He valued her beyond measure…and yet he had not found within himself the courage to
talk to her of that one thing which consumed so much of his life.
The Troy Game.
How could he ever explain that to her?
So William couched his thoughts of the Game within talk of his ambition for the English
throne, and that ambition Matilda understood very well. All men lusted for more estates and
power, and what was more normal than for William, having finally secured his own duchy, to
lust for a throne to which he had some small right in any case?
A sound distracted William from his thoughts, and he looked to the doorway.
The guards had admitted a short and very slight priest, still with his stained travelling
cloak flapping wetly about his shoulders, and now that priest was striding towards where
William sat.
William tensed, sitting a little higher in his chair, and his companions Walter and Roger
shared knowing glances.
―My good lord,‖ said the priest, sweeping in a low bow before the duke‘s chair, ―I greet
you well, and am glad to have arrived in your sweet abode after the mud and strain of the road.‖
―Greetings, Yves,‖ William said. ―I welcome you indeed.‖ He waved to his chamberlain,
who sent a man forward with a stool for the priest. ―You were not troubled by brigands on your
way?‖
―Nay,‖ said Yves, handing his cloak to the chamberlain and seating himself with obvious
relief, ―just the rain and the sleet. Winter has set in early.‖
―I welcome you also, Yves,‖ said Matilda, wandering over to stand by William‘s side.
She perched one hand on his shoulder. ―It is too long since we have seen you.‖
There was something in her tone that made William glance at her face, but she wore a
bland, unreadable expression that gave no clue as to her thoughts. He looked back at Walter and
Roger, sitting forward on their seats with expressions of perfectly readable curiosity on their
faces, and he turned those expressions into ones of disappointment by asking them to leave
himself and his wife alone with the new arrival.
―We have matters of some delicacy to discuss,‖ William said, and Walter and Roger, who
were certain as to what those matters might be, reluctantly rose, bowed to both their duke and
duchess, and joined the greater part of the court seated at some distance from the dais.
Matilda took one of the chairs vacated by the departing men. She folded her hands in her
lap and waited, leaving it to her husband to conduct the conversation.
―Well?‖ said William softly.
―I have a communication for you,‖ said Yves and, glancing about in a manner that must
have incited the suspicions of the entire court, handed to William a carefully cloth-wrapped
small bundle.
―From my husband‘s agent at Edward‘s court?‖ said Matilda.
Yves inclined his head, and Matilda and William shared a meaningful glance. William
would not open this now, not here.
―And how goes Edward‘s court?‖ said William.
―The king ages apace,‖ said Yves. ―His mind lingers less on worldly matters than on the
salvation that awaits him. Most days he spends with the monks and priests of Westminster
Abbey, or walking within its rising walls. On many days, my lord, he takes the golden string you
gifted him and lays it out into the Jerusalem Labyrinth on the newly laid floor of the abbey. He
thinks to build for himself a place of great glory, so that the world might not forget him when
death takes him.‖
William grunted, turning the small cloth-wrapped bundle over and over in his hands, as if
impatient to read its contents.
―There is no sign of an heir?‖ he said.
Yves gave a short laugh. ―Queen Caela is not so blessed as my lady here,‖ he said,
inclining his head to Matilda, who accepted the compliment with a polite smile. ―Edward refuses
to corrupt his piety, or his possible salvation and sanctification, with any sins of the flesh. There
will be no heir of his body.‖
He hesitated, and William looked at him sharply.
―What do you not say?‖ he said.
―Only that Queen Caela was struck with a most untimely blood flux of her womb at court
two weeks before I left,‖ said Yves. ―Some said that she had miscarried of a bastard child, but
the midwives who examined her said she was a virgin still. Edward,‖ again Yves gave his short,
strange bark of laughter, ―has his reputation as intact as his wife‘s virginity.‖
Matilda had been watching her husband as Yves spoke, and she frowned, puzzled, at
what she saw in his face. Regret? Unhappiness? Uncertainty? She could not read it, nor
understand it completely. Again she resolved to discover all she could about this enigmatic
queen.
―Harold?‖ William asked, and Matilda relaxed, for now there was nothing in William‘s
face at all but ambition and cunning.
―His strength grows, my lord,‖ said Yves. ―He knows, as does everyone, that Edward has
his eyes more on the next world than he does on this one.‖
―And how does Harold conduct himself, knowing the throne shall be vacant in so little a
time?‖ said Matilda.
―He sits, and watches, and gathers his forces. The witan is all but sure to elect him to the
throne on Edward‘s death—‖
―But William has the greater claim,‖ said Matilda, unable to suppress an outburst of
loyalty. ―Edward all but promised it to him when my husband sheltered Edward in his court
during the man‘s exile, and through Emma, Edward‘s mother, William and Edward are close
cousins. There is no one closer in blood than William.‖
Yves shrugged. ―The witan will not want a foreigner marching in and forcing the Saxon
earls to his will.‖
―They may have to accept it!‖ snapped Matilda.
William smiled at her, then looked at Yves. ―I thank you for your care in bringing this,‖
he tapped the bundle, ―to me. Will you accept my hospitality for the next few days as I decide
whether or not to respond?‖
Yves rose, knowing a dismissal when he heard one. He bowed, first to William, then to
Matilda, and left the hall.
The instant he had turned his back, both William and Matilda looked at the bundle he
held.
―I will open it later,‖ William said, and slipped it inside his tunic.
―We will open it together,‖ Matilda said firmly, and William sighed.
TWO
CAELA SPEAKS
How can I explain how I felt at that moment? When I opened my eyes and saw the
Sidlesaghe look down at me, and smile, and say ― Resurgam, pretty lady!‖ with such joy and
welcome.
I felt relief. That was the first, overwhelming emotion. Sheer, thankful relief. We‘d
managed it—Hera, Mag and I. The first and most critical part of our journey was done.
And who was I? Why Caela, of course, as I had been Cornelia, but far more than that.
Far more.
How can I put into words what that felt like? It is as if…it is as if you had wandered
naked all your life, and then someone approached and placed a mantle about your shoulders.
This mantle protected and nurtured, and because of the warmth and comfort it gave it made one
much more than one had been when naked. Moreover, the threads of the mantle magically
wound themselves into your flesh so that it became an integral and living part of you.
The mantle had not truly changed who you were, it had just made you more.
I lay at the tide‘s edge that still, cold night, and I felt the land beneath my back and the
waters about my legs. It was not just that I felt their solidity or wetness, I felt them. The essence of them: how they felt, how they turned, their wants and needs and loves as well. I could feel the
land closing in upon itself for its winter death sleep; I could feel the seeds of spring and the
bones of the dead sleeping within its flesh; I could feel the roots of the trees stretching down,
down, down; and I could feel the chatter of moles and the bark of foxes and the sweetness of the
worms who inhabited its flesh.
My flesh.
In the waters I could hear the laughter of distant lands, and feel the siren song of the
moon, for love of whom the tides and inlets danced. I could feel my heart in its depths, and feel
the love of the water sprites who, with the ancient ones, the Sidlesaghes, had overseen my birth.
I was aware that the sprites still hovered close to the surface of the water, and that the
Sidlesaghes lined the banks of the river, seemingly in their thousands, and that Ecub and
Saeweald and Judith stood close by staring down upon my naked flesh in varying degrees of
stupefaction and awe, but for the moment I concentrated only on myself.