Gods Concubine by Sara Douglass

this land. I am the heir to that bloodline, and to the power of the ancient stag god of the forests.‖

Tostig paled, and took a step back, his round eyes fixed on Saeweald‘s face. Saeweald

continued remorselessly.

―One day that god will rise from his grave, Tostig, and on that day I will speak with his

voice.‖

―You are his Druid,‖ Tostig whispered.

―Aye. I am his Druid,‖ Saeweald said, using a word and concept Tostig would

understand.

Tostig blinked, and with heartfelt relief Saeweald saw tears slide down the youth‘s

cheeks.

―Then I am your man, and you have more friends here at court than you can possibly

realise.‖

Saeweald grimaced. ―There is more at this court than you can possibly realise, my

friend.‖

Tostig held out his hand, and Saeweald took it, using his friend‘s strength to pull himself

out of the tub. Tostig stood watching Saeweald as the man dried himself. ―Have you met my

brother Harold yet?‖

Saeweald shook his head. ―He has been south in his estates for some weeks. No doubt I

will make his acquaintance soon enough.‖

―He needs to see this, too, Saeweald.‖ Tostig reached out once more and touched gently

the markings on Saeweald‘s chest. ―I think he is going to be as good a friend to you as I am.‖

A month after this incident, a month during which Edward became increasingly reliant on

his young, brilliant physician, the king asked Saeweald to attend his wife.

Saeweald stood before Edward, who had retired from the Great Hall to hold his evening

court within his private chambers. Here, above the hall, gathered a relatively small number of

people: a few of the king‘s closest attendants, three or four of the queen‘s attending ladies, some

of the servants, and, invariably, the abbot of Westminster, with perhaps one or two other guests.

The atmosphere was much more informal than that of the court held within the Great Hall, but

Saeweald nonetheless kept his head partly bowed and his face cleansed of anything but

deferential respect.

Despite his demeanour, Saeweald was intensely aware of everyone in the chamber. On

his way through the door he had caught the eye of the Lady Swanne, in attendance this evening

without her husband.

They had known each other instantly, and Saeweald was somewhat surprised that the

silent bolt of hatred that shot between them had not sent the entire court into chaos.

But now Saeweald had all but forgotten Swanne. He was intently aware of Caela, who sat

in a carved wooden throne a pace or two to Edward‘s right, and who was almost as rigid as the

frame of her chair.

―My wife,‖ Edward began, flickering his eyes to Caela, ―is unwell. Consistently unwell.

She suffers from a great disquiet of her womb, which causes me some anxiety.‖

Saeweald understood very well by this last statement that Edward was not anxious for

Caela‘s sake, but anxious and irritated that she displayed such womanly weakness. No doubt,

Saeweald thought, Edward would believe it the physical manifestation of Eve‘s sinful presence

within all women and, as such, undeserving of any sympathy. He looked at Caela from under the

lowered lids of his eyes.

She was, if possible, even more rigid, and pink with humiliation.

―Sire,‖ said Saeweald in the strong, quiet voice he always used with the king, ―I have

many medications which will ease the problem. Be assured that I can lessen your anxiety.‖ For

an instant, Saeweald‘s mind was consumed with that terrible night so long ago when Caela had

been Cornelia, and he Loth, and Cornelia had lain on the floor of her house, her womb and the

child it had carried lying torn and bloody between her legs.

―Good. Perhaps you can attend her now?‖

Saeweald bowed his head, more to hide his jubilation than with any real respect for

Edward. He was going to have a chance to speak with Caela!

Caela rose stiffly from her chair, her eyes staring ahead so that she did not have to see

either her husband or Saeweald, and she walked from the chamber, two of her ladies in close

attendance.

With a final bow to the king, Saeweald followed.

Within the regal bedchamber, Saeweald‘s ―examination‖ consisted of merely holding

Caela‘s hand in his, feeling the fluttering of her nervous pulse, and asking her a few quiet

questions. The queen‘s two ladies stood a respectful distance away, although they kept their eyes

on the proceedings, and Saeweald was able to converse with Caela in relative privacy.

―Madam,‖ Saeweald began, ―I am sorry to hear of your affliction.‖

She said nothing, merely turning her face very slightly aside.

―It might not be so unexpected, however?‖

She turned back to study him at the slight question in his tone.

―What do you mean, physician?‖

Saeweald did not know what to expect at the distance within her voice. Surely she knew

who he was?

―Your previous troubles…‖ Saeweald murmured, hoping that Caela would realise he

spoke of her life as Cornelia, and Genvissa‘s terrible attack on her.

She did not reply, and Saeweald could sense an immense withdrawal within her.

―Cornelia,‖ he whispered. ―Do you not know me? I am Loth-reborn.‖

She snatched her hand from his. ―Are your wits addled, physician?‖

Her words were angry, but Saeweald could hear a desperate fear beneath them.

Gods, he thought, what is going on?

―Madam,‖ he said, ―I am sorry.‖ His thoughts raced, wondering what he should do or say

next. Why wouldn”t she recognise him? ―I took a concoction for the ache in my leg earlier this evening, and I fear somehow that it has muddled my thoughts.‖

He felt her relax and, very gently, he took her hand back in his. She was so frail…For a

few minutes Saeweald asked her questions about her monthly fluxes, how they had changed in

recent times, and how they discomforted her.

Despite the intimacy of their discussion, Caela relaxed at the detached tone of his voice.

―You are not with child?‖ Saeweald asked eventually.

―No.‖

―There is no possibility…?‖

―No.‖

Saeweald licked his lips, phrasing his next question as delicately as he could. ―Madam,

has the king ever—‖

To his relief she answered before he had time to form all the words. ―No. He will not lie

with me.‖

Saeweald could not help the sudden twitch of his lips. ―And does that bother madam

overmuch?‖

He more than half expected Caela to snatch her hand from his, but to his astonishment

her lips curled in a smile as well. ―You are the first person not to offer me his sympathy over the

issue, physician.‖

He grinned, delighted, for in that single instant he saw some of Cornelia‘s old spirit light

Caela‘s face. She was there, but buried deep. Caela had also responded to him as an intimate

friend—something they were not yet in this life—for that comment should have seen any person,

favoured royal physician or not, immediately ejected from the queen‘s presence.

―There are many men more deserving of you, madam,‖ he said, and then, not wanting to

push Caela any further, began to speak of some of the medications he would mix for her.

When Saeweald eventually sat back, setting Caela‘s hand loose, he risked one more

incursion into their shared past. ―Do not think your womb is useless,‖ he said. ―It harbours a

greater power than I think you can currently know.‖

Or remember.

She frowned at him.

―Mag,‖ he said, hoping that this single word, the name of the goddess who had inhabited

Caela in her previous life, would summon some response from the queen.

Mag, are you there?

But Caela‘s frown only deepened, and, with a brief, respectful few words, Saeweald rose

and left her.

Three days later Saeweald was in the front room of his chambers, which served as a

dispensary, when the outer door opened and a woman came in.

Saeweald stared at her, then stepped forward, taking the woman‘s hands in his and

kissing both her cheeks in welcome before enveloping her in a huge embrace.

―Mother Ecub!‖

―Aye,‖ she said, hugging him as tightly as he did her. ―Mother Ecub indeed—and still

Mother Ecub.‖

―I know,‖ Saeweald said, standing back and grinning at her. ―I have heard of you. I have

never heard of a more undevout Christian prioress!‖

―The priory serves me well enough,‖ said Ecub, ―and I have gathered to my side many

sisters who, while mouthing their Christian prayers, turn for inspiration and hope to the circle of

stones standing atop Pen Hill. Whatever Edward and his flock of clerics want to believe, the

ancient ways still throb deep within the hearts and souls of the people. But, oh, Saeweald, look at

you. How can fate treat you so badly?‖

He touched his hip and grimaced. ―I have learned to live with this, Mother Ecub. You

need spare no pity for me.‖ Then he smiled. ―Just the sight of you, and the knowledge you were