these things. Silvius was a powerful lover, almost cruel in his strength, but all he accomplished
with his body and his sweat and his effort was to make her long for his son.
Silvius saw her tears, and his mouth caught at hers, demanding, powerful. He lifted his
face away from hers for a moment.
―Do not weep,‖ he rasped, ―for this is all you asked for.‖
Then he lowered his mouth again, his teeth biting and grabbing at her neck and breasts,
drawing blood here and there.
And then he paused, still buried deep inside her, and raised himself on an elbow, looking
down.
His face was flushed and sweaty, his black hair tangled, his breathing harsh and heavy.
―Do you wish I was Brutus?‖ he said.
―No,‖ she said.
A strange look came over his face. ―You lie.‖
―I‘m sorry,‖ she whispered.
―It does not matter,‖ he said, and she felt him move again inside her. ―All that matters is
that I am here, and that you took me freely.‖
His hips rocked back and forth, smooth and practised. ―Hang on to me,‖ he said fiercely,
and her hands tightened on his shoulders, ―and remember that you freely accepted what now I
give you.‖
―I feel nothing,‖ she said. ―Silvius, what is wrong? I feel nothing.‖
―All that matters,‖ he said, then grunted, thrusting more fiercely than he had heretofore,
―is that I feel, my lady, and that your body lies beneath mine.‖
Caela closed her eyes, wincing at Silvius‘ now violent action, and then, as she felt the
sudden wetness of his semen within her, cried out, her eyes flying open.
William sat upright in bed, his body bathed in sweat, his breath heaving in and out.
His eyes still stared wildly, his hands clutched among the bed linens.
He had seen, finally, the man‘s face.
His father, Silvius, lay with Cornelia-Caela-whatever else it was that she had become.
And yet, Silvius notwithstanding, in that terrible moment when William had seen his
father‘s face, and heard him cry out as he shuddered over Caela‘s body, William could only see
the vision, and how it had ended.
The man”s form changed, blurring slightly. He was grunting now, almost animalistic, and
for the first time Brutus saw that Cornelia had her hands on the man”s shoulders as if to push
him off.
She cried out, and it was the sound of pain, not passion.
Brutus still could not move, and he watched in horror as the man”s form blurred again,
and became something horrible and violent.
A man, yes, with a thick, muscled body, but impossibly with the head of a bull.
The creature tipped back its head and roared, and both Cornelia and Brutus screamed at
the same moment.
The creature”s movements became violent, murderous, and Brutus saw that he was using
his body as a weapon.
There was blood now, smearing across Cornelia”s belly and flanks, and her head was
tipped back, her face screwed up in agony, and her fists beat a useless tattoo across the
creature”s back and shoulders.
“Cornelia! Cornelia!” Brutus screamed, and for once both Cornelia and the creature
heard him, and both turned their faces to him, and the creature roared once more, and Brutus
knew who it was.
Asterion. Cornelia had invited evil incarnate to ride her.
―Caela?‖ William whispered. He rose from the bed, throwing back the sheets angrily
when they tangled briefly in his legs, and walked to stand naked before the window.
―Caela?‖ he whispered again, staring into the blackness and distance. ―What have you
done?‖
Silvius pulled out from Caela‘s body, but did not roll away. Instead he gazed at her, his
face hard and watchful.
She lay as if asleep, her face flushed, her breasts rising and falling.
Silvius ran a hand over them, and then down to her belly.
At that her eyes opened.
―Well?‖ he said, his expression now soft.
She frowned. And then smiled, but it was half-hearted, and troubled. ―Thank you,‖ she
said.
―I was not what you wanted,‖ he said, and then laid a hand over her mouth as she tried to
speak. ―Never mind,‖ he continued, his voice a little hard, a little disappointed. ―You were all
that I wanted.‖
Then he rose from her, and was gone.
Oh gods, it was not what I expected. He had constantly told me he was not Brutus, and
yet all I could think about when he mounted me was Brutus, and all I wanted was Brutus.
“Do not take me only because I remind you of Brutus,” he”d said.
But I think that was why I had lain with him, the only reason, because his face was that of Brutus, only kinder, and his body was also that of Brutus, only sweeter and gentler.
And yet, when Silvius had mounted me, I could barely restrain from shouting Brutus”
name, from screaming for him. Gods, it was as if he”d been there, watching. All I had wanted
was Brutus. All I had thought about was Brutus. All I had felt was Brutus.
So was that why I felt no different— save, of course, for that throbbing heat and the
lingering discomfort between my thighs? Is that why that emptiness still echoed within me, why
that sense of “un-rightness” had, if anything, grown? Was this my fault, my weakness?
I laid my hand on my belly. My womb felt strangely sore, although I knew there would be
no child from this encounter. For that I was heartily glad. I hated to think what mischief my
womb might breed from lying with one man while all the while dreaming of another.
I let my head roll to one side. “Brutus,” I whispered. “How is it you can torment me so?”
And then I wept, for the sheer stupidity of that question, and for all the good this night
had done me.
Later, when Caela had long gone, Asterion stood in the stone hall, staring at the dark
stain of her virgin blood on the stone floor.
He stood there a long while, his face expressionless, then he finally permitted himself a
tight smile, and vanished.
FOURTEEN
―I pray you, ladies, do not rise.‖
The three women who slept in the chamber outside Swanne‘s bedchamber, still blinking
sleep from their eyes, glanced at each other in uncertainty.
―I merely go to the Lady Swanne,‖ the Archbishop of York said, grinning benignly, his
fingers laced over his huge stomach. ―As her ladyship and I had agreed. As part of our contract.
Surely she mentioned this to you?‖
The senior among Swanne‘s ladies, Hawise, slowly shook her head, her eyes fixed on the
archbishop.
Aldred grinned. ―What? Swanne modestly unforthcoming? I cannot believe this. And she
begged me!‖
―I cannot think that my lady—‖ began Hawise.
―Well, my lady did agree,‖ Aldred snapped, suddenly waspish. ―Do you think that I
would have risked Edward‘s and, for the sweet Lord‘s sake, Harold”s, wrath merely out of the
goodness of my heart? No, my lady has a payment to make, and tonight she is going to make
good her debts.‖
And with that he brushed straight past the one among the women who had risen from her
bed, and opened the door into Swanne‘s bedchamber.
Swanne had been fast asleep when the sound of a raised male querulous voice had started
to pull her from her dreams into wakefulness. Before she could fully rouse, the door to her
bedchamber had opened, a vast bulk had moved through the opening, then the door had closed
again.
Firmly.
Then came the sound of a bolt sliding home.
Alarmed, Swanne half raised herself, clutching the bed covers to her naked breasts.
―Who…?‖
―Your beloved archbishop, my dear. Come to claim his debt.‖
―What?‖ Swanne had been so deeply asleep that she was still not completely awake.
The man— the vast bulk—moved close to her bed, and Swanne instinctively slid away
until the bare skin of her back touched the stone wall against which her bed was placed.
Aldred—Swanne recognised him now—started to fumble at the neckline of his robe,
where ties held it in place.
Swanne‘s mind suddenly snapped into full alertness. Full awareness.
―Begone from here!‖ she hissed. ―Get out!‖
―Nonsense, my dear.‖ The robe now slid from his body and, in the faint light from the
partly unshuttered window, Swanne saw the immense expanse of dimpled white flesh that stood
before her.
The sight of this sickening mass of a man, the very thought of him clambering atop her,
made Swanne feel nauseous, but that initial reaction was instantly overridden by a wave of
immense anger.
―Remove yourself!‖ she shouted.
Aldred took a single pace forward, the numerous rolls of fat over his chest and down to
the mound of his belly undulating like the river at high tide, and placed a hand over Swanne‘s
mouth, forcing her hard back against the wall.
Swanne‘s round and furious eyes glared at him over the top of her hand, and she opened