The Mists of Avalon

by Marion Marion Bradley

  "What is wrong?"

  Morgaine lowered her head and muttered, "I cannot eat-the meat of deer-I ate it at Beltane when-and now the very smell sickens me-" And this child was gotten at Beltane at the ritual fires. What is it that troubles her so? That memory should be a pleasant one, Morgause thought, smiling at the memory of the Beltane license. She wondered if the girl had fallen into the hands of some particularly brutish man and had undergone something like rape-that would account for her rage and despair at this pregnancy. Still, done was done, and Morgaine was old enough to know that not all men were brutes, even if she had once fallen into the hands of one who was neither gentle nor skilled with women.

  Morgause took a slice of oatcake and sopped it in the meat juice in the dish. "Eat this, then-you will get the good of the meat so," she said, "and I have made you some tea with the hips of roses; it is sour and will taste good to you. I remember how I craved sour things when I was breeding."

  Morgaine ate obediently, and it seemed to Morgause that a little color came into her face. She made a face at the sourness of the drink, but drank it down thirstily nonetheless. "I do not like it," she said, "but how strange, I cannot stop drinking it."

  "Your child craves it," said Morgause seriously. "Babes in the womb know what is good for them, and they demand it of us."

  Lot, sitting at his ease between two of his huntsmen, smiled amiably at his sister-in-law. "An old skinny animal, but a good dinner for late winter," he said, "and I'm just as glad we didn't get a breeding doe. We saw two or three of them, but I told my men to let them be, and even called off the dogs-I want the deer to drop their fawns in peace, and I could see that time is near, so many of them were heavy." He yawned, taking up small Gareth, whose face was greasy and shining with the meat. "Soon you'll be big enough to go hunting with us," he said. "You and the little Duke of Cornwall, no doubt."

  "Who is the Duke of Cornwall, Father?" Gareth asked.

  "Why, the babe Morgaine carries," Lot replied, smiling, and Gareth stared at Morgaine. "I don t see any baby. Where is your baby, Morgaine?"

  Morgaine chuckled uneasily. "Next month at this time I shall show him to you."

  "Will the spring maiden bring it to you?"

  "You could say so," Morgaine said, smiling despite herself.

  "How can a baby be a duke?"

  "My father was Duke of Cornwall. I am his only child in marriage. When Arthur came to reign, he gave Tintagel back to Igraine; it will pass from her to me and to my sons, if I have any."

  Morgause, looking at the young woman, thought: Her son stands nearer the throne than my own Gawaine. I am full sister to Igraine, and Viviane but her half-sister, so Gawaine is nearer kin than Lancelet. But Morgaine's son will be Arthur's nephew. I wonder if Morgaine has thought of that?

  "Certainly, then, Morgaine, your son is Duke of Cornwall-"

  "Or Duchess," said Morgaine, smiling again.

  "No, I can tell by the way you carry, low and broad, that it will be a son," said Morgause. "I have borne four, and I have watched my women through pregnancies ... ." She grinned maliciously at Lot and said, "My husband takes very seriously that old writing which says that a king should be father to his people!"

  Lot said good-naturedly, "I think it only right for my true-born sons' by my queen to have many foster-brothers; bare is back, they say, without brother, and my sons are many ... . Come, kinswoman, will you take the harp and sing for us?"

  Morgaine pushed aside the remnant of gravy-soaked oatcake. "I haves,' eaten too much for singing," she said, frowning, and began to pace the hall again, and Morgause again saw her hands pressed to her back. Gareth came; and tugged at her skirt.

  "Sing to me. Sing me that song about the dragon, Morgaine."

  "It is too long for tonight-you must be away to your bed," she said, but she went to the corner, took up the small harp that stood there, and sat on a bench. She plucked a few notes at random, bent to adjust one of the' strings, then broke into a rowdy drinking song of the armies.

  Lot joined in the chorus, as did his men, their raucous voices ringing up to the smoky beams:

  "The Saxons came in dark of night,

  With all the folk asleep,

  They killed off all the women, for-

  They'd rather rape the sheep!"

  "You never learned that song in Avalon, kinswoman," Lot said, grinning, as Morgaine rose to replace the harp.

  "Sing again," Gareth teased, but she shook her head.

  "I am too short of breath now for singing," she said. She put the harp down and took up her spindle, but after a moment or two put it aside and-j once more began pacing the hall.

  "What ails you, girl?" Lot asked. "You're restless as a caged bear!"

  "My back aches with sitting," she said, "and that meat my aunt would have me eat has given me a bellyache after all." She held her hands again to her back and bent over suddenly as if with a cramp; then, suddenly, she gave a startled cry, and Morgause, watching, saw the too-long kirtle turn dark and wet, soaking her to the knees.

  "Oh, Morgaine, you've wet yourself," Gareth cried out. "You're too big to wet your clothes-my nurse would beat me for that!"

  "Hush, Gareth!" Morgause said sharply, and hurried to Morgaine, who stood bent over, her face crimson with astonishment and shame.

  "It's all right, Morgaine," she said, taking her by the arm. "Does it hurt you here-and here? I thought as much. You are in labor, that is all, didn't you know?" But how should the girl know? It was her first, and she was never one for listening to women's gossip, so she would not know the signs. For much of this day she must have been feeling the first pains. She called Beth and said, "Take the Duchess of Cornwall to the women's hall and call Megan and Branwen. And take down her hair; she must have nothing knotted or bound about her or her clothing." She added, stroking Morgaine's hair, "I would that I had known this sooner this day when I braided your hair-I will come down soon and stay with you, Morgaine."

  She watched the girl go out, leaning heavily on the nurse's arm. She said to Lot, "I must go and stay with her. It is her first time, and she will be frightened, poor girl."

  "There's no hurry," Lot said idly. "If it's her first, she'll be in labor all this night, and you'll have time to hold her hand." He gave his wife a good-natured smile. "You are quick to bring our Gawaine's rival into the world!"

  "What do you mean?" she asked, low.

  "Only this-that Arthur and Morgaine were born of one womb, and her son stands nearer the throne than ours."

  "Arthur is young," Morgause said coldly, "and has time enough to father a dozen sons. Why should you think he has need of an heir?"

  Lot shrugged. "Fate is fickle," he said. "Arthur bears a charmed life in battle-and I doubt not that the Lady of the Lake had something to do with that, damn her-and Gawaine is all too loyal to his king. But fate may turn away from Arthur, and if that day should come, I would like to know that Gawaine stood closest to the throne. Think well, Morgause; the life of an infant is uncertain. You might do well to beseech your Goddess that the little Duke of Cornwall should not draw a second breath."

  "How could I do that to Morgaine? She is like my own daughter!"

  Lot chucked his wife affectionately under the chin. He said, "You are a loving mother, Morgause, and I wouldn't have you otherwise. But I doubt if Morgaine is so eager to have a child in her arms. I have heard her say that she wished she had cast forth her child-"

  "She was ill and weary," said Morgause angrily. "Do you think I did not say as much, when I was weary of dragging around a great belly? Any woman says such things in the last few moons of her pregnancy."

  "Still, if Morgaine's child should be born without breath, I do not think she would grieve overmuch. Nor-this is what I am saying-should you."

  Morgause defended her kinswoman: "She is good to our Gareth, has made him toys and playthings and told him tales. I am sure she will be just as good a mother to her own."

  "Yet, it is not to our interest or our son's tha
t Morgaine should think of her son as Arthur's heir." He put his arm around his wife, "Look sweeting, you and I have four sons, and no doubt when they're all grown they'll be at one another's throats-Lothian is not so big a kingdom as all that! But if Gawaine were High King, then there would be kingdom enough for them all."

  She nodded slowly. Lot had no love for Arthur, as he had had none for Uther; but she had not thought him quite so ruthless as this. "Are you asking me to kill her child as it comes forth?"

  "She is our kinswoman and my guest," Lot said, "and thus sacred, I would not invoke the curse of a kinslayer. I said only-the lives of newborn babes are frail, unless they are very carefully tended, and if Morgaine has a difficult time of it, it might be well that none has leisure to tend the babe."

  Morgause set her teeth and turned away from Lot. "I must go my to kinswoman."

  Behind her Lot smiled. "Think well on what I have said, my wife."

  Down in the little hall, a fire had been lighted for the women; a kettle of gruel was boiling on the hearth, for it would be a long night. Fresh straw had been spread. Morgause had forgotten, as women happy with their children do, the dread of birth, but the sight of the fresh straw made her teeth clench and a shudder go down her back. Morgaine had been put into a loose shift, and her hair, unbound, was hanging loose down her back; she was walking up and down in the room, leaning on Megan's arm. It all had the air of a festival, and so indeed it was for the other women. Morgause went up to her kinswoman and took her arm.

  "Come now, you can walk with me a bit, and Megan can go and prepare the swaddlings for your child," she said. Morgaine looked at her and Morgause thought the younger woman's eyes were like those of a wild animal in a snare, awaiting the hunter's hand which will cut its throat.

  "Will it be long, Aunt?"

  "Now, now, you must not think ahead," said Morgause tenderly "Think, if you must, that you have been in labor most of this day, so it will go all the faster now." But to herself she thought, It will not be easy for her, she is so small, and she is reluctant to bear this child; no doubt there is a long hard night ahead of her ... .

  And then she remembered that Morgaine had the Sight, and that it was useless to lie to her. She patted Morgaine's pale cheek. "No matter, child, we will take good care of you. It is always long with a first child-they are loath to leave their snug nest-but we will do all we can. Did anyone bring a cat into the room?"

  "A cat? Yes, she is there, but why, Aunt?" Morgaine asked.

  "Because, little one, if you have seen a cat kittening, you know that the cat bears her children purring, not crying out in pain, and so perhaps her pleasure in bearing will help you to feel the pains less," Morgause said, stroking the small furry creature. "It is a form of birth magic that perhaps you do not know in Avalon. Yes, you may sit down now, and rest for a little, and hold the cat in your lap." She watched Morgaine stroking the cat in a moment of respite, but then she doubled over again with the sharp cramps, and Morgause urged her to get up again and keep walking. "As long as you can bear it-it goes quicker so," she said.

  "I am so tired, so tired ... " Morgaine said, moaning a little.

  You will be more tired before this is over, Morgause thought, but she only came and put her arms around the younger woman. "Here. Lean on me, child ... ."

  "You are so like my mother ..." Morgaine said, clinging to Morgause, her face contorted as if she were about to cry. "I wish my mother were here ... " and then she bit her lip as if she regretted her moment of weakness, and began slowly walking, walking up and down the crowded room.

  The hours dragged slowly by. Some of the women slept, but there were plenty to take their turn in walking with Morgaine, who grew more and more frightened and pale as time wore on. The sun rose, and still the midwives had not said Morgaine might lie down in the straw, though she was so weary that she stumbled and could hardly put one foot before another. One moment she said she was cold and clutched her warm fur cloak about her; another time she thrust it from her, saying that she was burning up. Again and again she retched and vomited, at last bringing up nothing but green bile; but she could not seem to stop retching, though they forced her to drink hot herb drinks, which she gulped down thirstily. But then she would begin retching again, and Morgause, watching her, her mind full of what Lot had said, wondered if it would make any difference what she did or did not do ... it might well be that Morgaine could not survive this birth.

  At last she could walk no more, and they let her lie down, gasping and biting her lips against the recurrent pains; Morgause knelt beside her, holding her hand as the hours wore on. A long time past noon, Morgause asked her quietly, "Was he-the child's father-much bigger than you? Sometimes when a baby takes so long to be born, it means the child takes after his father and is too big for the mother."

  She wondered, as she had wondered before, who was this child's father? She had seen Morgaine looking on Lancelet at Arthur's crowning; if Morgaine had gotten herself with child by Lancelet, that might well explain why Viviane had been so angered that poor Morgaine had had to flee from Avalon.... In all of these months, Morgaine had said nothing of her reasons for leaving the temple, and of her child, no more than that it was gotten at Beltane fires. Viviane was so tender of Morgaine, she would not have allowed her to bear a child to just anyone ... .

  But if Morgaine, rebelling against her chosen destiny, had taken Lancelet for lover, or had seduced him into the Beltane grove, then it might explain why Viviane's chosen priestess, her successor as Lady of the Lake, fled from Avalon.

  But Morgaine said only, "I did not see his face; he came to me as the Horned One," and Morgause knew, with her own faint trace of the Sight, that the younger woman was lying. Why?

  THE HOURS DRAGGED BY. Once Morgause went into the main hall, where Lot's men were playing at knucklebones. Lot sat watching, one of Morgause's younger waiting-women on his lap and his hand playing casually with her breasts; as Morgause came in, the woman looked up apprehensively and started to slide from his knees, but Morgause shrugged. "Stay where you are; we have no need of you among the midwives, and tonight at least I shall be with my kinswoman and have no leisure to argue with you over a place in his bed. Tomorrow it might be another matter." The young woman bent her head, blushing. Lot said, "How goes it with Morgaine, sweeting?"

  "Not well," Morgause said. "It was never so hard for me." Then she cried out in a rage, "Did you ill-wish my kinswoman that she might never rise from childbed?"

  Lot shook his head. "You have the charms and magic in this kingdom, lady. I wish Morgaine no ill. God knows, that would be grievous waste of a pretty woman-and Morgaine's handsome enough, for all her sharp tongue! Though that she comes by honest enough from your side of the family, does she not, sweeting, and it adds salt to the dish ... ."

  Morgause smiled affectionately at her husband. Whatever pretty toys he might choose for his bed-and the girl on his lap was just one more of them-she knew that she suited him well.

  "Where is Morgaine, Mother?" Gareth asked. "She said that today she would carve me another knight to play with!"

  "She is sick, little son." Morgause drew a long breath, the weight of anxiety settling over her again.

  "She will be well soon," Lot said, "and then you will have a little cousin to play with. He shall be your foster-brother and your friend-we have a saying that kin ties last for three generations and foster ties for seven, and since Morgaine's son will be both to you, he will be more than your own brother."

  "I will be glad to have a friend," said Gareth. "Agravaine mocks me and calls me a silly baby, saying I am too old for wooden knights!"

  "Well, Morgaine's son will be your friend, when he is grown a bit," said Morgause. "At first he will be like a puppy with his eyes not open, but in a year or two he will be old enough to play with you. But the Goddess hears the prayers of little children, son, so you must pray to the Goddess that she will hear you and bring Morgaine a strong son and health, and not come to her as the Death-crone-" and su
ddenly she began to cry. With astonishment, Gareth watched his mother weep, and Lot said, "As bad as that, sweetheart?"

  Morgause nodded. But there was no need to frighten the child. She wiped her eyes with her kirtle.

  Gareth looked upward and said, "Please, dear Goddess, bring my cousin Morgaine a strong son, so we can grow up and be knights together."

  Against her will, Morgause laughed and stroked the chubby cheek. "Such a prayer I am sure the Goddess will hear. Now I must go back to Morgaine."

  But she felt Lot's eyes on her as she left the hall, and remembered what he had said to her earlier-that it might be better for them all if Morgaine's son did not survive.

  I shall be content if Morgaine comes alive through this, she thought, and almost for the first time, she regretted that she had learned so little of the great magics of Avalon, now, when she needed some charm or spell that could ease this struggle for Morgaine. It had gone so hard, so frightfully hard with the girl, her own childbed had been nothing to this ... .

  She came back into the women's hall. The midwives had Morgaine kneeling upright in the straw now, to help the child slip from the womb; but she was slumping between them like a lifeless thing, so that two of them had to hold her upright. She was crying out now in gasps, then biting her lip against the cries, trying to be brave. Morgause went and knelt before Morgaine in the blood-flecked straw; she held out her hands, and Morgaine gripped them, looking at Morgause almost without recognition.

  "Mother!" she cried out. "Mother, I knew you would come-"

  Then her face convulsed again and she flung back her head, her mouth squared with unvoiced screams. Megan said, "Hold her, my lady-no, behind her like that, hold her upright-" and Morgause, gripping Morgaine beneath the arms, felt the girl shaking, retching, sobbing as she fought and struggled, blindly, to get away from them. She was no longer capable of; helping them or even letting them do what they must, but screamed aloud when they touched her. Morgause shut her eyes, unwilling to see, holding Morgaine's frail convulsing body with all her strength. She screamed again, "Mother! Mother!" but Morgaine did not know whether she was calling '1 on Igraine or on the Goddess. Then she slumped backward into Morgaine's arms, all but unconscious; there was the sharp smell of blood in the room, and Megan held up something dark and shrivelled-looking.