And indeed, after a little time, Balan and his foster-brother, Balin, Gawan's son, came into the room, stooping under the low ceiling.
"Mother," Balan said, and stooped to kiss Priscilla's hand, only then turning to Viviane to bow before her. "My lady."
Viviane reached out and touched her elder son's cheek. He was not as handsome as Lancelet, this one; he was a huge burly man, but his eyes were dark and fine like her own, or Lancelet's. Balin was smaller, a sturdy, grey-eyed man. He was, she knew, just ten days older than her own son. He looked as Priscilla had once looked, fair-haired and red-cheeked.
"My poor mother," he murmured, stroking Priscilla's hand, "but now the Lady Viviane has come to help you, then you will be well again very soon, will you not? But you are so thin, Mother, you must try to eat more and be strong and well again ... ."
"No," she whispered, "I shall never be strong more until I sup with Jesus in Heaven, dear son."
"Oh, no, Mother, you must not say so-" Balin cried, and Balan, meeting Viviane's eyes, sighed.
He said in so low a tone that neither Priscilla nor her son could hear, "He cannot see that she is dying, my lady-my mother. Always he insists that she can recover. I had truly hoped that she would go in the autumn, when we all took the fever, but she has always been so strong-" Balan shook his head, and his thick neck was flushed. Viviane saw that tears were standing in his eyes; he dashed them quickly away. And after a little, she said that they must all go out and let the sick woman rest again.
"Say farewell to your sons, Priscilla, and bless them," she said, and Priscilla's eyes brightened a little. "I would it should truly be farewell, before it grows worse-I would not have them see me as I was this morning," she murmured, and Viviane saw the terror in her eyes. She bent over Priscilla and said gently, "I think I can promise you no more pain, my dear, if that is how you wish it to end."
"Please," whispered the dying woman, and Viviane felt the clawlike hand tighten on hers in entreaty.
"I will leave you here with your sons, then," Viviane said gently, "for they are both your sons, my dear, even though you bore but one of them." She went out into the other room and found Gawan there.
"Bring me my saddlebags," she said; and when this had been done, she searched in a pocket for a moment. Then she turned to the man. "She is at ease for a moment now, but I can do little more, save to put an end to her suffering. I think this is what she wishes."
"There is no hope then-none at all?"
"No. There is nothing left for her but suffering, and I cannot think that your God wills it that she should suffer more."
Gawan said, shaken, "She has said often-that she wished she had had courage to throw herself into the river while she could still walk thither-"
"It is time, then, that she should go in peace," Viviane said quietly, "but I wanted you to know that whatever I do, it is by her own will-"
"Lady," Gawan replied, "I have trusted you always, and my wife loves you well and trusts you. I ask no more. If her sufferings end here, I know she will bless you." But his face was drawn with grief. He followed Viviane into the inner room again. Priscilla had been speaking quietly to Balin; now she released his hand, and he went, weeping, to his father. She held out her thin hand to Balan and said in her shaking voice, "You too have been a good son to me, my lad. Always look after your foster-brother, and I beg you to pray for my soul."
"I will, my mother," said Balan, and bent to embrace her, but she gave a. little trembling cry of pain and fear as he moved toward her, and so he only picked up her withered hand and pressed his fingers to it.
"Now I have your medicine for you, Priscilla," said Viviane. "Say good night, and sleep ... ."
"I am so weary," the dying woman whispered, "I shall be glad to sleep ... bless you, Lady, and your Goddess too ... ."
"In her name, who gives mercy," Viviane murmured, and held Pris-cilla's head up so that she could swallow.
"I am afraid to drink-it is bitter, and whenever I swallow anything there is pain-" Priscilla whispered.
"I swear to you, my sister, that when you have drunk this, there will be no more pain at all," Viviane said steadily, and tipped the cup. Priscilla swallowed and raised her weak hand to touch Viviane's face.
"Kiss me in farewell, too, Lady," she said, with that ghastly smile again, and Viviane pressed her lips to the skull-like brow.
I have brought life and now I come as the Death-crone ... . Mother, I do for her only what I would that one might do for me one day, Viviane thought, and shivered again, raising her eyes to meet Balin's frowning gaze.
"Come," she said quietly, "let her rest."
They went out into the other room. Gawan remained behind, his hand in his wife's; it was only fitting, Viviane thought, that he should remain with her.
The serving-women had set the evening meal and Viviane went to her place and ate and drank, for she was weary after the long ride.
"Have you ridden from Arthur's court at Caerleon all in this day, my boys?" she asked, then smiled-these "boys" were men!
"Aye, from Caerleon-" Balan said, "and a wretched ride it was, in cold and rain!" He helped himself to salt fish and spread butter on his bread, then handed the wooden dish to Balin. "You are eating nothing, my brother."
Balin shuddered. "I have not the heart to eat when our mother lies like that. But God be thanked now you have come, Lady, she will soon be all well again, will she not? Your medicines did her so much good last time, it was like a miracle, and now again she will be better, will she not?"
Viviane stared at him-was it possible that he did not understand? She said quietly, "The best end of all is that she might go to join her God in the hereafter, Balin."
He looked up at her, his ruddy face stricken. "No! She must not die," he cried. "Lady, tell me that you will help her, that you will not let her die-"
Viviane said severely, "I am not your God, and life and death are not in my keeping, Balin. Would you have her linger in such misery for much longer?"
"But you are skilled in all manner of magic lore," Balin protested angrily. "Why came you here, if not to cure her again? I heard you say but now, that you could put an end to her pain-"
"There is only one cure for such an illness as has taken your mother," Viviane said, laying a compassionate hand on Balm's shoulder, "and that is merciful."
"Balin, have done," Balan said, going to put his big callused hand on his foster-brother's. "Would you truly have her suffer more?"
But Balin jerked up his head and glared at Viviane. "So you used your sorcery tricks to cure her when it was honor to your evil fiend-Goddess," he shouted, "and now when you can get no more good of it you will let her die-"
"Be still, man," Balan said, and now his voice was rough and strained. "Marked you not-our mother blessed and kissed her farewell, it was what she wished for-"
But Balin was staring at Viviane, and then he raised his hand as if to strike her. "Judas!" he shouted. "You too betrayed with a kiss-" And he whirled and ran toward the inner room. "What have you done? Murderess! Foul murderess! Father! Father, here's murder and evil sorcery-!"
Gawan, white-faced, appeared in the chamber door, anxiously gesturing for silence, but Balin shoved him aside and burst into the room. Viviane followed, and she saw that Gawan had closed the dead woman's eyes.
Balin saw also, and he turned on her, shouting incoherently, "Murder! Treachery, sorcery-! Foul, murdering witch-!"
Gawan wrapped restraining arms around his son. "You will not speak so over your mother's very body to one she trusted and loved!"
But Balin raved and shouted, straining to come at Viviane. She tried to speak, to quiet him, but he would not hear. At last she went out into the kitchen and sat by the fire.
Balan came and took her hand and said, "I'm sorry he is receiving it in this way, my lady. He knows better, and when the shock is past he'll be grateful to you as I am-poor little mother, she suffered so, and now 'tis ended, and I bless you too." He lowered his head,
trying not to sob aloud. "She was-was like mother to me too-"
"I know, my son, I know," Viviane murmured, patting his head as if he were the clumsy little boy he had been more than twenty years ago. "It's only right you should weep for your foster-mother, you would be heartless if you did not-" and he broke down and sobbed, kneeling at her side, his face buried in her lap.
Balin came and stood over them, his face drawn with fury. "You know she killed our mother, Balan, and yet you come to her for comfort?"
Balan raised his head, snuffling back sobs. "She did our mother's will. Are you such a fool you could not see-even with God's help our mother could not have lived another fortnight, do you grudge her that last pain she was spared?"
But Balin only cried desolately, "My mother, my mother is dead!"
"Be still, she was my foster-mother, my mother too," said Balan angrily, and then his face softened. "Ah, brother, brother, I grieve too, why should we quarrel? Come now, drink some wine, her suffering is ended and she is with God-better we should pray for her than be all at odds this way. Come, brother, come and eat and rest, you are weary too."
"No," cried Balin, "I will not rest under the roof that shelters the foul sorceress who slew my mother!"
Gawan came, pale and angry, and struck Balin across the mouth. He said, "Peace! The Lady of Avalon is our guest and our friend! You shall not sully the hospitality of this roof with such blasphemous words! Sit down, my son, and eat, or you will speak words we shall all regret!"
But Balin stared about him like a wild animal. "I will neither eat nor rest under this roof while it holds that-that woman."
Balan demanded, "Dare you offer insult to my mother?" And Balin cried, "You are all against me, then-I shall go forth from this roof which shelters my mother's slayer!" He turned his back and ran from the house. Viviane sank down in a chair, and Balan came to offer his arm and Gawan to pour her a cup of wine.
"Drink, Lady-and accept my apologies for my son," he said. "He is beside himself; he will come soon enough to sanity."
"Shall I go after him, Father, for fear he should do himself some hurt?" Balan asked, but Gawan shook his head.
"No-no, son, stay here with your mother. Words will do him little good now."
Trembling, Viviane sipped at her wine. She, too, was overcome with sorrow for Priscilla, and for the time when they had been young women together, each with her baby son in her arms.... Priscilla had been so pretty and merry, they had laughed together and played with their babies, and now Priscilla lay dead after a wasting illness, and Viviane's own hand had held the cup of her death. That she had done Priscilla's own will only eased her conscience, it did not blunt her sadness.
We were young together, and now she lies dead and I am old, old as the Death-crone's very self; and those pretty babies who played about our feet, one has grey in his own hair, and the other would kill me if he could, as afoul sorceress and murderer. ... It seemed to Viviane that her very bones rattled with an icy grief. She stood near to the fire, but still she shivered and could not get warm. She clutched her shawl about her, and Balan came and led her to the best seat, tucked a cushion behind her back, set a cup of heated wine in her hands.
"Ah, you loved her too," he said. "Don't trouble yourself about Balin, Lady, he will regain his reason in time. When he can think clear again, he'll know that what you did was great mercy to our mother-" He broke off, slow red creeping up his heavy jowls. "Are you angry with me, Lady, that still I think of my mother as she who died but now?"
"It is no more than reason," said Viviane, sipping at the hot wine, and caressing her son's hardened hand. Once, she thought, it had been so little and tender that she could enfold it within her own, like a curled rosebud, and now her own hand was quite lost within his. "The Goddess knows, she was more mother to you than ever I was."
"Aye, I should have known that you would understand that," said Balan. "Morgaine said as much to me when I saw her last at Arthur's court."
"Morgaine? Is she at Arthur's court now, my son? Was she there when you came away?"
Balan shook his head regretfully. "No, I saw her last-it was years gone, Lady. She left Arthur's court, let me think ... it was before Arthur had his great wound ... why, 'tis three years come Midsummer. I thought she was with you in Avalon."
Viviane shook her head and steadied herself against the arm of the high seat. "I have not seen Morgaine since Arthur's wedding." And then she thought, perhaps she is gone over the seas. She asked Balan, "What of your brother Lancelet? Is he at court or has he gone back to Less Britain?"
"He will not do that, I think, while Arthur lives," Balan said, "though he is not often at court now ..." and Viviane, with a fragment of the Sight, heard the unspoken words Balan bit back, unwilling to speak gossip or scandal: When Lancelet is at court, men mark how he never takes his eyes from Queen Gwenhwyfar, and twice he has refused Arthur when Arthur would have had him wedded. Balan went on hastily, "Lancelet has said he will set all things in order in Arthur's kingdom, and so he is always out and about the lands, he has killed more marauding brigands and raiding bands than any other of Arthur's Companions. They say of him that he is an entire legion in himself, Lady-" and Balan raised his head and looked ruefully at Viviane. "Your younger son, Mother, is a great knight, such a knight as that old Alexander of the legends. There are those who say, even, that he is a better knight than Arthur's self. I have brought no such glory on you, my lady."
"We all do such things as the Gods give us to do, my son," Viviane said gently. "I am only glad to see that you do not bear malice toward your brother for that he is a better knight than you."
Balan shook his head. "Why, that would be like bearing malice toward Arthur that I am not the King, Mother," he said. "And Lancelet is modest and good to all men, and pious as a maiden too-knew you not that he had become a Christian, Lady?"
Viviane shook her head. "It surprises me not," she said, with a trace of scorn she did not know would be in her voice until she had spoken. "Always your brother fears those things he cannot understand, and the faith of Christ is a fitting faith for slaves who think themselves sinners and humble-" Then she stopped herself and said, "I am sorry, my son. I meant not to belittle. I know it is your faith too."
Balan blinked and smiled. "Now has a miracle come to pass, madam, that you ask pardon of any for any word you ever spoke!"
Viviane bit her lip. "Is that truly how you see me, my son?"
He nodded. "Aye, ever you have seemed to me the proudest of women-and it seemed to me right that you should be exactly as you are," he said. And Viviane mocked herself that she had come to this, seeking a word of approval from her son! She cast about to find something new to speak of.
"You told me Lancelet has twice refused to marry? For what, do you think, is he waiting? Does he want more of a dowry than any maiden can bring him?"
Again it seemed that she heard Balan's unspoken thoughts: He cannot have the one he would have, for she is wedded to his king ... but her son said only, "He says he has no mind to marry any woman, and jests that he is fonder of his horse than he could be of any woman who could not ride with him into battle-he says in jest that one day he will take one of the Saxon shield maidens to wife. None can match him at arms, either, nor in the games Arthur holds at Caerleon. Sometimes he will take some handicap, ride without a shield, or change horses with another, so he will not have too much of the advantage. Balin challenged him once and won a course against him, but he refused a prize for it, because he found out it was because Lancelet's saddle girths broke."
"So Balin too is a courteous and good knight?" Viviane said.
"Oh, yes, Mother, you must not judge my brother by tonight," Balan said eagerly. "When he rode against Lancelet, truly I knew not which of them to cheer on. Lancelet offered him the prize, saying he had won it fairly, since he should not have lost control of his horse-so he said! But Balin would not take it, and they stood disputing with one another in courtesy like two heroes from the ancient saga
s Taliesin used to tell us when we were lads!"
"So you can be proud of both your brothers," Viviane said, and the talk passed to other things, and after a little time she said she should go and help with the laying-out. But when she went into the chamber, she saw that the women were all in awe of her, and a priest had come, too, from the village. He welcomed her courteously indeed, but Viviane could tell by his words that he thought her one of the sisters from the nunnery nearby- indeed, her dark travel dress made her look so, and she had no wish to confront him this night. So, when they entreated her to go to the best guest bed, she went, and at last she slept. But all that she had spoken of with Balan seemed to come and go in her head, through her dreams, and at one moment it seemed that she saw Morgaine through grey and thinning mists, running away into a wood of strange trees and crowned with flowers such as never grew in Avalon, and she said in her dreams, and again to herself when she woke, I must delay no longer, I must seek for her with the Sight, or what remains to me of the Sight.
The next morning she stood by while Priscilla was laid in earth. Balin had returned and stood weeping by the graveside, and after the burial was done and the other folk had gone into the house to drink ale, she approached him and said gently, "Will you not embrace me and exchange forgiveness with me, foster-son? Believe me, I share your grief. We have been friends all our lives, Dame Priscilla and I, or would I have given her my own son to nurse? And I am your foster-brother's mother." She held out her arms, but Balin's face drew hard and cold, and he turned his back on her and walked away.
Gawan besought her to stay for a day or two and rest there, but Viviane asked for her donkey to be brought; she must return to Avalon, she said, and she saw that Gawan, though his hospitality had been sincere, was relieved-if someone had told the priest who she was, there might have been awkwardness he had no mind to, during his wife's funeral feast. Balan, too, asked, "Will you have me to ride with you to Avalon, madam? There are sometimes brigands and evil folk on the road."
The Mists of Avalon Page 49