―I thought the boar had me,‖ Harold said.
―I have never seen such bravery,‖ William said, and all who now crowded about heard
the admiration and respect in his voice.
William rose.
―I had thought you might have hoped the boar would take me,‖ said Harold, slowly
raising himself into a sitting position. He grimaced as he saw the blood and entrails and pig shit
that coated him, and in that grimace missed the cold look that William shot Walter Fitz Osbern.
―You are my guest, and my equal. I had not wanted you dead,‖ William said.
Harold looked up at him. ―And you didn‘t think that my death here and now would be
only to your advantage?‖
William stared at Harold for a long moment before answering. ―I did not want your death
now,‖ he finally said, quietly but with great feeling, ―as I do not want it for the future. England
would always be the sorrier place for your lack, Harold. I would be the sorrier man for your
death.‖
And he held out his hand.
―You are a strange adversary,‖ Harold said, gripping William‘s hand and using it to pull
himself upright.
―I am not your enemy,‖ William said. ―I will not be one to laugh over your corpse,
Harold.‖
Now upright, Harold changed his grasp so that both men gripped each other by the
forearm rather than by the hand. Strangely, he seemed to know what William was thinking. ―Do
not trust Swanne,‖ Harold said softly, only for William‘s ears. ―Never trust her.‖
In answer William merely stared, then gave a very small nod. In this they understood
each other.
Then he let Harold‘s arm go, turned, and dealt Walter Fitz Osbern such a heavy blow to
his chin that the man staggered and fell to his knees.
―Never dishonour me again,‖ William said, then stalked for his horse.
NINE
CAELA SPEAKS
Moving the bands had many inherent dangers, yet the first and most difficult task (or so I
believed at the time) was simply ensuring I was not missed.
Moving the band was something Long Tom had told me I could not do as Damson, so
somehow I had to make certain that no one would take note of the queen‘s absence for what
might be virtually the entire night.
In the end, this first obstacle was reasonably easily accomplished. I gave a moan during
our supper, placed a hand on my belly, and looked apologetically at Edward, who had paused
with a spoon of broth half raised to his open mouth.
I managed to colour. ―My flux,‖ I murmured, lowering my eyes modestly.
And so I removed myself to the solar, where I usually slept during these phases of the
moon. Edward kept his bowerthegn, and I dismissed all my ladies save for Judith.
There, at the darkest hour of the night, Long Tom came to me.
We descended from another of his strange, eerie trapdoors (I resolved that I should ask
him how he managed it, this descent into the twists of the Labyrinth), and into that even stranger
tunnel through which he had led me only the previous night. Again the metal rails that lined the
gravel bed trembled and vibrated from time to time, and again I was overwhelmed as a great rush
of air would fill the tunnel and rush past us.
A part of the Game which is yet to be.
―We will have to be very careful tonight,‖ the Sidlesaghe said, and I nodded, lost in
thought of what was to come.
―This will be the one time you are going to be able to do this in relative safety,‖ he
continued.
―I know,‖ I said. ―Once Asterion and William and Swanne realise that one band has been
moved, then they will be alert for a further…‖ I stopped, not knowing how to express myself.
―Intrusion,‖ said the Sidlesaghe, and again I nodded. He took my hand, and squeezed it.
―So we will make the most of this night, eh?‖
I tried to smile for him, but in truth I was nervous. Not so much by the thought of
Asterion‘s—or any other‘s—wrath and reaction, but at touching the bands themselves. I
remembered how they had always been so much a part of Brutus, so much of a wholeness with
him, that I could barely imagine the thought of the bands away from him.
And yet they were apart from him, were they not? And were they not also to be given to
another, in time? I remembered the vision of the stag god Og, alive and vibrating with power,
running through the forest, the bands about his legs. My lover, and thus I must be the one to take these bands, and give them to him.
At this moment, walking down this otherworldly tunnel with the Sidlesaghe, it all seemed
impossible.
―Faith,‖ said Long Tom, giving my hand another squeeze. ―What seems hopeless when
you look across the vast distance to what ultimately must be accomplished, seems possible when
you only look at the task a step at a time. Tonight you will move one of the bands and make the
Game and this land just that little bit safer. In a little while, perhaps a week, perhaps a month,
you will move another band, and we will cope together with whatever danger threatens us on that
occasion.‖
―You say I must move the bands. Are you not able to touch them?‖
―No,‖ he said. ―Only the Kingman or the Mistress of the Labyrinth can truly touch them,
and not suffer.‖
―Then how can I? I am not yet—‖
―But you will one day be.‖ The Sidlesaghe paused, both in speech and in walking, and I
stopped as well and watched him as he tried to find words for what he wanted to express. ―The
Game sometimes shows portions of itself which are yet to be,‖ he said, ―and sometimes it can
accept things that are not yet, but which will be.‖
―Because it wants me to be the Mistress of—‖
―No. Because you will one day be the Mistress of the Labyrinth.‖
My mouth twisted. ―The Game hopes?”
―The Game knows. It has already created the future, and in some manner, already lives
it.‖
I was suddenly, inexplicably, angry. ―Then why do I fight, or strive, if all this will be?
Why do I worry, if all this is set into stone as surely as…as…‖ I waved my hand about the
strange tunnel.
Just then there was an eerie whining in the tunnel, and one of those almost
incomprehensible rushes of air. The gravel rattled under our feet, and the metal strips vibrated
and sang, and both the Sidlesaghe and I had to take a deep breath and steady ourselves until the
phenomenon had passed.
―Because,‖ the Sidlesaghe said very gently once the wind had passed, and our world had
calmed, ―the Game needs you to strive.‖
I stood there, gazing into the creature‘s gentle face, and felt like weeping. At that moment
I did not feel like Mag, or like the Queen of England. I just felt…I just felt like poor, lost
Cornelia, caught in a struggle which she neither wished for nor had instigated.
The Sidlesaghe reached out his large hand and laid it softly, warmly against my cheek.
―There are many futures,‖ he said, ―all existing side by side. We all need to strive to ensure we
reach the right future.‖
I nodded wordlessly, hating the tears in my eyes. That I could live with: many futures,
not just one certain one.
―And in all of them,‖ he said, ―you will be the Mistress of the Labyrinth. Thus, you can
touch the bands.‖
I nodded again, feeling a little better.
―And in some of them,‖ the Sidlesaghe continued, ―you will also be Asterion‘s whore, his
creature, his vassal. We must avoid that future.‖
My mouth dropped open in my horror. ―You can see—‖
―I know only of the possibilities,‖ he said. ―No more.‖
I shuddered, and we walked on. We held our silence for some time, then I spoke again,
wanting to hear the Sidlesaghe‘s amicable voice.
―I sometimes feel an emptiness within me,‖ I said. ―An incompleteness. Is this because I
am a virgin, and this is anathema to what I should be as Mag?‖
Long Tom nodded. ―This is very true. I am glad you thought of it.‖
It was Silvius who had thought of it, but I thought it best to let the Sidlesaghe believe I
had come to this understanding on my own. ―I need to unite myself to the land. Mate with it.‖
―Aye,‖ the Sidlesaghe said, looking sideways at me, his mouth curling in a smile.
―Choose well,‖ he said, and winked.
I laughed, partly at his mischievousness, but mostly because he had allayed those few,
niggling reservations I‘d had about what Silvius had suggested.
―Oh,‖ I said, ―I shall.‖ Who better than Silvius, so closely associated with the Troy