Gods Concubine by Sara Douglass

Yes?‖

―Yes.‖

―Good girl,‖ he whispered and, grunting with both effort and pleasure, forced himself

once more inside her body.

She continued to exist, somehow, through that grunting, thrusting nightmare. The incubus

roiled within her, joyous to feel its master so close, and it nibbled and poked and thrust itself so

that her body from her breasts to her ankles seemed composed of nothing other than screaming,

tearing flesh.

When Aldred had done and had rolled away from her, Swanne barely managed to conceal

her tears of relief.

He rose immediately, garbing his hideous body in a robe, then turned back to Swanne,

who lay motionless amid the dreadful, bloodied sheets.

―None of this lying about, my dear. I have work for you to accomplish.‖

A tear rolled from Swanne‘s left eye down her cheek, and the sight of it irritated Aldred.

He leaned down and dealt Swanne a blow across the face, making blood spurt from her nose.

―Get up!‖ he said. ―Rise, and wash and clothe yourself. Now! ‖

Swanne managed to struggle to her feet, but was unable to stifle the moan of pain as she

did so.

She jerked, as if expecting Aldred to strike her, but he merely regarded her with calm

eyes. ―Wash and clothe yourself,‖ he repeated, moving towards the door. ―I have some matters to attend to elsewhere, but will return shortly. Be waiting for me, a smile on your face.‖

Grateful that the monster had departed, Swanne nonetheless did as she was told, although

she thought several times during the procedure that she would faint with pain. Her belly throbbed

unbelievably, and blood continued to trickle from between her legs.

Nothing she had ever endured had been this bad, not even childbirth, and she wondered

how she had any blood left in her after the nightmare of the past week.

As she pulled her gown over her shoulders, and twisted a little so she could manage the

fastenings, Swanne closed her eyes and indulged in a heartfelt moment of pure hatred for

Ariadne. How could she have done this? How could she have been so stupid? Why had she not

warned her daughter-heirs? Had she been so self-conceited, so stupid, so…?

―She was wrapped in her own ambitions,‖ said a voice behind her, and it was Asterion‘s

voice rather than Aldred‘s.

She felt his hands fall about her waist, and she jerked, frightened almost to insensibility.

Asterion had come to her only in the guise of Aldred since he‘d first forced himself upon

her, not in his true form. Now Swanne‘s heart raced, her breath growing tight and shallow, as she

wondered what this portended.

Asterion‘s hands grew heavy where they rested about her waist, and he turned her about.

The Minotaur stood there, regarding her with his monstrous bull‘s head from beautiful

liquid black eyes.

Swanne grew rigid, but could not tear her eyes from the bull‘s powerful face. Its terrible

aspect was almost hypnotic, and Swanne understood in a moment of clarity just why Ariadne had

consented to that single, devastating condition.

She had been seduced by the power—and the hope of power—in that face.

She would have offered him the world if he had asked for it, just for the power he

offered.

Ah! What was she thinking? Ariadne had, with that single ill-considered consent, given

her cursed brother the world.

Asterion‘s hands were still about her waist, and now he slipped one of them downwards

to rub gently over her belly.

Swanne tensed, expecting further suffering, but, unbelievably, her pain began to dissipate

until it was little more than a dull ache. Her entire body sagged in relief, and for an instant she

almost loved the Minotaur for releasing her from the agony.

―Aldred has treated you poorly,‖ Asterion said. ―Your belly is battered almost to the point

of uselessness.‖

What are you saying? Swanne thought. You have treated me “poorly”.

―Very poorly,‖ Asterion murmured, and Swanne relaxed a little further under the touch of

his hands, closing her eyes as even the ache abated. To feel such a cessation of pain, just for a

moment, was worth this brief compliance.

―Do not judge me by Aldred‘s actions,‖ Asterion said.

Swanne could do nothing but nod, just once, jerkily. Her eyes were still closed as she

desperately concentrated on savouring the living of every pain-free moment.

―My dear, I need you to look upon me,‖ said Asterion.

Swanne reluctantly opened her eyes.

―I wish you to present yourself at Edward‘s side—‖

―I cannot. Harold dismissed me from court…‖ She stopped, terrified by the Minotaur‘s

thumbs which had suddenly dug into her belly.

―Remember what Aldred put in you,‖ he said, very softly.

―Yes,‖ she said dully. ―I will do it. I will go to Edward‘s court.‖

―Good. Poor Edward‘s health appears to have taken a turn for the worse. He is busily

engaged in his dying. I wish you to watch for me, be my eyes and ears.‖

―But you…but Aldred has better reason to be there—‖

―And be assured he will be there. But you have your ear attuned to the world of women,

and can be admitted to their presence.‖ He stopped, his black brow wrinkling as if in perplexity.

―Now, I know that you and William—the sweet, sweet boy—believe Silvius is moving those

bands. That may be so. But whoever is moving them has assistance. Someone aids him. Or her.

If someone is aiding Silvius—or whomever—then I need to know who, or what, they might be.‖

He smiled, and ran his hands up to Swanne‘s breasts, caressing them gently. ―After all,

my sweet, you must have some duty to keep you occupied until you deliver William‘s life into

my hands, mustn‘t you?‖

She moaned.

―You will deliver William‘s life into my hands, will you not?‖

Silence.

― Will you not? ‖

Swanne jerked her head once in assent.

―Good.‖

Asterion let her go, eventually, and Swanne, her face dull, lifted her cloak from where it

lay draped over a chest and moved to the door.

―Swanne, my sweet,‖ Asterion called to her just as she laid a hand to the door catch. Her

back stiffened as she heard his voice. ―I heard a rumour that Caela was not at Edward‘s side

when he took ill last night. I do rather hope you can discover for me where she was…and who

she might have been with. This is most important. What strange company does Caela keep these

nights when she doesn‘t lie with Edward? You will ask her, won‘t you? I am most curious to

know.‖

Later that morning Aldred sat in his bath, slowly washing himself, puzzling things over in

his mind.

Everything this past week had been so dim…and yet so vaguely pleasurable. Somehow

he seemed to have acquired the Lady Swanne as a mistress, but he could not always remember

those nights he spent with her so very well.

That he was spending them with her was undoubted. Everyone was looking at him

differently—and Swanne herself, why, she practically fell over herself to cater to his every wish.

The proud lady he‘d known for so long seemed to have decided to admit herself his utter slave.

Aldred smiled, then sighed happily. He wasn‘t sure about the ―why‖ of his current

circumstances, but he wasn‘t about to complain.

FIVE

CAELA SPEAKS

Edward sat through the day and wheezed a little further into his dying with every breath,

and enjoyed every moment of it.

Finally, he was vindicated. The Devil and his evil roamed everywhere and now, due to

the inattention of careless priests and the apathy of Edward‘s subjects, the king had been struck

down in all his glory.

No matter that Edward was an old man anyway.

No matter that he‘d whined of his aches and pains and fevers for as long as I had known

him (and well before that if the mutterings of his long-suffering mother were any guide).

No. He rambled and he moaned all through that morning: See how your lack of attention

and love has struck me down. See how your lack of piety has allowed the Devil into the very

heart and soul of the realm. If only you (and he took in the entire realm with that single ―you‖, although his feverish eyes did tend to linger on me as he said it) had loved me and cared for me

and tended me as your duty insisted.

By noon I could gladly have gone to the window, thrown back the shutters, and screamed

for the Devil to come back and finish the thing properly.

Oh, I knew it was Asterion, and I knew why. He was pushing matters forward to suit his

own pace. Catch us off-balance. Snatch at the Game before any of us—whether William or

Swanne or Silvius or myself, or even Saeweald—could snatch back.

What was Asterion planning? I wondered if Long Tom was pacing through the Game,

wondering and worrying. I wondered if Silvius worried, and I had an urge to see him, not only to