The Devil’s Diadem. Sara Douglass
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‘Saints damn you! What do you here?’
‘I am s … s … sorry, my lord. I came only for a poultice for Evelyn’s back.’ Amazingly, I realised I still held the thing in my hands. I had been confronted by an imp from hell, but I had not dropped Evelyn’s poultice. ‘I lost my way … I am … I am … sorry.’
‘You are a most foolish woman, mistress!’ the earl said as his hands relaxed away from my waist.
I thought to rise, almost as fearful of the earl in his bad temper as I had been of the imp, but he stopped me.
‘Wait. We need to talk, then I will escort you back to your chamber.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘You will not say anything, not to anyone, about what you saw here tonight.’
‘No, my lord.’
‘Not to anyone, Maeb! Swear it!’
‘I swear, my lord!’
‘Not to Evelyn, not to my lady wife, not to Stephen. To no one. It would cause panic and dismay, and that we do not need.’
‘I will not speak, my lord.’
We were close enough that I could see his face, and I could see that he watched me carefully, his eyes narrowed. Finally he gave a small nod. ‘Yes, I will trust you. You will not speak.’
What if he had decided the other way? That I could not be trusted? What would he have done?
I had been trembling, but now I trembled more.
‘You are not in danger, Maeb. The imp will not trouble you again … but stray here no more. Stay close to your lady and your chamber.’
I nodded. ‘But the imp has seen me, my lord … did it come for me? How do I know it won’t return?’
‘Maeb, just trust me. It will not return for you. It was not you it wanted.’
‘Then who? I —’
‘Stop questioning my words, Maeb!’
I cringed at the sharpness of his voice, and he sighed. ‘Maeb, now I am sorry for my roughness of speech. And I have yet to express my gratitude for what you said to Saint-Valery this day. That was well said, and I thank you for it.’
I knew he was trying to take my mind away from the imp, but still I appreciated his words. ‘Thank you, my lord.’
I wanted to leave. I kept glancing toward the door, but the earl sat as if he still had something to say but could not quite find the words for it. I grew more uncomfortable by the moment, and wished desperately I was back in my chamber, curled up with Evelyn, finding refuge in a deep, unknowing sleep.
The earl turned a little, enough so that he faced me directly. ‘Maeb, there is a dark flood coming. You will need to be strong.’
‘My lord?’
‘The plague. It will be worse than you could ever imagine, worse than you have been told.’
I did not know what to say, for his words struck great fear into me.
‘Remember that you promised all your care for my wife.’
‘I will be strong, for my lady’s sake.’
‘Good.’ His voice had relaxed now, so I dared also to relax.
A little too soon, as it happened.
‘Saint-Valery has asked for your hand in marriage,’ he said.
‘No!’ I said.
‘You know full well why he has asked for you, don’t you.’
Of course I knew. The king did not want to touch me until I had been wed. It was his idea of courtesy. Saint-Valery would do anything to smooth the path for his master. I was to be used and then discarded in the king’s casual game of lust at court. I felt ill, and I think some of what I felt showed on my face.
‘Do not worry, Maeb. You will go to Pengraic and there you will be safe. Who knows who or what will be left standing when this flood recedes.’
‘Thank you, my lord.’ I did not truly know what to say. They were the safest words I could think of.
‘Now take that poultice to Evelyn, and forget all you have seen and heard this night — save your vow of silence.’
‘I will, my lord,’ I said.
I rose, dipped in courtesy, and left the store room. The earl seemed to have forgotten his promise to escort me to my chamber, but I did not mind. I was glad enough to leave him.
I returned safe to my chamber, and applied the poultice to Evelyn’s back. She did not appear to notice anything amiss, and I said not a word of what had occurred.
I lay beside her, the poultice warming us both as we curled together, but I did not sleep that night. The hissing imp invaded my thoughts whenever I closed my eyes, and if it was not the imp, it was the earl’s words. There is a dark flood coming. It will be worse than you could ever imagine, worse than you have been told.
It was all I could think about. The imp and the earl’s bleak warning. They pushed away any other thought I may have had, whether of Saint-Valery’s offer for my hand, or whatever query I may have raised in my own mind as to what purpose the earl may have had for lurking in that store room.
I was exhausted and gritty-eyed when I crept into the earl and countess’ chamber early the next morning. I stoked their fire, adding more wood, set two bowls of water to warm on the hearth, then lit several candles with a taper from the fire.
‘My lady?’ I bent over her side of the bed, laying my hand gently on her shoulder.
She sighed, then opened her eyes, and thus we began our day.
The countess pushed back the cover and sat on the side of the bed. She took several deep breaths as I pulled a half mantle about her shoulders, and I thought she struggled a little with them. She was very pale, and her distended belly heavily veined, and I wondered yet again how much this child was taking from her.
‘My lady?’ I murmured, concerned for her.
‘I am well enough, Maeb. Fetch the water, and I will wash.’
The earl rose as I carried one of the bowls back to the countess, and as she washed so did he, crouching by the fire and grunting as he splashed water over his face and the back of his neck.
It seemed strange to be working silently with my lady as I helped her to dress, first in her linen chemise and stockings, then in a brightly coloured kirtle that slipped over her head and belted loosely about her swollen body. I combed out and re-braided