Horses of Heaven by Gillian Bradshaw

Author:Gillian Bradshaw [Bradshaw, Gillian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: History - Hellenistic
Published: 1991-04-01T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

X

auakes was sitting naked on the bed, half-drunk and irritated. “Why did you refuse to come?” he demanded as soon as his wife came in.

“I didn’t refuse, sir,” she replied quietly, closing the door behind her. “I begged you to excuse me, since I was tired and feeling unwell. You commanded, and here I am.”

He snorted, squinting at her. “You’re unwell? What kind of excuse is that? You seemed fine all day.”

“Sir, I could hardly excuse myself from your victory celebrations for a headache. I had to pretend to enjoy myself, for the sake of your guests.”

“Then you can pretend to enjoy yourself for my sake. Come here.”

She came, stiffly. He began to jerk the cloak off—then, to her surprise, he stopped. Very gently, he brushed her damp hair off her cheek with the edge of a bent finger. “I’m sorry,” he told her softly. “I didn’t mean to quarrel with you again, not tonight. The war’s over, for now, and I wanted to make peace with you as well. But I had something I wanted to say to you, you wouldn’t come, and I’ve had too much to drink. Here, let’s try again. Things haven’t been happy between us. Perhaps I should have been gentler with you, and been aware that maybe you weren’t as sure of yourself as you seemed. Perhaps I put too many checks on you. And perhaps you should have been more honest with me. Let’s forget it all, everything that’s happened before. I’m willing to start over. Are you?”

It must have cost him agonies to make such a speech, particularly after the queen’s first refusal to come to him. He had planned his offer in the strength and confidence of victory: a new beginning, old mistakes corrected, the Yavana woman transformed from an aloof and superior rival into an affectionate and willing partner. The confidence had not lasted long. When she came into his room, cloaked in purple with the distant masklike face, unfailingly correct and subtly reproachful, all the old doubts entangled him again. But he longed for a marriage of gentleness and affection, like his first marriage, and he tried to set the doubts aside, spoke as he had intended, and now he looked at her with oddly open, childlike eyes, his hand cupping the side of her face.

She looked back doubtfully. A part of her guessed, with astonishment, that this might be the nearest thing to an apology he had ever uttered. But most of her was still curled up in dread of what came next, recoiling from his smell of wine, dirt, and blood, from the thick hands and hairy beast’s body. Her mind was slow with fatigue; it took long moments to realize what the moment meant, to think of something to say in answer, a way to agree. It was already too late when she thought of it. The silence had lengthened between them without a word into coldness. The king still didn’t take it as refusal; instead, he leaned forward, clumsily pulling the cloak aside, and kissed her breast.

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