David Dalglish - Wrath of Lions

“Darling,” Catherine said. “You look a mess. Come here.”

He obeyed, stumbling with each step, until he was awkwardly perched on the edge of the bed. Catherine put down her book and inched toward him. She was naked, but he refused to look at her.

“You reek,” she said. “How much did you drink tonight?”

“Too much,” he replied.

Her fingers danced across his face, turning his head.

“Your cheek is swollen.” She lifted his chin. “And there is a cut on your neck.” She said these things plainly, as if they did not require an explanation. She helped him into a reclined position, and then took his handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed at the blood.

“You are a silly man,” she said, shaking her head. She looked sad.

He closed his eyes, rested a hand on her thigh.

“Could very well be,” he said.

“No, not could be. Are. In fact, one could say that you trying to bed Moira Crestwell goes beyond silliness and enters into the realm of complete stupidity.”

His eyelids shot open and he stared at his wife in disbelief.

“Come now, you have no right to be offended by that,” she said. “Any fool can see she has no desire for a man, any man.” She chuckled and unbuttoned his coat, spreading it wide and stroking the hairs on his chest. “You should know better, darling. It is like trying to fuck a grayhorn. No good could come from it.”

He pushed her hand away and sat bolt upright on the bed, staring at her.

“Catherine…you…”

She nodded in a sorrowful way. “Of course I know, Matthew. I know about all of it.”

He felt his chest tighten, and his mind leapt to the worst possible conclusion.

“All of it?” he asked.

“Yes. You think me deaf, dumb, and blind? Come now. Your secret room is not so secret. And besides, a woman knows the smell of other women, especially when that smell is stuck to her husband.”

Matthew was speechless. He shuffled away from her, glancing toward the nightstand in the sudden fear that she might have a weapon nearby.

Catherine shook her head.

“Matthew, I’m not going to hurt you. I have known of your affairs since the week after we were married. If I wanted to kill you for them, I would have done so long ago. Karak knows, I’ve had the opportunity.”

“I…I don’t understand,” he managed to say.

“You wouldn’t,” she said with a sigh. “You are a man, a powerful and important man. You have certain…needs and desires that require nourishment. It is ‘the price of marrying a merchant,’ you are fond of saying to me. Only you’ve never realized how much of that statement I truly understand.”

She pushed back the blankets and got off the bed, heading toward the hearth and the table beside it. She swung her hips in an exaggerated way as she walked, sweat from the muggy evening glistening on her skin. She poured herself a cup of wine and drank it, then sat down on the chair beside the fire, crossed her legs, and stared at him from across the room. Her arms folded beneath her slightly sagging breasts, propping them up.

“Why didn’t you tell me to stop?” he asked, feeling comforted by the distance between them.

“What would that have accomplished?” she asked.

“I might have stopped.”

She laughed. “See, even now you cannot bear the thought. Might have stopped? Might? No, you would not. I’ve known you since we were both children, Matthew. Perhaps you might have tried harder to hide it, feeling guiltier each time you strayed. At worst, you would have killed me like you did those two who helped deliver the Gemcroft woman’s child.”

“Wait,” he said. “How do you know about that?”

“I know about everything, Matthew. I have eyes and ears, and I pay attention. It is a wife’s duty to know what goes on in her husband’s life. My existence, and that of your children, depends on you.”

“Yes,” he said. “But how ?”

“I have my ways.”

She stood up and strolled to the bed once again. Matthew swallowed hard, his mind awash with confusion. She stopped when she reached him, letting her arms fall to her sides, exposing all of herself to him.

“You are a good man, Matthew,” she said. “I may not like all that you do, but I understand it. You must know that being a woman, while wonderful, comes with its drawbacks. We are smaller than menfolk, weaker. Though our minds are just as sharp and we are the ones who nourish life once it is created, we are still considered secondary. The men are the ones who make the decisions; the men are the ones who decide the laws of this land.”

There was no hiding the bite to her voice.

“I thought Karak made our laws,” he interjected, half in jest.

Catherine didn’t seem to take it as a joke.

“That is exactly my point. Karak, though a god, is unquestionably male. As is his brother. If Karak and Ashhur truly made humanity in their image, then men are superior, for they more closely resemble their creators.” She shook her head. “Women are an unfortunate necessity, that is all. We are…replaceable.”

“Do you truly believe that?”

“I do, because there is no ‘belief’ required. What I say is a simple fact.” She pointed to the book she had been reading. “It says so in all the tomes I read, those written by men who have documented the short history of man . If we were truly equal, then why does the royal decree state that only a king may rule, that on his death the title shall pass to his closest male kin, be it a son or brother? Why does the same hold true for those of wealth, such as yourself? Your father and grandfather long expressed their displeasure with your family’s penchant for creating mostly girls. Think about it. Should you perish, who would gain fortune of your control?”

“Well, eventually it’d be Ryan’s.”

“That’s right. Your precious heir, a two-year-old who still shits his pants. I’m but an afterthought.”

Matthew rubbed his eyes. He didn’t want to hear this, couldn’t handle it. What did she even want from him?

“Why now?” he asked. “Why are you telling me this now?”

She slowly shook her head.

“Because you need me, Matthew, so you don’t make another blunder like you made with Moira…like you are about to make in two days when the delegation from the capital arrives.”

“So you know about that too,” he said. Considering all else she had said, he wasn’t surprised.

“Of course I do. As I said, I know everything you do. I know of the pact with the Conningtons, I know of the weapons you sent west. Did you think twenty tons of grain feeding our women would go unnoticed?”

He frowned. “No,” he made himself say.

Catherine stretched out beside him and took his hand. “I thought not.”

They remained that way for a short time, the room silent but for the crackle of the fire and their breathing. Matthew felt the full range of human emotions in those moments, not the least of which was awe. The docile Catherine he had known his whole life was a mirage. He didn’t really know her at all. That fact alone filled him with unease.

“Where do we go from here?” he whispered.

She turned to him, tracing her fingers along the small cut on his neck.

“We do as we have always done, with one small change,” she said. “You will continue to run your affairs while I care for our wonderful children. However, you will hide nothing from me, not even your whores. If there is a difficult decision you must make-such as executing two innocents-you will discuss it with me first. Perhaps if we make these decisions together, they will not weigh so heavily on your soul. I can share the burden. As for Moira, let me deal with her from now on.”