"Then I have done you wrong too, and I must somehow amend it. But I cannot see how it is right that Morgaine should suffer shame for this."
"Always Morgaine," said Gwenhwyfar, in a blaze of white rage. "You will not have her suffer, she is perfect in your eyes-tell me then, is it right that I should suffer for the sin that she has done, or you? Do you love her so much better than me that you will let me go childless all my days so that sin may be kept secret?"
"Even if I have done wrong, my Gwen, Morgaine is blameless-"
"Nay, that she is not," Gwenhwyfar flared, "for she follows that ancient Goddess, and the priests say that their Goddess is that same old serpent of evil whom our Lord drove from the Garden of Eden! Even now Morgaine clings to those filthy and heathenish rituals of hers-God tells us, yes, that those heathen who have not heard the word of the Lord may be saved, but what of Morgaine, who was brought up in a Christian household, and afterward turned to the filthy sorcerous ways of Avalon? And all these years at this court, she has heard the word of Christ, and do they not say that those who hear the word of Christ and do not repent and believe in him, they shall surely be damned? And women especially have need of repentance, since through a woman sin came first into the world-" Gwenhwyfar was sobbing so hard that she could hardly speak.
At last Arthur said, "What do you want me to do, my Gwenhwyfar?"
"This is the holy day of Pentecost," she said, wiping her eyes and trying to control her sobs, "when the spirit of God came down to Man. Will you go to the mass and take the sacrament with this great sin on your soul?"
"I suppose-I suppose I cannot," said Arthur, his voice breaking. "If truly you believe this, Gwenhwyfar, I will not deny it to you. I will repent as far as it is in me to repent for something I cannot think a sin, and I will do what penance the bishop lays on me." His smile was only a thin, harried grimace. "I hope, for your sake, my love, that you are right about God's will."
And Gwenhwyfar, even as she put her arms around him, crying with thankfulness, had a moment of shattering fear and doubt. She remembered when she had stood in the house of Meleagrant, and known that all her prayers could not save her. God had not rewarded her for her virtue, and when Lancelet came to her, had she not sworn to herself that never again would she hide or repent, because a God who had not rewarded her virtue would surely not punish her sin. God could not care either way ... .
But God had punished her indeed; God had taken Lancelet from her and given him to Elaine, so for all that perilling of her soul she had won nothing ... she had confessed and done penance, but God punished her still. And now she knew it might not be all her fault, but that she was bearing the weight of Arthur's sin too, the sin he had done with his sister. But if they were both freed of sin, if he did penance for that great sin unconfessed, and humbled himself, then no doubt God would forgive him too ... .
Arthur kissed the top of her head and stroked her hair. Then he moved away, and she felt cold and lost when he took his arms away from her, as if she were not safely within walls but out under the huge open sky, bewildering, huge, filled with terror. She moved toward him again, to take refuge in his arms, but he had dropped into a chair and sat there, exhausted, beaten, a thousand leagues away from her.
At last he raised his head, and said, with a sigh that seemed ripped from the very depths of his being, "Send for Father Patricius."
8
When Morgaine left Arthur and Gwenhwyfar in their chamber, she snatched a cloak and fled out into the weather, uncaring of the rain. She went to the high battlements and walked there, alone; the tents of Arthur's followers and Companions, of the lesser kings and the guests, crowded the level space at the brow of the hill that was Camelot, and even in the rain, all the banners and flags fluttered brightly. But the sky was dark, and thick low clouds almost touched the brow of the hill; pacing, restless, Morgaine thought that the Holy Ghost could have chosen a finer day to descend on his people-and especially on Arthur.
Oh, yes. Gwenhwyfar would give him no peace until he had given himself into the hands of the priests. And what of his vow to Avalon?
And yet if it should be Gwydion's fate that one day he should sit on his father's throne, if that was what the Merlin planned ... no man could escape fate. Morgaine thought mirthlessly, No woman either. Taliesin, who knew all manner of music and old tales, had once told her a story from the ancients who dwelt to the south in the Holy Land or somewhere near to there, of a man who was born under a curse that he should slay his father and wed with his mother. So the parents listened to the curse and cast him out to die, and he was reared by strangers, and one day, meeting with his father, unknowing, he quarrelled with him, killed him, and wedded with his widow; so that the very means they had taken to prevent the falling of the curse had brought it to pass-had he been reared in his father's house, he would not have done what he did in ignorance. ...
She and Arthur had done what they did in ignorance, too, yet the fairy woman had cursed her son: Cast forth your babe, or kill it as it comes from the womb; what of the King Stag when the young stag is grown? And it seemed to her that all round her the world grew grey and strange, as if she had wandered into the mists of Avalon, and there was a strange humming in her brain.
There seemed a terrible clanging and banging in the air all round her, deafening her ... no, it was the church bells, ringing for the mass. She had heard, too, that the fairy folk could not abide the sound of the church bells, and it was for that reason they had taken to the far hills and hollows ... it seemed to her that she could not go and sit quietly, as she usually did, listening with polite attention because the Queen's waiting-women should set an example to all the others. She thought that the walls would stifle her and the mumbling of the priests and the smoke of the incense would drive her mad; better to stay out here in the clean rain. Now she thought to draw up the hood of the woolen cloak over her head; the ribbons in her hair were all wet, likely they were spoilt. She fumbled with them and the red came off on her fingers; poorly dyed they were, for materials so costly.
But the rain was slowing a little, and people were beginning to move about in the spaces between the tents.
"There will be no mock battle games today," said a voice behind her, "or I would ask you for one of those ribbons you are casting about, and carry it into battle as a flag of honor, lady Morgaine."
Morgaine blinked, trying to collect herself. A young man, slender and dark-haired, with dark eyes; something familiar about him, but she could not quite remember ... .
"You do not remember me, lady?" he said reproachfully. "And I was told you had wagered a ribbon on my success in just such a mock battle a year or two ago-or was it three?"
Now she remembered him; he was the son of King Uriens of North Wales. Accolon, that was his name; and she had wagered with one of the Queen's ladies who claimed that no man could stand in the field against Lancelot ... . She had never known how her wager came off; that was the Pentecost when Viviane had been murdered.
"Indeed I remember you, sir Accolon, but that Pentecost feast, you may remember, ended in such brutal murder, and it was my foster-mother who was slain-"
He was at once contrite. "Then I must beg your pardon for calling such a sad occasion to your mind. And I suppose there will be enough mock battles and combats before we leave here again, now that there is no war in the land-my lord Arthur wishes to know that his legions are still skilled to defend us all."
"The need seems not too likely," she said, "even the wild Northmen turn elsewhere these days. Do you miss the days of battle and glory?"
He had, she thought, a nice smile. "I fought at Mount Badon," he said. "It was my first battle, and came near to being my last. I think I prefer mock battles and tourneys. I will fight if I must, but it is better to fight in play against friends who have no real desire to kill, with pretty ladies looking down and admiring us-in real battle, lady, there is none to admire gallantry, and indeed, little of gallantry, for all they talk of courage. ..."
&n
bsp; They had moved, as they spoke, nearer to the church; and now the sound of the bells nearly drowned his voice-a pleasant, musical voice, she thought. She wondered if he played upon the harp. She turned abruptly away from the sound of the bells.
"Are you not going to the holy day mass, lady Morgaine?"
She smiled and looked down at his wrists, where the serpents twined. She ran a light finger over one of them. "Are you?"
"I do not know. I thought I might go to see the faces of my friends -no, I think not," he said, smiling at her, "when there is a lady to talk to ... ."
She said, tingeing her voice with irony, "Do you not fear for your soul?"
"Oh, my father is pious enough for both of us ... he has no wife now, and no doubt he wishes to study out the land and see how it lies for his next conquest. He has listened well to the Apostle and knows it is better to marry than to burn, and he burns oftener than I would think dignified for a man of his years. ..."
"You have lost your mother, sir Accolon?"
"Aye, before I was weaned; and my stepmothers one, two, and three," Accolon said. "My father has three sons living, and it is certain he can have no further need of heirs, but he is too pious only to take a woman to his bed, so he must marry again. And even my oldest brother is married, and has a son."
"You were the son of his old age?"
"Of his middle age," Accolon said, "and I am not so young as all that. If there had not been war when I was younger, I might have been destined for Avalon and the lore of the priests. But my father has grown Christian in his old age."
"Yet you wear the serpents."
He nodded. "And know something of their wisdom, yet not enough to content me. In these days there is not much for a younger son to do. My father told me he would also seek a wife for me at this gathering," he said with a smile. "I would that you were the daughter of some lesser man, lady."
Morgaine felt herself blushing like a girl. "Oh, I am too old for you," she said, "and I am only the King's half-sister by his mother's first marriage. My father was Duke Gorlois, the first man Uther Pendragon killed as a traitor ... ."
There was a brief silence before Accolon said, "In these days it is dangerous, perhaps, to wear the serpents-or will be, if the priests grow more powerful. When Arthur came to the throne, I heard he had the support of Avalon, that the Merlin gave him the sword of the Holy Regalia. But now he has made this so Christian a court ... my father told me that he feared Arthur would move this land back to the Druid rule, but it seems he has not. ..."
"True," she said, and for a moment anger stifled her. "Yet still he wears the Druid sword ... ."
He looked at her closely. "And you bear the crescent of Avalon." Morgaine blushed. All the people had gone into the church now, and the doors were shut. "It has begun to rain harder-lady Morgaine, you will be drenched, you will take cold. You must go inside. But will you come and sit beside me at the feast this day?"
She hesitated, smiling. It was certain that Arthur and Gwenhwyfar would not seek her company at the high table this day of all days.
She who must remember what it was like to fall prey to Meleagrant's lust ... should she blame me, she that comforted herself in the arms of her husband's dearest friend? Oh, no, it was not rape, nothing like to it, but still I was given to the Horned One without anyone's asking if it was what I wished ... it was not desire brought me to my brother's bed, but obedience to the will of the Goddess ... .
Accolon was still waiting for her answer, his face turned to her, eagerly. If I willed it, he would kiss me, he would beg me for the favor of a single touch. She knew it and the thought was healing to her pride. She smiled at him, a smile that dazzled him.
"I will indeed, if we can sit far off from your father." And it struck her suddenly: Arthur had looked at her like that. That is what Gwenhwyfar fears. She knows what I did not know, that if I stretched my hand to Arthur, I could make him ignore anything she said; Arthur loves me best. I have no desire for Arthur, I would have him only as a dear brother, but she does not know that. She fears that I will beckon with my hand, and with the secret arts of Avalon I will seduce him to my bed again.
"I beg you, go inside and change your-your gown," said Accolon earnestly, and Morgaine smiled at him again and pressed his hand in her own.
"I will see you at the feast."
ALL THROUGH the holy day service, Gwenhwyfar had sat alone, striving to compose herself. The Archbishop had preached the usual Pentecost sermon, telling of the descent of the Holy Spirit, and she thought, If Arthur has at last repented all his sins and become a Christian, then I must give thanks to the Holy Spirit for coming on us both today. She let her fingers stray unseen to her belly; today they had lain together, it might be that at Candlemas she would hold in her arms the heir to the kingdom ... she looked across the church to where Lancelet knelt at Elaine's side. She could see, jealously, that Elaine's waist was already swelling again. Another son, or a daughter. And now Elaine flaunts herself, beside the man I loved so long and so well with the son I should have borne ... well, I must bend my head and be humble a while, it will not hurt me to pretend that I believe her son will follow Arthur on his throne ... . Ah, I am a sinful woman, I spoke to Arthur of humbling his pride, and I am full of pride.
The church was crowded, as always at this holy day mass. Arthur looked pale and subdued; he had spoken with the bishop, but there had been no time for extended talk before the mass. She knelt beside him and felt that he was a stranger, far more of a stranger than when she had first lain in his bed, terrified of the unknown things ahead of her.
I should have held my peace with Morgaine ... .
Why do I feel guilty? It was Morgaine who sinned ... I have repented my sins and confessed them and been absolved ... .
Morgaine was not in the church; no doubt, she had not had the brazenness to come unshriven to holy services when she had been exposed for what she was-incestuous, heathen, witch, sorceress.
The service seemed to last forever, but at last the blessing was given and the people began to move out of the church. Once for a moment she found herself crushed against Elaine and Lancelet; he had his arm protectively around his wife, that she should not be jostled. Gwenhwyfar raised her eyes to them, so that she need not look at Elaine's swollen belly.
"It is long since we have seen you at court," she said.
"Ah, there is much to do in the North," Lancelet said.
"No more dragons, I trust?" Arthur asked.
"God be thanked, no," Lancelet said, smiling. "My first sight of a dragon was like to be my last.... God forgive me that I mocked at Pellinore when he spoke of the beast! And now that there are no more Saxons to slay, I suppose our Companions must go against dragons and bandits and reavers, and all manner of ill things that plague the people."
Elaine smiled shyly at Gwenhwyfar. "My husband is like to all men -they would rather go into battle, even against dragons, than stay home and enjoy that peace they fought so hard to win! Is Arthur so?"
"I think he has battle enough, here at court where all men come to him for justice," said Gwenhwyfar, dismissing that. "When will this one come?" she added, looking at Elaine's swelling body. "Do you think it will be another son, or a daughter?"
"I hope it is another son, I do not want a daughter," Elaine said, "but it shall be as God wills. Where is Morgaine? Did she not come to church? Is she ill?"
Gwenhwyfar smiled scornfully. "I think you know how good a Christian Morgaine is."
"But she is my friend," Elaine said, "and no matter how bad a Christian she may be, I love her and I will pray for her."
Well you might, thought Gwenhwyfar bitterly. She had you married to spite me. It seemed that Elaine's sweet blue eyes were cloying, her voice false. It seemed to her that if she stood there a moment more listening to Elaine she would turn on her and strangle her. She made an excuse, and after a moment Arthur followed her.
He said, "I had hoped we would have Lancelet with us for some weeks, but he would be off
to the North again. But he said Elaine might stay, if you would like to have her. She is near enough to her confinement that he would rather she did not return alone. Perhaps Morgaine is lonely for her friend, too. Well, you women must arrange that among yourselves-" He turned, and his face was bleak as he looked down at her. "I must go to the Archbishop. He said he would speak with me immediately after mass."
She wanted to clutch at him, keep him back, hold him with her by both hands, but it had gone too far for that.
"Morgaine was not in church," he said. "Tell me, Gwenhwyfar, did you say anything to her-"
"I spoke not one word to her, good or bad," she said shrilly. "As for where she is, I care not-I wish she were in hell!"
He opened his mouth and for a moment she thought he would chide her, and in a perverse way she longed for his wrath. But he only sighed and lowered his head. She could not bear to see him so beaten, like a whipped dog. "Gwen, I beg you, do not quarrel further with Morgaine. She has been hurt enough already-" And then, as if he was ashamed of his pleading, he turned abruptly and went away from her, toward where the Archbishop was standing and greeting his flock. As Arthur came toward him he bowed, spoke a few words of excuse to the others, and the King and the Archbishop moved away together through the crowds.
Inside the castle there was much to do-welcoming guests to the hall, speaking to men who had been Arthur's Companions in years gone by, explaining to them that Arthur had business with one of his councillors- that was no lie, Patricius was indeed one of Arthur's advisers-and would be late. For a time everyone was so busy greeting old friends, exchanging stories of what had befallen in their homes and villages, of what marriages had been made and daughters betrothed and sons grown to manhood, of what babies had been born and robbers slain and roads built, that the time went on and the absence of King Arthur was hardly noticed. But at last even reminiscences palled, and the people in the hall began to murmur. The food would be cold, Gwenhwyfar knew; but you could not start the King's feast unless the King was there. She gave orders for wine and beer and cider to be served, knowing that by the time the food was served now, many of the guests would be too drunk to care. She saw Morgaine far down the table, laughing and talking with a man she did not recognize, save that he had the serpents of Avalon around his wrist; would she practice her priestess-harlotries to seduce him too, as she had seduced Lancelet before him, and the Merlin? Morgaine's whorish ways were so great, she could not let any man slip beyond her grasp.
The Mists of Avalon Page 79