attended chapel or abbey services with Edward.
At night she lay beside Edward who, for once, did not sleep well, but tossed and turned
and muttered throughout the nights, gripped with a slight fever, a presage of a chest cold. If she
left for even an instant he would have missed her.
There was no time for herself. No time to talk with any of the Sidlesaghes, nor, hardly,
with Judith.
No time to kiss Damson on the mouth and effect a glamour so that, at least, she could
move within the laundress‘ body.
Caela had emerged from her almost catatonic state before the altar of St Paul‘s to find
Judith and Saeweald, and the remainder of her escort, waiting for her. There had been no chance
to talk then, not with the men-at-arms and monks so close, and little chance once she returned to
the palace, for Edward was in an unaccountably good mood and insisted on sitting in her
chamber (behind a blanket that Judith hastily erected) while Caela took her bath and dressed.
From there it was to chapel, and from there to court, and from there it was a merciless
slide into Yuletide and all that those days of celebration entailed.
Normally Caela enjoyed the Yuletide festivities. This year she loathed them.
She finally had a chance to exchange a few hasty words with Judith on Christmas Eve,
the day after she‘d returned from St Paul‘s. They were sitting within Caela‘s solar, and although
several other of the queen‘s attending ladies were present, they were bending over a chest full of
linens in the far corner, muttering about some damp sheets which would need to be aired.
―Madam?‖ Judith whispered. ―We have not had a chance to speak. How went it?‖
Caela‘s eyes filled with tears. ―Not well. Oh,‖ she said, glancing at Judith‘s face, ―I lost
my virginity well enough, but it did not bring me the closeness to the land I had thought it would.
It was just…‖
Bestial, she thought, and hated herself for the calamity of that bare truth. If it was nothing
but the humping and grunting of animals, then that was, surely, her fault.
―It was not a true marriage,‖ Caela finished. ―And I do not know why.‖
―You still feel the emptiness?‖
―Yes. I have taken a wrong turning somewhere, and I do not know how, or what I should
have done instead.‖ Caela rested a hand lightly on her belly. ―Even my womb feels it, for it pains
me greatly.‖
―Caela,‖ Judith began, laying a hand on the woman‘s shoulder, but then two of the other
ladies came over, a sheet draped over their arms, and distress written over their faces.
―Madam!‖ one of them said. ―Your bed linens have been quite soiled.‖
There was a silence, and Judith closed her eyes briefly, appalled at the timing of the
woman‘s concern.
―I am very well aware of that,‖ said Caela softly, and turned her head aside.
Later, Judith said to Saeweald: ―It did not work. Caela still feels her lack.‖
―And why am I not surprised to hear of that?‖ said Saeweald, his voice weary despite the
sarcasm in his words.
She chose wrongly, he thought.
Christmas Day was unseasonably wild. A storm front surged down from the north, laying
snow two feet deep on the ground and trapping people inside with its icy blasts.
Thus it was that no one was in the vicinity to see, at dusk, the figure capering atop the
Llandin, now known as the Meeting Hill. It was something of the utmost evilness, now a man,
now a bull, now something even worse, shifting and twisting into shape after shape, growing into
something dark and humped and monstrous, then shrinking violently into something that existed
only as a spark of light dancing among the driving snowflakes.
It was Asterion, celebrating.
Not Jesus Christ”s nativity, but the success of his own schemes.
“She”s mine,” he sang, again and again, arms wild, legs cavorting. “She”s mine!”
And then stillness, only the darkness of his eyes glowing through the storm.
“She has no will now, but mine.”
It was Saeweald who helped, in the end. Four days after the celebration of Christ‘s
Nativity, and after a long discussion with Judith, Saeweald brought to the king in his evening
chamber a particularly strong sleeping draught.
―It is to aid you to sleep, gracious lord,‖ Saeweald said as Edward sat on the edge of his
bed in his nightshirt, his chest heaving in and out as he tried to catch his breath.
On the other side of the chamber Caela stood in her own night robe, a light wrap thrown
over her shoulders, her hair loose. She looked as tired and drawn as the king; more in need, in
fact, of the sleeping draught than Edward.
Saeweald glanced at her, then looked back to the king. ―Madam, your wife, has told me
how ill you sleep,‖ he said, his voice soothing and gentle. ―Drink of this, I pray you, for you
cannot exist much longer without the restorative power of a good sleep.‖
―Aye,‖ said Edward, sighing heavily. ―Aye. You are right.‖
And he took the draught, and drank heavily of it.
Later, when the king was fast asleep, snoring mightily, the bowerthegn accepted with a
smile the cup of spiced wine Judith brought to him.
Soon he, too, was deep in sleep.
When all was still, and the only sound that of the snores of the two men, Caela rose. She
drew a cloak about her shoulders, shivering a little in the coldness of the air, slipped her feet into
leather shoes, and padded quietly to stand in the centre of the chamber.
―Madam?‖ It was Judith, half rising from the pallet at the foot of Caela and Edward‘s
bed.
Caela put her finger to her lips. I go to the Sidlesaghe, Judith. Be still.
―Be fast,‖ Judith mouthed, ―and be careful.‖
Caela nodded, then stared at the floorboards.
A trapdoor slowly materialised and Caela bent down, lifted it and, with a smile for Judith,
vanished below.
The Sidlesaghe was waiting for her in the strange, brick-lined tunnel.
―Oh, Long Tom!‖ Caela said, and stepped forward so that he could wrap his strong arms
about her, and hug her to his chest.
―What is wrong?‖ the Sidlesaghe said.
Caela sighed. ―I am still not as whole as I should be. I still… lack. Long Tom, what is
wrong with me?‖
He frowned, puzzled. ―You need to unite yourself to the land to attain your full self,
sweet one. You know that.‖
―But I did!‖
The Sidlesaghe‘s expression of puzzlement deepened. ―You did?‖
―Yes. The night of the winter solstice. I lay with Silvius. You said…‖ Caela stopped as
she finally looked at the Sidlesaghe‘s face.
―Silvius?‖ he said. ―He who sits and waits within the heart of the Labyrinth?‖
―Yes. Long Tom—‖
―You lay with him?‖
―Yes!‖
The Sidlesaghe shrugged. ―No matter. Was he enjoyable?‖
Caela gave a tiny laugh. ―Well enough, I suppose, although I thought of no one but…‖
―But of him. ‖
―Yes.‖
―Well, at that I am not surprised.‖
―But did that not destroy…well, whatever was supposed to happen? Long Tom, I feel
such a fool. Silvius tried so hard—‖
The Sidlesaghe put a hand to his mouth, and actually chuckled.
Caela could not help herself, she laughed as well. ―Well, you know what I mean. And,
surely, by thinking of no one but Brutus, and imagining him with me instead of Silvius, I
destroyed the magic which would have united me completely to the land.‖
The Sidlesaghe shook his head. ―It would have made no difference. You merely chose the
wrong partner.‖
―Oh? And who, pray tell, is the right partner?‖
The Sidlesaghe grew soulful. ―When you see him, lady, you will know.‖
―So I have lost my virginity to the wrong man?‖
―Your virginity is neither here nor there, sweet one. A marriage can be effected with or
without it. But why do we talk of inconsequential matters? There is greater danger afoot.‖
Caela frowned. ―What?‖
―Seven nights ago,‖ the Sidlesaghe said, ―something bad invaded this land.‖
―How so?‖
The Sidlesaghe was now shifting his weight from foot to foot, clearly agitated.
―There has been a fundamental shift in the land,‖ he said. ― And, I think, in the Game.
Something has happened. Something corrupt. Something wrong. ‖
―Asterion?‖
He shook his head. ―Perhaps. Maybe. We don‘t know. Something has happened that has
altered the foundations of the Game and of this land. Something has tilted it slightly…I cannot know how else to describe it.‖
―Something bad?‖
―Oh, aye,‖ the Sidlesaghe whispered. ―Very bad.‖ He had been looking down the tunnel,
but now he refocused on Caela‘s face. ―You must move another band. Tonight. And the others as
soon as we may.‖
Caela shivered. ―Asterion…‖
―He will be waiting for us, yes.‖
―Long Tom…‖
The Sidlesaghe reached out a hand and took hers, enveloping it within his. ―We will