Gods Concubine by Sara Douglass

up he would undoubtedly put down to Caela‘s much-lauded acceptance of God and religion from

her time in St Margaret the Martyr‘s.

I was more powerful now. I could hide myself and my true nature from him. Besides, he

thought he had murdered Mag in Damson. He would not be looking for her replacement within

me.

I merely had to be Caela.

Ecub squeezed my hand in comfort. ―I will be waiting outside the chapel,‖ she said, ―with

an axe.‖

I burst out laughing. ―And I had thought to escape attention.‖

And thus, smiling, we proceeded to the chapel.

―My lords,‖ I said softly, entering the chapel with my shoulders bowed in Caela‘s

habitual thralldom.

―My lady queen,‖ said Regenbald, stepping forward to greet me with great courtliness

and respect.

Oh, that I had received this respect when I‘d truly needed it as Edward‘s downtrodden

wife.

―Disaster brings you to me,‖ I said, nodding to Fitzwimarch, Aelfstan and Aldred, upon

whom I was careful not to allow my eyes to linger.

―Aye,‖ said Aelfstan bitterly. He was an aged man who had once been a renowned

warrior, and I could not imagine but that the events of the past weeks had caused him pain. No

doubt Aelfstan wished he had died honourably in battle, rather than being left among those few

who would oversee England‘s complete humiliation.

―William marches on London,‖ Aldred said, stepping out of the shadow where he‘d been

standing. ―He is but a half day‘s march away. Good lady…‖ Aldred was wringing his fat hands

over and over themselves, and I could not help but admire the depth of the creature‘s disguise.

Who could have thought this the dreaded Minotaur? ―Good lady, we fear greatly.‖

―And…?‖ I said, looking between the four men, but wondering within me if Aldred‘s

presence here (Asterion”s presence) indicated that he and Swanne had not been as successful

with William as they‘d hoped. Or was this but another part of his greater plan?

―Lady queen,‖ Regenbald said, ―we face a stark choice. Lock London against William,

and watch it starve into submission over a half year, or capitulate to him without a fight, and

watch him burn the city to the ground.‖

―Oh, I doubt that William would—‖ I began, but Fitzwimarch broke in.

―Lady queen, we would beg that you surrender London to William, and in the doing,

plead for its life, and the life of its citizens. He would easier listen to your pleas, we think, than

those of men he has good cause to loathe and distrust.‖

I thought furiously. It was undoubtedly what three of these emissaries thought, but what

of Aldred? Would he truly believe that William would listen to anything that Cornelia-reborn

pleaded? Did he hope that William would just push me to one side and burn the city to the

ground anyway?

Was he here, adding his silent support to this plan, merely because he needed to keep up

his disguise as wobbling fool for a while longer?

The hope that William had thus far withstood Swanne grew stronger, and, I must admit to

myself, the thought of finally facing William was something I could not resist.

Finally. To see him again, to be in his presence, if only briefly.

―I will do it,‖ I said, and did my best not to allow my anticipation to flood across my face.

―What a good girl you are,‖ said Aldred, and the anticipation froze within me.

FOURTEEN

William paced back and forth, back and forth, knowing that Matilda was standing

watching him and wondering why he was so nervous.

But he couldn‘t stop himself pacing. Back and forth, back and forth.

One of his men came into the chamber with some trivial question and William snarled at

him.

The man fled. Matilda raised her eyebrows.

William made a gesture composed of equal parts frustration and impatience, and forced

himself to sink into a chair. He gripped the armrests, otherwise William thought he might have

sprung up almost as soon as he had sat down.

It had been six weeks since Matilda had arrived, and in those six weeks little seemed to

have been accomplished. William had consolidated his hold on the south-eastern county of Kent,

secured the port of Dover, and had moved on London, but had not managed much else. London

was William‘s prize; he wanted it desperately, but almost as desperately he did not want to

destroy it in the taking. London was a fortified city, it could be defended, and it had by all

accounts a good militia. The very last thing William wanted was to become enmeshed in a siege

that kept him from his kingship bands for months if not years.

So William had hedged and threatened and negotiated, moving his army eastwards,

swinging south below London, then marching west and crossing the Thames at Wallingford.

From there William moved his army to the small town of Berkhamsted. He had moved himself,

Matilda and his immediate command into a large and comfortable abbey house while his army made do with sleeping in the frosty meadows or, if they were lucky, the outbuildings and barns

of local farmers.

And so at Berkhamsted William waited, until, two days ago, news had come that a

delegation was moving west from London to meet him.

And, perhaps, to surrender.

Heading the delegation was the dowager queen, Caela.

They were due this afternoon. They had, in fact, arrived, and William and Matilda waited

for the delegation to be escorted into their presence.

William, Matilda thought, was far more nervous than he should be, and she wondered

why.

Personally, Matilda was more than looking forward to meeting Caela. She had heard so

many intriguing things about the woman over the past years (although intimate, personal

information about the queen had largely ceased to come her way after Damson‘s terrible loss)

that Matilda could barely restrain herself from hopping from foot to foot.

Was Caela the reason William was so nervous? Matilda suddenly wondered. And if so,

why?

At least Caela could not possibly be as much of a threat as Matilda knew Swanne posed.

Since Matilda‘s arrival Swanne had kept her distance; from Matilda, at least, although Matilda

had seen her talking to William on two or three occasions when she managed to catch him at

some distance from his wife.

There was a knock at the door, and William of Warenne, one of William‘s senior

commanders, entered.

―They are here, waiting outside,‖ he said.

Matilda saw William draw in a deep breath and slowly rise from the chair.

She also saw him briefly clench and then relax his hands.

―How many, and who?‖ William said.

―The dowager queen,‖ said Warenne. ―Harold‘s Chancellor, Regenbald. Aldred, the

Archbishop of York. Robert Fitzwimarch. And a small retinue, unarmed.‖

William was silent, a little too long, for Warenne glanced at Matilda in concern.

―Pray send in only the queen,‖ William said eventually. ―Entertain the rest with good

wine and food and warmth, and tell them that I shall receive them later.‖

Warenne nodded, bowed and left.

Matilda watched William draw in yet another deep breath, and again clench and relax his

hands.

Sweet Lord Christ, she thought, what has he to be so nervous about?

And then the door opened, and Edward‘s queen and Harold‘s sister entered, and Matilda

took her first step on a journey of mystery that she could never have imagined.

The first thing that Matilda noticed as Caela hesitated just inside the door was that the

woman, if not stunningly beautiful according to court tastes, was nonetheless one of the most

arresting figures Matilda had ever laid eyes on. It was not her features so much, although Caela‘s

face and form, and most particularly her stunning deep blue eyes, were most pleasing, but that

Caela had a presence about her that was extraordinary. She was lovely in the manner of a still

summer‘s day, and she carried about her a sense of peace and strength that Matilda would have

given her right arm to acquire. She wore very simply cut clothing, and had left her dark hair

unveiled and unworked save for a loosely bound plait that twisted over her left shoulder, but,

even so, with her presence, Caela could be recognisable as nothing but a queen.

The second thing Matilda realised was that Caela was as nervous and as tense as William.

The third thing that Matilda noticed was that William and Caela could not take their eyes

off each other.

Matilda was put out by this only in the sense that it was so unexpected. She did not feel

any presentiment of jealousy or of disquiet. She was consumed only by a sense of curiosity and

by a desire to understand what lay behind this extraordinary tension between her husband and

Caela.

―My lady queen,‖ Matilda said softly, but with enough strength to make Caela‘s eyes

flicker, then move away from William to his duchess. ―I do welcome you to Berkhamsted,