I closed my eyes, and did what Judith, Saeweald and Ecub had been wanting me to do for
so long.
I remembered.
I remembered that terrible night when Genvissa had torn my daughter from my body, and
I had died. I remembered how Mag had come to me then (even as Loth was sobbing over my
cooling flesh) and how she had talked to me, and shown me the way ahead.
I remember how dismayed I had been, not only dismayed at the thought of how far we
had to go, the intricacies involved (where so much could go wrong) and the dangers inherent in
that journey, but of how unworthy I was of the responsibility. But Mag had loved me, and held
me, and promised me that all would be well. That all I had to do was to believe and to trust, and
to summon the courage to dare.
I lay there at tide‘s edge, my eyes closed, my heart full of contentment, and felt the land
and waters move about me. When, as Cornelia, I had stabbed myself in the neck, thus causing
my own death, Mag within my womb had died with me. When I had been reborn as Caela, so
Mag—or her potential, rather than her precisely—had been reborn also, but not within my
womb.
Within me. As much a part of my flesh as that imagined mantle.
There was no difference between us now. I was not only Caela, Cornelia-reborn, but also
everything that Mag had been.
Mag-reborn. That strange mantle, seamlessly wound through my flesh, that made me
more than I had been previously. Not different, just more.
I knew that around me stood those who needed a word, and who needed reassurance, but
first I wanted to do one more thing…I allowed my memory to roam free. Oh, but it encompassed
so much! I could remember when this land was still young, when it was still bound by a thin land
bridge to the continent to the east, and when great bear and elk and wolves scampered across that
bridge to fill this bounteous land.
I remembered when Mag had walked across that land bridge, and was welcomed to this
land by the Sidlesaghes who now stood about me, welcomers once more.
I remembered a day, the joy of turning around and seeing standing there the magnificent
white stag, and knowing that he would be my one mate throughout eternity.
And I remembered that bleak day when the Darkwitch Ariadne came to this land, and
Mag welcomed her, not realising her malignancy and her contempt.
Finally, I remembered the arrival of the Trojans, carrying with them Mag nurtured within
the womb of the wife of their leader, Cornelia. Mag, arriving once more to this land, bringing
with her… me.
Filled with joy, I looked deeper.
And found an empty space. A well of nothingness. An incompleteness.
Had something failed? Had my transformation not been complete?
Startled, and not a little scared at that discovery, I opened my eyes. I would think on it
later when I had peace and solitude. This was only the beginning, after all. I could not expect
everything all at once.
The Sidlesaghe reached down his hand and I took it, and rose, glimpsing as I did so the
gold and ruby bracelet that glinted about my wrist. I half smiled at that, seeing in it everything
that Cornelia had suffered but yet would become, then I looked to my three faithful companions
who had been reborn into this life with me, and, in turn, I took their faces in my hands and kissed
them softly on the mouth.
―You are Mag?‖ stammered Saeweald.
I hesitated. I was not Mag precisely, but did not know how best to express myself. So,
foolishly perhaps, I let him think what he wanted, for it was easier.
―Aye,‖ I said, and felt a faint flutter of discomfort deep within my belly.
―But…I had no idea. I would not have—‖
―Wait,‖ I said. ―This is not the place nor the time to discuss it.‖ I turned back to the
Sidlesaghe, and I kissed him also. ―Long Tom,‖ I said, for that was truly his name, ―thank you
for greeting me. I am sorry I was so nervous and that I attempted to obstruct you.‖
Long Tom smiled, and, as I had in my dream, I saw a faint suggestion of light spill from
his mouth. ―We are happy to see you as well, lady. Do not worry for what you may have said.
We are happy only to see you.‖
My smile slipped. ―I need to speak with you.‖
―Aye, and we with you. But not now. I will come to you again. We will walk the paths.‖
―Aye,‖ I said, ―that we will.‖
Then I turned back to Saeweald and the two women, and I grimaced, and I said, ―May I
borrow a cloak or some other covering from you? This night is chill, and there is a long walk
back to the palace.‖
And so, huddled beneath Saeweald‘s cloak, the Sidlesaghes fading into the night and the
physician, the prioress and my attending lady beside me, I went back to the palace via the
gravelled flats of the Thames until we reached the wharves of Westminster, thence up the paths
and steps to the palace itself where doors opened and sentries stood unnoticing. We went to the
very door of my bedchamber and there, I smiled again, and kissed them all once more, and said,
―We shall have a chance to speak tomorrow. Be still until that moment.‖
Then I opened the door, and walked inside and, shucking away the cloak, crawled into
my empty, cold bed (Edward was, most apparently, still on his knees before his altar, and the
bowerthegn who usually slept by the door must also be with him).
I lay down naked, and I closed my eyes, and I put my hands on my breasts, and I
dreamed—not of the young boy Melanthus whom I had thought to love in my previous life as
Cornelia, nor even of Brutus-now-William, but I dreamed of my beloved white stag with the
blood-red antlers, pounding through the forest towards me.
One day, I thought. One day, beloved.
And then I began to weep.
Silently, deep into the night.
THREE
Matilda watched through hooded eyes as William, as naked as the day he had been born,
stood before the fire in their bedchamber, reading the letter that Yves had delivered earlier.
They had retired some hours ago, made love (which Matilda hoped had driven all thought
of Adeliza from William‘s mind for the time being), talked, and then William had waited until he
thought Matilda asleep.
Now he stood before the fire, his head bent over the letter, frowning.
He couldn”t allow Matilda to see this! William thanked all the gods that existed that he‘d
delayed opening the communication until Matilda had been asleep. Previously, Swanne had been
circumspect in her communications, but now she had abandoned caution. Swanne wanted him to
tell her where the kingship bands were. She wanted to move them before Asterion could get to
them. She needed to do it before William arrived, or else it would be too late. She wrote of the
strange events of the day the Troy Game was enacted in Smithfield, and of the children who
played at the Game on the flagstones outside St Paul‘s. They needed to act fast, before
everything disintegrated out of their control. Her unwritten fear, which William discerned easily,
was that Swanne was just as worried about the Troy Game‘s intentions as she was about
Asterion‘s.
William understood Swanne‘s fear about Asterion. It was evident that matters were
careering to a head: Edward was sliding towards death, the new abbey was almost
complete…and the Londoners were dancing the Troy Game? Children playing it across paving
stones?
To be honest, William was not surprised at the manifestation of the Game above the
stones. It had existed for two thousand years; it was no shock to find that the people who lived
their daily lives above it should also find their feet moving unwittingly in its steps. Swanne‘s
belief that the Game was trying to take matters into its own hands, however, was an overreaction.
William could not conceive for a moment that the Game would ever try to divorce itself from its
Mistress and its Kingman.
But the bands…on that subject William was prepared to share Swanne‘s concern. The
golden bands of Troy were vital. If Asterion had them, then all hope that William and Swanne
could work the final Dance of the Flowers and complete the Game—thus trapping Asterion
within its heart—were gone.
If William could retrieve them, however…
William‘s body tensed, his eyes staring unfocused into the fire. If he had the bands, if he
wore them, and if he and Swanne had the time and space to raise the flower gate…
Then all would be won, and he and Swanne would live forever within the stones of