consecration.‖
―Madam…I had wondered…‖
Caela gave up all pretence at her needlework, allowing it to slip to her lap as she raised
her face to Judith and laughed. ―Am I keeping you from some great pleasure, Judith?‖
Judith blushed, more from her current state of tension than embarrassment.
Caela‘s smile died and she set her embroidery to one side. ―What is it, Judith?‖
Judith abandoned caution and plunged straight into the lie. ―Madam, your brother Harold
spoke to me earlier.‖
Caela raised an eyebrow, no more than mildly curious.
―He asked that I bring you to the banks of the Thames just below Tothill tonight, when all
is still and silent in the palace.‖
Caela‘s face retained its pleasant expression, but Judith could see the incomprehension
growing in her eyes.
―Your husband has decided to spend the night in prayer on his knees before the altar in
the abbey, madam.‖ Judith had told Saeweald and Ecub (visiting this day from her priory) about
the visit from the Sidlesaghe. Edward‘s decision to spend all night in prayer was Saeweald‘s
doing, although Judith had no idea how he‘d managed it. Did he inform the king that if he prayed
all night before the altar, then his amulet against the arthritis would double its potency? Or was
this just a sign of Edward‘s increasing piety? ―He will not notice you gone.‖
―Judith—‖
―Madam, Harold was most insistent.‖
Caela‘s brow creased, and she looked cross. ―Judith, before heaven, what is Harold
doing? Sneaking about like a mischievous child? A surreptitious midnight picnic by the water‘s
edge? What is going on? ‖
―Madam, please. I beg you, Harold needs you.‖
―Then why not beg me himself? Why ask through you?‖
―It is about Swanne,‖ Judith said, desperate now. ―Swanne…Swanne is…‖
―Ah…‖ said Caela, and her posture relaxed very slightly. ―Swanne is causing trouble.‖
She furrowed her brow, thinking. ―It must be that Swanne and…and Tostig, perhaps…‖
―The palace has ears, madam.‖ Judith had no idea what she meant by that, but it seemed
to confirm something in Caela‘s mind.
―Yes.‖ She nodded. ―What chamber is safe in this palace, eh? I swear that Edward has
paid ears against every door.‖ Then Caela smiled, and it was the kind of smile that Judith had
never seen her give: girlish, mischievous, uninhibited. Judith‘s breath caught in her throat. Sweet gods, if ever she smiled that way upon a man…
Then Caela‘s smile faded. ―But how can I leave the palace? I have no excuse, and the fact
of my leaving will surely reach Edward‘s ears long before dawn.‖
Judith allowed her shoulders to relax: she had not been aware how tense she had been.
Pray that Caela forgive her when she realised the deception. ―I shall fetch you my third-best
robe, and we shall drape a serving woman‘s hood and cloak about you, and none shall be the
wiser.‖
They waited until well past midnight, then, heavily cloaked and veiled, made their way to
one of the postern gates in the wall about Westminster (the guard long gone, persuaded away
from his post by the gold of Saeweald‘s purse). From here Judith led Caela south along the river
path towards a spot some hundred paces south of the palace complex where the southern branch
of the Tyburn River joined with the Thames.
Perhaps some ten or fifteen paces ahead of them, on a broad expanse of gravel laid bare
by low tide, waited three cloaked figures.
―Who can be with Harold?‖ said Caela.
―Saeweald,‖ said Judith. ―See how he drags that leg?‖
Caela nodded. One of the figures had moved slightly at their approach, and he did indeed
drag his right leg in the manner of Saeweald.
―Saeweald!‖ Judith called softly as she and Caela approached. ―Is that you?‖
―Aye.‖ Saeweald threw back the hood of his cloak. ―Madam, you are well? We thank you
for agreeing to come.‖
Caela peered at the smaller of the remaining figures, and it turned around, revealing
Ecub.
―Mother Ecub,‖ said Caela, ―what do you here?‖
Ecub bowed her head, a gesture of deep respect, and smiled, but she did not respond with
words.
Caela stared at her, then looked to the final figure. Strange, for out here in the night
Harold looked much taller than—
The other figure turned around, and as it did so then the cloak about its form faded as if it
had never been, and Caela saw that it was—stunningly—the same creature that she had seen in
dream.
A Long Tom.
―It is a Sidlesaghe, my dear,‖ said Ecub, but Caela was staring at the creature in horror,
taking a step backwards.
―Caela,‖ Saeweald said softly, hobbling forward a little. ―Please, it is all right. You will
be safe.‖
Caela shrank back from him, her eyes riveted on the Sidlesaghe standing with a strange,
dark, watchful expression about two or three paces from her. His eyes, as dark as they were,
seemed to reflect the small amount of moonlight, and they glittered at Caela eerily.
―What…is…this?‖ Caela said very slowly, enunciating every word very carefully. She
shot Saeweald a look, and it was full of anger.
―Madam,‖ Judith said, placing a hand on Caela‘s elbow.
―Don‘t touch me,‖ Caela hissed. Her eyes swung between Saeweald, Ecub and Judith.
― What have you done?‖
Whatever they may have said was forestalled by the Sidlesaghe, who suddenly almost
doubled over in a sweeping, elegant gesture of reverence.
―Lady,‖ he said, ―forgive the means by which these three delivered you to me.‖
Caela stared at the Sidlesaghe, her posture as tense as that of a startled deer. ―What are
you?‖ she said harshly.
The Sidlesaghe smiled, his teeth gleaming in the trickle of moonlight. ―I am your
welcomer,‖ he said. ―Do you not remember the last time I greeted you?‖
For a moment Caela did not respond. Then she shook her head slowly.
―I am here once more,‖ said the Sidlesaghe, ―as all my kind.‖ It lifted one of its
long-fingered hands and gestured.
Caela‘s eyes darted around her, and she gasped. Where a moment before had been empty
gravelled shoreline, now stood rank upon rank of creatures similar to the one which stood before
her now.
―We are all here,‖ the Sidlesaghe said, ―to welcome you anew.‖
―Caela,‖ said Saeweald, his tone pleading. ―Please trust—‖
―No,‖ she said, and took another step backwards. Then she glanced over her shoulder, as
if ensuring her way were still open.
―It is time,‖ said the Sidlesaghe, and, with a movement as quick and as fluid as that of the
fox, darted forward and seized Caela.
She gave a half shriek, grabbing at the Sidlesaghe as if she meant to push him away, but
the creature cradled her against his body, holding her almost as if she were a baby. Caela
struggled, but caught in the Sidlesaghe‘s firm, loving grip, she could do nothing.
For an instant the Sidlesaghe stood, Caela in his arms close against his body, smiling at
her as if she were his own beloved child.
Then he lifted her high above his head and, as all the Sidlesaghes let out a long moan,
tossed her into the river.
Caela hit the water with a frightful splash and almost instantly sank beneath its surface.
The final sight that Judith had of Caela was of her terrified white face, and then her
extended arms and hands as, slowly, inevitably, they sank into the rolling grey waters.
EIGHTEEN
CAELA SPEAKS
Oh, gods, the touch of the water!
Something ruptured within my head—the pain was excruciating, overwhelming—and
within the space of a single breath that agony became my entire existence.
I was terrified, but of what I cannot say. Not of the water, nor even of death (which
activity I was undoubtedly engaged in, for the water flowed down my throat as I gasped and
gulped, and some tiny part of me understood that it was filling my lungs), but of the fact that I
was in the grip of something so powerful, so unknowable, that even death could not save me
from it.
Death could not be an escape from it.
My head was on fire, the pain now beyond the excruciating, and I gave up even trying to
stay afloat. I sank down through the waters—strangely deep for the shallows of the
river—descending into an icy bleakness.
And still my head rang with agony.
I screamed, and river water surged down my throat.
Now my lungs felt as if they, too, were going to explode with the weight of the river
within them and I gave myself over entirely to the water and the pain, and hoped only that they
would have done with me as fast as they possibly could.
My last single coherent thought was that if Edward could see me now he would only nod
his head knowingly, and turn to say to one of his ever-present sycophants: I always knew the
Devil was in her.
The instant she gave up the struggle the tiny hands reached out for her, pulling her