great speeding beasts at any moment.
―Here now, miss,‖ said a soothing male voice, and Caela jerked as a firm hand took her
by her right elbow. ―Can‘t have you standing in the street like this, you know.‖
She risked a glance to her right—then sighed in relief. A Sidlesaghe stood there, although
he was dressed in the most extraordinary jacket and trousers, tightly-fitted, and of very dark blue
worsted cloth and with a blue and silver conical helmet on his head held on by a strap under his
chin.
―If you will, miss,‖ said the Sidlesaghe, his grey-brown eyes watchful and reassuring
beneath its strange helmet, and Caela allowed him to guide her across the street, into the building
and thence to the barred window.
There the Sidlesaghe, who had been so impatiently motioning to her, said, ―Where to,
miss?‖
Caela stared at him.
―Miss?‖ said the Sidlesaghe who stood behind the counter at the window. Now that she
was close Caela could see that he was dressed in similar fashion to the Sidlesaghe in blue who
was still standing beside her, but his close-fitted jacket and trousers were of a maroon colour, and on his head he had a peaked cap with a leather brim.
―I think miss would like to go home to Westminster,‖ said the Sidlesaghe standing beside
her.
―Will that be a first-class ticket, miss?‖ said the Sidlesaghe behind the window.
―Definitely,‖ said the other Sidlesaghe.
Caela stood, her eyes not moving off the Sidlesaghe behind the bars, unable to
comprehend any part of this conversation.
The Sidlesaghe behind the window held out his hand, palm upwards. ―A first-class ticket
demands payment in gold, miss, if you don‘t mind. London Transport regulations.‖
Caela stared at him.
The Sidlesaghe stared at her.
Caela slid the golden band of Troy through the aperture under the bars.
―Thank you very much, miss,‖ said the Sidlesaghe, handing to her a small rectangle of
cardboard and placing the band into a drawer full of coins under the counter at which he stood.
Then he nodded to his left. ―Train‘s through there, miss. Should be arriving any minute now.‖
―Thank you,‖ said Caela, who still felt in a state of shocked unreality. ―Is Long Tom
about?‖
―I think you‘ll find him waiting on the platform, miss,‖ said the Sidlesaghe who had
helped her across the road and, hand still on her elbow, he led her towards Platform No. 1 at
Gospel Oak Station.
It was too much. Not that the band had been moved, but that her strange, unknown
companions had thwarted him. Asterion was anxious, unsettled, and determined to make
circumstances just that little more uncomfortable for…well, for everyone, really.
Time to begin the process that would see William dead. To bring the Game under his
control. Once and for all.
Asterion moved through the night as a shadow, an unreality, rather than as flesh. He
entered the palace at Westminster, and he slid under the door of Edward‘s bedchamber.
There was a bowerthegn fast asleep on a bed by the door, and a woman on a pallet at the
foot of the king‘s bed.
There was no sign of Caela, but Asterion was not concerned about the lack of the queen.
She was not what he needed this night.
His form shimmered, coalescing into a black cloud of miasma which hovered above the
sleeping Edward‘s face, then, suddenly, it slid down to cover the man‘s face, then seeped inside
his slightly open mouth.
There was a moment of peace, of stillness, and then Edward suddenly reared forth, his
eyes starting.
―The Devil!‖ he screamed. ―The Devil has taken me!‖
THREE
Long Tom was indeed waiting for Caela on the ―platform‖, and before she could speak,
he took her elbow from the Sidlesaghe in blue, saying, ―Hurry, there is mischief about at the palace, and you have been missed.‖
As when she‘d moved the band to Chenesitun, a new tunnel awaited them, and Long
Tom hurried her along it.
―I have a ticket,‖ she said, holding out the rectangle of cardboard at the Sidlesaghe.
He tut-tutted. ―We have no time for that now!‖ But he took it anyway.
Soon they were underneath the palace of Westminster, and even here, deep in the magical
tunnel of possibility, Caela could sense the commotion above her.
―Go,‖ said Long Tom.
Caela did not dare to reappear within her bedchamber using her power. It was too late.
The entire palace was alive with shouting and consternation.
What to do? What to do?
There was little she could do, only one possibility, and Caela seized it. She reappeared in
a still corner of the palace—a storeroom that was partway between the royal quarters and the
bachelors‘ quarters—then slid stealthily into the palace proper, arranging her features into those
of the panicked wife (something, in truth, she did not have to pretend too much) and ran back to
her and Edward‘s quarters.
People—clerics, servants, thegns, chamberlains, men-at-arms—had thronged the
approaches to the quarters, but they stood back as Caela approached, glancing at her curiously.
Where had she been?
Caela ignored them, restraining her pace to something more dignified although she kept
the worried expression set on her face, moving through the chambers until she reached the
antechamber just before the bedchamber.
Here thronged yet more people—as well as the echoing sound of Edward‘s shouts—and,
thankfully, Judith, whose face reflected even more trepidation than Caela‘s.
―Madam!‖ Judith said, then, in a softer tone, ―Where have you been?‖
Caela put a hand on her arm, and drew her in close.
―Is Saeweald here yet?‖
Judith, her eyes round and frightened, shook her head slightly.
Caela drew in a deep breath which Judith thought had the feel of sheer relief.
―How is my lord?‖ Caela asked in a stronger voice. ―I had felt a change in his breathing
as he slept, a horrid rasping, a deep difficulty, and saw a ghastly pallor cross his face. I rose,
dreading what this portended, and without thinking to wake anyone else, fled for Saeweald.‖
Apart from Edward‘s echoing shouts, the entire antechamber was silent, everyone staring
at Caela, watching.
Judith‘s tongue flickered over her lips, then she managed to speak. ―Aye, madam. It must
have been your rising that woke me just before my king shouted.‖
―You did not think to wake me, or any other of the king‘s servants?‖ said the bowerthegn,
staring at Caela in disbelief.
―I was panicked,‖ said Caela, keeping her voice calm. ―I thought only of the physician.‖
There was a movement at the door, and the shadow of someone entering. Judith glanced
over and then, before anyone else could speak, said, ―Ah, Saeweald! How fortunate that my
mistress reached you so quickly.‖
Caela turned, and managed a wan smile at Saeweald who regarded both women carefully.
―I am sorry for waking you so precipitously, Saeweald, and I thank you for responding so quickly. My lord is ill, desperately so, and I fear greatly for him.‖
Saeweald bowed slightly to Caela. ―The desperation in your voice, madam, roused me as
nothing else could have done. Our king is fortunate indeed that he has such a caring wife at his
side.‖
A great smile, clearly one of relief, spread over Caela‘s face, and Judith hoped that most
of the observers standing about would think it merely relief that Saeweald had arrived.
―I, and my king, are fortunate in having you as a servant,‖ she said. ―Come, physician, let
us waste no more time.‖
With that, she straightened her shoulders and led Saeweald, Judith directly behind, into
the bedchamber.
Edward‘s bed was surrounded by almost as many people as had been waiting in the
antechamber. There were several clerics, of whom Wulfstan was of highest standing, all
muttering prayers or wailing invocations for the speedy aid of almost every saint imaginable.
Several women, a midwife among them (Judith supposed she had been one of the few people
within the immediate vicinity who had any claim to healing skills, and so had been hauled into
the chamber), rocked back and forth on their feet, wailing and wringing their hands. The palace
chamberlain held position at the very head of the bed, an island of stillness and silence among
the commotion, his steely eyes roving about the chamber as if seeking someone to blame for the
current crisis. Armed men stood several paces back from the bed, nervous, alert, unsure what
they could do. The bowerthegn, entering before Caela, went to stand at the foot of the bed. He
picked up the coverlets over the king‘s toes, squeezing and twisting the material until it seemed
he would rip it at any moment.
The instant people realised Caela, Judith and Saeweald at her back, had entered the
chamber the murmuring and crying and caterwauling ceased—even Edward, who was sitting
bolt upright in the centre of the bed, bedclothes twisted to one side, stark naked, sweat glistening
over his entire body—and everyone turned to stare at Caela.