The Devil’s Diadem

‘It is the wine,’ I murmured. ‘It goes to my head.’

‘Then I shall press it the more urgently upon you, that I might know you better.’

I was about to reply, but just then the mellow tones of two horns sounded by the door and all conversation stopped as we turned to look.

‘The king,’ Saint-Valery murmured, and with that all assembled at the long tables rose, and either bowed or dipped in courtesy.

Edmond and the Earl of Pengraic and Lady Adelie had entered the hall. Edmond led the way, Lady Adelie on his arm, with the earl a step behind. All were dressed richly, and I thought that Edmond now looked every part the king in his splendid blue tunic with its gold embroideries, fur-lined mantle, jewelled brooch, and heavily jewelled circlet upon his brow. He wore a sword at his left hip, and its hilt looked to me as if it were fashioned from pure gold inlaid with diamonds.

Lady Adelie looked weary, but otherwise sparkled with jewels in the circlet she wore on her head and wound through her braids which hung almost to the floor. The earl likewise wore rich cloth and many jewels, and a sword as well. He and the king were the only men in the hall, apart from the men-at-arms standing against the walls, who wore their weapons, although all of us carried small eating knives at our belts.

Saint-Valery saw me looking at the swords. ‘No one wears their sword in the presence of the king,’ he murmured, ‘save his host.’

I nodded my thanks.

Behind came Walter de Roche, the Earl of Summersete, and Gilbert de Montgomerie, the Earl of Scersberie.

Lord Stephen walked a few steps behind the two earls, looking splendid in a gold and silver tunic, possibly the one I had seen him in that first day I’d met him, and I am afraid my heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. I wondered if he would see me from where he ate at high table.

After Stephen came Alice and Emmette and the two boys, Ancel and Robert, with Mistress Yvette a step behind. She was dressed in a manner almost as rich as Lady Adelie, which showed as nothing else the favour in which Lady Adelie held her.

Edmond and Lady Adelie drew close to where Evelyn, Saint-Valery and I stood, and while the countess kept her eyes ahead, the king glanced over.

For a moment he met my eyes, then I dropped mine and sank a little deeper in courtesy.

When I looked up again, the entire party had passed me and had arrived at the high table where they were in the process of seating themselves.

Once the high table had sat, Pengraic, who alone had remained standing, raised his wine cup and led the wassail toast in honour of Edmond.

‘Drinkhail!’ the assemblage responded as we raised our cups and toasted the king. Then we all sat, and the evening’s feasting and entertainment began.

Considering the king, the earl and their respective retinues had only arrived this morning, and with no warning, William the house steward had done his earl and his lady proud. A pig and a yearling ox had been slaughtered and roasted: a half score servants brought in the meat piled high on silver platters. As well as the pork and ox, several swans and a score of rabbits had been roasted and served, and there followed several platters of pigeon and fish in various spiced milks and pottages. And yet more men followed, bearing bowls of stews and vegetables, sauces and soups.

A servant appeared at my elbow, placing a trencher of bread before me, as well as a small plate. The high table was served their food first, then the servants came down the long lines of the table, offering us our choice of meats and their accompanying dishes.

Saint-Valery chose for me, selecting cuts of meats and sauces for my plate and trencher, until I thought that perhaps he was intending to feed me for a week. I protested somewhat weakly at the amount of food he thought I might eat and he inclined his head in acquiescence, and thus we began our feast.

Minstrels came to entertain us with harps and pipes and sweet voices.

I was, I confess it, overawed. Nothing in Lady Adelie’s household had prepared me for a courtly event like this. I stole glances at the high table, watching the king and the nobles eat and drink, laugh and gesture, and offer each other choice pieces of meat as well as other courtesies. I thought Stephen had been well placed, sitting between the earls of Summersete and Scersberie, and I confess I watched him the most and was both delighted and flustered when he saw me, and raised his wine cup in a greeting to me.

I was even more flustered when it became obvious that Saint-Valery had witnessed the exchange.

‘Lord Stephen shines like a young god, does he not,’ Saint-Valery said.

I did not know what to say, and hid my confusion with a sip of wine.

‘It is said that the earl seeks a foreign princess for his eldest son’s wife,’ Saint-Valery added.

‘And Lord Stephen would be worthy of such,’ I murmured, hoping it was the right thing to say.

‘But fear not,’ Saint-Valery said, ‘I am sure that Stephen will not forget you. Most lords take mistresses, and Stephen would treat such a woman well, I think. Perhaps you —’

‘I would not want such a thing!’ I said, hoping I had injected enough righteous indignation into my voice.

‘I was only going to suggest that you might like to attend his wife, as you do now his mother,’ Saint-Valery said, his eyes glinting with humour.

I was angry with him. It was not what he had wanted to suggest at all.

‘The Lady Adelie says she shall find me a gentle husband,’ I said.

‘As I am sure she can,’ Saint-Valery said. ‘A knight such as your father, perhaps … a man of gentle name and rank but with little lands nor any offices to his name. You do not have a large dowry, do you? No, I thought not. Possibly none at all, knowing your father. Virtue is all very well, Mistress Maeb, but not when your “gentle” marriage means you shall need to glean with your peasant womenfolk so you might have bread for your table.’

I could not reply. I was furiously angry with him now, not simply for his ungenerous words and bawdry, but at the fact that he seemed to know my circumstances all too well. He knew of my father and his lack of extensive lordships and coin, but I had not once mentioned it.

Who had been discussing me with Saint-Valery? And why?

‘Maeb,’ Saint-Valery said, ‘I only speak of the ways of the world and of the court. Virtue is all very well, but not when it condemns you to servitude. You are a beautiful woman. You must have seen the eyes that pass your way. And you are spirited, and many a nobleman likes that in a woman. Yet you have no dowry. Not even the care of Lady Adelie could win for you anything but the basest knight. I only wish to open your mind to the possibilities.’

‘I can only hope for the basest knight, my lord? Then surely that puts you well within my reach. Speak to Lady Adelie, and I am yours.’

Saint-Valery stared at me, then roared with laughter. Everyone about us paused to look, and from the corner of my eye I saw those at the high table turn to us as well.

I flamed with colour, and wondered if I should stand, and leave.

‘Maeb,’ Evelyn murmured, ‘just dip your head at the high table, and smile graciously, then return to your meal.’

I did so, almost unable to bear to look at them. Stephen was smiling, Lady Adelie looked a little concerned, Pengraic’s face was a mask of disdain, and, sweet Jesu, the king actually nodded at me and raised his wine cup slightly.

Mistress Yvette merely looked cross.

All I had wanted was to enjoy the evening, and yet now it was tainted.

‘My lord,’ Evelyn said to Saint-Valery. ‘You speak too boldly to Maeb. She is young, and untutored in courtly ways. You accuse her of teasing, and yet you are unmerciful in it. Be wary, I pray you, for both the earl and the countess take good care of her well-being and happiness.’

I admired Evelyn then as never before. She had spoken gently, and yet even so, she had issued Saint-Valery a stern warning. Well might Saint-Valery have the ear and the regard of the king, yet he could ill afford to make an enemy of the earl.

Saint-Valery inclined his head, accepting the rebuke.

‘I beg your forgiveness, Mistress Maeb,’ he said, and the apology in his voice seemed genuine. ‘I have not spoken well, and that was discourteous of me.’

I gave a small nod, accepting his apology, although the unhappiness must have been obvious on my face. For the next few minutes we ate in silence, then the awkwardness was broken when the Earl of Summersete rose — for what reason I do not know — and in the doing bumped into a servant directly behind his chair. The servant was carrying yet another platter of food, and all went flying, servant and earl both, the food spattering in a gravy-laden arc about them.

My mouth twitched, happy to see that even such a nobleman as the earl could make as much a fool of himself as I might, and I heard muffled chortles all about me.

‘I am glad to see you smile again, Maeb,’ Saint-Valery said. ‘Will you forgive me enough to talk with me again?’

I was happy enough to do so, for in my amusement I had put aside all my anger and embarrassment. Thus, as the meal progressed, we chatted of this and that, Saint-Valery pointing out nobles and retainers at the tables and telling me a little of each.