The Devil's Diadem (41 page)

I enjoyed the games, despite the shouting, the jostling, the violence, the blood and the single death. I thought it as if all the hidden intrigues of court had, for just one day, come to life on the green swath before me. The games were, indeed, a courtly dance — if enacted with drawn weapons — and by the end of them not a few lords had tripped over their own feet as they lost the beat of the discordant music.

As Alianor had predicted, on this day I saw two other women wearing their hair braided loosely and over the succeeding weeks I saw many others take up the fashion.

It was, indeed, a lesson in power.

The next day Raife left. I cried, even though I had not meant to, and now I was on my own.

The first week passed pleasantly enough. Lady Isouda de Lacy arrived and she was installed in my household as my attending lady.

Evelyn did not like her. I was not surprised. Evelyn’s and my friendship had cooled somewhat since I had become the countess; it cooled even further when she was joined by a woman of much higher rank than herself. Lady Isouda instantly became my senior companion, the one who had closest contact with me, who woke me in the mornings, who knelt at my side during prayer, and who kissed me goodnight at the end of the day. Evelyn was relegated to my low-ranking companion, who always walked behind, and who shouldered the burden of tedious tasks when, formerly, she had been my closest companion.

Isouda was a charming, pretty woman, much like Alianor with her warmth and ease of manner although they were not blood kin. I found her company restful and she was, as Alianor had said, a woman to whom I could turn for all manner of advice and knowledge.

In most things I knew I could trust her. I knew also, however, that sometimes I would not be able to trust her, or depend on her loyalty, and I kept myself watchful for these times.

For the moment, Isouda became a good friend, and I relied on her immensely.

I kept court myself — entertaining honoured guests in the solar during the day, and, after nones, keeping a larger company in the hall. Here nobles, knights and squires came, as well as jesters and jugglers and minstrels and poets, filling the hall with their chatter and sweet music. I did this latter only when I knew Edmond did not keep court — that he had spent the day hunting, or travelling to a nearby priory or manor, and would not be keeping formal court later in the day. I did not want to compete. The de Lacys and the Pembrokes were frequent visitors, as was the Earl of Chestre and his wife, and sundry minor nobles.

Thankfully, Henry and the Templars kept their distance; they never attended court at my house, nor did I see them at Edmond’s court.

One of my visitors was Ranulph Saint-Valery. He came one day when Alianor was with me, but she sat at some distance away in the solar, working on her stitching, to give us some privacy to speak.

‘I had hoped I would be the man to wed you,’ Saint-Valery said with a wry smile.

‘I am sorry, Ranulph,’ I said. ‘Life was turned upside down and before I knew it my lord Pengraic had determined we should wed.’ I gave my own wry smile. ‘I had little say in that matter.’

‘But you are happy.’

Now my smile was far more genuine and wide. ‘Yes. He is a good husband to me.’

‘I remember once that you feared him.’

I gave a soft laugh. ‘Once, if I had known I would become his wife then I would have fainted with terror! But he
is
a good husband and I regard him well.’

‘Better than well,’ Saint-Valery said. ‘Lady Maeb, I would have married you, and honoured you, even when you were but Mistress Langtofte.’

‘I know, Ranulph,’ I said. ‘I am sorry.’

He gave a nod, and our conversation turned to more general matters. From then on, Saint-Valery became one of my good friends at court and he came to visit two more times, when he knew Alianor to be with me.

I went to the Tower frequently, as Raife had asked. Largely because both Henry and the Templars were absent (where, I wondered?). I enjoyed myself there. Edmond showed me much courtesy, often sitting me at high table, although not again at his side — not without my husband present. I made deeper acquaintance with many of the other nobles, secular and clergy alike, and slowly found my way about this gallantry of aristocrats with a degree of confidence. Edmond and I spoke often, although usually only in generalities, and I became more comfortable with him, too, and often I would find our eyes meeting across some crowded space and a gentle smile exchanged.

Alianor continued to be a good friend and companion. Together with Isouda and Evelyn, as well as Alianor’s women and various attendants, we sometimes wandered the markets and streets of London, or visited the churches. I also spent time at the Pembrokes’ house, as I did at the de Lacys’. Alianor graced me with a most beautifully crafted and jewelled eating knife, and I accepted it gladly, giving the one I’d had since childhood to our house steward, fitzErfast, as evidence of my regard for his service.

My pregnancy continued well, for which I thanked the Virgin Mary every day. From time to time I was indisposed, but I found that much of my energy returned now that I was past the first few months. My belly had rounded out, its plumpness pleasingly displayed by the jewelled girdle that I wore often. I spent much time in prayer, asking that my confinement would not be injurious to either myself or the child, and that the child would prove a son and healthy. Alianor and Isabel both suggested good midwives they knew in London, for it appeared I would not return to Pengraic before the birth.

Overall, the weeks that Raife was away passed pleasantly enough and with little to note, save for three incidents, the last of which, occurring the night before Raife returned, destroyed my hard-won complacency.

The first incident I put behind me quickly. It was the second week that Raife was away, and I lay fast asleep in our bed. As Raife liked, so I had come to like, and I had no sleeping companions, either in my bed or in the chamber: Isouda and Evelyn both slept in a chamber nearby.

I woke, suddenly. I thought I could hear snuffling in the chamber, as if a snotty child was rummaging through one of the chests. I could also smell something horribly malodorous — like dog droppings left to steam in a puddle of water in the sun. I was so confused by this, the soft noises and the terrible odour, that I sat bolt upright.

‘What’s this?’ I said, peering into the blackness.

There came a bang, as if of a chest slamming shut, then a slight scuffling sound, then nothing. I sat, terrified, my heart pounding, the bed covers clutched to my chest.

‘Who’s there?’ I cried, louder this time, my voice thin with fright.

There came a banging from outside the door, and it suddenly opened.

It was one of the house servants who slept in the chamber beyond. He carried a candle.

‘My lady? What is wrong?’

‘There was someone here!’

The man shouted instantly for aid, and within moments two guards had appeared, weapons to hand.

They looked about, but there was no one. No place to hide and the shutters on the window were securely closed and bolted on the inside.

‘There is no one, my lady,’ one of them said.

My heart had ceased pounding now.

There was no one.

Even the odour had vanished.

‘I must have had a dream,’ I said. ‘I am sorry for disturbing your rest, but thank you for coming so quickly.’

Isouda and Evelyn had appeared by now, too, their faces worried as they clutched robes about them.

By now I was feeling severely embarrassed. ‘A dream only,’ I said again. ‘A night vapour.’

‘Would you like one of us to stay, my lady?’ Isouda said.

‘No, no,’ I said. ‘Go back to your beds.’

I lay awake once everyone had gone, but I convinced myself as I had the others that it had been nothing but a dream, and I drifted back to sleep within a short while.

Three days later I was at court when I found myself talking with Maud de Gernon, wife to the Earl of Chestre. We had been taking part in a lively game of bowls down the centre of the lesser hall and now sat drinking small beer by one of the fires.

‘I have heard,’ she said, as we watched two squires further down the hall start pushing each other in the chest over some slight, ‘that Madog ap Gruffydd came to parley with your husband.’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘it was a tense day.’

Maud laughed. ‘I can imagine! His name is cursed in our Marches. He has caused such terrible dismay and destruction.’

‘So Raife has said.’

‘Thankfully most of his raids have stopped now that we have his wife.’ Instantly, my interest in the Welsh princess was renewed. ‘Where is she now?’ I said.

Maud looked at me with round eyes. ‘Here! Beneath our very feet! Both Edmond and my husband felt it too dangerous to keep her within the Marches — saints alone know what Madog might have been capable of if he thought she were near — so now she lives in an apartment on the ground floor of the Tower.’ She gave a little shrug. ‘It is commodious enough, and airy, and less chill than her Welsh homeland.’

Here? Beneath our feet? Our conversation turned to other matters, but my mind kept worrying over the presence of the princess below.

Later I had opportunity to speak with Edmond privately.

‘My lord king,’ I said. ‘You know that Madog came to parley with Raife?’

He gave a nod.

‘Madog spoke of his worry about his wife and son, and now I hear they are confined to an apartment on the ground floor of this tower. I said, perhaps foolishly, that if I could I would let his wife know of his love and care. May I have your permission to visit his princess?’

Edmond studied me, and I could see he struggled between the yea and the nay. ‘Be careful she does not use you, Maeb. You are not yet as studied in court-craft and intrigue as she is.’

‘I will be careful, my lord.’ I hesitated. ‘My lord, I am a young wife, and I know the fears and uncertainties that go with that. I can imagine her fear as she is confined so far from her husband and her worries over her child.’

‘The boy died last spring.’

‘Oh! Then she must be in need of comfort and —’

‘Maeb,
be careful!
’

I thought he was warning me only of the princess, and I did not,
could
not, think through other dangers. Despite all my new-found confidence at court, I
was
still a novice at court-craft and intrigue and could not see the trap.

I contented myself with looking at the king appealingly, and eventually he sighed.

‘It is against my better judgment, Maeb, but if you wish, then go. But, by God, be careful what you say and do! Do not trust her, do not carry anything out for her, nor anything in.
Nothing
. Yes?’

‘Yes, my lord,’ I said happily. ‘Thank you, my lord.’

I went to see the princess the next day. I learned her name was Mevanou, and that she was not much older than myself.

A guard escorted me down the narrow stairs of the north-eastern tower to the lower level that was partially above, partially below ground. Here the large spaces had been partitioned into store rooms, dormitories for soldiers, and even a few cells for prisoners, but the guard led me past all of those until we reached the south-western portion of the tower where the space under the chapel crypt had been redesigned into a spacious apartment for the Welsh princess.

I admit to some nerves as the guard fumbled with the keys to the lock of the door, but when he opened it and announced my name in a gruff voice I put a smile to my face and walked through the door confidently.

I found myself in a commodious chamber, well furnished and most comfortable. It was lit by two narrow windows that looked onto the inner bailey, and in the far wall I could see a door into a privy chamber. The air felt a little damp, but there was a brazier burning to one side, and wraps enough to keep anyone warm.

A woman stood just before one of the windows, in a shaft of light. She was very small, and somewhat thin, and as she moved forward a step, out of the light, I saw that she had a pale complexion, her nose scattered with freckles, and dark red hair.

‘My lady?’ I said. ‘I am Maeb, Countess of Pengraic. I have come on behalf of your husband, that you may know of his love and concern for you and …’

I stumbled to a halt.

‘Our son?’ she said. Mevanou did not speak French so well as her husband, and her voice had a heavy accent. ‘Our son is dead, murdered by the malignant air within this prison. My husband’s love and concern is no longer of any use to
him
.’

‘Then may I offer it to you.’ This conversation was not going the way I had thought it might. ‘I spoke with your husband recently enough, and he —’

‘Most likely misses me not. He has mistresses and bastard sons a-plenty to keep him warm.’

‘But he has ceased raiding since you were seized. He must hold you in great affection!’

‘If he has ceased raiding then there will be other reasons for it. The nearness of the plague, perhaps. Madog values
his
life before any others.’

‘Then I am most sorry for you, my Lady Mevanou, to be so far from your homeland and so great a distance from any love and care. Would you like me to stay? I can share the gossip of the court, and —’

‘Go,’ she said. ‘I have no interest in you, nor in your sympathetic cause, and most particularly I have no interest in the idle wife of one of the bastard Normans who keeps my land under a foreign yoke.’

Her voice was harsh and unyielding. I tried to summon yet more sympathy for her, but I felt as if I had been slapped in the face.

‘Then I will bid you good day, Lady Mevanou,’ I said, inclined my head slightly, and turned for the door.

Having been rejected so utterly, I did not go to see Mevanou again. I worried for her, and thought her forthright rudeness most likely a product of her grief and fear, but I did not want to thrust myself on her, nor suffer the sharpness of her tongue again. A few days later Edmond asked me what had happened and I told him.

‘She is a vicious witch,’ he said. ‘I think sometimes that Madog is grateful Chestre took her. So is your crusade of sympathy over, my lady?’