was cold, yes, but this was different.
Malevolent.
Seeing.
Saeweald glanced at the well, made sure the conjuration hiding the well‘s opening
remained in place, then he turned, trying to see in every direction at once, tottering and almost
falling as he looked for a place to hide. Curse his power which enabled him to hide (however
insubstantially) other objects, but not himself.
You poor fool. What brought you back to this calamity?
Saeweald felt the voice, rather than heard it. He twisted around, trying to locate it.
There was a movement in the air. Something large, shifting. Behind him? No! To his left.
Do you look for me?
Saeweald cried out, terrified. The Minotaur had materialised directly in front of him, no
more than two paces distant. He was massive, taller than any man Saeweald had ever seen,
tightly muscled, overpowering in presence.
His ebony bull‘s head, almost majestic, swayed slowly from side to side, and bright,
savage eyes pinned Saeweald where he stood.
Tell me— what do you here?
Saeweald found himself compelled to speak. It was as if a ghostly hand had seized his
throat, squeezing the words from him. ―I am tied to the land! I am for the land!‖
That”s pathetic. I am for power. Did you know that?
The word was crushed from Saeweald‘s chest. ―Yes.‖
And what is this then, that you try so pathetically to hide? Suddenly the gravel dissolved,
and the god-well lay exposed. The Minotaur‘s gaze jerked back to Saeweald, and the man cried
out as invisible claws ripped agonisingly into his body.
―It is…ah! It is a god-well!‖ Saeweald‘s body shook, jerking up and down as the
Minotaur‘s power began to crush him.
Asterion began to laugh, a belly-shaking amusement that filled the basement with his
merriment. A god-well! How sweet. Shall I destroy it?
Saeweald had begun to cry. He was no longer capable of speech.
Shall I destroy you, friend?
Then, just as Saeweald was sure he was about to be torn to shreds, the Minotaur‘s eyes
widened, and the creature snarled. Who is here with you? Who?
Saeweald somewhere found breath enough to speak a single word. ―Silvius.‖
A Kingman? The Minotaur was still staring at the god-well. The next moment he‘d taken
a step back, then another, and then he was fading from view. A Kingman?
And then he was gone, and Saeweald collapsed unknowing to the ground.
He woke to find Silvius crouched over him.
―What happened?‖ Silvius said.
―Asterion…‖
―Asterion was here? ‖
Saeweald nodded. His body was throbbing horribly, but it seemed that the Minotaur had
not quite torn him to shreds after all. It had just felt like it at the time. ―Aid me to rise. Please.‖
Silvius lent him his hand. ― What happened?”
Saeweald briefly told him while he struggled to regain his balance, a hand on Silvius‘
shoulder for support. ―The instant he heard your name, he vanished. ‗A Kingman?‘ he said, as if
it was the last thing he wanted to hear, and then he was gone.‖
Silvius frowned. ―I had not thought I had the power to overly perturb him,‖ he said.
―You were the one who keeps reminding me that you were once a Kingman. Maybe
Asterion has not forgotten it, even if occasionally I do.‖ He managed a small smile. ―Perhaps I
will trust you after all, Silvius. Having a man close by who can terrify even Asterion is bound to
come in handy.‖
Silvius patted Saeweald‘s hand where it still rested on his shoulder. ―I need to see you
safe back to your chambers.‖ He managed his own grin, but it was a weak thing. ―I think you
have need of Judith‘s ministering hands.‖
―Did you find it?‖
Silvius nodded, and held out a hand. In its palm rested the bracelet.
―Pray to Mag it works,‖ muttered Saeweald.
TWELVE
CAELA SPEAKS
When I woke the next morning, I lay for a very long time, cold and stiff, my belly a
terrible, painful weight, and waited for the usual sense of futility to sweep over me.
This futility was my constant burden. I had carried it ever since that first night with
Edward (I find you most displeasing) and I had borne it as a woman, as a wife, as a queen. Poor Caela, they whispered.
Poor Caela. How I hated it.
The drapes were partly pulled back from the bed—and, oh, the sweetness of having this
bed to myself for an entire night—and I could see that someone sat by the hearth, her chin on her
chest.
Slim build, delicate face, dark sweep of hair escaping from the veil askew over her brow.
Judith. I smiled drowsily, happy in this moment. Alone in my bed, watched over by
Judith.
―You‘re awake.‖
Startled, my eyes jerked to the person who now stood by my side: he must have been
sitting towards the head of the bed where the drapes had obscured him.
―Saeweald.‖ Sweet Lord Christ, he looked worse than I felt. There were dark circles
under his eyes, his skin was blotched, and there were deep lines of pain about his mouth.
―Saeweald,‖ I said again, holding out my hand. ―Have you not slept?‖
He took my hand and kissed it. ―You seem rested, madam.‖
―I am well enough, Saeweald.‖ And, surprisingly, I was well enough. Although my belly
ached the wave of futility and melancholy which had been so often my intimate companion had,
apparently, decided to stay away for this day. ―But you, Saeweald…have you been battling
demons all night?‖
He laughed. ―Indeed, madam. Keeping them from your bed.‖
Judith appeared at his shoulder, her tiny hands lifting to straighten her veil and push away
the dark wing of hair which had fallen loose.
Saeweald, serious now, looked at me with an unreadable expression. ―Did you dream
well, madam?‖
Ah, sweet Lord, why did he so constantly inquire after my dreams? ―I slept dreamlessly,
physician. I am sorry to disappoint you.‖
Judith and Saeweald shared a glance, and for some reason that made me angry.
―I am sorry to disappoint you,‖ I said again, my tone decidedly waspish now. ―If I had
known you were so concerned, I would have had a nightmare to delight you.‖
―I did not mean to offend you, madam,‖ Saeweald said.
I sighed, turning aside my face. How I hated these strange, uncomfortable conversations
with Saeweald. He always seemed to be waiting for me to say something for which I could not
form the words. At times he appeared to be teetering forwards on his uncertain legs, as if I
should remember something of great import and then hand it to him to enchant him.
Although I could not see it, I felt Judith and Saeweald glance at each other once more.
―Bring me water,‖ I said, looking back to Judith, ―and cloths. I am not so sick I want to
break my fast stinking of my night sweat. Saeweald, I feel greatly improved this morning. You
may take some of your own rest, and, should you need to again inquire after my health, then you
may do so this afternoon.‖
And with that, and yet one more of those cursed glances between the two, Saeweald
bowed and retired.
Later, when I had eaten a small bowl of broth and a piece of new-baked bread, washed,
assured both myself and Judith (who would doubtless report the fact to Saeweald) that I had not
bled afresh during the night, and when the linens of my bed had been changed and the coverlets
shaken, I lay back upon my pillows and prepared to receive what visitors there were. I would
have risen, but apparently Saeweald had threatened Judith, and every other of my attending
ladies, with dire warnings of my undoubted demise should I rise from my bed too soon, and so I
was condemned to yet another day‘s rest within my bedchamber.
To be honest, I was not so very unhappy with that thought. A day abed meant a day of
peace: Edward would avoid me, the majority of the court would find other scandals and intrigues
to amuse themselves, and perhaps…perhaps Harold might come to talk a while with me.
He had not come yesterday when I was awake, but Judith told me he had looked in when
I‘d slept.
I remembered that there had been a constant stream of people come to view me, to poke
and prod me, physically, emotionally and spiritually, to ensure that I was still breathing and to
depart with further gossip for the court.
None of them had been Harold, therefore none of them had been particularly welcome.
Edward had come, and said words that I think he meant to be conciliatory (but how could I
forget him standing over me as I lay in humiliation on the floor of his court, screaming at me that
I was a whore? How could I ever set that memory aside? ) and had then, gratefully, departed, all thin-lipped and pinch-nosed.