She pulled out of his arms, and turned to face him. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, her eyes pools of distress.
‘I have lied to him and plotted against him,” she said. “I have destroyed lives__I destroyed my father, my home, and all who lived in it! Idaeus is dead because of my actions, as also Aethylla’s husband! Is it any wonder he turns to Genvissa? Look at her! He wants a queen by his side, Coel… why should he want me?”
‘You are a greater—”
‘Don’t patronize me!” she shouted. “I don’t want to be a little girl who people think to ease with lies and platitudes!”
And with that she was gone, running into the night.
CbAPGGRS THE GREAT BONE-FIRES ROARED INTO LIFE, THE Slaughter Festival moved from formal rite to popular revelry. Flasks of honeyed mead were produced and consumed, the carcasses of pigs and cattle were spitted and roasted, and the wail and throb of pipes and drums worked their sinuous magic among the crowds.
Atop Mag’s Hill, Brutus and Genvissa and her three daughters made their way down to the river, then across to the southern bank to partake themselves of the revelry and merrymaking, as did those Mothers who had cast their metal into the river.
Coel initially made after Cornelia, but she was younger and fleeter of foot than he, and she easily outran him in the dark.
In the end, he slowed to a halt after only a short chase. Cornelia may have outrun him, but Coel had also seen the direction in which she had unwittingly run, and knew that something other than her grief was guiding Cornelia’s footsteps this night.
CORNELIA FLED, SEEING ONLY BRUTUS LEANING TO ward Genvissa, seeing only his
hand lifting to her cheek as he had laid his mouth to hers.
In the first minutes of her flight Cornelia had seen other people—dark shapes moving slowly through the night—but once she’d moved a little distance from the river the shapes drew back and Cornelia was left alone in the night.
She stopped, eventually, her chest rising and falling in agony, her legs quivering and weak. She bent over, resting her hands on her thighs as she tried to regain both breath and composure.
After a few minutes she straightened, and looked about her, suddenly re O alizing not only how far she had come, but how isolated she was in this strange landscape in the middle of the night. She twisted about, trying to get her bearings.
To the north and west fires flickered on hills. She turned the way she had come—there, the faint outline of the river, marked with further fires and smoky torches and the dancing, twisting shapes of thousands of merrymakers.
The dull sound of distant music and laughter reached her, and Cornelia’s face creased as she again fought back tears.
What was she doing here?
‘Cornelia.”
She gasped, twisting about so violently toward the voice that she tripped and sprawled in the turf.
‘Cornelia.”
A figure emerged out of the night, and Cornelia drew in one terrified breath, then froze, sure she was about to be murdered.
‘Cornelia,” said Loth yet one more time, strolling completely out of the darkness to stand above Cornelia’s sprawled form.
Her eyes were wide, terrified, her breast heaving, her unblinking eyes unable to move from Loth’s terrible head.
‘If I did not kill you in Mag’s Dance,” he said, his voice soft, “why should I do so now?”
He stretched down a hand to her, holding it there, waiting.
Her eyes flickered from his face to the outstretched hand, back to his face, then finally settled on the hand.
Very slowly she lifted her own hand, hesitated just as she was about to take his, then, holding her breath, slid her palm against his.
He grasped it tight, then leaned back, pulling her to her feet.
‘I am Loth,” he said. “The Horns of Llangarlia—as useless a title as can be, now. You are Cornelia, and everyone has yet to discover who you truly are, and whether you encompass usefulness… or
uselessness.”
His eyes narrowed, studying her, and even though she pulled against his hand, he would not allow her freedom.
‘Who are you, Cornelia?” he whispered, and he was so close she blinked as the warmth of his breath played over her face. “Do you, a stranger, carry Mag in the pit of your belly?”
His pressure on her hand increased, and despite herself, Cornelia found herself being pulled closer.
‘Do I frighten you?” he said. “Do you think me dangerous?”
‘Yes,” she whispered, and he laughed, soft and gentle.
‘Good,” he said so low his voice sounded like part of the night. “Very good.”
Then his grip on her hand changed, and he moved forward, and Cornelia found herself being pulled along by his side as he walked farther into the night. She tried to balk, to pull away from him, but again he was too strong for her, and he gave her hand such a strong tug that she almost tripped again as she stumbled after him.
‘We are going to dance for Mag,” he said.
He stopped abruptly, surprising Cornelia so that she inadvertently stumbled against the warmth of his near-naked body.
‘You did not tell Brutus of that night,” he said. “Not all of it. Why?”
‘I don’t know,” she said, drawing back as much as she was able.
He lifted their intertwined hands, pulling her close yet once more. “You do not like Genvissa. Why?”
‘Because she is so much better than I,” she whispered, frightened not so much by his appearance and power now as by his nearness and warmth. “And because of that, because of her power and wit and magic, my husband wants her and not me. I am but a child. She is a woman.”
He snarled, his teeth glinting wetly in the faint moonlight. “You are very young if you think Genvissa is better than you,” he said, then resumed walking again, tugging her after him, “and your husband is but a foolish man whose lusts for flesh and power have trapped him.”
As they did me , he thought.
‘Where is Coel?” Cornelia said, trying to look over her shoulder. “I was with him and—”
‘Coel is not wanted now,” Loth said, “Not tonight. Not where we are going.”
‘Where are we going? Please, let me go. I want to go home, back to my son…”
His only answer was a tightening of his grip on her hand.
Cornelia almost cried out with the pain, then did begin to cry with her anxiety. “I am frightened,” she
said.
‘We all are,” he snapped. “But it would help if you walked with me, and do not try to pull me back.
Cornelia, I will not hurt you, I am not interested in hurting you, and what I will show you tonight few of our people, let alone strangers, are allowed to witness. Now, will you walk with me ?”
Her only answer was a very slight nod, and a lessening of the pressure she was exerting on his hand and arm, but it was enough, and he relaxed and smiled, then laughed out loud at the stunned expression on her face.
‘Yes, even I can be comely enough when I am happy, Cornelia. Walk with me now.”
CbAPGGR FOClRGeejsl coRnelia speaksHE CHANGE THAT CAME OVER HIM WHEN
HE smiled shocked me so thoroughly I think I followed him throughout the rest of that long night in the simple hope of seeing him smile again.
His great, misshapen, monstrous head became as nothing when he smiled, for the light and warmth in his eyes and mouth negated everything else about him. All that the watcher saw was a joy so great that it had the potential to extinguish all the darkness and horror that collected in everyone’s life. I wondered at this, that a man who, quite literally, carried a weight so great on his shoulders that its very oppressiveness must have dampened every piece of gladness in him should still be able to laugh with such merriment, such lack of care, that he thereby took away from his listener every care that they, too, carried.
I followed him, ran to keep up with his long strides, merely so that he would turn to me again, and smile.
HE LED ME TO A HILL ON WHICH STOOD A STONE DANCE.
The Dance was much smaller than the great Mag’s Dance, but it had an elegance to it that Mag’s Dance lacked.
‘Where is this?” I said, a little breathless.
‘This hill is named Pen,” Loth replied, stopping so we could gaze up at the Dance. “Its cap of stone hides its greatest secret—”
‘Which is?” I was no longer afraid of him, and risked even teasing him.
I was rewarded with another of his smiles, and I felt myself smile back. I suddenly realized, in a bolt of understanding, that this man had the ability to make the entire world laugh with him, if only he had the will to laugh.