Gods Concubine (43 page)

Slowly the shadowy, unnatural throng faded from view.

“You have the power to see too much,” the Sidlesaghe said, more gently now, “and you will overwhelm yourself. Now, come with me, and we will walk softly for a time.”

In a short while we stood at the base of the steps leading to the western—and main—doors of St Paul’s. I raised my foot to begin the climb, but the Sidlesaghe’s grip on my hand tightened, and I stopped.

“We do not enter?” I said.

“No.”

“Where do we go?” I said.

“Tonight we will move the closest band. Brutus hid them within the city, and around its boundaries.”

I turned slightly so I could look down the street we had travelled to reach St Paul’s. “Ludgate?”

“Aye,” he said. “An obvious choice, and one Asterion himself thought of.”

“Why couldn’t he find it, then? There cannot be many places to hide a golden kingship band for one who is prepared to raze everything to the foundations and beyond.”

“Because the band must be approached in a certain manner.” He faced me completely, taking both my hands in his. “Caela, what do you understand of Asterion? Of his nature?”

I thought, remembering all I had been told, and what I had gleaned during my long wait in death. “He is the Minotaur, the creature in the heart of the Labyrinth whom Theseus slew.”

“Aye. And…?”

“Asterion controls great power, dark power, the power trapped in the heart of the Labyrinth which is…which is…” I did not know quite how to phrase it, and the Sidlesaghe, seeing that I understood but lacked only the ability to explain in words, finished the sentence for me.

“Asterion controls the dark power in the heart of the Labyrinth,
which dark power is kept in check by the Labyrinth, by the Game itself.”

“Yes, thus Asterion wants the Game destroyed so that he and his dark power can ravage free across the world.”

“Brutus hid the golden kingship bands using the power of the Game, which—”

“Which Asterion does not yet know how to use or control, thus he cannot find them!”

The Sidlesaghe laughed in delight. “Yes!”

Now it was my turn to smile. “But you know the Game, and you are of the land. Both land and Game know where the bands lie.
You
know how to approach them.” I paused. “But only I can touch them.”

“So I will show you the path, and walk it with you, but when it comes to the band itself, you are the only one who can touch it. You are the only one who will be a part of their future.”

I thought of my lover, running wild and free and strong through the forests, the bands glinting about his limbs. “Apart from…him.”

“Aye.” Again he squeezed my hands. “Caela, I must say something. When we reach the band, there will be a shock waiting there for you.”

I did not like the sound of this. “A shock?”

“Brutus,” he said.

T
EN

S
he swallowed, and the Sidlesaghe could see the fear and want and the desperate love in her face.

“I do not know if I dare see him again,” she said, and began to weep.

The Sidlesaghe groaned, and gathered her to him, rocking her back and forth until her weeping had abated somewhat. Caela might face dragons and imps from hell, and the Sidlesaghe knew she would face them with courage and resolve. Confront her with the man she had loved so desperately, however, and Caela’s resolve and courage vanished in an instant.

“You must,” he eventually said. “It will not be as difficult as you think.”

“How so?” she said, leaning back and dashing away her tears with a hand.

“He will not know you are there, but only,
only
if you do not allow your eyes to meet with his. I will be with you, and I must abide by the same command myself. Neither of us can allow our eyes to meet with his. If we keep our eyes cast down, then he will overlook us, just as the guards in the towers overlooked us.”

She nodded, some of her composure regained. “And if he sees us?”

“Then we, and this land, are undone. The band will vanish, turn to dust. Asterion will have won.”

Caela closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath, held it, then let it out. “Long Tom…where are we going to move the band to?”

The Sidlesaghe laughed, and stroked one of her cheeks with a thumb. “We will move this one in honour of your brother, Harold.”

She frowned, puzzled.

“To the west of Westminster,” the Sidlesaghe said, “is a small manor and village where once Earl Harold held court in the hall of a trusted friend.”

Her frown deepened, then suddenly cleared. “Cynesige, who controls the estates and village of Chenesitun. He has ever been a true friend, not only to Harold, but to our entire family.”

“Aye. Chenesitun is the place to where the Game wants this first band moved.”

“Why there?”

“Because the earl’s court will become a focal point in the Game which is yet to be played,” the Sidlesaghe said, then grinned wryly at the confusion on Caela’s face. “Or where it
is
playing, in some corner of the Game’s existence. This is what the Game requires, and so this is what we shall do. It will make the land a little stronger. Once the band has been moved, you will
feel
the renewed strength within yourself and within this land.”

“Long Tom,” Caela said, frowning a little, “how is it that you—and your kind—and the Game ‘talk’? How
do
you know these things?”

The Sidlesaghe laughed, joyous, and Caela realised that he must spend much of his existence laughing. “We sing to each other, my love. Under the starlight. We
hum.”

“Oh,” she said, not quite able to imagine this.

The Sidlesaghe grinned. “Now, are you ready?”

She nodded, but the Sidlesaghe saw that her knuckles had whitened where her hands clutched at the cloak.

“We will survive this night, at least,” he said, “if you remember what I said about not meeting Brutus’ eyes.”

Again Caela nodded, and so the Sidlesaghe took one of her hands, and he led her about St Paul’s, first sunwise, then counter-sunwise. He walked deliberately but briskly, keeping Caela close by his side so that they walked almost as one.

Once they had completed the counter-sunwise circuit of the boundary of St Paul’s, the Sidlesaghe led her north along a narrow street, then after a few minutes executed a sharp turn to the east, crossing through a vegetable garden.

“What…” Caela began to ask, then apparently realised the answer herself.

“We are traversing the Labyrinth,” she said.

“Aye. Not quite the same Labyrinth that Brutus caused to be built atop Og’s Hill, but one very similar if a little more convoluted. He hid each band within its own Labyrinth—or, rather, guarded it by its own labyrinthine enchantment—so that only one skilled in the ways of the Labyrinth could find them again.” He paused. “Or one whom the Labyrinth allowed to enter.”

“The Game will not allow Asterion to traverse the labyrinthine ways to the bands?”

“No. There are six labyrinthine enchantments for each of the six golden bands of Troy, and Asterion does not know them.
He
cannot traverse them.”

“Without either Brutus—William—or you, or another of your kind.”

“Or you,” the Sidlesaghe said, noting, but not laughing at, the sudden frown on Caela’s face. “And he shall not have me, nor as many of the bands as we can hide from William. Come, enough chatter. The night fades, and we have much work to do before morning.”

They continued to walk through London, their pace picking up further speed the greater distance they travelled through the labyrinthine enchantment. The Sidlesaghe led Caela through twists and turns, great circles and tight curves, traversing the larger part of the city west of the bridge.

Eventually the Sidlesaghe brought Caela to a stop before Ludgate.

Save that now the twin towers and the walls and the very gates themselves had vanished.

Instead there rose before them a small circle of standing stones, like, yet unlike, the Stone Dances that Caela had seen in her travels as Cornelia. They were as tall as the uprights in the Stone Dances, but more graceful, being composed of tapered fluted columns which were topped with stone scrollwork. There were twelve of these columns, and they encircled a clear space that was lit with a soft golden radiance.

“These stones,” Caela murmured, transfixed by the sight. “Are they…?”

“Aye. They are of our number as well. When Brutus first constructed this enchantment they were of his world, bloodless, lifeless creatures. But as the years passed we inhabited them, one by one.”

“So now the Sidlesaghes stand guard over the bands.”

“And you, now.” The Sidlesaghe’s hold on Caela’s hand tightened momentarily, then he led her forwards.

As they approached the columned circle, he paused, and whispered against Caela’s ear, “Remember, do not meet his eyes.”

She nodded, her eyes on the radiance beyond the columns.

They walked forward slowly.

As they reached the columns, and paused between two of them, the Sidlesaghe felt Caela tense. “Remember!” he whispered, and she managed a tight nod.

Brutus stood in the centre of the circle.

He was naked save for the six golden bands of Troy he wore about his limbs. His tightly curled black hair flowed down his back, lifting a little in some unfelt breeze.

He was walking very slowly and very deliberately about the centre of the circle, his head down, his eyes fixed on the ground intently, as if he studied it for flaws.

Then suddenly he stopped, and raised his head, and looked directly towards where the Sidlesaghe and Caela stood.

The Sidlesaghe looked at Caela’s face, then tugged urgently at her hand.

Caela had been looking straight at Brutus as he’d stopped and raised his eyes to them, a look of utter want on her face, and she only managed to jerk her eyes downwards in the barest instant before her gaze would have met that of Brutus.

The Sidlesaghe kept his eyes fixed on Caela’s face. “Remember!” he hissed at her.

Brutus walked slowly towards them.

The Sidlesaghe felt Caela tremble.

Brutus halted a pace away and the Sidlesaghe could sense his puzzlement, even if he could not directly see Brutus’ face.

“Genvissa?” Brutus said. “Is that you? Genvissa?”

Caela moaned, then bit her lip, and the Sidlesaghe understood the effort it took her not to look at Brutus.

“Genvissa?” Brutus said. He stood still, looking forward intently, and the Sidlesaghe knew that Brutus felt
something.

“Oh gods,” Brutus said, his voice breaking, “where are you, Genvissa?”

The Sidlesaghe thought Caela would collapse at that moment. Her breath was coming in short jerks, her body was shaking, her head was trembling uncontrollably.

Any moment she was going to lift her eyes to Brutus, and call his name.

“In one of your futures,” the Sidlesaghe said, very softly, “it will not be
her
name he calls, and then you will be able to lift your head and meet his eyes. Remember that.”

The compassion in his voice steadied Caela. She closed her eyes, gained some control of herself, then squeezed the Sidlesaghe’s hand very slightly.

I will not look.

“Genvissa?” Brutus said one more time, but his tone was less sure now, less urgent, and after a moment he turned and walked back to the centre of the circle.

He stood—fortunately now with his back to the Sidlesaghe and Caela, which meant they could watch him directly—and looked down for a long time, then he sighed and seemed to come to a decision within himself. He lifted his left hand and, slowly, with great precision, slid the golden band that encircled his right forearm down over his wrist.

He hesitated as it reached his hand, then, the muscles of his back visibly clenching, he slid the band over his hand, squatted, and placed the band on the ground before him. He lifted his right hand, and made a complex movement over the band as it lay on the ground.

“He is creating the labyrinthine enchantment that we just traversed,” the Sidlesaghe whispered into Caela’s ear, and she gave a small nod.

Brutus finished, standing upright.

In the space of a breath, he vanished, and both Caela and the Sidlesaghe let out their breaths in long, relieved sighs.

“Take it,” the Sidlesaghe said, nodding to the band where it lay on the ground. “Take it. You will be safe.”

Caela paused, then walked into the circle. She stood before the band, then leaned down and, without any hesitation, picked it up.

Part Five

Late 1065

Don’t jump on the cracks, …

Late 1065

Don’t jump on the cracks, or the monster will snatch!

Children’s hopscotch song, traditional

London, March 1939

“
W
hat do you know of Eaving?” Skelton said as he stirred the sugar into his tea. He stared unabashedly at Ecub and Matilda, noting the similarities in their finely-drawn features. True-born sisters now. Twins, he thought, as there was no age difference between them.

Who had controlled their rebirth? Surely not Asterion. They must be a part of the Troy Game itself, their souls entwined with the Labyrinth.

“Very little,” said Matilda. “Jack, you know me, and know what once I was to you. If I knew, I would tell you.”

“Is she with Coel?”

“You asked Loth that last night,” said Ecub. “Would you blame her if she was?”

“Curse you, Ecub!” Skelton said, pushing aside his cup and saucer. “I love her!
Where is she?”

“Coel has ever been the gentler choice for her,” Ecub responded.

“Coel is not the man for her,” Skelton responded, very quietly, his eyes steady on Ecub’s. “Now tell me, you ancient
witch,
where is Eaving? You are bound to her. You must know where she is!”