―The ruins of Troy,‖ Caela said, glancing above her. She could feel Judith pacing back
and forth, back and forth.
The Sidlesaghe sighed softly. ―Then no wonder he discovered it. Doubtless Asterion
aided in Troy‘s ruin as he must have aided in the ruin of so many wondrous cities. Caela, we
must be careful. We must wait a while before you try to move another band. He knows the path
you will take…we cannot risk him waiting for you the next time, or any other time. Now, go.
Go! The world wakes!‖
She leaned forward, laid a quick kiss on his mouth, then vanished.
Swanne huddled in her lonely bed, consumed with the knowledge of what had happened
this night. It must be Asterion who had moved the band. Who else? Who else?
And if it was he, then all was lost, surely.
―William,‖ she whispered. ―William…‖
William sat before the newly-stoked fire in his slowly lightening bedchamber. He stared
at the flames, but his thoughts were elsewhere.
A band had been moved, and yet the Game had not been harmed. Indeed, its strength had
increased. William could feel that, even from this distance. The Game had grown.
It was not Asterion who had moved the band. If it had been William would have felt a
diminution, or an alteration, in the Game‘s power that Asterion‘s touch would have caused. But
nothing like that had occurred. In fact, William could feel a faint echo of Asterion‘s anger.
Asterion had been caught as much unawares as William.
So who then had moved the armband?
Caela? Caela in league with Asterion? William fretted and mulled it over. Caela had
betrayed him with Asterion once before to bring the Game to a wrenching halt. William knew he
could not afford to ignore the possibility that she may have betrayed him ( and the Game) once
more.
But if it was Caela who had moved the band, Caela in concert or alliance with Asterion,
then would not William have felt that? Felt Asterion‘s presence within the endeavour? If Caela
had moved the band using Asterion‘s power and or knowledge, then William would have known
it.
Yet the only presence of Asterion‘s he had felt was that of anger and frustration. So not
Caela under Asterion‘s direction?
Caela by herself? No, no, it could not be. Caela had no power, and certainly no
knowledge of where the bands lay. She simply could not have moved it. She was just a woman, a
woman of no power or enchantment…and, besides, the band would not have allowed her to
touch it, let alone find it.
It must have been Swanne. Swanne was the only other person alive who could have
touched the band and successfully moved it. She was the Mistress of the Labyrinth, and
co-founder of this Game. She could have managed it.
But Swanne didn‘t know where the band was. Could she have discovered it? William
wasn‘t sure. If she had found the band, then she had more power than William had previously
thought.
It had to be Swanne. It had to be. There was no one else. And if it was her, then she was
risking everything. If Asterion caught her, or if he found one of those bands… gods, the thought
was not bearable.
William shifted in his chair, uncomfortable and restless. If only he could invade now! If
only he could take those bands now.
But invasion was not an option. Not during the winter, when storms were likely to wreck
any invasion fleet within a half day‘s sail from port. Certainly not while Edward was still alive.
To take England, William needed the support (and private armies) of several score noblemen and
counts from Gascony to Flanders to Burgundy and all the duchies and kingdoms in between. If
they thought he had a legal claim to the English throne, and a viable chance of winning it, then
they‘d not hesitate to join him for a share of the spoils. If they thought that his claim was not
legal (as would be the case if he tried to wrest England from Edward rather than Harold), then
they‘d hesitate. Half the European princes, dukes and kings would denounce the invasion. The
pope, like as not, would place William and Normandy under interdict. William‘s support base
would melt away, and Edward‘s army (which would be led by Harold, damn it, rather than the
dying king!) would likely defeat William‘s much reduced invading force.
William‘s only chance, and it was a good one, was to invade after Edward had died,
when he could legitimately claim the throne.
Not before.
Not before, even if an unknown someone was moving the kingship bands.
It must be Swanne! It must!
William sat, and stared into the flames.
On the bed, Matilda sat and stared at William.
For hours, not until well after the sun had risen, neither moved, nor said a word.
Then, as Matilda dressed and made for the door, William raised his head. ―Matilda?‖
She turned, and looked at him.
―Can you ask your agent, whosoever he or she may be, to watch both Swanne and
Caela?‖
―That is most certainly possible.‖
William considered, wording his request carefully. ―Then can you ask if…if either ever
manages to escape the court unnoticed, or keeps strange company? If they…‖ Oh gods, how to
phrase this? ―If they have within their possession finely wrought golden bands with a spinning crown over a Labyrinth worked into them.‖
Matilda‘s eyes widened very slightly, but she understood that her husband was in no
mood for explanations. ―I can do that for you.‖
―For us,‖ William said softly. ―For us. ‖
SIX
William grunted, then sighed. He still sat before the fire in his bedchamber, but now
Matilda was gone and in her place—if in a chair opposite William rather than sitting on the
bed—was Harold.
Between Harold and William sat a chessboard on a low table.
The men had been shifting pieces back and forth for almost an hour. The time spent at the
one game did not reflect their skill, nor their determination to keep the other at bay, but instead
was an indication of both men‘s almost total lack of interest in the game. Both had squandered
chances to trap the other, both had exposed their own men to the ravages of the other‘s, both still
had most of their pieces on the board.
―I am returning to England,‖ Harold eventually said. It was the first time either of them
had spoken since they‘d sat down.
William grunted again. He did not raise his eyes from the chessboard.
―You will not hold me?‖ Harold said.
William shot him a glance, but just as quickly returned his gaze to the board. ―It would
do me no favour,‖ he said. ―I would alienate half of Europe, let alone most of England.‖ He
paused, his long fingers hovering over his king. ―Besides, Edward would as like as not disinherit
me for the act.‖
―Edward would like as not spend an entire week capering about Westminster in joy if he
thought there was the faintest possibility you might put a sword through my throat.‖
William‘s hand froze over the chess piece, then he slowly sat back from the board and
looked Harold full in the face.
―Why did you come, Harold?‖ Oh, William knew why Harold had come. It was the
unacknowledged Coel within him, driving him forward to meet face to face with his doom. It is
what Coel would have done. Still, William wanted to know what Harold believed had driven him
here.
―We will meet one day on the battlefield,‖ Harold said. ―I wanted to know you
beforehand.‖ He relaxed a little in his chair, his attention now as removed from the chessboard as was William‘s. ―And, of course, I had hoped to gain your total support for my own succession to
England‘s throne.‖
Both men grinned, and both men‘s grins faded as quickly as each other‘s.
―I needed to know you, William,‖ Harold said, ―but I did not expect to like you. I did not
expect to respect you.‖
There was silence. William‘s eyes dropped to his lap where he was slowly rubbing the
thumb of one hand between the forefinger and thumb of the other. He fiddled some minutes,
thinking. Aye, he liked Harold too. He liked him. In other circumstances, William knew he could probably have counted on Harold to be his most loyal and trustworthy companion.
Harold… Coel. Who would have thought it? But then, when had Brutus ever taken the
time to understand Coel, or even to know him beyond a passing acquaintance?
William suddenly understood that he needed to have reached this revelation, this state of
liking and of friendship, with Harold-who-was-once-Coel, just as Harold needed to like and
respect him.
Why? What part of what larger game was this?
Finally William raised his gaze back to Harold. ―I wish…‖ he began, then could not
continue.