One night, some while after Morgaws' return, I saw him sitting at the board, cup at his elbow, watching the king and queen with their enchanting guest. Sliding onto the bench beside him, I said, 'Why the scowl, friend? I thought you would rejoice at the wanderer's return like everyone else.'
'I might,' he muttered darkly, 'if everyone else was not smitten blind with adoration. I find little enough to admire in that woman.'
'Morgaws?'
He regarded me with suspicion, and slowly turned his scowl back to the crowded hall. 'Morgaws,' he said, his voice so low I could hardly hear him.
'You do not like her much, I see.'
Peredur shrugged. 'I do not think of her one way or another.' Reaching for his cup, he drained it in a draught. 'Why should I?' he demanded. 'She is nothing to me. I wish I had never laid eyes on the slut.'
I wondered at this uncommon vehemence, but instead replied, 'I know what you mean, brother. I, too, feel uneasy about our mysterious guest.'
'You were the one who found her.' His tone suggested that every misfortune in the world flowed directly from my hand. 'You did not seem uneasy about her then.'
It was true, I suppose. When we first came upon her in the forest, I had felt nothing but sympathy for her plight. Peredur, as I recall, had been dismayed by her from the first moment he saw her.
'Well,' I allowed, 'it may be as you say. No doubt my view has been altered by our sojourn in Llyonesse. And I will tell you something else: we are not the only ones to harbour misgivings.'
Peredur merely grunted at this.
'Myrddin, too, withholds his blessing.'
'Then perhaps Myrddin Emrys is as wise as men say.' With that the young warrior threw aside his empty cup; it struck the board with a thump, whereupon he stood abruptly. 'You must forgive me, Lord Gwalchavad, I find myself out of temper tonight. I assure you I meant no offense. Please, take no notice.'
He left me then, and stalked away. I saw him disappear into the throng gathered at the hearth, and so I determined to see who else might be less than complete in enthusiasm for the honoured lady. After a time, I located the elusive Llenlleawg, who I expected would feel something akin to the distaste Peredur expressed. If anyone had reason to distrust Morgaws, Llenlleawg certainly did. Much to my amazement, however, I could not have been more wrong.
'She is a wonder, is she not?' he said as I came to stand beside him. There was no question about whom he meant: he stood staring at her from a distance across the hall, where she, all smiles and demure replies, conversed nicely with Arthur, Gwenhwyvar, and Elfodd, who had joined us from the nearby abbey.
'She is that, I suppose,' I answered, regarding him closely.
Ignoring my ambivalence, Llenlleawg continued. 'Truly, she is one of the Tuatha DeDannan.' Happy with his comparison, he said, 'Indeed, she is a very Sidhe. How her face shines beneath her flaming locks! And her eyes…' His voice drifted off in tones of such rapture I turned and looked my friend full in the face. Had I ever known him to speak so? No. Never.
'Can this be the same man,' I said, 'who suffered so much in her pursuit?'
'She had nothing to do with any of that,' he declared. 'Nothing at all.'
'Does that mean you have remembered something of your ordeal?'
'No,' he said flatly, 'I remember nothing about what happened. But she was not the cause of it – that much I know.'
'If you cannot remember, how can you be certain?'
The tall Irishman gave me a darkly disapproving look, and stalked away.
Unable to make sense of his reaction, I took my search elsewhere. At the entrance to the hall, I found Myrddin, standing alone, watching the regal diners at the board. Seeing where his attention lay, I put my head close to his and said, somewhat carelessly, 'Well, it seems Morgaws has won a place among us.'
'Oh, she is adept at insinuating herself into men's affections,' Myrddin replied, his mouth twisting wryly. 'Mark me, Gwalchavad, there is no end to the question of Morgaws. I look at her and see only questions begging answers. Why did she leave us only to return like this? Her fine clothes – where did she get them? She speaks with the easy loftiness of a noblewoman – but who is her family? Why does everyone forget themselves whenever she is near?'
'Llenlleawg has certainly forgotten himself,' I replied, intending to tell Myrddin of my conversation. 'Did you know that he -' I began, but the Wise Emrys was no longer listening. He had turned and was gazing at Morgaws. The frown had vanished in a look of rapture.
'Ah, but she is beautiful, there is no denying it,' he murmured. This simple remark filled me with greater anxiety than anything else he could have said. I stared at him, but, heedless of my presence, he moved away.
I slept ill that night, and the next morning rode early to the site of the new shrine, hoping to take my mind from the problem of Morgaws. Once at the site, I was amazed to see how much had been accomplished since Gall's arrival.
As it happened, the hill chosen for the shrine was a low, humpbacked mound within sight of both Avallach's Tor and the abbey, and roughly equal distance from each. Early as I was, as I came in sight of the place I could see the workers swarming over the hillside. Wagons trundled to and fro, some with stone for the shrine, some with stone for the path leading to the shrine; still others, having delivered their loads, were rumbling away for more.
I dismounted, tied my horse on the picket line, and walked to the base of the hill, stopping now and then to talk to some of the Cymbrogi who were helping construct the path of stone cobbles. They all worked with cheerful vigour beside the masons, their banter high-flown and easy; the Cymbrogi fetched the stones, which the masons selected with deft efficiency, tapping them into place with wooden mallets. I greeted those I knew, commended their zeal, and walked on, slowly mounting to the top of the hill, which had been levelled to provide a precise, and striking, site for the shrine.
Pits had been dug at the four corners and filled with rubble stone; then an extensive bed of small stones had been laid down on which the foundation would be placed – the first few stones had been placed the previous day. Now the labourers were busily erecting a rough timber support along the proposed line of the wall.
I found the affable Gall blissfully employed shouting commands to a group of Cymbrogi endeavouring to drag a wagonload of stone up the hill. 'Stop the wheels!' he was crying. 'Use the timber to stop the wheels!' Turning to me, he said, 'They fill them too full, you see. I tell them half loads are easier on the oxen. The shrine will not be raised in a day, I tell them, but they refuse to listen.' Then, regarding me more closely: 'Do I know you, lord?'
'I am Gwalchavad, and I am at your service,' I replied, warming to the man at once. Open-faced, his features glowing with health and good-natured exasperation, he looked out upon the world through a pair of mild brown eyes, the sun glinting off his rosy bald pate.
For a moment he stood blinking at me, sturdy arms folded, mouth puckered in thought. And then: 'Good lord! Gwalchavad, of course. Yes. One of the famed Dragon Flight. In the name of Christ, I give you good greeting.' He smiled, his agitation at the heedless volunteers already forgotten. 'My name is Gall. If it were not for the fact that the High King of Britain presses me daily to know when the work will be completed, I would invite you to break fast with me. But there is no rest for the wicked!'
Though his speech was couched in the form of a complaint, he seemed not to mind his hardship in the least. 'You have no end of helpers,' I observed.
He peered at me doubtfully. 'Have you come to help me, too?'
'Fear not,' I replied lightly, 'for unless you discover some task requiring my particular attention, I will happily stand aside and watch from afar.'
'Good man.'
The overloaded wagon crested the hill just then and the master mason bustled off to order the deposition of the stone. I walked around the site, looking out at the surrounding fields, blasted by heat and drought. How much longer could the land survive without good, ground-soaking rain? I could not h
elp thinking that, despite the late warmth, harvest time was soon upon us, and what a poor harvest it would be. At least the dry weather hastened the masons' work. But would the people hereabouts view the king's shrine in any kindly light when both grainstore and belly were empty?
Before I could wonder further, my meditations were arrested by a call from below. I turned and looked down the slope of the hill to see Cai trudging up to meet me. Upon exchanging greetings, he said, 'I have been looking for you, brother. This is the last place I expected to find you.'
'Yet find me you did.'
He nodded, glanced quickly around the hilltop at the work in progress, then said, 'Arthur has summoned the Dragon Flight to attend him in council.'
'This is sudden. Do you know why?' I asked, already starting down the hill to where the horses were waiting.
'As it happens,' said Cai, falling into step beside me, 'I believe he is going to tell us about his plans for guarding the shrine.' At my questioning glance, Cai continued, in tones suggesting he felt it beneath him to explain the obvious. 'Once the Holy Cup is established in the shrine, it must be guarded, you know. Who better than the Dragon Flight, the finest warriors in all Britain?'
'Who better indeed?' I replied. 'But where is the cup now?' 'Avallach has it, I expect. But soon it will belong to everyone.' 'Maybe Myrddin is right,' I countered, 'and we should leave it alone. It seems to me Avallach has kept it safe enough all these years.'
'Worrier!' Cai scoffed. 'What can possibly happen to the cup with us guarding it?'
SIXTEEN
It is one of mortal humans' more cunous traits, that the appearance of a thing is more greatly esteemed than its true character. This is invariable, I find. Perhaps it is that a phasing image evokes the beholder's best sympathies and the desire to be united to the thing admired; then again, fools that they are, perhaps they simply believe that nothing which attracts them could ever bring them harm.
They are woefully wrong in this, of course, as in so much else. Be that as it may, it is precisely this oddity which has served me so well. That Morgaws is beautiful, there is no doubt. I made her, flesh and blood, for just this purpose. Fairest of creatures, she is nevertheless my creature. I taught her everything she would need to know to accomplish my will and desire. I taught her everything, and taught her well. She is that empty vessel which can be made to contain whatever its owner requires.
Born of the union between my dutiful son, Lot, and me, Morgaws is truly bone of my bone and blood of my blood. From the moment she came into the world, I have moulded her to my will. Like all infants and children, she was born with a desire to please those in authority over her, those who controlled her food and shelter, warmth and security. With consummate skill, I manipulated her childish desires to serve my purpose, and she responded magnificently. Morgaws is my finest creation: revenge made flesh.
Together with the rest of the Cymbrogi, we hastened back to the Tor to prepare ourselves for the council to take place at midday. In the warriors' quarters, men rushed to and from the baths while others shaved and dressed in their finest clothes. Still others were busily burnishing their swords, spearheads, and shield bosses.
Thus inspired, I washed and shaved, too, and put on my better clothes, and by the time I had finished scouring my sword, the Cymbrogi were already gathering in the great hall. I found Rhys and Cador, and walked with them to join the rest. The tables and benches had been removed from the hall, and everyone was pressed tight at one end of the huge room.
We three pushed our way to the front of the assembly, as was our due – only to find that the Pendragon was already in attendance. He was sitting in Avallach's thronelike chair, facing the Dragon Flight, who formed a loose circle around him, beginning with Bedwyr at his right hand and continuing around to Llenlleawg at his left. Gwenhwyvar stood behind the throne, her hand resting on Arthur's right shoulder, and Myrddin beside her, tall and as silent as the oaken staff in his hand.
Cador, Rhys, and I quickly took our places at the bottom of the circle opposite the king, who acknowledged our arrival with a slow nod of approval. Seeing that all were assembled, he raised a hand to Myrddin, who then stepped forward to stand before the king. Taking his staff, he raised it high and brought it down sharply with a loud crack, and then twice more.
Planting the staff firmly, he made a circuit around it, passing once, twice, three times, gazing steadily into the face of each man as he passed. This done, he lifted the staff and held it lengthwise across his chest and, in a voice both solemn and profound, began to speak:
'Fortunate among men are you! I say again, fortunate are you, and all men alive to hear what passes in this hall. I tell you the truth: many generations of men before you have lived and died longing for this day.'
Myrddin paused, his golden eyes scanning the company before him. 'Heed the Head of Wisdom: this day, the sun has risen upon the Kingdom of Summer. Henceforth, and until the stars fall from the sky and the sea swallows our island, the kingdom now begun shall prevail. You, who stand before your king, bear witness: the Lord of Summer has taken his place upon the throne, and his reign is commenced.'
At these words, the assembled warriors gave out a tremendous cry – a joyous roar to alert all Ynys Prydain that a new kingdom had come into existence at the High King's command. It was some time before the Emrys could make himself heard. Finally, when the acclaim had abated somewhat, he continued.
'The praise of true men is a boon of great blessing, and the inauguration of the Summer Realm is right worthy of praise,' he said. 'Yet the Kingdom of Summer will not be honoured in word only, but in deed. For this reason, and for this purpose, the Fellowship of the Grail is begun.'
If the first proclamation brought forth cheers, this last brought a hush of anticipation as deafening in its way as the shouts of praise. I held my breath with all the others as the Pendragon rose from his chair and came to stand beside his Wise Emrys. Arthur, wearing his golden tore and serpent armband, Caledvwlch gleaming naked at his side, raised his hands in lordly laud of his decree.
'The Fellowship of the Grail,' Arthur said, his voice echoing the strangely stirring words, 'is the first expression of the Summer Realm. But what is it? Is it a brotherhood dedicated to the service of the Most Holy Grail? Yes, it is that, and it is more: it is an alliance of true and kindred spirits, kinsmen united not by blood, but by devotion to a common duty. That duty is to guard and protect the Grail and all those who will come as wayfarers and pilgrims to the shrine of the Blessed Cup.
'Hear me, Cymbrogi! It is a high and holy duty to which I have called you. For many years the Grail has been guarded in secret, hidden for its protection and watched over by its keeper, Lord Avallach. Soon, however, the Holy Cup will be unveiled for the blessing of Britain and her people. A secret no longer, it will be delivered into our keeping, and we will become its guardians and protectors. The skills we have learned in war, and honed in constant battle, those selfsame skills will be turned to the nurture of peace. Our swords will become the weapons of our Lord Christ on earth. No longer will our adversaries be mere flesh and blood, but the powers and rulers of darkness.
'The Fellowship of the Grail is begun in you, my loyal friends. You will be the first, and those who come after will follow the path you mark out with your steps. Therefore, I charge you, my Cymbrogi: walk worthy of your calling.'
So saying, he lowered his hands, turned, and seated himself once more. The Dragon Flight, inspired by high-sounding words and the prospect of glorious deeds, greeted the Pendragon's declaration with loud acclaim. They cheered and cried pledges of loyalty to the new Fellowship. When, after a time, the cheering began to die away, Cai shouted to be heard.
'Lord and Pendragon,' he said, his brash bawl of a voice loud above the clamour, 'I know full well that I am one with my swordbrothers in welcoming the inauguration of the Summer Realm, and like them I pledge sword and self to the cause you have just proclaimed. Your words are fine and high, as befitting the occasion, and I suppose
you are loath to demean the noble Fellowship with tiresome explanation. Yet, though I chance the scorn of those blessed with keener wits than mine' – Cai turned this way and that, as if to acknowledge those he held above him – 'even so, I deem it worth the risk to ask: how are we to accomplish the duty which you have laid upon us, and which we right readily accept?'
This brought good-natured laughter from all those looking on. Cai, ever practical, could not hear a cause proclaimed without knowing how it would be accomplished. Of course, once Cai had cracked the wall, the rest came pushing through the breach, all of them demanding of the king, in one way or another, what they were meant to do, and how they were meant to do it.
I could not help noticing that Myrddin made no move to aid the king, but stood leaning on his staff and observing the clamour with cool indifference, as if to say, Who would stir the hive must brave the buzzing.
Arthur merely smiled and stood, taking his place in the centre of the circle once more. 'Lord Cai, fearless friend, I bend the knee to your humble entreaty.' Turning to the assembly, Arthur declared, 'Your approval of the Fellowship is as gratifying as your zeal is heartening. If I have not revealed my thoughts fully, it is for this reason: the Fellowship of the Grail is to be a true union of hearts and minds, and this, I am persuaded, can only be brought about by the willing dedication of those so called, and not by kingly decree.
'Therefore, I would that you, my noble friends, select from among your own number those who will determine the ordering of the Fellowship on your behalf. Holding that in mind, I urge you to pray, seeking wisdom, and choose your leaders well – for the rule they proclaim will be the law from this day forth and forevermore.'
In this I thought I saw the hand of Bishop Elfodd, or at least the example of a monastic order as a guide for establishing the Grail Fellowship. Be that as it may, Arthur gave no instruction about how we were to go about our determinations, and seemed unwilling to say more. Indeed, having delivered himself of his address, he took his leave of us, bidding us to proceed with our deliberations and bring him word when we had chosen our leaders.
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