened it so that it stretched inside the castle. No one would disturb us.

We walked down the stairwell and then out into the courtyard of the great keep. I found myself wondering how many times my mother had walked this route. She had lived so little of her life at Pengraic Castle, and yet she always considered it her home. Despite the horror she’d endured here during the plague, she still loved it.

No wonder.

Pengraic Castle is the most hallowed of the few portals remaining that lead into the realm of the Old People.

We continued through the inner bailey, under the northern keep and then through the outer bailey.

When we got to the northern gates it was to find them standing open and the world beyond shining.