The Mists of Avalon

by Marion Marion Bradley

  When Arthur finally came, walking slowly and heavily, she was overwhelmed with distress; she had never seen him look like that except when he was wounded and near to death. She felt suddenly that he had taken a deeper wound than she could know, in his very soul, and for a moment wondered, had Morgaine been right to spare him this knowledge? No. As his devoted wife, what she had done was to secure the health of his soul and his eventual salvation; what was a little humiliation against that?

  He had taken off his holiday gown and wore a simple tunic, unadorned; nor had he put on the coronet he wore on such occasions. His golden hair looked dull and greyed. As they saw him enter, all his Companions had broken into wild applause and cheering; he stood solemnly, accepting it, smiling, then finally raised a hand.

  "I am sorry to have kept you all waiting," he said. "I beg you forgive me, and go to your meat." He sat down at his place, sighing. The servants began to go around with the smoking pots and platters, the carvers to wield their knives. Gwenhwyfar let one of the butlers lay some slices of roast duck on her plate, but she only played with her food. After a time she dared to raise her eyes and look toward Arthur. Among the abundance of festival meats, he had nothing on his plate but a bit of bread, without even butter, and in his cup was only water.

  She remonstrated, "But you are eating nothing-"

  His smile was wry. "It is no insult to the food. I am sure it is fine as always, my love."

  "It is not well done, to fast on a feast day-"

  He grimaced. "Well, if you must have it," he said impatiently, "the bishop would have it that my sin was so grievous that he cannot absolve it with ordinary penance, and since that was what you wished of me, well-" He spread his hands wearily. "And so I come to Pentecost holiday in my shirt and without my fine clothing, and I have many fastings and prayers till I have done full penance-but you have had your wish, Gwenhwyfar." He picked up his cup and drank water, resolutely, and she knew he did not want her to say more.

  But she had not wanted it like this ... . Gwenhwyfar tightened her whole body so that she would not weep again; all eyes were on them, and surely it was scandal enough that the King sat fasting at his own highest festival. Outside the rain beat and battered on the roof. There was a strange silence in the hall. At last Arthur raised his head and called for music.

  "Let Morgaine sing for us-she is better than any minstrel!"

  Morgaine! Morgaine! Always Morgaine! But what could she do? Morgaine, she noticed, had put off the bright gown she had worn that morning and was wearing dark sober stuff like a nun's. She looked not so much like a harlot, now, without her bright ribbons; she came and took the harp, and sat near the King's table to sing.

  Because it seemed to be what Arthur wished, there was some laughing and gaiety, and when Morgaine had finished, another took the harp, and another. There was much moving from table to table, talking, singing, drinking.

  Lancelet came toward them and Arthur gestured to him to sit beside them, as in the old days, on the bench. The servants were bringing great plates of sweets and fruit, baked apples in cream and wine, all manner of delicate and subtle pastries. They sat talking of nothing in particular, and Gwenhwyfar felt happy for a moment: it was like old times, when they had all been friends, when there was love among them all ... why could it not always have stayed like that?

  After some time, Arthur rose and said, "I think I will go and talk to some of the older Companions ... my legs are young, and some of them are getting so old and grey. Pellinore-he looks not as if he could fight a dragon. I think a good stiff fight with Elaine's little lapdog would be hard for him now!"

  Lancelet said, "Since Elaine is married, it is as if he has nothing more to do in life. Such men often die soon after they have decided such a thing. I hope it may not be so with him-I love Pellinore and hope he will be long with us." He smiled shyly. "I never felt I had a father-though Ban was good to me in his way-and now, for the first time, I have a kinsman who treats me as a son. Brothers I had not either, till I was grown and Ban's sons Lionel and Bors came to the court. I grew to manhood hardly speaking their language. And Balan had other concerns."

  Arthur had hardly smiled since he had come from the bishop's rooms, but he was smiling now. "Does a cousin count for so much less than a brother, then, Galahad?"

  Lancelet reached out and gripped his wrist. "God strike me if I could forget that, Gwydion-" He raised his eyes to Arthur, and for a moment, Gwenhwyfar thought Arthur would embrace him; but then Arthur drew back and let his hand drop. Lancelet gazed at him, startled, but Arthur got quickly to his feet.

  "There is Uriens, and Marcus of Cornwall-he too grows old ... . They shall see that their king is not too proud to come and speak to them today. Stay here by Gwenhwyfar, Lance, let it be like old times today."

  Lancelet did as he was asked, sitting on the bench beside Gwenhwyfar. At last he asked, "Is Arthur ill?"

  Gwenhwyfar shook her head. "I think he has penance to do and is brooding about it."

  "Well, surely Arthur can have no great sin on his soul," Lancelet said, "he is one of the most spotless men I know. I am proud that he is still my friend-I do not deserve it, I know, Gwen." He looked at her so sadly that again Gwenhwyfar almost wept. Why could she not have loved the two of them without sin, why had God ordained that a woman must have only one husband? She was grown as bad as Morgaine, that she could think such a thing!

  She touched his hand. "Are you happy with Elaine, Lancelet?"

  "Happy? What man alive is happy? I do as best I can."

  She looked down at her hands. For a moment she forgot that this man had been her lover and remembered only that he had been her friend. "I want you to be happy. Truly, I do."

  His hand closed for a moment over hers. "I know, my dear. I did not want to come here today. I love you, and I love Arthur-but the day is past when I can be content to be his captain of horse and-" His voice broke. "And the champion of the Queen."

  She said suddenly, looking up, her hand in his, "Does it seem sometimes to you that we are no longer young, Lancelet?"

  He nodded and sighed. "Aye-it does so."

  Morgaine had taken the harp again and was singing. Lancelet said, "Her voice is as sweet as ever. I am put in memory of my mother singing-she sang not so well as Morgaine, but she had the same soft, low voice-"

  "Morgaine is as young as ever," said Gwenhwyfar jealously.

  "It is so with those of the old blood, they seem ever young until the day they are suddenly old," Lancelet said; then, bending down to touch her cheek in a light kiss, he said abruptly, "Never think you are less beautiful than Morgaine, my Gwen. It is a different beauty, that is all."

  "Why do you say this?"

  "Love, I cannot bear it if you are unhappy ... ."

  She said, "I do not think I know what it means, to be happy."

  How is Morgaine so untouched? That which wrecked my life and Arthur's, it lies lightly on her, there she sits laughing and singing, and yonder knight with the serpents about his wrists, is glamoured by her.

  Soon after, Lancelet said he must go back to Elaine, and left her; and when Arthur returned, there were Companions and old followers coming to him for concessions, to give him gifts and recall their service. After a time Uriens of North Wales came, portly now and greying, but he still had all his own teeth, and he led his men into the field when he must.

  He said, "I have come to ask you a favor, Arthur. I want to marry again, and I would like to be allied with your house. I have heard that Lot of Lothian is dead, and I ask your permission to marry his widow, Morgause."

  Arthur had to stifle a laugh. "Ah, for that, my friend, you must ask leave of sir Gawaine. Lothian is his now, and no doubt he would be glad to marry his mother away, but no doubt, the lady is old enough to have a mind of her own. I cannot order her to marry-it would be like ordering my mother to marry!"

  Gwenhwyfar was struck by sudden inspiration. This would be the perfect solution-Arthur himself had said that if it became known at
court, Morgaine could be scorned or shamed. She reached out and touched Arthur's sleeve. She said in a low voice, "Arthur, Uriens is a valuable ally. You have told me that the mines of Wales are valuable as they were to the Romans, for iron and lead ... and you have a kinswoman whose marriage is in your keeping."

  He looked at her, startled. "Uriens is so old!"

  "Morgaine is older than you," she said, "and since he has grown sons and grandsons, he will not mind too much if Morgaine does not give him children."

  "That is true," said Arthur with a frown, "and this seems a good match." He raised his head to Uriens and said, "I cannot order lady Morgause to marry again, but my sister, the Duchess of Cornwall, is not married."

  Uriens bowed. "I could not presume to ask so high, my king, but if your sister would be queen in my country-"

  "I will compel no woman to marry unwilling," said Arthur, "but I will ask her." He beckoned one of the pages. "Ask the lady Morgaine if she will come to me when she has finished singing."

  Uriens' eyes were on Morgaine where she sat, her dark gown lending fairness to her skin. "She is very beautiful, your sister. Any man would think himself fortunate to have such a wife."

  As Uriens went to his seat, Arthur said thoughtfully, watching Morgaine come toward them, "She is long unmarried-she must wish for a home of her own where she will be mistress, rather than serving another woman always. And she is too learned for many young men. But Uriens will be glad that she is gracious and will rule his home well. I wish, though, that he were not quite so old ... ."

  "I think she will be happier with an older man," Gwenhwyfar said. "She is not a giddy young thing."

  Morgaine came and curtseyed to them. Always, in public, she was smiling and impassive, and Gwenhwyfar was for once glad of it.

  "Sister," said Arthur, "I have had an offer of marriage for you. And after this morning"-he lowered his voice-"I think it well you should not live at court for a time."

  "Indeed I would be glad to be gone from here, brother."

  "Why, then-" Arthur said, "how would you like to live in North Wales? I hear it is desolate there, but no more than Tintagel, surely-"

  To Gwenhwyfar's surprise, Morgaine blushed like a girl of fifteen. "I will not try to pretend I am as surprised as all that, brother."

  Arthur chuckled. "Why, he did not tell me he had spoken to you, the sly fellow."

  Morgaine colored and played with the end of her braid. She did not, Gwenhwyfar thought, look anywhere near her age. "You may tell him I should be happy to live in North Wales."

  Arthur said gently, "Does the difference in age not bother you?"

  Her face was rosy. "If it does not bother him, it does not bother me."

  "So be it," said Arthur, and beckoned to Uriens, who came, beaming. "My sister has told me that she would like it well to be Queen of North Wales, my friend. I see no reason we cannot have the wedding with all speed, perhaps on Sunday." He raised his cup and called out to the assembled company, "Drink to a wedding, my friends-a wedding between the lady Morgaine of Cornwall, my dear sister, and my good friend King Uriens of North Wales!"

  For the first time that day it sounded like a proper Pentecost feasting, as the applause, cries of congratulation, acclaim, all stormed up. Morgaine stood still as a stone.

  But she agreed to this, she said he had spoken to her ... Gwenhwyfar thought, and then she remembered the young man who had been flirting with Morgaine. Was that not Uriens' son-Accolon, Accolon, that was it. But surely she could not have expected him to offer for her; Morgaine was older than he was! It must have been Accolon-will she make a scene? Gwenhwyfar wondered.

  And then, with another surge of hatred, Now let Morgaine see what it is like to be given in marriage to a man she does not love!

  "So you will be a queen, too, my sister," she said, taking Morgaine's hand. "I shall be your bride-woman."

  But for all her sweet words, Morgaine looked her straight in the eye, and Gwenhwyfar knew that she had not been deceived.

  So be it. We will at least be rid of one another. And no more pretense of friendship between us.

  MORGAINE SPEAKS ...

  For a marriage destined to end as mine did, it began well enough, I suppose. Gwenhwyfar gave me a fine wedding, considering how she hated me; I had six bride-women and four of them were queens. Arthur gave me some fine and costly jewelry-I had never cared a great deal for jewelry, having not been accustomed to wear it in Avalon and never having learned since, though I had a few pieces that had been Igraine's. Now he gave me many more of our mother's gems, and some that had been plunder of the Saxons. I would have protested, but Gwenhwyfar reminded me that Uriens would expect to see his wife finely dressed as befitted a queen, and I shrugged and let her deck me out like a child's doll. One piece, an amber necklace, I remembered seeing Igraine wear when I was very young but never since; once I had seen it in her jewel chest when I was but small, and she said Gorlois had given it her and one day it should be mine, but before I was old enough to wear it I was priestess in Avalon and had no need of jewels. Now it was mine, with so many other things that I protested I would never wear them.

  The one thing I asked of them-to delay the wedding till I could send for Morgause, who was my only living kinswoman-they would not do. Perhaps they thought I might come to my senses and protest that when I agreed to marry into North Wales, I had Accolon in mind, not the old king. I am sure Gwenhwyfar knew, at least. I wondered what Accolon would think of me; I had all but pledged myself to him, and before that night fell I had been publicly promised to his father! I had no chance to ask.

  But after all, I suppose Accolon would want a bride of fifteen, not one of four-and-thirty. A woman past thirty-so women mostly said-must content herself with a man who had been often married and wanted her for her family connections, or for her beauty or possessions, or perhaps as a mother for his children. Well, my family connections could hardly be better. As for the rest-I had jewels enough, but I could hardly imagine myself as a mother to Accolon and whatever other children the old man might have. Grandmother to his son's children perhaps. I reminded myself with a start that Viviane's mother had been a grandmother younger than I was now; she had borne Viviane at thirteen, and Viviane's own daughter had been born before Viviane was fourteen.

  I spoke but once alone with Uriens, in the three days which elapsed between Pentecost and our bridal. Perhaps I hoped that he, a Christian king, would refuse when he knew; or perhaps even now he wanted a young wife who could give him children. Nor did I want him to take me under false pretenses and reproach me later, and I knew what a great thing these Christians made of an untouched wife; I suppose they had it from the Romans, with their pride of family and worship of virginity.

  "I am long past thirty years old, Uriens," I said, "and I am no maiden." I knew no gracious or polite way to say such things.

  He reached forward and touched the small blue crescent between my brows. It was fading now; I could see it in the mirror which had been one of Gwenhwyfar's gifts. Viviane's had faded, too, when I came to Avalon, but she had used to paint it with blue dye.

  '"You were priestess of Avalon, one of the maidens of the Lady of the Lake, and you went as a maiden to the God, is it so?"

  I assented.

  Uriens said, "Some of my people still do so, and I make no great effort to put it down. The peasants feel that it is all very well for kings and great folk, who can afford to pay priests and the like to pray them out of Hell, to follow the way of Christ, but it would be hard on them if the Old Ones, who had been worshipped in our hills since time out of mind, should not have their due. Accolon thinks much the same, but now so much of power is going into the hands of the priests, it is needful I too must not offend them. As for me, I care not what God sits on the throne in Heaven, or what God is worshipped by my people, so that my kingdom is at peace. But once I wore the antlers. I swear I will never reproach you, lady Morgaine."

  Ah, Mother Goddess, I thought, this is grotesque, this is madn
ess, you jest with me ... I might well have made a happy marriage with Accolon, after all. But Accolon was young and would wish for a young wife ... . I said to Uriens, "One more thing you must know. I bore a child to the Horned One. ..."

  "I have said I will not reproach you with anything that is past, lady Morgaine-"

  "You do not understand. It went so ill with me when that child was born that I will certainly never bear another." A king, I thought, a king would want a fertile bride, even more than his younger son ... .

  He patted my hand. I think he actually meant to comfort me. "I have sons enough," he said. "I have no need of others. Children are a fine thing, but I have had my share and more."

  I thought: He is foolish, he is old, ... but he is kind. If he had professed a madness of desire for me, I would have been sickened by him, but kindness I can live with.

  "Do you grieve for your son, Morgaine? If you wish, you may send for him and have him fostered at my court, and I swear to you that neither he nor you shall ever hear a word of reproach, and he shall be decently reared as befits the son of the Duchess of Cornwall and the Queen of North Wales."

  This kindness brought tears to my eyes. "You are very kind," I said, "but he is well where he is, in Avalon."

  "Well, if you decide otherwise, tell me," he said. "I would be glad of another boy about the house, and he would be the right age, I suppose, for a playmate to my youngest son, Uwaine."