Gods Concubine by Sara Douglass

silence with a curt gesture.

―Well?‖ said the king. ―Speak!‖

Gerberga‘s eyes flitted to Harold, then settled on the king. She raised her head, and spoke

clearly. ―Your wife the queen carries no shame, your majesty. She remains a virgin still, as intact

as when she was birthed. To this I swear, as will any other of the five midwives who have

examined her.‖

―But she miscarried,‖ Edward said, his hands tightening about the armrests of his throne.

Gerberga shook her head slowly from side to side. ―She did not miscarry, my king. Some

women, if left virgin too long, grow congested and cramped within their wombs. What happened

today was the sudden release of such congestion. A monthly flux, although far worse than what

most women endure.‖

―Caela will recover?‖ Harold said.

―Aye,‖ said Gerberga, ―although she shall need rest and good food and sweet words of

comfort.‖

―Then she shall have it,‖ said Harold.

Edward snorted, and relaxed back in the throne. ―The court shall be the sweeter place

without her,‖ he observed, and, by his side, Archbishop Aldred laughed.

Tostig had observed the entire drama from his place far back in the hall. He had not

moved to aid Caela, nor even to make inquiries after her health, contenting himself instead with

watching the words and actions of those on the dais with a cynical half smile on his lips.

As he turned to leave, a man standing just behind him made a small bow of respect,

stepping back to allow Tostig to pass.

Then, just as the earl made to step forward, the man said, ―You must be concerned for

your sister, my lord. How fortunate that all seems better than first it appeared.‖

Tostig snorted. ―That farce? It concerned me not. England is in a sorry state indeed if the

actions of its king and his deputies revolve about the weakness of a woman‘s womb.‖

―Edward…‖ The man shrugged dismissively. ―He is an old man, and weak because of it.

But Harold…‖

―Harold is just as weak and foolish,‖ Tostig snapped, ―for his wits are so addled he cares

not for any within this kingdom save our sister. Now stand aside, man, for I would pass.‖

As the earl pushed past, the man looked across the hall to where a companion stood. They

exchanged a glance, and then each turned aside with a small smile of satisfaction on their faces.

Tostig would bear watching.

NINE

Hidden within the body he used for everyday deceptions, Asterion walked through

Edward‘s Great Hall, mounted the stairs at its far end, and moved through the upper floor

towards the chamber where Caela rested.

As he passed, people stood to one side and bowed in respect.

Many of them asked for his blessing, and Asterion was pleased to pause, and make above

their heads the sign of the cross, and to murmur a few words of prayer to comfort them.

So amusing. So quaint. The world was full of fools.

When he reached Caela‘s chamber, the midwives allowed him entry instantly, standing

aside as he approached her bed. Further back, the physician Saeweald sat in a chair, looking tired

and wrung out, as if it were he who had suffered the flux rather than the queen.

Saeweald rose awkwardly, made a small bow of respect, then sank down again at

Asterion‘s good-natured gesture.

―My beloved lady,‖ Asterion said, his voice an extravagance of sympathy, turning now to

the queen in her bed, ―the entire court expresses its concern for your malaise. Their good wishes

are many and rich.‖

Caela lay very still and very white under the coverlets. ―I doubt that very much, my lord.‖

―We were all shocked,‖ Asterion said, accepting the stool that one of the midwives

brought to him, and pulling it close enough to the bed that he could take Caela‘s still, cold hand.

―Some of us perhaps uttered hasty words.‖ He made a small moue of regret.

Caela gave a small, humourless smile, and remained silent.

Asterion sent out his power, searching, as the queen‘s hand lay in his. As he had

expected, there was nothing. Mag was gone from Caela‘s womb as surely as if…she had never been there.

Asterion smirked, then turned it quickly into an expression of concern as he patted

Caela‘s hand. It always paid to be careful, and he had to go through the motions. To do what was

expected of him. People were watching, and who knew their powers of perception?

―Poor child,‖ he said. ―You have suffered so terribly.‖

And shall suffer even more.

Then he rose, mumbling something conciliatory, winked at Saeweald, and walked away,

well pleased with himself.

The trap was set, but he must not rest upon his achievements thus far. The Game was

moving, and he must needs move with it.

Once he reached the stairs which led down to the Great Hall, Asterion began whistling, a

cheerful little ditty that he‘d heard used by the fishermen at the wharves.

TEN

Caela lay, deeply asleep. Her husband, the king, had taken himself off to another

chamber for the night, claiming he did not wish to disturb his wife in her recovery.

He fooled no one. Edward had ever been repulsed by the normal workings of a woman‘s

body and had always insisted Caela move to a different bed during the nights of her monthly

flux. His decision to quit the marital chamber on this occasion, instead of requiring Caela to do

so, was a singular event, and perhaps an expression of regret for his thoughtless accusations at

court earlier in the day. Edward had visited his wife, along with a dozen other personages who

had dropped in one by one, had patted her hand awkwardly, muttered some even more awkward

words, and had then left with obvious relief.

Now, as night closed in, Saeweald, Judith and Ecub sat round the brazier on the far side

of the chamber from Caela‘s heavily curtained bed. The midwives had gone, Caela‘s bevy of

lesser attending ladies had gone, and now only the physician, the prioress and the senior of the

queen‘s ladies remained.

For some time they sat without speaking, perhaps being careful, perhaps just bone-weary

themselves.

Finally, with a sigh, Saeweald spoke. ―It has happened as the Sidlesaghe said it would.‖

―Aye,‖ said Ecub.

―Asterion showed his hand,‖ Saeweald said.

―In a manner of speaking,‖ said Ecub. ―He acted, yes, but who saw his hand? You? Or

you, Judith?‖

―All of us,‖ said Judith, repressing a shiver. ―We were at court this morning…and we all

know he would have been among those to come to this chamber during the afternoon or evening.

To make sure Mag was gone.‖

―Oh, aye, indeed,‖ Ecub said very softly. ―But which one was he?‖

All three knew from conversations with Cornelia, between the time in their previous lives

when Cornelia had ―died‖ during the dreadful birth of her daughter—a time when Mag had

spoken to her—and when Cornelia had murdered Genvissa, that Mag had made an alliance with

Asterion. Mag had warned Cornelia, and Cornelia had subsequently mentioned this to Loth, that

in the next life Asterion would renege on the alliance. For him, Mag was nothing but a

complication and a nuisance; something which must needs be removed on his path to destroying

the Game.

Until very recently, neither Ecub, Saeweald nor Judith had any idea what Mag had

planned. They had thought that the presence of Mag within Caela‘s womb was the real Mag, but,

from the Sidlesaghes, Ecub had discovered that this Mag was a sham, an illusion set within

Cornelia‘s stone hall, her womb, to deceive Asterion. To trick him into thinking he had disposed

of Mag.

They‘d known from the instant Caela had collapsed in court what was happening. At

least the Sidlesaghes‘ warning had meant they were not as terrified or distraught as they would

have been had they thought Asterion was truly murdering Mag, but even so, Caela‘s distress had

sickened and frightened them.

As had the procession of people into Caela‘s bedchamber throughout the day. Ostensibly,

all these visitors were there to assure themselves of the queen‘s wellbeing, that she had not bled,

nor would bleed, to death, but the three friends knew that among them would have been the

disguised Asterion, come to check that Mag had, indeed, been killed.

―It could have been any one of them—and as much one of the women as one of the men,‖

said Saeweald.

Ecub harrumphed. ―And not a single one of them stank of bull.‖

Again, silence, as they sat watching the curtains pulled about Caela‘s bed, listening to her

quiet breathing.

―Where is Mag?‖ said Judith. ―Where has she been hiding all this time? How will she be

reborn?‖

Both Saeweald and Ecub shrugged.

― She should know,‖ Saeweald said, nodding at the bed. ―Mag would have told her.‖

―Cornelia never told you?‖ Ecub said.

Saeweald shook his head.

―Caela should know, but Caela is unchanged,‖ Judith said, despair making her voice