The Devil's Diadem (15 page)

I looked about, wondering that I should ever find these defences ‘lovely’. I must have been frowning for Owain gave a little laugh. ‘You have been here but days, and I wager you have seen little of the castle save the great keep. I have lived here most of my life, and to me this castle is a world all to itself.’

‘Most of your life?’ I said, curious.

‘Aye,’ Owain said. ‘I was born in Crickhoel — that is the village you passed by to reach the castle — and apart from the years I spent learning my craft in the priory in Glowecestre, I have lived either in the village or this castle all the years of my life.’

‘You are Welsh?’ I said.

‘Indeed, mistress.’

I did not know how to phrase this next question, so I chose vagueness. ‘And yet you are happy here?’

‘Here? In this castle? In this
Norman
castle?’ Owain chuckled. ‘Yes, I am. This place … it holds much history among my people. It is a sacred spot. We tell myths that come from the people who were here before the Welsh; we have a strong attachment to the past. It is no wonder that Pengraic’s ancestor built his castle here, meaning to impose himself on the Welsh — he had to intimidate both the legends
and
the Welsh. And to answer your next question, for I see it on your face, yes, my loyalty is to the earl, and to Lord Stephen.’

I opened my mouth to ask another question, wondering that Owain mentioned, as had Stephen, the ancient peoples and the sacredness of this spot, but just at that moment we heard footsteps approaching.

It was Stephen — which fact gave me a warm glow — and another knight. I did not know the other man, but he strode with as much authority as Stephen, and carried about him almost as grand an air of nobility.

‘Owain!’ Stephen said. ‘And Mistress Maeb, guarding my youngest sister. Maeb, you have not met Ralph yet, have you? Then may I present Ralph d’Avranches, the garrison commander at Pengraic.’

I remembered his name from the conversation I’d heard in the solar at Rosseley. D’Avranches was from a distinguished and noble Norman family, and was renowned for his military skill.

‘My lord,’ I said, dipping in courtesy.

‘Mistress,’ d’Avranches said, with the minimum of politeness. He was singularly uninterested in either myself or Owain, and turned immediately back to Stephen, with whom I imagined he had been deep in conversation before Stephen detoured into the garden. ‘If I have your leave, my lord.’

‘By all means,’ Stephen said, and, with a half bow to Stephen, d’Avranches turned on his heel and was gone, his booted feet crunching along the gravel path.

‘I am glad to see you about,’ Stephen said to me. ‘I am sorry I have not attended my mother as I should, but …’ he shrugged. ‘Garrison matters always seem to crowd round me, demanding my attention. How does she keep, Maeb?’

‘She is well enough,’ I said. ‘She has regained some colour, and eats better now she is not constantly travelling. She has a little cough from the dampness of the stone, or perhaps a lingering chill caught while travelling, but otherwise she is much improved.’

‘I am relieved I managed to escort her home safe,’ Stephen said. ‘I worried for her, and the child. There is not yet sign of its birth?’

‘My lady thinks a little while yet, my lord,’ I said.

Stephen nodded, then grinned at Owain. ‘No doubt such tedious household gossip bores you, my friend.’

‘Indeed not, my lord,’ Owain said. He looked to me. ‘I did not know my lady has been unwell. Would you ask her if she would like me to attend on her?’

‘Owain is skilled with herbals,’ Stephen said, ‘and
I
should have thought to have asked you to visit her before now, Owain. I will attend her this very afternoon, and speak to her of you.’

Owain gave a small bow. ‘I was about to show Mistress Maeb the chapel, my lord. Will you accompany us?’

I was not sure I should be seen with Stephen at all, for I still heeded the countess’ and Evelyn’s warnings. But no one from my lady’s chambers could see us here, and the chapel would be private. No harm could come of it, surely.

Stephen made a movement as if he were about to offer me his arm, then thought better of it. ‘I would be glad of it,’ he said, ‘for the chapel always gives me great peace.’

I collected Rosamund, who had by now picked enough flowers to wind into a chain about her head, and together with Stephen and Owain we entered the southern door of the chapel.

The chapel was dim, lit only by a score of candles and the light from the imposing eastern window (which I took a moment to marvel at, for I had never seen the like). My eyes adjusted slowly to the light and by then Rosamund was squirming in my arms, trying to get down.

I looked to Owain for permission.

‘Let her run free,’ he said. ‘I have no objection.’

I set her down with a small sigh of relief and a few words of stern warning not to touch the candles.

She wandered off, happily intrigued by the intricately carved sandalled feet of the nearby stone statue of a saint, and I turned to look more fully about the chapel.

Apart from its size — this was the largest chapel I had ever entered — it was as all chapels in which I had worshipped, save that it was far more richly appointed and that the wall paintings were somehow different. I frowned at them, not immediately able to see
how
they differed from all others I had seen, then …

‘Oh,’ I said, and both Owain and Stephen laughed.

‘Come,’ said Owain, ‘walk a little closer. This panel here is among my favourites. What do you make of it?’

All churches and chapels had their walls painted with various scenes from the Bible as well as from the martyrdom of saints and scenes of the last judgment. But here the paintings were markedly different. While they showed scenes from the Bible and of saints’ martyrdoms, all these scenes were set within magnificent forests.

The chapel walls were alive with trees. Branches dipped this way and that, and saints, apostles and martyrs danced in and out of clearings and veils of leaves.

Even the figures of the people depicted within were different. All the people were tall and willowy, and had a sense of the otherworldly about them.

‘I have never seen anything like it!’ I said. ‘It is very … unusual.’

In truth, I found the heavily wooded nature of the walls somewhat unsettling. It made the chapel darker than otherwise it might have been, and, sweet Jesu, I wondered if I looked hard enough would I see any wood dryads or fairies peeking out from the crowns of the trees.

‘The chapel was painted many years ago,’ Stephen said, walking over and softly laying the fingertips of one hand against a depiction of a gnarled tree trunk. ‘I believe my ancestor made good use of the craftsmen in Crickhoel. I saw you looking at the figures, Maeb. They are said to be of the Old People who I mentioned to you, those who were here before the Welsh came. They are long gone now.’

‘To the Old People this was a sacred spot,’ Owain said. ‘On some festivity days the villagers of Crickhoel ask the earl if they can come and worship in this chapel. They like to lay flowers on the heartstone. The earl never refuses.’

I studied the paintings further. ‘Why are there wolves running among the people?’

‘Again,’ Owain said, ‘these walls depict ancient myths as well as Christian tales. It is said the wolves are the protectors of this land, and of the ancient peoples, and of those who today still bear their bloodlines.’

‘My mother wants these forests and people and wolves painted over,’ Stephen said, turning to me and smiling, ‘but my father has for the moment resisted her. It would be a shame to lose them, for I enjoy knowing I have a forest so close whenever I need its solace.’

‘But these painting are very … pagan,’ I said. ‘Do they not worry you, Owain, plastered as they are about a chapel dedicated to our Lord Christ Saviour?’

‘No,’ Owain said. ‘If anything, they give me comfort. I like to think that the Old People are still here, watching over us.’

That was very un-Christian of him, I thought. Perhaps Owain was as much, or more, a man of these mountains and their past than he was Lord Christ’s man?

‘Maeb,’ Stephen said, ‘have you seen this? This is the stone of which Owain just spoke.’

He led us toward an immense stone set in the very heart of the nave. It was five or six times the size of the other floor slabs, and irregularly shaped.

It was very smooth, worn smooth over the centuries by the passage of thousands of feet.

‘This stone was here before the chapel was built,’ Stephen said. ‘It was set into the space atop this hill, perhaps by the Old People. We call it the heartstone: heart of the chapel, heart of the castle, heart of the hill, and heart to many of the Welsh who live here.’

‘But this is a Christian chapel,’ I said, more than a little aghast.

‘This was hallowed ground long, long before Jesus Christ set foot here,’ said Stephen, ‘and I doubt he ever minded much that the place was already warmed and sacred by the time he arrived.’

I am afraid that my mouth hung open a little as I stared at Stephen.

He saw, and laughed softly. ‘Come now, Maeb. There are such sacred sites all over the country. Surely you noted the Long Toms we passed on our journey here.’

The Long Toms
. The ancient crosses that stood at crossroads and which had been there long before Christianity set its hand on this land. We had indeed passed many on our way here. There had always been one standing outside Witenie, too, and the local villagers laid flowers at its base during the mid-summer festivals.

Yet, still … I wondered that the chapel had been built right over a spot that was so anciently sacred.

‘Maeb,’ Owain said, ‘Lord Christ is a generous and loving lord. He does not mind sharing his home, and he does not mind that sometimes he shares our love. So long as we live our lives with good in our hearts and in our actions, then he asks no more.’

I nodded, feeling a little more at ease. I liked Owain, despite his penchant for the old ways, and in that he was, truly, no different than most village priests.

Owain gave me a small smile. ‘I hope you will be happy here. Remember that if ever your soul needs a little comfort, then you can find me in the chapel, or the herb garden. Or in my little dispensary which is on the other side of the chapel. You should explore the castle more, mistress. Perhaps Lord Stephen … in a quiet moment … might like to show you its beauties? More of its surprises?’

Stephen looked a little oddly at Owain at that suggestion, and I was mortified, for I thought him irritated by Owain’s presumption.

‘I am sure Lord Stephen has many more important things to occupy his day,’ I said.

‘In a quiet moment, perhaps,’ Owain said again.

‘A quiet moment it shall be,’ Stephen said. ‘Maeb, you should look to my sister, for she is halfway up the rood screen.’

I muttered to myself, cross that I had forgot all about Rosamund, and hurried to rescue her, while Stephen murmured a farewell to Owain and left the chapel.

Chapter Two

I
slept in the solar, for Mistress Yvette (who slept with the countess) wanted me close if our lady should go into labour.

I now slept alone, unusual for me, as I had shared a bed with either Evelyn or Rosamund since I had joined the Pengraic household.

I had never slept in such a large or grand chamber. Although the chamber was the centre for the family’s daily activities, there was a little bed for me tucked away behind a screen in one corner. Once the castle had quietened down for the night I used to like to fold the screen back and go to sleep watching the crackle of the coals in the enormous fireplace. Once I had become used to the isolation of having the entire chamber to myself at night, I luxuriated in its splendour, and sometimes imagined myself as mistress of the castle, sleeping in a grand curtained bed, as did Lady Adelie.

This night began like all others preceding. It was several days since Brother Owain had showed me about his strangely wooded chapel. Owain had visited the countess yesterday, talking with her for most of the afternoon and returning later in the day with some sweet smelling herbal possets he said would aid my lady’s cough.

I had seen Stephen only on the two occasions he had visited his mother, once eating his evening meal with her, but had passed no words with him, nor had his eyes sought me out while he was in his mother’s company.

On this night I slipped into sleep almost immediately on lying down. I was tired, as the night previous, Mistress Yvette had been worried about our lady and we had sat by her bed as she slept fitfully. I had eventually returned to my own bed, but had lost half the night’s sleep.

I woke deep into the night and to this day I do not know what it was that disturbed my sleep.

Fully awake, I sat up, clutching the bedclothes to my chest. The fire was almost dead and cast only a warm glow about the room, and I had to blink several times to accustom my eyes to the dark.

There was no one else in the chamber and all was as it should be.

Nonetheless, I had the most strange compulsion to rise and go to the stairwell. I tried to ignore it, but the sensation was persistent and only grew stronger.

I sighed and rose, slipping on my linen chemise and drawing a mantle about my shoulders against the night’s chill.

I walked a few steps toward the screen that hid the entrance to the stairwell. But I stopped, overcome with the need to have my shoes.

I padded back to the bed and slipped my feet into the shoes.

Then I walked over to the screen, hesitated, and stepped around it. Stephen stood there, leaning against the wall of the stairwell, arms folded, a small smile on his face.

‘The castle is quiet,’ he said. ‘Would you like to explore it a little?’

I was so dumbfounded I did not know what to say. What was Stephen doing here? It was deep night! I couldn’t just walk out and —

‘No one will see,’ he said. ‘All is quiet.’

‘I can’t —’

‘No one will see. All is quiet. Come now.’

He held out his hand, and I stood there like a fool and stared at it. ‘Maeb, come now.’