The Devil’s Diadem by Sara Douglass

‘Why do some hate me, as you intimate?’

I knew the answer even before he spoke it.

‘Because you are the route to Pengraic, Maeb. Many covet, or fear, his wealth and power. Pengraic loves you. That may well prove his downfall.

‘Ah, but why do we discuss such bleak matters? Tell me, do you like the minstrels who entertain us this day? They have come from Normandy, and are reputed to be among the best.’ Then he gave a sigh. ‘But, oh, how I wish they would sing of something other than the Holy Grail and those who quest for it. I am heartily sick of quests and grails.’

After that Edmond and I fell back to discussing inconsequential things, and eventually he turned to the bishop on his other side and I to Pembroke and his wife who were closest to me on my left. The afternoon wore on toward early evening and the atmosphere in the hall was convivial as diners consumed more wine and the music livened. Benches were pushed back from tables, and people moved about the hall, talking to others sat distant from them.

I saw Raife move down to talk earnestly with the Earl of Chestre and a woman who must be his wife, and had a nasty jab of surprise when Henry rose from his seat and walked behind his father to the back of my chair, laying a brief hand on my shoulder. But he moved on immediately, not saying a word, and I watched him walk down the right side of the hall to talk to none other than the two Templars, Gilbert de Lacy and Fulke d’Ecouis. The three men talked for a few minutes, their heads close, then as one they turned and looked at me.

My stomach turned over as I instinctively shifted my eyes away, and I wondered what they were talking about. Why had d’Ecouis reacted so strangely when I’d mentioned my father’s name? Was Henry telling them of his suspicions regarding my part in some of Raife’s children’s deaths?

‘My Lady Maeb.’

Edmond had turned to me again, and I blinked and smiled at him, trying to forget the other three.

‘The musicians are going to play an Estampie. It is time we had some dancing, eh? Will you join me?’

I smiled somewhat wanly, and rose, taking Edmond’s hand. I did not know the Estampie well — it was a new dance from France that several of the minstrels who had played at Pengraic had taught me, but I had never performed it save in the relatively safe atmosphere of the great hall at Pengraic.

I prayed that the dance those minstrels had taught me would prove to be the same dance the king’s court knew — the same dance the king knew.

The Estampie, like so many dances, was a line dance, save this differed in that it involved two lines, and each dancer had a partner in the line opposite them with whom they began and ended the dance. During the dance each of the lines interwove, people moving in and out, catching hands with those dancers from the other line they met along the way. It was not a particularly fast dance, for which I was grateful, but one of grace and elegance — and one where the dancer had to concentrate, lest they find themselves out of step and out of place.

The twin lines formed, and each dancer bowed or dipped in courtesy to their partner. No one else seemed surprised that the king had joined the dancing — he must do it routinely — but again I found eyes directed my way as I took my place opposite him.

The horns, pipes and drums began, and we all dipped and bowed again and the dance began. To my relief it was the same as I’d been taught, and as the dance moved forward I began to enjoy myself. Alianor was among the dancers, and we smiled widely as we passed each other briefly, clasping hands as we did so. People at the tables called encouragement, or clapped in beat with the music, and I allowed my smile to remain, taking pleasure in the moment.

Finally it was over, and the twin lines reformed facing each other, the dancers miraculously finding themselves opposite their partner again. The music ended in a series of wild chords, and yet once more we bowed or dipped to our partners.

Then, suddenly, came the difference with the Estampie I’d been taught. All the dance partners stepped toward each other and kissed, in a final display of courtliness. Edmond smiled at what must have been a look of panic in my eyes, and he came to me, took my face in his hands, and kissed me deeply.

‘I hope Pengraic takes good care not to lose you,’ he said, very softly as he raised his face from mine, ‘because then I shall have to come find you and keep you myself.’

I was somewhat breathless from both dance and kiss, and I excused myself to go to the privy where, for a short while, I could have some time to myself. When I returned along the north gallery, Henry and the Templar d’Ecouis were waiting for me.

I stopped, my heart thudding. I would have turned and sought to escape into the eastern gallery and thence into the chapel, but they were too quick for me.

‘My Lady Maeb,’ Henry said, grabbing my wrist and pushing me roughly against the exterior wall of the gallery, ‘how fortunate to find you.’

D’Ecouis took position at my other side and together the two men pressed me against the wall.

‘I discover from my lord d’Ecouis that you had a most adventurous father, Maeb,’ Henry said.

I did not reply, so fearful I could barely draw breath. Their nearness, their tone and the way they held me against the wall was not merely discourteous, it was immensely threatening.

‘To Jerusalem and back,’ Henry murmured. ‘And I’d always believed he was a man of no spine. He joined the Templars, d’Ecouis tells me.’

‘Yes, my lord,’ I managed. I looked about, but even though the music and conversation and laughter of the great hall wafted out into the gallery, the gallery was deserted apart from the three of us. There was no one I could appeal to for aid.

‘During his time with us,’ d’Ecouis said, his mouth close to my face, ‘we think Langtofte became privy to secrets he should not have discovered. He was a money sorter, nothing else, but we think he listened at too many doorways.’

‘My lords, I do not know what —’

‘The Templars are privy to many secrets,’ Henry said. ‘They are trusted by His Holiness the Pope when no other is. What my friend and I would like to know is … did your treacherous father pass these secrets to you?’

‘I have no idea of what you speak!’

‘The Order think that perhaps your father made off with … some of their wealth,’ d’Ecouis said. ‘With the Church’s wealth. We can think of no one else who may have taken it. Such a sin, my lady. What did he leave you after his death, Lady Maeb? Some gold, perhaps? Jewels? A bauble or two?’

‘He left me nothing save rags and his blessing,’ I said. ‘I had nothing from him. All his property went to the Order, as you should know.’

‘And yet how sweetly you have done with that “nothing”, Maeb,’ Henry said. ‘From destitute waif to Countess of Pengraic in less than a half year. Now, we are sure Pengraic was taken with your pretty face, but we wonder why else he married you. What dowry, Maeb, what secretive dowry did you use to buy yourself into Pengraic’s bed?’

‘None save my sweet charm,’ I snapped, ‘of which you evidence little.’

‘The Templars want back what was stolen,’ said d’Ecouis. ‘We —’

‘I say again, I have no idea of what you speak!’ I said. Then, miraculously, a knight appeared from the east gallery, walking toward the door to the great hall.

‘Good sir!’ I called out, wrenching my wrist from Henry’s grasp. ‘Can you escort me back to table?’

As I was walking off, I heard Henry say to d’Ecouis, ‘Do you think she knows?’

I was struggling not to cry from shock when I sat down at the table. The servitors were handing out sweet custards, but I knew that if I so much as put a spoonful to my mouth I would vomit it forth again.

‘Maeb?’ said the king, who had turned to me as I sat down. ‘What is the matter?’

‘Nothing, my lord king.’ My hands, resting in my lap, gave the lie to my words by their treacherous trembling.

Edmond glanced at them. ‘Maeb?’

‘Nothing, my lord king.’

I saw a movement, and then Raife was with me. He also must have seen my face as I had sat down although he was further along the table.