The Devil’s Diadem by Sara Douglass

‘What did he say?’ Raife said. ‘What devices did he wear?’

‘He said nothing. And the sun was so bright … it glinted so from his maille, his surcoat, his helmet, that I could make out no devices. I … I was so certain it was Gilbert that I did not look close, nor question him. He led me straight here.’

I paused. ‘It could have been anyone,’ I said, ‘among all this crowd.’

But no matter how much I looked about while we dined that day in the sunny field, I saw no knight wearing a silver and gold surcoat, nor dressed in helmet and maille.

Chapter Two

When we returned from the hunt we partook of a light and informal meal in the great hall, then Raife and I retired to our private chambers in the new buildings in the inner bailey. We were both weary and looking forward to some time to ourselves.

Our chambers were spacious and well appointed, on the first floor of a large building that looked over the inner bailey to the wooden stairs leading into the Conqueror’s Tower. We sat in the solar by a window, drinking ale and watching people come and go from the Tower. Most of the hunters had by now either retired to the chambers or dormitories Edmond had appointed for them, or had left the Tower for lodgings or homes elsewhere in London.

Evelyn, Isouda and Charles had left us alone, going for their meal in a hall directly below us.

‘What happened today?’ Raife said.

‘I don’t truly know,’ I said. ‘I was riding in the forest, and I had reined Dulcette back so I could enjoy its tranquillity and beauty. A knight rode with me. I was sure it was Ghent, even though I thought his surcoat different and his horse too fine.’

‘Describe the surcoat and horse.’

‘The surcoat I could not distinguish to any degree, save that it glittered with gold and silver thread. His horse … oh, Raife, it was magnificent. A white courser, his mane dragging on the ground, and with diamonds twisted throughout. Now, of course, I know that it could not have been Ghent, but then I was in such a dream and so trusting.’

I had thought Raife might have been angered with me, but he was not.

‘He did not speak?’

I thought of the words I’d thought he’d said, and of his promise that he would be there to protect me whenever I needed it, but were they true words, or not?

‘No,’ I said, ‘he did not speak.’

Raife was looking out the window, as if transfixed by what was happening in the inner bailey, but I knew my husband enough to know that the twitching in his jaw meant he was thinking deeply.

‘There are legends,’ he said, speaking slowly and turning to look at me again, ‘that sometimes mortals wander onto the paths of the Old People. The ancient, lost falloways of this land. Mayhap that is what happened to you.’

‘I became lost down one of the ancient paths of the Old People? One of these falloways?’

‘Perhaps.’

I pondered that. The falloway had felt so peaceful, so enchanting.

‘Are these ancient paths, these lost falloways, dangerous?’ I said.

‘Did you feel in danger?’

‘No. I felt utterly safe.’

‘Well, then.’ Raife gave another slight, almost disinterested shrug. ‘And the knight?’

‘A guide perhaps?’

‘Raife, what do you know of the legends of the Old People? I heard some of them while I was at Pengraic Castle, and saw three of the village women lay flowers and … and a dead cockerel on Stephen’s grave. Owain said that you allowed that. You must know some of the legends.’

‘Are you interested?’

‘Yes. Yes, I am.’

‘The legends of the Old People still hold powerful sway over the folk of the west of this isle, Maeb. Not so much in England, not in these southern and eastern Christian lands, but in the west, in the mountains and the forests, where the Church has a weaker grip. I was raised with these legends along with my nurse’s milk, at Pengraic.’

‘What are these legends, Raife? Who are these “Old People”?’

‘The Old People are supposed to be an ancient, and somewhat mystic, race who lived in harmony with the mountains and forests and the beasts who lived within, as well as with the circling of the sun and moon and the stars in the heavens above. As for the legends, they are mostly that the Old People never really left this land, nor died out, they just vanished down these lost falloways. A long, long time ago. Many hundreds of years, maybe even thousands. No one knows why. The legends say that sometimes the Old People can reach out to us, or that we can somehow touch them. But they are legends only, Maeb.’

‘But still powerful in people’s minds.’

‘Yes, thus I allow the villagers at Crickhoel to visit the ancient sacred heartstone in the chapel at Pengraic. It is of no consequence, Owain does not mind and it gives some peace to people who often find little enough of that in their daily lives.’

Owain and the villagers, I thought, possibly worshipped the Old People as much as they did our sweet Lord Jesu.

‘Raife, why did you inter Stephen under the heartstone?’

Raife sighed, and looked out the window as if distancing himself from the question.

‘It was the most beautiful place I could think of for him,’ he said finally, very softly.

My eyes filled with tears. I always had known that Raife loved Stephen, but this …

‘Raife —’

He rose from his chair. ‘Come, wife. We shall retire early. Edmond has us up at dawn for yet another day of games.’

We were in our bed shortly thereafter. Raife went to sleep almost immediately, but I lay sleepless for hours. I was deeply fatigued and badly wanted to sleep, but my head was still full of thoughts about what had happened today, and as well both my back and head ached, my bladder complained, my legs cramped, and the baby twitched as if it still enjoyed the hunt.

At some point, deep into the night, and when all noise from the inner bailey had ceased, I grew tired of laying still in bed, trying not to move lest it wake Raife, and so decided I would rise, don a warm robe and shoes, and perhaps stroll about the inner bailey for a while. Maybe that would make me sleepy.

I rose cautiously, trying not to wake Raife, but my efforts were in vain.

‘Maeb. Are you going to the privy?’

‘I am going for a walk outside, Raife. I cannot sleep, I ache and I need some air.’

‘Maeb —’

‘I will take Evelyn with me. Raife, we cannot possibly be safer than we are here, within the Conqueror’s Tower. Do not fear that the Old People will snatch me!’

He chuckled a little, and mumbled something else, but made no further protest, and I think he was fast asleep by the time I opened the door of our privy chamber and crept through into the solar.

Here Isouda and Evelyn slept, and I shook Evelyn awake, and told her I needed her to accompany me for a short walk.

She muttered complaints under her breath all the way out to the inner bailey.

The inner bailey was frosty and silent. Guards stood at the gate into the outer bailey, but otherwise there was no one else about. I tugged my mantle tighter about me, taking deep breaths, enjoying the stillness and the frost.

Evelyn muttered something, and I shushed her. I just wanted to walk and let my thoughts drift.

‘My lady, I am cold,’ Evelyn said.

‘Then stand in the doorway until I am done,’ I said tersely, nodding to the deep porch over the door leading to the building which housed our chambers.

Happier now I was on my own, I did several circuits of the inner bailey, murmuring a greeting to the guards as I passed them. My leg cramps eased, and my head and back aches almost disappeared, and I was just about ready to go back indoors when I heard a slight sound from a window close by.

I stopped. I was standing right by the southern wall of the Tower, and I realised with a little start that these windows must belong to the chamber where Madog’s wife, Mevanou, was confined. I stepped closer, hugging my mantle ever tighter.

‘Mevanou?’

I thought I saw a glimpse of a white face. ‘Mevanou?’

Then nothing. The face vanished.

Silence.

I sighed and decided it was time for my bed. I walked back to the porch and accompanied a grateful Evelyn back to our chambers.

We woke in the hour before dawn. I was stiff and cold after only a few hours’ sleep, and now it was my turn to moan and complain as we rose. We dressed, but did not break our fast.

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