London.
Strange, that he should feel no joy at this thought. ―I must be getting old,‖ William
muttered. Once, every bone in his body would have been screaming with joy at the thought of
controlling the Game completely.
William collected his thoughts and concentrated on what Swanne asked him: Tell me
where lie the bands of Troy, and I shall take them, and keep them safe for you. What do you want
otherwise? That Asterion should snatch them before you can collect yourself enough to arrive?
The tone of that last sentence irritated William immensely. What did she think: that he
had idled his life away in his court of Normandy? Drinking fine wines and laughing at the antics
of court jesters? By the gods, did she not know that he‘d had to battle rivals and enemies for the
past thirty years? That‘d he spent most of those thirty years merely spending each and every day
ensuring his survival? That there had not been a single chance—not one—to turn his armies for
England and for London so that he could, at last, take his rightful place on its throne?
William fully realised that his troubles had been caused by Asterion‘s meddling. He knew
that Asterion had his own dark, malevolent reasons for ensuring William kept his distance from
London for all these years.
And William knew, with every instinct in his body, that the fact that these internal
problems within Normandy had miraculously receded over the past couple of years meant that
Asterion was preparing the way for the confrontation all knew was coming.
―What news?‖ said Matilda from their bed, surprising William so much he visibly
jumped.
―Little,‖ he said as lightly as he could, and tossed the paper into the fire.
It crackled, flaring in sudden flame and burning to ash within moments.
―You did not want me to read it?‖ Matilda said.
―No.‖
―Why?‖
―Swanne was incautious.‖ William looked Matilda directly in the eye. ―She spoke of
things I did not want you to see.‖
―What things?‖ Matilda hissed, finally allowing her jealousy free rein. She rose from the
bed, snatching at a robe to cover herself as she did so, hating the fact that her body was still
swollen from the child she had so recently borne, and hating Swanne even more bitterly for the
fact that all the news Matilda received of her spoke of a beautiful and elegant woman despite the
six children she‘d birthed.
―She did not speak of love,‖ William said, walking over to Matilda and kissing her gently
on the forehead. ―But there are matters so terrible that you will be safer not knowing of them. I
speak nothing but truth, Matilda, when I say that what Swanne wrote has irritated me. I did not throw that letter into the flames because I am a shamefaced adulterer, but because I was angry
with her who wrote it.‖
―I should not have taxed you over the matter,‖ Matilda said, more angry with herself that
she‘d allowed her jealousy to cause her to speak tartly.
―You had every right,‖ William said very softly, his lips resting in her hair. ―You are my
wife, and I honour you before all others.‖
―But Swanne is the great love of your life,‖ Matilda said, keeping her voice light.
―When I spoke those words to you, fifteen years ago,‖ he said, ―then I thought I spoke
truth. Now I am not so sure.‖
―What do you mean?‖ Matilda leaned back so she could see his face.
William paused, trying to find the best words with which to respond. ―You have taught
me a great deal during our marriage,‖ he said eventually. ―You have taught me strength, and
tolerance, and you have given me maturity. What I thought, and felt, fifteen years ago, are no
longer so clear to me.‖
Again Matilda arched an eyebrow. ―Are you saying that I have suddenly become the
great love of your life?‖
William laughed, knowing from all their years together that she jested with him. ―What I
am saying, my dear, is that ‗great love‘ no longer appeals to me as once it did.‖
She held his eyes, her jesting manner vanished. ―When you win England—‖
When, not if. William loved her for that.
―—a marriage to Swanne would consolidate your hold on the throne, especially if, as we
expect, the witan elects Harold as king to succeed Edward. When you have dealt with Harold,
what better move for you than to marry his widow?‖
―I will never renounce you!‖ William said. ―Never! You will be Queen of England at my
side. Believe it!‖
Matilda, studying the fervour in his eyes, believed it, and was content.
FOUR
Judith thought the change in Caela so stunningly obvious that the entire realm would
have taken one gigantic breath and screamed its incredulity, but she supposed, on second
thoughts, that maybe most people who came into contact with the queen on the following day
thought her ―eccentricity‖ merely a result of the turbulent state of her womb.
She woke Caela as she usually did, just after dawn, with a murmured word and the
offering of a warm flannel with which to wipe the sleep from her eyes.
Caela took the flannel, smiling, and wiped her face. Then she stretched cat-like under the
covers, pushed them back and rose in one fluid, beautiful movement, apparently unconcerned at
her nakedness.
Edward‘s bowerthegn, or bedchamberlain, aiding his king to dress, stilled, and stared.
Normally, Caela stayed modestly covered in bed until both her husband and his servants
had left the chamber.
Now she walked slowly over to one of the closed windows, threw back the shutters, and
stood gloriously outlined—and gloriously naked—in the dawning light.
―Wife! What do you? Clothe yourself instantly!‖
Judith froze, wondering if Caela would strike him down.
Instead, Caela inclined her head in Edward‘s direction, as if she found his presence
mildly surprising. ―My nakedness disturbs you?‖ she asked.
And turned her back to the open window.
Judith bit her lip, suppressing a deadly desire to giggle. Both Edward and the bowerthegn
were staring goggle-eyed at the queen.
Caela smiled, sweet and innocent, and drew in a deep breath.
The bowerthegn‘s mouth dropped open, and, frankly, Judith was not surprised. Caela
looked magnificent, her pale skin subtly shaded by the rosy light of dawn, her mussed hair
gleaming in an aura about her face and shoulders.
Her body, which Judith knew so intimately from their long association, appeared
somehow different, and it took Judith a moment to realise that where once Caela‘s body,
although slim, had been soft from her life of inactivity at court, it was now taut and finely
muscled as if she spent her time, not at rest at her needlework, but running through the forests, or
slipping wraith-like through the waters.
―A robe perhaps, Judith,‖ Caela murmured, turning slightly so that the slack-jawed men
could see her body in profile.
Judith hurried to comply, not daring to look at Caela‘s face.
―That was most unseemly, wife,‖ said Edward.
―I am sorry my nakedness offends,‖ said Caela, allowing Judith to slip a soft woollen
robe over her head and shoulders.
Even then, the soft robe clinging to every curve and hugging every narrowness, Caela
managed to give the impression of nakedness as she moved slowly about the chamber, lifting
this, inspecting that, and Edward finished his dressing in red-cheeked affront before he hurried
from the room.
The bowerthegn, hastening after him, shot Caela one final wide-eyed glance, which made
Caela grin.
―How sad,‖ she remarked to Judith, dropping the robe from her body so that she might
wash, ―that Edward should be so afraid of a woman‘s body, and that the bowerthegn should be
so shy in admiring it.‖
Fortunately for Judith‘s peace of mind, Caela managed to perform her usual duties of the
court demurely and quietly, although with an air of slight distraction. Several people looked at
her oddly, frowning, as if trying to place what was unusual about Caela (among them Swanne,
who stopped dead when first she saw Caela enter court, then wrinkled her brow as she
unobtrusively tried to discern exactly what was different about the queen on this morning).
When Harold came to her, and wished her a good morning, Caela visibly glowed, and
Harold responded in kind. He, too, seemed puzzled by her, but also pleased, and he stayed longer
than he normally would when he had business elsewhere, laughing and chatting over
inconsequential matters.
I wonder if some part of him knows, thought Judith, hovering nearby and wondering if
Caela was being a trifle indiscreet with her openness and patent happiness in the presence of her
brother. There was a subdued sexuality to every one of her movements that had never been there
before, and Judith prayed that no other observer noted it to spread further dark and malignant
gossip about the queen and her brother.
Edward, certainly, kept a close eye on his wife, closer than usual.