The Devil’s Diadem by Sara Douglass

I looked up at the tower, which we now approached.

This close it was massive, its huge walls punctuated by the slit windows, and corner towers rising even higher than the walls connected by battlements and parapets. I could see guards, their weapons glinting in the sun, pacing slowly along the parapets.

We rode toward an inner wall — not such a massive construction as the outer curtain wall — and yet another gateway.

And then we were in the inner bailey, and a richly dressed man was striding forth to greet us.

‘Chestre!’ Raife said, and I could hear the false cheer in his voice.

Chestre, a man to be careful of, then.

We reined in, and Raife dismounted, leaving a groom to assist me. I tried to remember where I had heard the name before. Chestre … ah, yes. Ranulf de Gernon, Earl of Chestre, close kin to d’Avranches … and the man who had seized Madog’s wife and son … yes?

For a brief moment I remembered that the Welsh princess might well be secured somewhere close by, then I put all thought of her to one side as Raife brought Chestre over to meet me.

He was a big, dark burly man, reminding me of a bear, with a beard so bushy it kept catching in the fine embroidery of his tunic.

‘Lady Maeb,’ he said, surprising me by leaning forward to kiss me on the lips. ‘The court is happy to welcome a Countess of Pengraic back into the midst of its pleasures. Lady Adelie was always so shy.’

‘My lord earl,’ I said, almost dipping in courtesy until Raife’s fingers tightening about my arm stopped me just as one knee began to bend.

‘Edmond has asked to see you both privately,’ Chestre said, ‘before court commences.’ He glanced at me. ‘He is keen to re-make the countess’ acquaintance.’

Raife slid his arm through mine as we walked toward a wide wooden set of stairs that led from the grass up to an enclosed porch on the first floor of the Tower’s southern wall. We talked of inconsequential things as we walked … the brightness of the sun, a knight who had died yesterday by toppling off the parapets while drunk, the wife of a baron who had just given birth to twins — a remarkable event.

‘I have heard you are breeding yourself, my lady,’ Chestre said as we reached the top of the stairs.

‘Yes, my lord,’ I said.

He glanced at my belly. ‘Well, you are not yet far enough along to keep you from courtly sport,’ he said, and waved us through the doorway ahead, leaving me wondering what he meant.

We entered a great hall running north–south (I discovered later that this was known as the lesser hall). It was a large chamber, easily taking up one half of the entire level, and with twin rows of columns running down either side, creating shadowed aisles. There were several score people inside: knights, guards, serving men, and many nobles and noblewomen. But even this number could not fill the hall, and they were scattered about in groups, talking, playing at dice, drinking, or just sitting on the benches that ran along the walls, looking and noting. There were several fireplaces in the hall, two of them with fires burning, and both of these with small groups standing before them, chatting and laughing.

It did not seem so intimidating after all, and I relaxed a little. Chestre led us down the hall, our way lit by thin shafts of light from the narrow windows and torches on the walls. As we proceeded, individuals and groups stopped chatting and turned to us, bowing and dipping in courtesy as we passed.

Their eyes were watchful, careful.

Raife occasionally acknowledged someone with a nod of his head, but otherwise we passed silently and steadily down the centre of the hall to the end, where Chestre indicated a doorway in the eastern wall of the hall. Just as we reached it I noticed two men standing to one side.

One was Saint-Valery. I had a start of surprise, and he smiled at me, bowing graciously.

I wondered what he was truly thinking, seeing me now as Raife’s wife. Perhaps that I had my sights set far higher when he had asked for my hand and that was why I had hesitated over him?

Another man was standing with Saint-Valery. He was very tall, with short-cropped, thick dark hair and a hard face. Unlike everyone else in the hall, he was dressed plainly in a simple white tunic with no embroidery or decoration of any kind.

He stared at me, his eyes hard and uncompromising, and I looked away quickly, grateful for the door.

We walked through into another, smaller chamber and from there Chestre led us to a narrow, dark stairwell in the north-eastern tower. We climbed slowly, emerging into a lovely gallery that overlooked the northern fields. Here we turned almost immediately into a doorway on our left, entering a large chamber that was clearly the king’s privy quarters.

There were perhaps a score of people in this chamber, and, with another start, I recognised Prince Henry among them. He had not seen either Raife or myself, and was standing with another man dressed in a plain white tunic, laughing with him as they drank wine.

Then two of the noblemen in the room moved, and I saw Edmond, sitting in a chair by the fire.

He was looking directly at us, as if he had intuited our entrance the moment we’d stepped through the door.

He rose immediately, waving aside the nobleman he’d been talking to and those who turned to him as he moved toward us.

‘My lord earl,’ he said by way of greeting to Raife, then he turned to me. I dipped low in courtesy, remembering how I’d fallen that day I’d first met the king, and praying my balance would not give way again.

‘My Lady Maeb,’ Edmond said, once more extending his hand to me that I might rise safely.

I looked at him fully, then, the first time I had done so since entering the chamber. He was much the same as the last time I’d seen him, with the short-cropped wiry hair — now with a little grey in it — and the olive-skinned face more suited, I remember thinking from my first glimpse of him, to a more ordinary man. But, as at that first meeting, it proved to be those warm brown eyes that were so compelling.

He was dressed in good but serviceable clothes — not the magnificence I had been expecting.

‘Pengraic said you were not well from your journeying to London,’ the king said, as he stepped forward and, as Chestre had done, planted a kiss on my mouth. ‘He said that you were with child, and early in your breeding. I pray you are recovered now?’

It amazed me that Edmond actually appeared to be genuinely concerned, and, of course, I wondered at the reason behind that concern.

‘All I needed was a little rest, my lord king,’ I said. ‘I am quite recovered now.’

He still had not let go my hand, as he had also lingered over my hand that first day we’d met, and his eyes still had not let go of mine, as also on that first meeting.

‘You look well as a countess,’ he said, ‘but I sorrow at the reason for it. I have heard that you suffered deeply.’

I was aware of everyone else in the room staring at us, silent in their regard, waiting for every word that they might discuss it later.

‘I lived,’ I said, fighting to keep the tears from welling up at the warmth and apparent sincere care in his voice. Damn him. ‘Many others, much beloved, did not. I sorrow for my lord,’ I glanced at Raife, ‘who lost so many.’

There was a soft grunt of amusement from someone, and to my horror I realised it was Henry.

I saw Edmond’s eyes flicker to his son, then they were back on me. ‘We will talk more,’ he said, ‘when we dine this afternoon. But for now,’ he finally let go my hand, and addressed Raife, ‘your lord husband looks as though he needs some exercise and fresh air. Come, my lord,’ he gave Raife’s chest a hard slap, ‘we must lose those fine garments of yours, and ride to the hunt. My valet will find you something of more durable wear for the chase … I cannot have you looking finer than me.’

Edmond sent me a faint wink at that, as Raife gave a small bow.

‘The exercise will do me good, my lord,’ he said, and I thought him the liar, for we’d had nothing but exercise this past three weeks to reach London, and I think we were both heartily sick of it, ‘but if I may have a moment to leave Maeb in safe hands?’