Gods Concubine by Sara Douglass

Harold tensed, and before he could speak I rose and said calmly enough, ―I will be glad

of the time to rest. Judith, perhaps you might bring some bread and cheese so that the Lady Swanne and I may break our fast together? We can sit in peace in the solar, I think.‖

Away from all these people. That would be a relief, at least, even if Swanne‘s company

was not. I determined to rid myself of her as soon as possible. All I wanted was to sleep…

Curiously, Swanne seemed pleased at this suggestion, and she and I made our silent way

to the solar. There was no fire burning in the brazier because of the fuss Edward‘s sudden

sickness had caused, but there were furs and blankets enough to wrap about us, and Judith could

send someone to attend to the fire shortly.

―Swanne,‖ I said as we sat down in opposite chairs and arranged the furs about ourselves.

―How do you?‖

Her eyes gleamed strangely, and her mouth worked as if she wanted to say something but

dared not.

―Well enough,‖ she said finally. She was staring at me now with a disturbing brightness,

and I shifted, uncomfortable. I did not truly feel like trading barbed comments with Swanne at

the moment.

―And you are comfortable at the archbishop‘s palace?‖ I said. The news of Swanne‘s

move to Aldred‘s residence had caused a stir and much comment in Edward‘s court.

She jerked her head in what seemed like assent.

I looked to the door, wondering where Judith was. The mere presence of a third person in

this chamber would be a welcome relief, even if she did nothing to ease the awkwardness of the

conversation.

―You must be missing your children,‖ I said.

―Do you remember those golden bands Brutus wore about his limbs?‖ she said. Her

entire body was rigid, and she stared at me unblinkingly.

I froze, although I truly should not have found the query unexpected. Swanne would have

known another band was moved last night, and I was the only living soul in England with whom

she might discuss the matter (apart from Asterion, of course, but then I could not imagine

Swanne interrogating him about the bands‘ movements!). She might even suspect me, although

she would not think me capable.

Still, Swanne-who-once-was-Genvissa had been blaming me for most of the world‘s ills

for these past two thousand years, so, that she would blame me for this—without actually

believing that I was responsible for it—was hardly a shock.

―Of course,‖ I said. ―Brutus treasured them dearly.‖

―He hid them. After you had murdered me.‖

―They vanished from his limbs, that I know, but I did not know what he had done with

them.‖ Not then.

―Now someone is moving them.‖

I swallowed. It wasn‘t so much the topic of conversation, but the strange, unreal

directness of it, that perturbed me. There was something odd about Swanne.

Something… un-Swanne. It was the only way I could describe the strangeness that hung about

her.

Perhaps it was her anger and shock at the movement of the band?

―We think it is Silvius,‖ she said.

We? I thought. ―Silvius?‖ I said.

―Oh, come now, you pathetic little wretch, you know who Silvius is.‖

I fought the urge to drop my eyes from her direct stare. ―Oh…Brutus‘ father. Yes?

Swanne, you must understand that in our dealings with each other Brutus and I spent little time talking.‖

There, let her make of that what she would.

Swanne flushed, and I knew my barb had hit home.

―There are rumours, foul rumours I am sure,‖ she said, ―that you were absent from

Edward‘s bed when he took ill last night. How may that be explained, do you think?‖

It was not unexpected that Swanne would have heard this, and certainly not unexpected

that she would comment on it to me…but that she would do so in the instant after discussing

both the kingship band and Silvius?

I gave her the same explanation I‘d given everyone else. I‘d woken, realised Edward‘s

distress, and run to fetch Saeweald without thinking to wake anyone else.

I finished, but Swanne said nothing. She just stared at me with that unusual light in her

eyes.

―I‘ve taken Aldred to my bed,‖ she said. ―Did you know that?‖

Perhaps if she had said that she was really Og reincarnated she might have stunned me

more, but, frankly, I doubt it. It was not merely that the comment was so totally inappropriate to

the conversation immediately preceding it, but that Swanne had taken Aldred to her bed

was…unbelievable.

I cannot imagine any woman willingly taking Aldred into her bed, but Swanne? Never!

Not when events were so clearly moving towards a reckoning. Not when William was so close!

Later, of course, I may have recognised that comment for what it was—a heavily-veiled

scream for help—but at this moment I only sat there, my mouth agape, and finally managed to

splutter, ―But what about William?‖

―He wasn‘t handy at the time,‖ she snapped.

―But—‖

―Do you know who is moving the bands?‖

Again, the sudden twist in the conversation unnerved me. ―No.‖

―Is it Silvius?‖

―I don‘t know to what you refer, Swanne. I—‖

―Are you moving the bands, Caela?‖

―Me? Me? How can I, Swanne? I do not even know why you are so obsessed with these

damned bands. And Brutus hid them, not me. Surely you have enough wealth and estates not to

hanker after some long-buried relic?‖

―Are you moving the bands, Caela?‖

―Why are you asking me this, Swanne?‖

―You were not with Edward last night when a band was moved.‖

Gods, and to think I”d been worrying about what Asterion might have thought! ―I have

explained where I—‖

―Who do you keep company with, Caela? What strange creatures aid you those nights

you are not with Edward?‖

―What do you mean?‖

She rose suddenly to her feet, the furs and coverlets tumbling about her feet. ― Who else

has come back from that terrible life we endured? Who are your friends? ‖

I defended with attack. I was now so truly confused, worried and disorientated by

Swanne‘s bizarre behaviour that I could think of no other way to respond.

I, too, leapt to my feet, and with one fist I beat against my belly. ―Do you not remember,

Swanne? Asterion tore Mag from my womb. I am no more than an ordinary woman—I have no insights, no secrets! What? Do you think that I am still Asterion‘s pawn? Still dancing to his

tune?‖

Something in Swanne‘s face changed.

There was a moment when she seemed terrified, and I assumed that her terror was

because she might truly have thought I was Asterion‘s creature.

―Look,‖ I snarled, spreading my hands wide. ―No knife.‖

She winced, but I carried straight on.

―I want nothing save to be left in peace, Swanne. I have no ambitions save to escape your

malevolence and jealousy and retire to some hall in the country where I might live quietly. I do

not want to see your and William‘s triumph, Swanne.‖

My face was twisting in bitterness now, and I think it was that more than anything else

that convinced her. ―I do not want William, Swanne. You can have him. I just want to escape

you and him and all that happened. I just want to escape! ‖

I burst into tears, and as I put my hands to my face and sobbed, Judith entered the room,

took one appalled look at me, and hastened over.

―Madam!‖ she said. ―What—‖

―My Lady Swanne is leaving, Judith. Perhaps you can close the door behind her.‖

Swanne gave me one more strange, searching look, nodded tersely, then left.

Two days later, as I sat exhausted in Edward‘s chamber, Silvius came to see me.

I was astounded at his daring—for he did not bother with one of his Aegean sorceries, but

came to me openly—though grateful. In truth, Edward‘s death chamber (once our marital

chamber, but now utterly overtaken with the stink and business of his dying) was thronged with

clerics, supplicants, nuns, abbesses, physicians, herbalists, nobles, members of the witan, sundry

palace servants crowding in for a glimpse of the fun and a press of other bodies and ambitions I

did not bother to recognise. Jesus Christ himself could have entered that chamber, and it would

have elicited no comment.

I was sitting on a linen chest on the far side of the chamber, all but hidden from the view

of those closely grouped about the bed by a group of nuns (from Mother Ecub‘s order, I think,

which may have given Silvius the courage, knowing they would do their best to keep him hidden

from view) when a close-hooded monk came to me, murmured an apology for intruding, and sat

on the chest beside me.

―My lady,‖ he said, and took my hand.

I almost jerked it out of the presumptuous man‘s grasp before I realised who it was.