The Devil’s Diadem by Sara Douglass

It took the precise path Raife and I had taken on our journey to London. It took no detours. This plague wanted London, and nothing else.

No one who had heard Hugh of Argentine speak could put his words out of their minds. When those few left in the Tower who had heard his words — Alan de Bretagne, the Constable of the Tower, the Bishop of Wincestre, those city aldermen who occasionally came to speak with Raife — passed me within the Tower, or held conversation with me, I could see the speculation in their eyes.

Does the Countess of Pengraic have this diadem? If she admitted it, and handed it over, then could this Devil-sent plague be averted?

I felt like screaming at them that if I did have the diadem then I would throw it from the top of the Tower to any who would catch it, if they thought that might help.

I could see the question shadowing Raife’s eyes, too, and I felt it created a distance between us, as if he no longer trusted me.

I felt marked by the Devil, although I had never wittingly allowed him near.

I wished I could raise my father from his grave to either set these rumours to rest once and for all, or to say where he’d left the damned diadem, if he had, indeed, taken it.

I cursed the Templars daily, and wished I had any other birth name than Langtofte.

Raife and I spent most of our time apart. He was consumed by London and its troubles, and spent many nights away from our bed, claiming he kept such late nights at London’s problems, and such early mornings, that oft times it was easier for him to bed down somewhere in the city, even in our house on Cornhill. In my darker moments I imagined him tearing that house apart while I was not there, looking for the diadem. I don’t know why he could have wanted it … perhaps to save me from the persecution of the Templars, or perhaps for power, which all nobles lusted after.

I was big with child now, and I feared my body had grown unattractive to my husband. On those nights we did spend together Raife said he was weary and was not interested in love-making.

Images of his former mistresses swam through my dreams. Both were still in London, and I wondered where he spent his nights, truly. I suppose I suffered the anxieties and insecurities of every wife at some time or the other, but even if I tried to reassure myself of that, it did not help me sleep better at night.

Edmond found me desirable enough, even big with child. Why not my husband?

I could not even remember the last time Raife had kissed me.

One night, again spent on my own, I could not sleep. I worried about Raife and his absence. I worried about the Templars. I worried about the plague. I worried about whether or not my father had died in unconfessed sin, wearing the mantle of a thief. I carried the weight of the world on my shoulders that night, I think. I rose sometime, late, and wrapped myself in a gown to make the journey to the privy which, in these apartments, was far down the end of a corridor. I slipped through the solar, pausing to tell Isouda — who had waked as I opened the connecting door between my chamber and theirs — that I was only going to the privy, and made my way to the cubicle set into the outside wall of the building.

On my return, walking along the corridor, I heard my husband’s voice. I stopped, astounded and delighted. He had returned after all! I stood still, trying to locate him — he was speaking very low — and then walked several paces further to a small chamber which was used to store our household plate and linens. I did not even wonder why Raife was holding a conversation with someone in there, or why at such a late hour.

I was simply happy that he had decided to come back to me this night, after all.

I knew at some deep level that it was all wrong even before I had pushed the door open. The foul stink would have registered at some level, but it didn’t register soon enough to make me stop pushing the door fully open, nor soon enough to stop me stepping into the chamber.

I surprised them. I caught them totally unawares, which meant that I saw Raife, sitting on a chest, completely relaxed, half smiling, engaged in a conversation with the imp who stood, equally at ease, leaning against a wall.

It was that sense of friendship and utter relaxation between them which, on later reflection, I found almost as shocking as the sight of my husband engaged in a conversation with an imp from hell.

They both stood straight when they saw me.

Raife’s face registered profound horror, the imp’s complete disdain, even hatred. It hissed, so violently that spittle flew across the room, and reached its clawed hands forward.

‘Begone!’ Raife said. ‘Now!’

I don’t know who he was speaking to, me or the imp, but we both took action.

The imp took a step back and dissolved into the stone wall behind him, and I turned, my hand on the door, mouth open, about to shriek as I ran into the corridor.

Raife seized my wrist and dragged me into the chamber, closing the door behind us and leaning against it so I had no hope of escape.

I could hardly breathe. I was shocked, frightened, and the imp’s stink still thickened and fouled the air.

‘By God, Maeb, why did you disturb us?’ Raife said, and I thought I heard his voice break.

I turned my head, retching, and Raife caught me to him, trying to support me.

I twisted to one side, fighting him with my fists, wanting only to get away.

‘Maeb, listen to me!’

‘No! Release me! Release me!’

He seized both my wrists, and wrestled me to stillness.

‘You have been talking to these imps?’ I said. ‘Why? Why?’

‘Maeb —’

‘They’ve been following you all this time! Not me! Always in your house … and that imp in Edmond’s palace was about to meet you when I —’

‘Maeb, silence!’

I stared at him, terrified. I kept trying to pull my wrists away but he had them in such a grip that I knew by morning they would be bruised.

If I was still alive.

‘Who are you?’ I whispered. ‘What?’ ‘Damn you for disturbing me! Damn you!’

I was so terrified that now I was weeping. I knew he was about to kill me. I sobbed, wretched convulsive sobs that tore through my body.

Raife cursed, then grabbed me to him, trying to comfort me. I could not be comforted by him. Not by him, not now.

‘Why? Why? Why?’

‘Maeb, you must not speak of this. I —’

‘No! You want me to keep silent about this? I saw you talking to that imp as if … as if you were brothers! What is happening Raife? What?’

‘Maeb, you must keep this silent!’

‘No!’ I screamed the word, and Raife had to grapple with me and slap his hand over my mouth so that I did not continue to scream and wake the entire household.

‘For God’s sake, woman, calm yourself! You are with child, and you might harm the —’

‘What have I got in my belly, Raife?’ I said, managing to wrench my mouth away. ‘What are you?’

He took a deep breath. ‘If I tell you, will you keep calm?’

I did not reply.

‘God’s justice, Maeb, if I tell you will you keep calm?’

I gave a terse nod and his grip on me relaxed somewhat.

‘Sit down here, Maeb.’ He indicated a dusty stool, and I sat, noting that Raife still kept his back to the door.

My hands were shaking, and I gripped them to try and ease their tremble.

‘Whatever I say now, Maeb, remember that once I asked you to always trust me completely. Whatever happened. You agreed.’

‘Fool that I was,’ I muttered. ‘Please trust me, Maeb.’

I did not answer, and Raife sighed.

‘The Devil has sent his imps to find this diadem,’ Raife said.

I gave a nod. This the Templars had said already.

‘Thus the Devil has also sent the plague to —’

‘Sniff the cursed crown out. Yes, I know.’

There was a silence, and I looked at Raife. He was struggling with himself, and I realised he needed to force out the next words.

‘The Devil has also sent me,’ he said, ‘to retrieve the diadem once the pestilence has sniffed it out.’

I did not at first take in his words. I just looked at him, my mind trying to rearrange what he’d said so that it made better sense than ‘The Devil has also sent me’.