companions seen to a chamber and offered food and the means to refresh themselves.
―He is bolder than I had thought him.‖ William turned his back to his wife, and walked to
the window, fiddling with the catch on one of the shutters.
―I was not talking of Harold. I am talking of the fact that you have apparently promised
this Swanne a place at your side as queen.‖
―I have never promised that!‖
Matilda‘s only answer consisted of her archly raised eyebrows.
“Never!”
―You swore that you would not betray me,‖ she said, walking to and fro in her agitation.
―You swore that I would be queen. Not Swanne! Did you lie? Do you truly mean me to be Queen of England at your side? You have been lying to one of us. So, which one? Me, or Swanne?‖
He caught at her wrist as she swished past him, and forced her to a halt. ―You!‖ he said,
his voice low and vibrating with emotion. “You! I meant that vow…damn it, Matilda, Swanne
will never be my queen. You will. You!”
―Does she understand that?‖ Matilda asked quietly, then gave a soft, harsh laugh as
William averted his eyes.
―You promise me one thing, husband, and you allow her to believe another. Where do
any of us stand in your affections, eh?‖
“You will be my queen, Matilda.‖
―You cannot trust her, William, if only because too many people know she is your agent.
For sweet Christ‘s sake, husband, did you not hear what Harold said? That she stood by and
laughed as Tostig tried to murder her husband?‖
William closed his eyes, trying to repress the memory of Coel lying dead at his feet, and
Genvissa standing before them, laughing…
―And you trust that kind of witch?‖
―I…‖ She lied to me about Harold. He is Coel, Coel! And she lied to me about it…
―She does not harbour a soul that can be trusted, husband,‖ Matilda said, very low. ―And
Harold knows she is your agent. If he knows, then who else?‖
―For all we know, only Harold—‖
―Harold is one too many people, my love,‖ she countered.
―Aye. I know.‖ William‘s shoulders suddenly slumped, and he walked to a chair and sat
down heavily.
―Harold is far more knowledgeable than any of us thought. Had you ever considered he
knew of his wife‘s efforts on your behalf?‖
―No. I had not thought he might know.‖
―And how does that affect our plans, William?‖
―I would imagine it shall affect them very little.‖
―Don‘t play me for a fool,‖ Matilda snapped. “Harold knows his wife has been your spy
at Edward”s court! Have you not thought through the implications?‖
William was silent, his face impassive. Matilda did not know if he was holding back, if
he was so furious to learn that Harold knew of Swanne‘s treachery that he could not yet speak of
it, or if this knowledge had so thrown him he did not know what to say or how to act.
―How long do you think Harold has known, William?‖
Silence.
―How long do you think Harold has been feeding misinformation to his wife, William,
and then to us?‖
William‘s face, if anything, grew even more impassive.
Matilda all but hissed. ―You are so certain of this woman?‖
William hesitated, opened his mouth, and then closed it.
―Are you more certain of her than you are of me?‖
―No.‖ He finally met her eyes. ―I have never been more certain of anyone in my life than
I am of you.‖
She softened slightly. ―My love, how can you trust a woman who stands by and laughs as
her husband is murdered? That is not mere disloyalty, that is witchcraft so bleak and so deadly
that none can ever trust it! Not even you, my love, no matter how much she protests she loves
you.‖
Swanne lied to me about Harold, William thought, unable to let the thought go. She lied
to me about Harold. Why? What purpose could that have served?
―William, what I see in Harold is nothing but honour. What I understand about Swanne is
that she is a dark witch who will destroy anything and anyone who stands in her path.‖
Cornelia‘s face suddenly flashed before William‘s eyes, and he blinked.
―I cannot believe that you are certain you are immune.‖
―Enough,‖ William said wearily. ―Gods, does Harold have any understanding of how
bitterly he has struck into the very heart of my household?‖
―It is Swanne who has struck into the very heart of our household, husband. Not Harold.‖
Then Matilda sighed. ―Ah, I shall not continue haranguing you about her. Harold is the guest
within our household, and it is with Harold that we should concern ourselves.‖
Matilda walked over to a table which held a ewer of wine and some cups. ―Harold is far
stronger than we thought,‖ she said, pouring out two cups of wine, handing one to her husband.
―Aye.‖ He took a long draught of the wine.
―Edward was terrified of the father…how now should you feel of the son?‖
―I am not ‗terrified‘ of him!‖
―I think you should be very wary of him, William. He cannot be discounted.‖
Again William sighed. ―I know that.‖ He is Coel-reborn. He is back for a reason.
―William…‖ Matilda came to his chair, and sank to her knees beside him. She placed her
hands on his thigh, and looked earnestly into his face. ―William, England is not going to lie down
for you and offer itself to you on a golden plate the moment Edward dies. What Harold says is
truth—the Saxon earls are not going to want a foreigner to rule over them. They will unite behind him.‖
William was silent, his eyes unfocused as he thought.
―You spent thirty years uniting Normandy behind you,‖ Matilda continued, her eyes
steady on her husband‘s face. ―Can you afford to wait another thirty to gain full control of
England? Can any of us afford to wait that long? Is England worth it, truly?‖
―Yes!‖ William said quietly. He looked down at Matilda‘s face, still looking into his so
earnestly, and smiled. ―The mere fact that Harold is here tells me something.‖
―Yes?‖
―He is uncertain. No man sure of his support would come all this way to tell me to
abandon my own ambitions. Tostig‘s attack—as Swanne‘s treachery—has unnerved him.‖
―Perhaps he truly thought he might persuade you to an alliance against Hardrada and
Tostig. Perhaps Harold does not want his countrymen and women‘s blood wasted in futile war.‖
―Harold fears simultaneous invasions on Edward‘s death. He is here to try and deflect at
least one of them.‖
Matilda shrugged. ―Simultaneous invasions could work against you and me, and
Hardrada, as well as against Harold.‖
―Aye…‖ William‘s voice trailed off as he drifted back into thought.
―Caela,‖ Matilda suddenly said, very firmly. ―Caela is important.‖
―What?‖ William jerked up in his chair. “Caela?” Then he narrowed his eyes at his wife.
―What has your own spy told you?‖
Matilda chose her words carefully—not in any attempt to deceive her husband, but only
because she, and her agent at Edward‘s court, relied so greatly on their shared intuition about the
queen.
―She is,‖ Matilda finally said, ―so very quiet, some would say timid, and yet so strong.
People are drawn to her. I have heard it said by some military strategists that the most important
and influential person in any realm or battle or diplomatic negotiation, is not the person who
speaks the loudest, or who bullies or acts in the most aggressive manner, but the person who sits
silent and watchful and then, at the critical moment, utters a single quiet word, a word which
alters the course of nations and history. Caela strikes me as such a person. There is a storm
gathering, husband, and she sits quiet and unmoving, and so very, very strong, in the heart of it.‖
―She sounds like a person not to be trusted.‖
―I think that, besides Harold, Caela is the person most to be trusted in the tempest ahead
of us. Not Swanne, William. Never Swanne.‖
William sighed, and for a moment Matilda feared she had gone too far.
―Then what do you counsel me to do about Harold?‖ he said, and she relaxed.
―I think you should befriend him, husband, for he shall be a friend such as you have
never had before.‖
That night, as William slept, his dreams drew him back again to that terrible night when
he‘d rushed from Genvissa‘s bed to find Coel atop Cornelia.
He recalled how he‘d been overwhelmed by an anger and—oh gods, by a jealousy! —so
profound he had drawn his sword and acted without thought.
Without humanity.
He saw again the blood that had streamed from Coel‘s body, the tragedy forming in
Cornelia‘s face.
Genvissa, laughing.
In his dream, Matilda stood there also, and she was studying him with such a mixture of