what it was.
Vengeance.
―I will not let you do to William,‖ he whispered, ―what you did to me.‖
And he reached out his hands, stretched them out
over the three or four paces that still separated them, and seized her by the neck.
Asterion found her on the floor some two hours later. Her neck had been twisted until it
had snapped.
Her black eyes, dulled by death, were staring at something that Asterion could not even
imagine.
Who had done this? William? Those strange and as yet undetermined companions who
had aided Caela to move the bands?
―Useless bitch,‖ he snarled, and dealt Swanne‘s corpse such a massive blow with his
booted foot that it skidded away some three or four feet.
Asterion stepped forward and kicked the corpse again. Curse the idiot bitch! Curse her!
Not only had she failed to kill William, but she‘d managed to get herself killed instead.
And now Asterion was left without a Mistress of the Labyrinth.
Damn her to all hells. Now they”d have to come back again.
Another life, another set of years spent scheming, planning, manoeuvring. Waiting.
Asterion‘s lip curled, and he began to batter Swanne‘s body with slow, deliberate,
hate-filled fists.
After a long time, time enough to almost cover himself in Swanne‘s blood, Asterion
paused and raised his head.
She was moving. She.
She was going to meet with William.
Suddenly, in all his anger and frustration, Asterion forgot his caution.
―I think it might be time to ruin a life or two,‖ he muttered.
And grinned.
TWENTY-ONE
CAELA SPEAKS
Ireceived William‘s message after supper when Ecub and Matilda sat with me.
I had no choice but to go. He had asked for me, and the last thing I‘d said to him that
night was that should he need me, then he should seek me out. I could not refuse to go. It was my
nature not to refuse him should he need shelter.
Besides, I wanted to see him again. I hungered for it.
So I told Ecub and Matilda not to worry (a useless piece of wordage), and I sent
William‘s man off carrying a message containing place and time.
The time was unimportant, save that William‘s need seemed so urgent that it needed to be
as soon as possible, but the place…the place…
I sent word to William that he should meet me over his dead body.
I thought, if nothing else, that would make his mouth curl in dry amusement.
So here now I stood, early, wanting to have time before William arrived to contemplate
what we had been, what we were, and what we might one day be, all gods permitting.
This was the first time I had been here (the first time while still breathing, of course). It
was unbearably sad.
The chamber, rounded out of living rock, was bare save for the two plinths of stone, each
of which bore a shrouded corpse. One, that which was Cornelia‘s
corpse, had its wrappings disturbed, and my fingers briefly touched the bracelet that I
wore about my left wrist.
But my eyes were drawn irresistibly to Brutus‘ wrapped figure. I stood a long time,
staring at it, before I walked over and, hesitatingly, rested a hand on its chest.
Brutus. Oh, gods, how I had loved him. Why? I wondered. What was there about Brutus
to love? He had mistreated me and abused me, humiliated me and abandoned me, and still I
could not resist him. I loved him, when there were others who would have suited me better, and
who offered me more than Brutus ever had.
But perhaps even then I had known.
My hand drifted slowly up the wrappings covering his chest to his throat. Here had
swarmed the growth which had, finally, killed him. I remembered the long months of his dying,
his fading from strength into weakness, the rough rasp of his voice as he ordered some servant or
the other to remove me from his presence.
How he had hated me.
My eyes filled with tears and I tore my mind away from the memory. I slid my hand
further up, over his cheek, and then his forehead, imagining the features that lay swathed below
my touch, to the crown of his head.
Did that wondrous, thick, long curled hair still live beneath these tight shroudings? If I
unwrapped his beloved head would I be able to run my hand through its blue-black crispness
again?
Would there ever be any way of recapturing that single moment we had, that moment in
the hills behind the Altars of the Philistines, when he had lowered his mouth to mine, and for a
heartbeat almost loved me?
A tight hand closed about my throat, jerking me back, and, terrified, I let out a strangled
cry.
―Caela,‖ he said, his mouth close to my ear, and pulled me back against his body.
His other hand was now about my waist, as hard and as cruel as that about my throat. I
was caught, I could not move…I could barely breathe.
And then he let me go, stood back from me and looked about the chamber. ―This is where
they buried us? In this chamber?‖
I nodded. I could not take my eyes from him.
He walked slowly over to the plinth on which lay poor Cornelia‘s corpse, and he touched
the wrappings. ―They have been disturbed. Why?‖
I raised my wrist, and showed him the bracelet. ―Silvius took this from the corpse, and
put it on my wrist.‖
William‘s eyes darkened. ―And why did he do that?‖
―He thought to make me remember. At that time I slumbered in forgetfulness,
remembering nothing. It was a device to make Asterion think me no threat. To make him believe
that Mag was dead.‖
―And that artifice worked, of course.‖
He was looking at me strangely, and I found myself shivering. ―Yes.‖ In truth, of course,
Asterion had then found out about Damson, and had ―murdered‖ poor Mag all over again, but I
sensed that now was not the time to leap forth into such explanations.
What was wrong with William? Why did he regard me with such peculiar wild eyes?
―William? What is wrong? Why summon me here?‖ Sweet gods, was this the time for us?
I felt a mad rush of hope and joy within me, and even though I tried to suppress it, I knew I could
not keep it entirely from my face.
He lifted those unsettling eyes from me and began to walk slowly about the chamber,
sometimes running a hand about its walls, sometimes touching briefly one of the plinths. ―I have
seen Silvius,‖ he said.
―That cannot have been pleasant.‖
He shot me a look, but continued speaking in a normal tone. ―From what you said to me,
and from what I have gleaned, he has been of great help to you.‖
―And to this land. I owe him a great deal.‖
―Be careful you do not owe him too much,‖ he said. ―Caela, how much does he know?‖
I frowned. ―Know about what?‖
―About the Game, about the bands—and their location—about you.”
My frown deepened. ―He knows many things. He has been at my side for almost a year.
And at Saeweald‘s. He has become our closest ally.‖
At that William closed his eyes briefly, as if I had said something so painful he could
hardly bear it. And I suppose I had. Brutus had ever hated his father.
―You lay with him,‖ William said. ―You lay with him.‖
―I wanted to,‖ I said steadily, wishing William would leave this be. ―I had no wish to stay
God‘s eternal virgin concubine.‖
―You gave him your virginity,‖ he said, his voice bitter. ―That gives any man a powerful
hold over a woman.‖
―It certainly gave you a powerful hold over me.‖
―But Silvius even more power, Caela, considering what you are now.‖
I shrugged. ―He is my friend. He will not think to use it to—‖
―God curse you, Caela. Have you no wits?‖
I flinched, taking a step back. William‘s face was suffused with fury, and something else
which frightened me far more than did his fury: fear.
―It is not the time now to discover yourself jealous, William. I—‖
“Damn you for your unthinking naive stupidity!‖ He strode forward and, before I could
stop him, before I
could even think or utter a protest, he seized me in cruel hands, and forced his mouth
down to mine.
For an instant I resisted, and then all my want and need, all my desire for him flooded
through me, and I opened my mouth under his.
How many years had I wanted him to kiss me?
Oh gods…I melted against him.
―You bitch,‖ he exclaimed, almost throwing me from him, and, horribly, wiping the back
of his mouth with his hand. ―You corrupted piece of filth.”
I could not believe it. How could he possibly say that to me?