I still could not speak.
‘And you did not tell Brutus of me.” Now his voice was very soft.
He turned and looked at me. “I thank you for that, from the depth of my being. And Loth thanks you as well.”
‘Loth!”
‘Yes, Loth. There is no need to be afraid,” Coel said. “Not of Loth, anyway. He is no danger to you.”
‘He killed Blangan.”
‘He was the one who tore her apart, yes, but—”
‘How can you defend ffcat?”
‘—he was sent there, Cornelia, sent by Siangan’s sister who wanted her dead more than anything.”
I was silent.
‘Blangan has—had—a younger sister called Genvissa, who is now the MagaLlan of Llangarlia. She is the woman who Brutus went to see this morning.”
I frowned, thinking there was some connection that I should be making.
‘Loth did wrong, Cornelia, and no one is more aware, and more regretful, of that than Loth himself.
But Genvissa sent him there saying that if he killed his mother then he would restore Og’s power to this land.”
‘Og’s power?” I had no idea what Coel was talking about. Coel talked for many minutes then, telling what I did not know about Blan-gan, the conception and birth of her son, the splitting of this power of Og, and of how Blangan had been blamed for what was probably the darkcraft of this Genvissa’s mother.
Now Genvissa, the MagaLlan, had apparently taken up the same darkcraft with as much success as Herron.
Coel was sitting very close to me now, our bodies touching at hip and thigh. “Cornelia, Loth is not the one you should fear. Genvissa is.” “But… why?”
‘Genvissa wants Brutus, Cornelia. She will make sure, one way or the other, that you are set aside.”
‘No!” But it was true, for as Coel spoke my mind had suddenly, belatedly, made that connection it should have made minutes ago.
Was Genvissa the woman of whom Brutus dreamed? And then I wondered how I could have forgotten all about this dream woman—had I been so desperate to believe Brutus and I had a viable future together?
‘No, surely not,” I whispered, hoping the denial would ensure the fact. “Genvissa,” Coel said, “was the one who told Brutus that you had been in Mag’s Dance. She told him to ask you what had happened.”
Of course, I remember Brutus mentioning her in those horrifying moments when he had accosted me.
‘Genvissa,” Coel went on, cruelly driving home into my mind the name of my rival, “feels threatened by you, Cornelia. Why is that?”
‘I am Brutus’ wife, of course! She wants Brutus and yet here I am! She is jealous.”
He gave a small, sad smile. “No. No wife would ever stand in Genvissa’s way… and it is hardly as if Brutus loves you, Cornelia, is it?”
Oh, how could he be so heartless? I was crying now, for I knew that Brutus indeed did not love me.
He reviled me.
And all I wanted… all I wanted was for him to love me.
‘Cornelia,” Coel whispered, and again wiped away the tears from my cheek.
I would have been completely undone then, I think, save that Achates stirred in my arms, and whimpered. I looked down, rocking him, glad of the interruption. “I will have to go. Achates needs to be nursed, and—”
‘I saw that on the journey north you gave Achates to Aethylla to nurse. You did not wish to feed him yourself?”
I found myself flushing, not at the talk of nursing, but with shame. “I cannot. I have no milk. I need to give him to Aethylla to suckle.”
Again Coel reached out with his thumb, this time gently touching my cheek. “You feel shame at your lack… and you should not, Cornelia. But I still do not understand. Many women give birth and find their milk does not come for several days. The child spends that time whimpering, or at the breast of a temporary nurse, but always a mother’s milk comes and she can suckle her own infant. Your milk never came?”
I found myself blinking, unable to believe I could be having this conversation with a man. “I… I tried to nurse him on the day he was born, but I had no milk. Aethylla took him from me, and fed him.”
And I remembered how my breasts had ached for a week afterward…
‘And she never gave him back?” His voice was angry, unbelieving.
‘No.”
Achates’ whimpering was rising to a fully fledged wail now, and Coel, giving me one more disbelieving look, rose effortlessly to his feet and walked a little distance into the surrounding meadowland. He spent a few minutes looking at the plants about him, then suddenly bent, pulled an entire plant out of the ground, and tore off its fleshy root.
He walked slowly back to me, using his teeth to strip the root of its hard, outer skin, then he bit it in two, and handed me the smaller portion as again he sat down beside me. “Give it to your son to suck. It will sate him for the time being, although he will be wanting the breast again before midafternoon.”
I took the root from him, and tentatively held it to Achates’ lips.
The baby suckled at it, whimpered one more time, then fell to the root with a vengeance, suckling madly as if it were better than any breast milk.
Coel laughed at the expression on my face. “We call it the milk root,” he said. “For obvious reasons.
Many mothers use it to soothe their babies.”
‘And you know this?”
He looked surprised. “Why not?”
I gave a small shake of my head, trying to imagine Brutus, or Corineus, or Hicetaon, possessing such female knowledge, then gave up.
‘Thank you,” I said.
In answer he only smiled once more, his beautiful face close to mine, and then he leaned that remaining distance between us and kissed me.
I had known he would do it, and I should have stopped him, but I did not. Brutus had sent my soul plunging into the depths of Hades’ Underworld this morning, and to have this man, this stunning combination of care and sexuality, put his mouth to mine was what I desperately needed to somehow manage the rise back into the warmth and sunshine.
I kissed him back, hard, and leaned even farther into him as he put his hand to my breast.
Oh, Hera, this man was sweet! Every part of me throbbed, my belly felt as though it had exploded in fire, and—
Achates moved against me, and I came to my senses.
‘No!” I said, pulling my head back and jerking my breast out of his hand. “Oh, gods, Cornelia!” he groaned.
‘No,” I said, hating myself.
He gave a short, humorless laugh. “Are all Dorian princesses taught how to torment a man to that point where he can hardly draw back, and then say ‘no!’?”
I began to cry all over again at the censure in his voice, and the guilt in my own heart, and he was instantly contrite.
‘It is alright, Cornelia,” he said. “Forget your guilt. Remember, my would-be-lover, that all women in Llangarlia can choose as they will.” He smiled, genuinely now. “And they always have that right to say no.
I just wish you’d said it a few minutes earlier.”
‘I’m sorry,” I said, knowing that if this had been Brutus he would never have heard that “no.” He would not even have let my lips frame the word…
‘Have you had many lovers?” I blurted, trying to change the subject and, as always, only making it worse.
‘Yes. Many women have asked me to their beds.”
‘And do you have children?”
‘Two daughters, both with the same woman, and a son.”
‘And your lovers, the women who have had your children, would not be jealous that you are here now? With me?”
‘No.” He touched my face again, but it was merely the lightest of caresses, and not demanding. “They would be pleased for me, and for you. They would hope that you bore a child.”
I was suddenly very, very glad I’d brought the proceedings to a halt. Brutus would kill me if he thought my belly was full of another man’s child.
‘Who are you, Cornelia? How can you make me yearn for you so deeply?” Coel said softly, and to that I had no answer.
WE SAT THERE FOR A LITTLE WHILE LONGER, HARDLY speaking, enjoying the sunshine and the insects as they buzzed about the late flowers. Then, as even the milk root failed to please Achates, Coel led me back to the house (my house, he called it, Cornelia’s house) and back to the less than tender care of Aethylla who by now, having searched for me all morning, had yet one more reason to chide me.
Brutus, Hicetaon, and Corineus came back to the house after several hours, sitting about the hearth with Aethylla and myself and eating a simple meal.