Her eyes burned with sleeplessness and tears. The lowering sky echoed her vague dread; heavy, as if at any moment rain would fall on them. Here within convent walls she was safe, but soon she must leave the safety of this place and ride for days over the high moors with the brooding menace of that open sky everywhere, hanging over her and over her child ... . Gwenhwyfar, shivering, clasped her hands across her belly, as if in a futile wish to protect the dweller there from the menace of that sky.
Why am I always so frightened? Igraine was a pagan and lost to the tricks of the Devil, but I am safe, I call upon Christ to save me. What is there under God's Heaven to be afraid of? Yet she was afraid, with the same reasonless fear that seized on her so often. I must not fear. I am High Queen of all Britain; the only other to bear that title sleeps here beneath the earth ... High Queen, and bearing the son of Arthur. Why should I be afraid of anything in God's world?
The nuns finished their hymn, turning from the grave. Gwenhwyfar shivered again, clutching her cloak. Now she must take very good care of herself, eat well, rest much, make certain that nothing went amiss as it had done before. Secretly she counted on her fingers. If it had been that last time before she left... but no, her courses had not come upon her for more than ten Sundays, she simply was not certain. Still, it was sure that her son would be born sometime about Eastertide. Yes, that was a good time; she remembered when her lady Meleas had born her son, it had been the darkest of winter, and the wind had howled outside like all the fiends waiting to snatch the soul of the newborn child, so nothing would suit Meleas but that the priest must come down to the women's hall and baptize her babe almost before it cried. No, Gwenhwyfar was just as well pleased that she would not lie in at the darkest days of winter. Yet to have the longed-for child, she would be content to bear it even at Midwinter-night itself!
A bell tolled, and then the abbess came to Gwenhwyfar. She did not bow-temporal power, she had once said, was nothing here-but Gwenhwyfar was, after all, the High Queen, so she inclined her head with great courtesy and said, "Will you be staying on with us here, my lady? We would be deeply honored to keep you as long as you wish."
Oh, if only I could stay! It is so peaceful here.... Gwenhwyfar said, with visible regret, "I cannot. I must return to Caerleon."
She could not delay telling Arthur her good news, the news of his son ... .
"The High King must hear of-of his mother's death," she said. Then, knowing what the woman wanted to hear, she added quickly, "Be sure I will tell him how kindly you treated her. She had everything she could wish for in the last days of her life."
"It was our pleasure; we all loved the lady Igraine," said the old nun. "Your escort shall be told, and be ready to ride with you early in the morning, God willing and send good weather."
"Tomorrow? Why not today?" Gwenhwyfar asked, then stopped- no, that would be insulting haste indeed. She had not realized she was so eager to tell her news to Arthur, to end for all time the silent reproach that she was barren. She laid her hand on the abbess' arm. "You must pray for me much now, and for the safe birth of the High King's son."
"Is it so, lady?" The abbess' lined face wrinkled up in pleasure at being the confidante of the Queen. "Indeed we shall pray for you. It will give all the sisters pleasure to think we are the first to say prayers for our new prince."
"I shall make gifts to your convent-"
"God's gifts and prayers may not be bought for gold," the abbess said primly, but she looked pleased nevertheless.
In the room near Igraine's chamber, where she had slept these last nights, her serving-woman was moving about, putting garments and gear into saddlebags. As Gwenhwyfar entered, she looked up and grumbled, "It suits not well with the dignity of the High Queen, madam, to travel with only one servant! Why, any knight's wife would have as much! You should get you another from one of the houses here, and a lady to travel with you as well!"
"Get one of the lay sisters to help you, then," said Gwenhwyfar. "But we shall travel all the more quickly if we are but few."
"I heard in the courtyard that there were Saxons landing on the Southern Shores," the woman grumbled. "It soon will not be safe to ride anywhere in this country!"
"Don't be foolish," Gwenhwyfar said. "The Saxons on the Southern Shores are bound fast by treaty to keep peace with the High King's lands. They know what Arthur's legion can do, they found it out at Celidon Wood. Do you think they want more work for ravens? In any case we will soon be back at Caerleon, and at the end of summer, we shall move the court to Camelot in the Summer Country-the Romans defended that fort against all the barbarians. It has never been taken. Even now Sir Cai is there, building a great hall fit for Arthur's Round Table, so that all the Companions and kings may sit at meat together."
As she had hoped, the woman was diverted. "That is near your own old home, is it not, lady?"
"Yes. From the heights of Camelot, one may look a bowshot across the water and see my father's island kingdom. Indeed, I went there in childhood once," she said, remembering how, when she was a little girl, even before she went to school with the nuns on Ynis Witrin, she had been taken up to the ruins of the old Roman fort. There had been little there then, except for the old wall, and the priest had not stinted to make this a lesson on how human glories faded away ... .
She dreamed that night that she stood high on Camelot; but the mists drew in around the shore, so that the island seemed to swim in a sea of cloud. Across from them, she could see the high Tor of Ynis Witrin, crowned with ring stones; although she knew well that the ring stones had been thrown down by the priests a hundred years ago. And by some trick of the Sight it seemed that Morgaine stood on the Tor and laughed at her and mocked her, and she was crowned with a wreath of bare wicker-withes. And then Morgaine was standing beside her on Camelot and they looked out over all the Summer Country as far as the Isle of the Priests, looking down over her own old home where her father Leodegranz was king, and over Dragon Island shrouded in mist. But Morgaine was wearing strange robes and a high double crown, and she stood so that Gwenhwyfar could not quite see her, but only knew she was there. She said, I am Morgaine of the Fairies, and all these kingdoms will I give to you as their High Queen if you will fall down and worship me.
Gwenhwyfar woke with a start, Morgaine's mocking laughter in her ears. The room was empty and silent except for the heavy snores of her serving-woman in a pallet on the floor. Gwenhwyfar made the sign of the cross and lay down to sleep again. But on the very edge of sleep it seemed to her that she looked into the clear and moonlit waters of a pool, and instead of her own face, Morgaine's pale face was reflected back at her, crowned with wicker-withes like the harvest dolls some of the peasant folk still made, and very far away. And again Gwenhwyfar had to sit up and make the sign of the cross before she could compose herself to sleep.
It seemed all too soon that she was wakened, but then she had been so insistent they should set forth at the first light. She could hear the rain pounding on the roof as she put on her gown by lamplight, but if they stayed for rain in this climate they should be here a year. She felt dull and queasy, but now she knew there was a good reason for that, and secretly patted her still-flat stomach as if to reassure herself it was real. She had no desire to eat, but dutifully swallowed some bread and cold meats ... she had a long ride before her. And if she had no mind to riding in the rain, at least it was likely that any Saxons or marauders would stay within doors as well.
She was fastening the hood of her warmest cloak when the abbess entered. After a few formal words of thanks for the rich gifts made by Gwenhwyfar on her own behalf and on Igraine's, the abbess came to the real business of this farewell visit.
"Who now reigns in Cornwall, lady?"
"Why-I am not sure," said Gwenhwyfar, trying to remember. "I know the High King gave Tintagel to Igraine when he married, so that she might have a place of her own, and I suppose, after her, the lady Morgaine, daughter of Igraine by the old Duke Gorlois. I know not even who is ther
e now as castellan."
"Nor I," said the abbess. "Some serving-man or knight of the lady Igraine, I suppose. That is why I came to speak with you, madam ... the castle Tintagel is a prize, and it should be tenanted, or there will be war in this countryside too. If the lady Morgaine is married and comes here to live, all will be well, I suppose-I do not know the lady, but if she is Igraine's daughter, I suppose she is a good woman and a good Christian."
You suppose wrong, Gwenhwyfar thought, and again it was as if she heard the mocking laughter from her dream. But she would not speak ill of Arthur's kinswoman to a stranger.
The abbess said, "Bear my message to Arthur the King, lady-that someone should come to dwell in Tintagel. I have heard something of a rumor that ran about the countryside when Gorlois died-that he had a bastard son and some other kinfolk, and some of them might strive to conquer this country again. While Igraine dwelt here, all folk knew it was under Arthur's dominion, but now it would be well if the High King sent one of his best knights hither-perhaps married to the lady Morgaine."
"I will tell Arthur," Gwenhwyfar said, and as she set out, she pondered this. She knew little of statecraft, but she remembered that there had been chaos before Uther came to the crown and again when he died leaving no heir; she supposed something like that might befall if Cornwall was left with none to rule or keep good laws. Morgaine was Queen of Cornwall and should come hither to reign. And then she remembered what Arthur had once said that his dearest friend should wed with his sister. Since Lancelet was not wealthy and had no lands of his own, it would be the right thing that they should come to reign together in Cornwall.
And now I am to bear Arthur's son, it would be best to send Lancelet far from court, that I might never again look on his face and think of him such thoughts as no wedded woman and no good Christian should think. And yet she could not bear to think of Lancelet wedded to Morgaine. Had there ever been so wicked a woman as she on the face of this wicked world? She rode with her face hidden in her cloak, not listening to the gossip of the knights who were her escort, but after a time she realized that they were passing by a village which had been burned. One of the knights asked her leave to stop a while, and went away to look for survivors; he came back looking grim.
"Saxons," he said to the others, and bit the words off when he saw that the Queen was listening.
"Don't be frightened, madam, they are gone, but we must ride as fast as we may and tell Arthur of this. If we find you a faster horse, can you keep our pace?"
Gwenhwyfar felt her breath catch in her throat. They had come up out of one of the deep valleys, and the sky arched high and open over them, filled with menace-she felt as some small thing must feel in the grass when the shadow of a hawk swoops over it. She said, and heard her voice thin and trembling like the voice of a very little girl, "I cannot ride faster now. I bear the child of the High King and I dare not endanger him."
Again it seemed as if the knight-he was Griflet, husband of her own waiting-woman, Meleas-bit off his words, setting his jaw with a snap. He said at last, concealing his impatience, "Then, madam, it were as well we should escort you to Tintagel, or to some other great house in this area, or back again to the convent, so that we may ride at speed and reach Caerleon before the dawn of tomorrow's day. If you are with child you certainly cannot ride through the night! Will you let one of us escort you and your woman back to Tintagel or to the convent again?"
I would like it well to be within walls again, if there are Saxons in this country ... but I must not be such a coward. Arthur must have the news of his son. She said stubbornly, "Cannot one of you ride on toward Caerleon, and the rest of you travel at my pace? Or cannot a messenger be hired to bear the word quickly?"
Griflet looked as if he wanted to swear. "I could not trust to any hired messenger in this country now, madam, and there are few of us even for a peaceful country, barely enough to protect you. Well, it must be as it will, no doubt Arthur's men have received the word already." He turned away, his jaw white and set, and looked so angry that Gwenhwyfar wanted to call him back and agree to all he said; but she told herself firmly not to be so cowardly. Now when she was to bear the royal son, she must behave herself like a queen and ride on with courage.
And if I was at Tintagel and the countryside was filled with Saxons, there would I remain until the war had ended and all the country at peace again, and it might be long ... and if Arthur did not even know I was with child, he might be content to let me dwell there forevermore. Why should he want to bring back a barren queen to his new palace at Camelot? Like enough he would listen to the counsel of that old Druid who hates me, Taliesin, who is his grandsire, and put me away for some woman who could bear him a bouncing brat every ten moons or so ...
But all will be well, once Arthur knows ... .
It seemed as if the icy wind was sweeping across the high moors and into her very bones; after a time she begged them to stop again and get out the litter so that she might ride within it... the horse's motion jolted her so. Griflet looked angry, and for a moment she thought he would forget his courtesy and swear at her, but he gave the orders, and she huddled gratefully inside the litter, glad of the slow pace and the closed flaps which closed out the frightening sky.
Before dusk the rain stopped for a while, and the sun came out, low and slanting over the dismal moor. "We will set up the tents here," Griflet said. "Here on the moor at least we can see a long way. Tomorrow we should strike the old Roman road, and then we can travel faster-" and then he dropped his voice and said something to the other knights which Gwenhwyfar could not hear, but she cringed, knowing he was angry at the slow pace at which they must travel. Yet everyone knew a breeding woman was more like to miscarry if she rode a fast horse, and already twice she had miscarried a child-did they want her to lose Arthur's son this time too? She slept poorly within the tent, the ground hard beneath her thin body, her cloak and blankets all damp, her body aching from the unaccustomed riding.
But after a time she slept, despite the pouring rain that leaked through the tent, and was wakened by the sound of riders and a call: Griflet's voice, harsh and rough.
"Who rides there! Stand!"
"Is it you, Griflet? I know your voice," came a cry out of the dark. "It is Gawaine, and I seek for your party-is the Queen with you?"
Gwenhwyfar threw her cloak over her nightdress and came out from the tent. "Is it you, cousin? What do you here?"
"I hoped to find you still at the convent," said Gawaine, sliding from his horse. Behind him in the darkness were other forms-four or five of Arthur's men, though Gwenhwyfar could not distinguish their faces. "Since you are here, madam, I suppose Queen Igraine has departed this life-" "She died the night before last," Gwenhwyfar said, and Gawaine sighed.
"Well, it is God's will," he said. "But the land is under arms, madam -since you are here and so far on your way, I suppose you must continue on to Caerleon. Had you still been at the convent I was under orders to escort you, and such of the sisters as wished to seek protection, to Tintagel castle, and bid you remain there until there was safety in the land."
"And now you may spare the journey," said Gwenhwyfar irritably, but Gawaine shook his head. He said, "Since my message is useless, and I suppose the sisters will wish to take shelter within their convent walls, I must ride on to Tintagel with news for all men sworn to Arthur to come at once. The Saxons are massing near the coast with more than a hundred ships- beacon signals were sent from the lighthouses. The legion is at Caerleon, and all men are gathering. When the word came to Lothian, I rode at once to join Arthur; and Arthur sent me to Tintagel to bear word thither." He drew breath. "Not the Merlin's self is more a messenger than I these ten days."
"And I told the Queen," said Griflet, "that she should remain at Tintagel, but now it is too late to return there! And with armies gathering on the roads-Gawaine, perhaps you should escort the Queen back to Tintagel."
"No," said Gwenhwyfar clearly. "I must return now, I am not afraid to
travel where I must." Even more, if he was facing war again, Arthur would wish for the good news she bore. Gawaine had already shaken his head impatiently.
"I cannot delay for any woman's riding, unless it were the Lady of the Lake herself, who can ride a day's journey with any man a-horse! And you are but a sorry rider, madam-nay, I spoke not to anger you, no one expects that you should ride like a knight, but I cannot delay-"
"And the Queen is breeding and must travel at the slowest pace of all," Griflet told him with equal impatience. "Can some of your slowest riders be told to escort the Queen, Gawaine, and I ride on with you to Tintagel?" Gawaine smiled. "No doubt you wish to be at the heart of things, Griflet, but you have been given this task and no one envies you," he said. "Can you find me a cup of wine and some bread? I will travel on through the night, to be in Tintagel at sunrise. I have a message for Marcus, who is war duke of Cornwall and is to bring his knights. This may be the great battle Taliesin foretold, where we perish or we drive the Saxons once and for all from this land! But every man must come and fight at Arthur's side."
"Even some of the treaty troops will stand with Arthur now," said Griflet. "Ride on if you must, Gawaine, and God ride with you." The two knights embraced. "We will meet again when God wills, friend."
Gawaine bowed to Gwenhwyfar. She reached out a hand to him and said, "A moment-is my kinswoman Morgause well?"
"As ever, madam."
"And my sister-in-law Morgaine-she is safe in Morgause's court, then?"
Gawaine looked startled. "Morgaine? No, madam, I have not seen my kinswoman Morgaine for many years. Certainly she has not visited Lothian, or so my mother said," he replied, courteous despite his impatience. "Now I must be off."
The Mists of Avalon Page 52