Gods Concubine by Sara Douglass

with which the good archbishop surrounded himself.

Swanne being one of them, of course.

Like everyone else, Saeweald had wondered about this liaison, particularly as he knew

Swanne better than most. Swanne could have had the pick of any noble male within the

court—but Aldred? It was not like Swanne to select a physically unattractive man when, as

Saeweald well knew from her previous existence, she preferred something more delectable.

―You look amused,‖ Swanne said, disdainfully raising one carefully plucked black

eyebrow.

―I was imagining you with Aldred,‖ Saeweald said, not inclined to play polite word

games with her. ―I was wondering why. ‖

―It is none of your concern,‖ Swanne snapped.

―Everything you do is my concern,‖ Saeweald said. ―You have a terrible penchant for

destroying my entire world.‖

She smiled again, but this time it was so icy and so calculating it made Saeweald‘s blood

run cold.

He reached out a hand and took Swanne‘s wrist.

She drew back slightly, then relaxed and allowed Saeweald to feel her pulse.

Unable to bear her black-eyed, shrewd scrutiny, Saeweald looked down at her wrist. Her

skin was so pale he could see the blue-veined blood vessels beneath, and he could feel the

delicate bones shifting beneath his fingers. Her pulse beat strong and full, however.

Whatever had affected Swanne, whatever had caused this pallor and thinness and strange

light in her eyes, it had not lessened her strength or, Saeweald suspected, her ambition and

purpose.

―You must have heard from William recently,‖ he murmured, making much fuss over

feeling her pulse at several points on her wrist and lower forearm.

Swanne gave a tiny shrug of her shoulders.

―And you must be excited that—perhaps—he will shortly be here. I have no doubt that

you cannot wait to see him again.‖

Swanne gave a small sigh, as if the matter was of supreme disinterest to her.

Saeweald‘s eyes flew to her face. That disinterested sigh had sounded genuine. Swanne?

Didn‘t care if she saw William? It could not be!

―You do not spend every moment lusting for him?‖ Saeweald said.

Again that secretive smile. ―I have a better lover,‖ Swanne said.

Saeweald gave up any pretence of feeling Swanne‘s heartbeat. ― Aldred? ‖

Something flashed over Swanne‘s face, and for an instant Saeweald thought it terror, but

then an expression of the most supreme contentment took its place. ―No,‖ she said. ― Not

Aldred.‖

―I had thought the Mistress of the Labyrinth would spend her time lusting only for her

Kingman.‖

Yet again Swanne said nothing, but held Saeweald‘s eyes with a disdain that told him she

was hiding something momentous.

What?

And who? Swanne would not just discard William for an athletic lover, however skilled

he might be in her bed. She would not just discard her Kingman.

Saeweald felt the germ of hope within him. Perhaps Swanne had changed. Perhaps she

was prepared to abandon her ambitions as Mistress of the—

― Never think that,‖ Swanne said, her voice a low hiss, and Saeweald screened his mind in

sudden fright. ―I will be the most powerful Mistress of the Labyrinth that ever was. The Game

will be mine.‖

―But for that you will need William,‖ Saeweald said, pushing the point.

Again that shrug, the slight, disdainful lifting of an eyebrow.

Saeweald sighed, hiding his confusion and concern with rummaging in his satchel.

―I need none of your potions,‖ Swanne said, irritated by Saeweald‘s fidgeting. ―I am not

ill.‖

Now it was Saeweald‘s turn to raise an eyebrow. ―You do not look particularly well,‖ he

said. ―You have lost much weight. There is a fever burning in your eyes. Hawise says that you

may be pregnant—‖

―Hawise is a fool!‖

―Perhaps this lover of yours is potent.‖

Swanne smiled. ―Oh, aye, that he is. But he fills me with…ah, this is not your concern,

Saeweald. It is far and away not your concern.‖

He fills me with power. Saeweald could almost hear the words she had stopped.

―But enough of me,‖ Swanne said, her tone almost girlish now. ―I admit myself surprised,

Saeweald, that you have not sunk into a blackness of spirit now that Mag has finally been

disposed of. Caela, poor lost soul, must have been your final hope for some kind of…oh, some

kind of purpose, I suppose.‖

Saeweald dropped his eyes, damping that tiny gloat within him. Well may you think Mag

dead, Swanne…

And then he looked back at Swanne again, meaning to say something trivial, and saw the

blaze of understanding in her eyes, and knew that he had not been secretive enough.

―Mag is not dead, is she?‖

Swanne rose to her feet, pushing Saeweald away. ―Mag is not dead. Of course! The

secretive, treacherous bitch. I should have known she would do something like this.‖

She waited until Asterion was atop her, within her, driving both her and himself into a

panting, moaning lust before she told him, gasping the words as she felt Asterion climax within

her.

―Mag is alive.‖

―What?‖ He pulled himself back from her, raising himself up on straightened arms, his

ebony face glistening with sweat.

There was a little trickle of perspiration running down the centre of his moist, black nose,

and Swanne found herself momentarily fascinated by it. ―Mag is not dead.‖

―Of course not. I knew this.‖

―You thought you killed her!‖

He grinned, the expression horrible on his bull‘s face. ―Oh, but I mean to.‖

She narrowed her eyes, and he thought she looked so beautifully sly he had to bend his

head down and kiss her mouth.

―What do you know that I don‘t?‖ she said, pulling her mouth free.

A great deal, he thought. ―Only that we have the means to finally trap her,‖ he said.

―Would you like that, my love?‖

She breathed in deeply, and Asterion‘s eyes clouded over with renewed desire as he felt

her breasts move beneath his chest.

―Oh, aye,‖ she said.

THIRTEEN

CAELA SPEAKS

Iretired, Edward‘s relict, to St Margaret the Martyr‘s, that small priory I had endowed so

many years ago.

The sense of independence was astounding. Ecub gave me several small chambers that

were at the very end of the priory‘s main group of buildings. Here I had access to the herb

garden, the refectory, the chapel and the outside as much as I wished. Of all my ladies, Judith was the only one to come with me (the others gratefully transferring themselves to Alditha‘s

household), and Saeweald took the opportunity to take over the running of the priory‘s herb

garden and infirmary. I have no idea what gossip ran through London about this

arrangement—no doubt that the physician spent most of his time sampling the wares within the

sisters‘ dormitory rather than tasting the sweetness of his medicinal draughts—but none of that

bothered us within the calm of St Margaret‘s. Saeweald spent his nights with Judith, and I…

I spent my nights either blessedly alone (ah! The wonder of not having to share a

chamber, let alone a bed!) or even more blessedly in company atop Pen Hill.

Here I climbed late at night, aye, even in the depths of winter, and here the Sidlesaghes

came to me, and sang, and comforted me. Ecub often joined me, and also Judith and many of the

sisters of Ecub‘s order. The cold did not perturb us, for we were warm with power and shared

femininity and a shared oneness with the land.

It cheered me to think that not all had been lost, and that a few still remembered the old

ways.

One day, I thought, I would be able to dance here with my lover, with Og, the white stag

with the blood-red antlers and the bands of power about his limbs.

One day.

One evening Saeweald came to visit me, as he so often did.

I was seated with Judith and Ecub, and Saeweald joined us about the small fire I had

burning in the hearth.

―I have seen Swanne,‖ he said as he sat.

A bleakness overcame my heart. I had almost forgotten her existence. And at that

realisation I felt dreadful, for I could not afford to forget Swanne, who somehow I had to

persuade to pass over her gifts as Mistress of the Labyrinth.

Saeweald‘s eyes dropped to the hands in his lap. ―But before I relate what news I gleaned

there, I must make a confession.‖

We waited. Saeweald finally raised his eyes.

―I was incautious,‖ he said. ―She gleaned from my mind that Mag is not as dead as she

had thought.‖

I felt a nasty jab of fear, but quickly suppressed it. ―And what can she do with this

knowledge, Saeweald? It is unfortunate, perhaps, but the main thing is that Asterion does not

know.‖

I saw Ecub and Judith exchange a worried glance, but I spoke again quickly, before any

of them could voice their thoughts. ―But what did you discover, Saeweald?‖

―She has taken a lover,‖ he said.

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