The Devil’s Diadem by Sara Douglass

I clutched the eaglestone and hoped its powerful protective magic would serve to aid my lady.

Two days after this conversation Stephen came to the solar and sought permission from his mother to enter her privy chamber. Now that Lady Adelie had retired to her chamber in preparation for the birth she normally would not have seen any man, not even her son, but apparently Stephen convinced Yvette — who carried word to and fro from Lady Adelie — that it was necessary and important, and so my lady admitted him after a brief whisper with Yvette.

Gilda and Jocea were also in the privy chamber, hunched silent and watchful in a shadowy corner, as were Alice and Emmette. The two girls sat most of the day with their lady mother, sometimes reading to her from her prayer book, or otherwise engaged in stitchery.

Apart from a brief glance as he entered, Stephen paid both the midwives and his sisters no attention. I stood slightly to one side of my lady’s bed and Stephen spared me a slightly longer look. I searched for any deeper message in that look, but there was nothing there save distraction and worry — which instantly set me to distraction and worry.

As he greeted his mother and she him, I moved as if to leave my place, but Lady Adelie motioned me to stay, then crooked her finger at Yvette to bring her closer.

‘I share my troubles these days, Stephen,’ she said, with the ghost of a smile, ‘and I see by your face that you carry troublesome news.’

‘And good news, my lady,’ Stephen said, almost managing to raise his own smile. ‘I have heard this morning from my lord father.’

Lady Adelie’s face brightened as I had not seen it do for many weeks. ‘Raife? How is he? What news? Where is he? Oh, Stephen, speak!’

I had not realised, until this very moment, that my lady loved her husband. I had known there existed respect between them, but not, until now, that so also did love.

‘He sent word,’ said Stephen, ‘that he is now in Elesberie with the king — the plague came to Oxeneford and the king moved his court to his royal manor at Elesberie. He is well, my lady, and sends you his regards and affection.’

Lady Adelie visibly relaxed and actually smiled — my first indication that she had been silently fretting about the earl. I felt shame that I had not known, nor even thought, that she might have been so worried.

‘Praise the saints that he is well,’ she said. ‘And the king. But it is poor news that Oxeneford has been struck with the plague. Poor news indeed.’

‘We did well to leave,’ Stephen said, ‘for even Rosseley has succumbed.’

‘Oh,’ said Lady Adelie, ‘our poor people … I will pray for them, Stephen. Lord Jesu help them all.’

‘My father sends prayers for your safe delivery,’ Stephen continued, holding his mother’s hand between his own, ‘and says that he thinks constantly on you, and worries.’

‘Then he should not,’ said Lady Adelie, ‘for both I and my child shall be well. Did he speak of the south-east, Stephen, and what he discovered there?’

Stephen’s face darkened. ‘Only a little, madam. He said that it was terrible, and that he was truly glad that you were safe here in Pengraic.’

He was lying, I knew it instantly. Not that whatever Pengraic had found was ‘terrible’, but that he had only spoken so briefly of it. I felt certain that Stephen had received a far more detailed report from his father.

‘Then what is it that troubles you, Stephen?’ Lady Adelie said.

His hands tightened slightly about that of his mother. ‘The rider who brought my father’s news also brought grim tidings. My lady, the plague draws closer to Pengraic. It travels faster than any thought it might. It —’

‘It has reached past Oxeneford?’ Lady Adelie said. ‘It is far closer than Oxeneford,’ Stephen said. ‘It appears to have travelled along the drover trails and the pilgrimage tracks, almost as if …’

He stopped, but I knew what he had not said. Almost as if it were following us.

‘It has devastated Witenie,’ he said, glancing at me, ‘as it has Cirecestre, and there are reports of people falling sick as close to us as Glowecestre and Monemude.’

Absolute silence greeted his words. Alice and Emmette, who had been listening, clasped each other’s hands, their eyes round. I was appalled that Witenie suffered — who among my friends had died terribly? I caught Yvette’s eyes — she looked as stricken as I felt — then looked at Lady Adelie.

She had gone white. ‘Then we must secure the castle,’ she said, and Stephen nodded.

‘I have spoken with d’Avranches,’ he said. ‘The gates are being closed as we speak. No one will leave and no one enter from this hour forth.’

‘Pray it is enough!’ Lady Adelie whispered, then spoke more strongly. ‘Stephen, do we have enough provisions? I had not considered that —’

‘Do not fret on this matter,’ Stephen said. ‘D’Avranches and I had thought this day might come. We have been provisioning, bolstering what we already had.’ He attempted a smile, that did not quite work. ‘We shall eat and drink and make merry ably enough for many months to come, and for all the mouths that these walls contain. Think only of yourself, my lady, and of your child. The plague shall not enter these walls. It shall not touch us. We are all well and shall remain so.’

My lady and Yvette exchanged a glance, their faces strained.

‘Nonetheless,’ Lady Adelie said, ‘I shall ask Owain to lead prayers to the Saints Roche and Stephen for the entire fortress tonight.’

She sat back, withdrawing her hand from Stephen’s clasp. ‘I wish I were stronger,’ she said, almost to herself, ‘that I might the better lead us through the trials ahead.’

My lady’s chamber was a subdued world for the rest of that day. I tried to speak of Stephen’s news, but Lady Adelie would have none of it.

‘We must not worry unnecessarily,’ she said, her tone indicating the subject was not to be raised again.

Nonetheless, late that afternoon she summoned Owain, and he led us in prayers well into the evening.

When he was done and taking his leave of my lady, I asked if I might accompany him back to the chapel, and Lady Adelie, tired and strained and white-faced, nodded her permission.

‘What have you heard, Owain?’ I said as we entered the central courtyard of the great keep.

He gave a small smile. ‘Why do you think that I have heard any news that you have not?’

‘Because you and Lord Stephen are close, and he trusts you.’

He grunted. ‘You are very observant.’

He said nothing else until we were clear of the great keep and into the relatively secluded space of his herb garden near the chapel. Here we stopped and talked.

‘Plague is close,’ I said.

‘Yes,’ Owain replied, ‘it has devastated Cirecestre and is rapidly tightening its vicious claws on Glowecestre and Monemude.’

‘What have you heard?’ I asked.

Owain hesitated.

‘I was privy to a discussion between the king, the earl and several other nobles about the plague,’ I said. ‘I know how bad it is.’

‘They say half of Cirecestre has burned to the ground,’ Owain said.

The final horror of the plague: the fungus that was composed of heat and which was inflammable.

‘Sweet Jesu, Owain, will all of England burn?’

Owain opened his mouth to say something, but just then one of the guards atop the twin towers that bracketed the gate (now tightly secured) shouted down into the inner bailey.

‘My lord! My lord!’

His voice was faint, but the urgency within it was clearly audible.

‘My lord!’

I looked about and saw Stephen talking with d’Avranches and two other knights halfway between where Owain and I stood and the closed main gates.

‘My lord!’

Stephen looked up at the man, turning a little toward him.

‘My lord,’ the guard again shouted, ‘there is one who pleads entrance.’

‘You have your orders,’ d’Avranches shouted, no doubt irritated with the man for disturbing Stephen and himself.

‘It is the countess’ woman,’ the man shouted. ‘Mistress Evelyn Kendal.’

‘Evelyn!’ I cried and, skirts in hand, hastened toward the gates.

‘She may not enter,’ Stephen shouted at the guard. I was almost to him now, and I cried out. ‘No! My lord, allow her in, I pray you!’

He turned to look at me, angry, and in that moment I saw his father in him. I stumbled to a halt.

‘The castle is secured, Maeb. No one enters. But people can leave. If you wish it, I can arrange your departure.’

I stared at him, horrified not so much by his words but by his almost complete transformation into his father.