The Devil’s Diadem by Sara Douglass

Then, when the carpenters arrived, we rose from our knees and allowed them entry.

Lady Adelie and her child were interred late that afternoon in the chapel. It was a sombre affair for most attending — those of Lady Adelie’s children present within the castle, the senior commanders and soldiers of the garrison, the castle servants. But for Stephen, Yvette, Evelyn and myself it had an added overtone of dreadfulness. How soon before there were myriad services? How soon before a chorus of grieving carried on through each day and night? How soon before death grew so abundant that services were dispensed with and the dead buried unceremoniously in a pit beyond the castle walls and no one the strength left to grieve?

Several of the wives of the castle servants stood to one side and wailed and sobbed, rending their hair. It was to be expected at a funeral for someone of the rank of Lady Adelie, and no one paid them much mind. Owain conducted the service with swiftness, spending only a little time on the sermon, speaking to us of Lady Adelie’s life spent serving her lord, her children and those within her household. He spoke also of the nature of grief and of comfort, and how we should hold dear Lady Adelie’s memory.

I listened to little of it as I held dear Rosamund in my arms. I had not spent much time with her in the past weeks, for my service to her mother had taken up so much of my days. But now I cuddled her tight, stroking her forehead now and then and murmuring comfort to her. Poor girl, she did not understand what was happening, and was upset more by others’ grief and the wailing of the women than from her own comprehension of the loss of her mother.

I held her tight, and wondered what would become of her.

Looking about the chapel, I could see some of the subtle changes Owain had wrought to turn the chapel’s use from worship to care of the dying. Right at the back were stacks of trestle beds, from what I could glimpse beneath the cloth coverings. There were a pile of bowls and some cloths discretely stacked in another corner. The chapel had little furniture in the nave, but I did notice that some of the side screens had been moved against the walls. It would take little time for the sick to be accommodated.

I bent my head and wept, now unable to keep my sorrow from Rosamund, my sobs joining in chorus with those of the other women. I had shed so many tears today, but it seemed that there was supply enough left to shed many more.

That night, late, Stephen came to the solar. All three of us — Evelyn, Yvette and myself — shared this space, but now Stephen did not care overmuch for convention, or what Evelyn and Yvette thought.

More than anything, that drove home how dire he regarded our situation.

‘Mistress Maeb,’ he said, shaking me awake by my shoulder. ‘Rise if you will, robe yourself, and join me. I will be waiting in the stairwell.’

Then he was gone.

‘Maeb?’ Evelyn, wakening.

I struggled to sit on the side of the bed, not certain if I had dreamed Stephen’s presence.

‘Was that Lord Stephen?’ Evelyn said.

‘Aye,’ I said, ‘he wants me to join him.’

I could almost hear Evelyn thinking this through in her mind, but eventually all she did as I pulled on my robe and laced it tight was to sigh and tell me to be careful.

Yvette, on a trestle bed a short distance away, said nothing, but I could see the glint of her eyes in the gloom.

I kissed Evelyn on the cheek and said I would not be long. Then, straightening out my braids as I went, I joined Stephen in the stairwell.

He led me upward to the roof of the great keep. It was a vast space, a roof of slate that gently sloped to the outer walls.

In marked contrast to our earlier night excursion, Stephen was in a sombre mood.

‘Dear God,’ he said as we halted near the southern parapet of the roof, ‘this is going to be bad, Maeb. I am sorry you have been caught up in it.’

‘I would have been caught up in it wherever I was, my lord. Even had I stayed in Witenie.’

‘I sent a messenger to my father earlier. This will take him hard. He believed we’d be safe here. The loss of my mother …’

‘He loved her.’

‘She was a good wife to him. He held her in high esteem.’

I nodded.

‘Look at the river from up here on high. See how it gleams silver in the moonlight?’

I looked. From our vantage point we could look right down the Usk Valley and the winding silver ribbon of the river. The night was so peaceful, I could almost let myself believe that all was right with our world.

‘I cannot tell what will happen here, Maeb, but I do not think it good.’

‘If the plague has struck all along our route, then any of us who travelled from Rosseley might already be harbouring the death. We cannot assume your lady mother will be the only death.’

He looked at me sombrely, and nodded. ‘She was the first, perhaps, because she was already weakened by the child.’

Again, I felt cold, and ill. There was not just the family and Lady Adelie’s attending women, but also the servants and the large escort who had come with us. Perhaps even now I was sickening and did not yet realise it. Perhaps even now a soldier in the northern keep was coughing gently during the night and thinking little of it.

‘What is going to happen, my lord?’

‘People within this castle are going to fall ill. There is nothing we can do to prevent that. We must manage this horror as best we can, but eventually panic will consume this castle, and then, well, then it will become unsafe. I have talked long and hard with d’Avranches. I think we can maintain discipline for as long as the sickness here remains confined to a few. But once … if … it spreads throughout the castle, then panic will be impossible to avoid.’

He sighed, leaning over the parapet, looking at the view. ‘Maeb, I brought you here for a reason.’

He stopped then, falling into a silence.

‘My lord?’ I said as the silence stretched out between us.

‘Maeb,’ he said, straightening, ‘I cannot bear the thought that I might die as my mother has done. The horror … Maeb, I asked you here to ask you a question. If I fall ill … if the fungus consumes me … would you suffocate me? The thought that I might burn …’

His voice broke, and maybe I should have comforted him, but my mind was in turmoil.

‘What you ask is a mortal sin, my lord! I cannot murder you!’

‘I beg you, Maeb!’

‘No! My lord, I cannot. Why ask me?’

‘Because I think only you have the mercy to do it.’

I could not reply. His request had so horrified me that I was now lost for anything to say. It was not just that Stephen was asking me to murder him, a sin that would condemn me to hell unless I could receive absolution, but the idea that he might himself fall ill from this terrible disease was almost too much to bear.

‘I would do the same for you,’ he said, very gently. ‘Maeb, there is no hope from this plague. No one survives it. If I fall sick, if the fungus appears on my skin, please, do as I ask … as I beg.’

I could not believe we were standing here discussing such things. ‘No,’ I whispered, taking a step back. I took another step, and he came forward, taking one of my hands in his.

‘Maeb, I am so sorry. I shall not ask it of you again.’

‘I cannot.’

‘I know. I am sorry.’

‘Cannot.’ I found myself unable to stop repeating it.

‘Maeb —’

‘Surely your father can help.’ It was stupid, and I knew it instantly, but I could not bear Stephen to speak so of his death and of murder.

Stephen dropped my hand and sighed yet again. ‘The situation in England is worse than I said to my lady mother. Far worse. The plague has spread wide and deep. Many, many thousands have died. Horribly. Some towns have burned to the ground. What has happened in the more isolated villages, I cannot tell. I have heard even that some ships, having sailed from our shores, have sunk aflame within days of leaving port. It is truly a terrible death, Maeb.’

I felt that last was unnecessary, and used solely to advance his own cause.