The Devil's Diadem (34 page)

‘My lord, I am most sorry for what I said.’

Raife grunted.

‘I will keep my counsel in future.’

‘You are my wife. I say again, your duty is
not
to undermine me. Remember it!’

I nodded, still feeling humiliated and not a little fearful, wondering that I could so easily have wrecked the trust we had begun to build between us.

This morning had been so golden, full of laughter. This afternoon, my thoughtlessness had shattered everything.

‘We will sup early, and thence to bed,’ he said, and I nodded again.

Raife was cool but relatively courteous throughout the rest of the evening, and I was absurdly grateful for it. I was even more grateful to d’Avranches who, when Raife left table for a short while during the evening meal, told me to not take his anger to heart.

‘He speaks hotly, but cools quickly,’ d’Avranches said. ‘You are a wife, not a general, and should not be expected to think with the mind of a general.’

‘Thank you,’ I said, and he gave me a smile.

That night Raife treated me kindly enough in our bed. I was grateful, and sought hard to please him. Eventually, we lay curled together tightly, not sleepy, just content to lay silently, when his hand slid over my belly.

‘When is the child due?’ he said.

I tensed immediately. I had not told him and now he was angry. I should have known that he must have learned the early signs of breeding from Adelie’s numerous pregnancies.

‘Around Lady Day next year,’ I said. ‘Why did you not tell me?’

‘I was afraid …’

‘Of what? Maeb, of what?’

‘That I would need to leave your bed.’ I was almost in tears now. First my reckless stupidity of the afternoon, now my foolishness in not telling Raife as soon as I had become confident I was with child.

‘Why did you think you would need to leave my … ah.’ He gave a soft grunt. ‘Adelie. She always gratefully absented herself from my bed when she was breeding. But I gather from your words that you do not wish to thus absent yourself.’

I could feel his mouth curve in a smile against my skin. ‘A greater compliment a wife never paid a husband. You do
not
need to be Adelie, Maeb. We make of this marriage what we will.’

I smiled, immensely relieved that he was not angry and that he did not demand I leave his bed. I enjoyed lying close to Raife at night. It was far more than just having a body to warm me — I’d had that with Evelyn — it was … well, I was not sure exactly what. But lying there with him, comfortable and relaxed with each other, brought me great joy and contentment.

‘We will return to court soon,’ he said, ‘now that you are breeding.’

Part Four
The Conqueror’s Tower

Chapter One

I
had hardly dared allow myself to think about the child, nor think about the reasons I did not dare. The relief I felt when Raife laughed off my concern that I should need to leave his bed because of the child was overwhelming.

I did not dwell on the reasons for the depth of that relief. I was simply relieved. Leaving Raife’s bed had been Adelie’s personal choice. It need not be mine.

Now that Raife knew, I allowed myself some measure of joy about the child. I did not want to anticipate too much — so many children were lost during pregnancy, and many, many more during the first year of life — but I did allow some happiness to suffuse my life. And I was pleased that I had bred so quickly. Now Raife need not worry that he had a barren wife.

My principal task was to breed him sons. I prayed, morning and evening, that this child would be a boy.

The next morning, as Evelyn helped me dress for the day, I told her about the child.

She grunted. ‘I had wondered when you were going to tell me.’

‘Does everyone realise?’ I said, disgruntled that even Evelyn had known.

‘Given that you have not yet taken to spewing your dinner across high table, no, but anyone who has seen you naked would have known. I am assuming from your words that the earl knew, too.’

‘Yes.’

Evelyn gave a little laugh. ‘He was well-practised with Lady Adelie’s pregnancies. He was pleased enough, I am sure.’

I was still out of sorts. ‘Yes. Pleased enough. He said, also, that now we can go to court.’

Evelyn laughed more fully now. ‘And that pronouncement followed on directly from your news, eh?’

I tried to remember. ‘Close enough.’

‘The earl thinks you will be safer from the king if you are with child.’

‘Oh, Evelyn, surely not!’

In return, all she gave me was a long look. She finished tightening the laces on the back of my kirtle, remarking that she and Sewenna would have to sew in extra panels now, then combed out my hair, braiding it in the loose plait over my shoulder that Raife liked.

‘What is court like, Evelyn?’

‘I don’t know. I have never been.’

‘Never been?’

‘Adelie did not like court and would not attend. She spent her time at Rosseley when the earl was at court. Maybe Edmond had propositioned her once, too.’

‘But you said that you and Edmond …’

‘Like you, I met him at Rosseley. There was a time some years ago when he was a regular summer visitor, often staying at one of his manors close by. It was during one of those summers that we became lovers. I met him when I could, where I could.’

‘So we shall both be there for the first time.’

I wondered where Edmond was now, where he held his court; whether at his palace at Westminster or if he still kept to his manor at Elesberie because of the plague.

At dinner that evening in the great hall, I asked Raife. ‘Edmond’s court?’ Raife picked some tender pieces of veal from the plate of meats we shared and put them into my trencher. ‘I hear he has left Elesberie and returned to London. He will keep court at his palace at Westminster, I assume.’

‘What is it like? Edmond’s court?’

‘It is full of men and women all trying to gain preferment and lands and wealth for themselves, by whatever means they can.’ He gave a little shrug. ‘It is a useful enough place.’

‘It sounds terrifying.’

‘We shall have time away from it. I have a house in London and you may prefer to spend much of your time there rather than at court.’

I reflected that I knew almost nothing of my husband’s wealth and landholdings. A house in London? I felt a kernel of excitement. My father had told me many things about London, about its bustle and excitement, the foreigners who thronged its streets and its markets.

A house in London. Where I could hide from Edmond — and Henry — if need be.

‘What news of the plague?’ I said. ‘It must have abated if Edmond has returned to Westminster.’

‘Aye, it has abated.’ Raife paused. ‘There are few reports of it. A death here and there, but the major sweep of the plague appears to be over.’

‘Praise the saints,’ I said.

Raife chewed his food slowly, thinking. He swallowed his mouthful, then drank some wine. ‘This plague has been most strange,’ he said.

‘It has been most
malignant
,’ I said. ‘It seems to have died out,’ Raife said, ‘early in the season. Most plagues ravage all through summer, only releasing their hold on mankind in late autumn as the colder weather sets in. But this … this seems to have abandoned its grip most early.’

‘I do not think it a matter to complain about.’

‘It is unusual. I do not understand it. It has not done what I …’

For one moment I was sure he had been going to say
needed
, then I dismissed the thought as fanciful. But I remembered my husband’s keenness to discover how far the plague had penetrated Wales. ‘You think too much on the plague,’ I said.

‘It is my duty.’

‘
Duty?
How so?’

Raife wiped his mouth with his napkin, then gave me an affectionate smile. ‘How is it we managed to veer onto such dark matters when we began by talking of the gaiety of court?’ He leaned back a little, narrowing his eyes as he looked on my kirtle.

It was not my most beautiful, but nonetheless I thought it fine — a rich red material, heavily embroidered by Evelyn and Sewenna — and I squirmed under his regard, thinking he was about to find fault.

‘I have sent word ahead to my house steward in London,’ he said, ‘to have some rich fabrics awaiting us for our arrival. And seamsters to stitch and embroider.’

‘But Evelyn and Sewenna can —’

‘They work well enough, Maeb, but they cannot do the fine work needed for court. I shall make sure there are some rich mantles, kirtles and linens awaiting our arrival.’

I could not help but feel a thrill, even though I felt mild insult on behalf of Evelyn and Sewenna. I had by now completely forgot our strange conversation about the plague. ‘When do we leave, my lord?’

‘In several weeks. There are still matters here I should pay heed to. We will travel gently, unlike the rush Stephen took to get you safe inside Pengraic. I do not wish to risk the child.’

I nodded, thinking of the journey ahead, and thinking of all the places I had only heard about and which now I would see.

‘You will also need another lady, Maeb. One is not enough for court, and particularly not now you are with child.’

Raife had broached that issue which had worried me ever since my marriage. ‘I had thought I might ask for Evelyn’s daughter, my lord. She is of an age now when she can —’

‘No. Not Evelyn’s daughter.’

His abrupt dismissal of the idea caught me short. ‘Why not? She —’

‘This is an opportunity for us to grant favour to some noblewoman at court, Maeb. An opportunity to indebt some family to us or to reinforce ties to someone powerful. And you will need a woman who is familiar with court, who can guide you. Neither Evelyn nor her daughter can do that.’

The thought momentarily terrified me. A noblewoman as an attending lady?

Raife gave me a small smile. ‘Maeb, you underestimate yourself. You will do well enough.’

‘I shall have to watch every word I say.’

‘Maeb, you will need to watch every word you say in any case. Your first lesson of court. Trust no one.’ His smile broadened. ‘Except your husband, of course. Our bed can be the only place you may speak freely.’

Despite what Raife had said about the seamsters working in London, Evelyn, Sewenna and I spent much of the next two weeks sewing. We worked on undergarments and travelling kirtles, and also sewed extra panels for the kirtles I had already so that they might accommodate my growing belly.

Three days before we were due to leave, Evelyn and I began the task of packing my clothes into a chest for the carts (elsewhere the household was being packed up likewise, as all plate and linens were to be carried to London as they had once been carried from Rosseley). Even with all the clothes I had acquired since my marriage, only one chest was required, which we packed carefully.

‘Finer clothes than those you wore when you first rode in the main gates,’ Evelyn remarked. ‘What do you wish to do with your old kirtles and linens?’

She had picked up that small bundle of clothes I had brought with me to Rosseley and was sorting them.

‘Perhaps give them to one of the women in the village of Crickhoel?’ I said, and Evelyn nodded.

‘A good idea. You will create much goodwill with the gesture. We can … what in the world is this?’

Evelyn had found a small bundle of cloth.

‘Oh!’ I smiled. ‘I had almost forgot that!’ I reached for it, then gently unfolded it and held it out for Evelyn’s inspection. ‘What do you think?’

Evelyn frowned. ‘It is very old, and very worn. And the stitching is of a kind I have not seen before.’

‘Aye. But I treasure it, even though the embroidery is so old and the cloth almost rags.’

Evelyn was obviously not taken with the piece, but, because I had said I treasured it, was not quite sure what she could say.

I laughed, and folded it up again. ‘After my father died, our old steward, Osbeorn, gave it to me, saying my father had wanted me to have it. My father had only been home from his travels a few short weeks before he died.’

‘Travels?’

‘My father had been living some years in Jerusalem.’

‘Your father was a pilgrim to Jerusalem?’

‘Of a kind,’ I said. ‘He left after my mother died, and spent years there. Our manor steward Osbeorn and his wife were the ones who raised me for the years while he was gone. When my father returned, he was almost a stranger to me.’

‘I did not know that, my lady. What adventures your father must have had!’

‘Indeed.’ I looked down at the bundle of worn cloth. ‘I will take this, too. It is one of the few things I have left with which to remember my father.’

Chapter Two

I
went to the chapel early in the morning on the day we were to depart. I wanted to pray at the graves of Lady Adelie, Stephen and the children. In the past few months I had barely thought of them, and I was overcome with guilt that I should now be going to court when, truly, they had been better suited for such a life.

The chapel was brightly lit with candles. I took one of them, walking quietly down the centre of the nave to where Stephen lay buried under the heartstone of the chapel.

I stood there a long while, praying, and in contemplation of Stephen. What would Stephen think, to see me married to his father? And carrying his brother or sister? What would he have said, knowing that I had loved
him
? I still felt great guilt that I had survived and he not.

Tears threatened, and I stepped back, whispering a goodbye, before moving to Lady Adelie’s grave in one of the aisles. What would
she
have thought, seeing me take her place in her husband’s bed, assuming her titles? I could imagine her saying something gracious, but with internal reflection shadowing her eyes. I think she would have feared that I might fail in my duty, somehow.

In turn I visited the gravestones of the other children: Alice, Emmette, Rosamund and John.