The Devil’s Diadem. Sara Douglass

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The Devil’s Diadem - Sara  Douglass


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be caught in a conversation with someone behind us.

      Then the conversation between Stephen and myself would veer to more intimate matters, and I found it so easy to talk to him that within a day or two I felt as if I could broach any subject I wanted.

      I asked him of the plague, of what he truly knew and what he had seen.

      ‘Sweet Jesu, Maeb,’ he said, ‘it is bad. More terrible than you can imagine. When we left Westminster, the plague had gripped almost all of the south-east in its terror.’

      ‘But London and Westminster were not infected?’

      ‘No. But …’ He hesitated. ‘You know we think that the plague infects long before it shows its hand. God help us if any of us came into contact with someone carrying the plague and yet who looked perfectly healthy.’

      I looked at him, shocked at what he was saying.

      ‘I need to tell you this, Maeb. I am sorry. I do not know if we have brought the plague with us or not. None of us are ill. I ask the knights each evening, I question the soldiers. They are in good health, or so they assure me. Dear God, they all look well enough, but …’

      ‘The sickness takes time to manifest itself.’

      ‘Yes. But it has been, what, a fortnight now, and we are all still well. I lie awake at night and worry my stomach into knots with it, but —’

      ‘The king and earl acted as fast as they could, my lord. At least this way, we may yet outrun it.’

      We rode a little way in silence, the sunshine a little duller for me now.

      Maybe Pengraic Castle was not going to be as impregnable as I had hoped.

      ‘I have heard that the south-east, particularly Dovre and Cantuaberie, are truly terrible, Maeb. Hell has both towns in its grip. People are dying … Jesu! Dying in such agony, the flames melting their flesh, from within and without. At Westminster one knight told me he had heard descriptions of people crouched on the sides of roads like dogs, vomiting forth gouts of sulphurous fungus … choking and retching at the same moment … oh dear saints in heaven, Maeb, why am I telling you this? I am sorry, I just needed …’

      To vomit it forth. Yes, I understood. But, oh sweet Mother Mary, what was this thing? My arm tightened about Rosamund, and I started, suddenly horrified that she may have heard her brother speak. I looked down, but she was fast asleep, her face peaceful.

      I glanced at Stephen, then nodded at Rosamund.

      ‘Oh, I am sorry, Maeb. I did not think. I will not speak of it again. Not until we are alone.’

      Despite my fear at his words, I felt a thrill down my spine at his words. Alone?

      ‘My lord, talk to me of Pengraic Castle. Your lady mother spoke once of it to me, but only in dark words. What is it like?’

      To my utter relief, his easy grin was back. ‘Pengraic Castle … dark? Ah, that is my mother for you. She has never liked it, and so thus our yearly travels to Rosseley. Do you know that I alone of all her babes was born at Pengraic Castle? All the others at Rosseley. Now another babe she will birth at Pengraic and thus maybe he, too, shall love the place. But of the castle … Maeb, I am only happy when I am there.’

      He was smiling, looking ahead, introspective.

      ‘But your lady mother, she said …’

      ‘No doubt she said it was inhabited by imps and ghouls,’ he said, and I suppressed a jump at the ‘imps’.

      ‘But no,’ Stephen continued, ‘Pengraic is a place of such beauty, such peace … it is a place, Maeb, where you can almost reach into a different world …’

      ‘What world?’

      He glanced sideways at me then, as if assessing. Then he shrugged. ‘I will show you, when we are there. But know this, Maeb. You have not seen, nor shall you ever see, a place as majestic as Pengraic. It is the greatest castle in England, bar none.’

      I would have asked more, but just then Rosamund woke and grizzled, and Stephen rode close and took her from me. Once she was safely in the hands of her nurse, Stephen glanced back at me, then rode forward to talk with several of the knights leading the column.

      That evening, as I aided Mistress Yvette to disrobe Lady Adelie for the night, the countess spoke to me.

      ‘My son spends much of the day riding with you, Maeb.’

      ‘Yes, my lady.’

      ‘Nothing can come of this. You know it.’

      ‘I know, my lady. I know it, as does he, and in some strange way …’

      ‘Yes?’

      ‘In some strange way, it draws us closer. I think he finds me a confidante, and nothing else.’

      And yet he had said, not until we are alone …

      She considered this. ‘Very well, Maeb. But nothing must come of this.’

      ‘It will not, my lady. I would not allow anything to threaten my place in this household.’

      Lady Adelie nodded at that, apparently satisfied, although I wondered if her weariness made her pass over a subject she might normally have spent more time on.

      She appeared exhausted tonight. There were dark shadows under her eyes, her skin was very sallow and her hands trembled slightly when I handed over her nightly posset.

      ‘My lady? Are you unwell?’

      ‘Ah, it is nothing, Maeb. I am always weary when I grow heavy with child, and this is no worse than previous.’ She grew waspish. ‘Do not fret at me so, for that is even more wearisome than the child!’

      ‘I am sorry, my lady.’ I withdrew, allowing her words to comfort me. In truth, my mind was so full of Stephen, I did not think to question what she had said.

      CHAPTER TWELVE

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      If Lady Adelie had been too tired to pursue me, then Evelyn had plenty of energy. As usual we shared a bed, this night in the female dormitory of a Benedictine lodging house just beyond Brimesfelde. As there were others present, Evelyn had to keep her voice low.

      ‘You need to be careful, Maeb. It is nothing to Lord Stephen. He amuses himself and thinks little of it. You bask in his smile and risk your entire future.’

      I sighed. I, too, was weary and wished to sleep.

      ‘By the Virgin, Maeb! Until you are safe wed you live your life at the edge of a precipice. Your place in this household is your only safeguard between you and the roads.’

      ‘Stephen is —’

      ‘Lord Stephen is to be betrothed to an heiress from Normandy. They will formalise the betrothal at Christmastide this year. You are only a pleasing dalliance, Maeb. Nothing else!’

      I’d had no idea — all I had heard was the rumour about a princess, and that I had discounted. I felt a wave of black jealousy wash over me and that was the first indication I had that what I felt for Stephen was a little more than simple admiration. I also felt a gut-wrenching fear, an awareness of what such ignorance of my emotions might have meant to my security.

      ‘I should have been careful to ride with you more often,’ Evelyn said. ‘Maeb, I press this point now because we are close to Glowecestre.’

      ‘Yes?’ I was still battling my emotions and to me she made no sense.

      ‘I talked with Lady Adelie today, and she has given me her leave to withdraw from this company there and travel to my daughter’s home. I worry about her so. I need to know she is well.’

      ‘Oh no, Evelyn! I shall miss you!’ I would, too. Badly. Evelyn had become my closest


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