THE WITCHES OF AVALON: a thrilling Arthurian fantasy (THE MORGAN TRILOGY Book 1)

by Lavinia Collins

  “And I paid the price for it, Kay. I paid the price. There will be no great castle for you when I am gone. Besides, a man cannot marry another man.”

  Suddenly, in an overwhelming rush, I understood it had not been fighting that I had seen when I peeped through the door last night. Arthur’s disgusted face when I said I had seen it many times before, Ector’s anger, Kay’s defiance, it all at last made sense. I had heard the nuns before talk with disgust of things like that, and name them as a sin. I did not know yet what I thought of it.

  “Kay, you will meet a girl, and marry her and be happy. This is not the end of the world. You must accept that these boys’ games are over. You are men now, you and Lancelot both, and you bear the responsibility of your family’s name and honour. You will understand, when you are older, that I did this for the good of you both.”

  Arthur and I scurried away when we heard footsteps come towards the door, and I hid the rest of the evening in my room with my books. I heard Kay slam his door as he went into his room down the corridor from me, and I was grateful that Ector did not call us to dine together. I was glad that I, too, had not been sent away. Still, it filled me with uneasiness, all Ector’s talk of family honour, his talk of how we were grown. I felt my childhood evaporating around me, slipping through my fingers like sand, and I was afraid.

  Chapter Three

  Kay was quiet for a week or so after that, and when he practised at fighting against Arthur with wooden swords, he hit at his younger brother with a deliberate cruelty, trying to strike him at the head, or trip him. I thought he might have blamed Arthur for Ector sending Lancelot away, thinking that Arthur told their father that Lancelot had been in his bedroom, rather than Ector hearing it. But the fighting seemed to slowly tire out Kay’s anger. Arthur matched him blow-for-blow anyway, and though younger, he was Kay’s equal in size and strength, so slowly Kay’s wicked, flashing smile returned, and his ready, melodious laugh and his playfulness. I think Kay knew, too, deep down that his father was right, because they did not shout at each other again.

  I sat reading and half-watching Kay and Arthur as they trained together, first with wooden swords, then with wooden swords and leather armour, then with real swords and real platemail. Kay had this wonderfully light set of dark-coloured mail that seemed to sit weightlessly on him, and when I tried to pick it up when he took it off, it felt weightless in my hand, but when Ector or Arthur carried it they needed both hands. Kay told me that it was because it was forged in the Otherworld, and his mother had had it made for him before she died.

  By the time we were deep into summer and the days grew long and heavy, the sun low and orange in the sky making us all sleepy and lazy, Kay was fully his old self again. We ran together through the woodlands near his house to find wild strawberries and raspberries, and climb trees, though Kay was much better. He was fast and fearless, and in breeches his clothes did not tangle in the branches like the skirts of my dress did. Arthur liked to practise fighting, and besides he had discovered a new game of his own that he liked much better, where he would try to kiss the girls that came from the village carrying pails of milk as they walked down the little path to Ector’s house. I was surprised how often they were willing, though Kay said that all the girls liked Arthur’s golden hair and broad, open smile. He told me girls were afraid of him, and said his mother was a witch and he an imp from the Otherworld, so they ran away from him. I was not sure if he was teasing me, because I had never seen him try.

  One day, as we sat in a tree, Kay with his back against a thick branch and his feet braced above him against the trunk, and I on an opposite branch, dangling my legs down into the empty air, Kay throwing little unripe apples at me playfully across the space between us, I heard him give a strange little noise of thoughtfulness, and looked over to him.

  He was looking at me, an unfamiliar look in his eye, and a strange, handsome half-smile on his face.

  “Do you think you’re pretty, Morgan?” he asked me, teasingly.

  I shrugged. “No.”

  I wished I could have said more, but I felt nervous, suddenly, and I could feel myself blushing. I wished I had said No, but I’m clever. Far cleverer than you. It would have been true. I could read in Latin and French, and Kay could barely read in English. He squinted at the words on the page and knew half of them, but that was the best he could do. And he couldn’t write. And he didn’t know the names of the stars. I didn’t need to be pretty. I was clever.

  Then, to my absolute surprise, Kay threw another hard little unripe apple at me, and said, “I think you’re pretty.”

  I gripped the branch I was sat on hard, afraid suddenly that I would fall.

  Kay didn’t mention it again, when we climbed down the tree and walked back to his house. He was just the same as he always was. He pushed a blackberry against my face, and when the purple juice smeared over me laughed and told me that was how I would look when the ladies of Avalon had woaded me into one of them, and I laughed and shoved him back; but he was quicker than me and got away before I could rub a berry on his face. Still, I felt that something had changed between us, and I felt a new fluttering excitement, and there seemed to be something new in the smiles Kay gave me, but I could not be sure.

  Our days continued the same, and Kay did not say he thought I was pretty again, but I did feel that something was different. Kay seemed ever happier and more playful, and sometimes would hold out the berries we picked together between his fingers and offer them right to my mouth. I felt a little daring rush inside me to take them, and feel his fingers against my lips. I didn’t like it the few times that Arthur came with us. Kay was no different with me, but the nervousness inside my stomach made me different with him, quieter. As hard as I tried I could never put away my natural shyness, and something about Arthur’s loud, simple way made it worse, made the thought of giving anything of myself away around Kay all the more unbearable. Arthur just charged over everything, barely noticing, stuffing his food into his face with barely time to taste it, and grabbing the milkmaids in his arms all the same as though he could not tell one from the other.

  One night, Kay knocked on my door when I was asleep, and dragged me from my bed so that we could lie side by side in the garden and demanded that I teach him more of the names of the stars. Besides, he had forgotten already those ones I had taught him already. At first he joked and pretended to give them all crude names instead, just to make me wriggle with embarrassment, but soon he was serious and intent, and he learned the names fast. We pointed up together at the pole star above, and our hands brushed, and I felt the little spark of excitement glow within me, and Kay turned beside me to look at me, a strange seriousness on his face, and our arms still dangled upwards into the air. I thought he might try to kiss me, but he did not. I found I was disappointed, and when the moment passed, Kay sitting up suddenly and declaring himself too tired to continue, I found I could not get to sleep for a long time. I would have liked him to, I realised.

  It was late in the summer when the Lady of Avalon came back with the news that she intended to take me with her to Avalon in the next few days. Ector welcomed her, but both Kay and Arthur looked downcast that I was going away from them. I was sad, too. I would miss Arthur, but I knew that I would miss Kay far more.

  I packed up my things, feeling nervous and a little sad. After the dark arguments of the beginning of summer had passed like a rainstorm, it had been blissful. I realised, too, that I had seen Kay and his brother grow from boys to men over only a matter of months, for before they had played at fighting but now they trained in their armour – or Kay in his armour, Arthur in a leather jerkin – like real men. I wished that my life was not set out for me, as the daughter of the queen, but that I could be a boy and stay with them. I felt, too, that the summer had passed me and Kay by with a painful almostness that I could not quite put into words, though I longed to say something to him.

  The next morning, Kay knocked on my door before prime and told me he wanted to g
o climbing in the woods one last time. We went up a few trees, me after him, our hands growing sticky with sap, and green moss from the trees gathering on my dress, and found a patch of small, sweet wild strawberries that we sat beside and ate until they were gone. Kay held out the last one for me, and as I leaned forward to take it from his fingers, I felt them linger against my lips, and a jump of excitement went inside me, but the moment did not come and Kay stood up, offering me his hand to help me stand, and led the way on.

  We came, just as the sun was passing midday and beating down in the fullness of its strength, to a lovely clearing. We had run through it before, almost without seeing it, and I recognised it. It was filled with soft grass, and lilac trees gathered at one side of it, filling the space with their smell. It was beautiful. Kay stretched his arms over his head, leaning his face up into the sun with a broad, contented smile, and sank down where he stood to lie half in the shade of a tree on the edge of the clearing. Tired from our morning’s climbing, I sat down beside him, propping myself up on my elbows, and gazing up above at the patch of clear blue sky over us.

  The lovely late summer sun filtered green through the leaves above, and butterflies floated by on the lilac tree beside us. I closed my eyes and breathed it in. I would be in Avalon soon, which would be different and strange, and there would be only women. I thought, for the most part, that I would like that, though I would miss Kay. Kay stretched out his long legs beside me, and sighed, propping himself up on his elbows, gazing across the little clearing, his hair ruffled up from running and climbing, a light flush high on his cheeks. If I were not the king’s stepdaughter, perhaps I could have married Kay. If I were not meant for Avalon. For a different life.

  Kay turned to me, suddenly, as though he could hear my thoughts.

  “Morgan, have you ever kissed anyone?” he asked, flat out, like it was nothing. I felt myself blush. I shook my head. I wasn’t sure what the right answer was – the answer that would make him kiss me – so I only told the truth.

  “Have you?” I asked him.

  “Not a girl,” he answered, with a wicked smile. “Do you want to know what it’s like?”

  Implicit in what he said was the phrase before you go. So, he had come here with me with the same thoughts and hopes and fears that I had. That the summer had passed us by while we both wanted but dared not to take this step towards one another. I didn’t think I should want to, but I did. I wanted Kay to kiss me, but I felt the shyness close me up again, and I dared not say anything in case this was just another one of Kay’s teases, in case I had misunderstood all along, and if I said so, he would laugh at me.

  But I did not have to say anything. Quick as a cat, Kay pounced around on to me, and I felt his lips against mine, and I was surprised at his gentleness. I had seen men and women kiss before, and I had seen Arthur grab girls and kiss them. They had seemed to enjoy it, wriggling with delight, but it had always looked rough and unpleasant. This was not. Kay’s lips were light and soft against mine, and I gave a little, unconscious, sigh of delight. The grass tickled lightly at the nape of my neck, under the thick plait of my dark hair, and through my closed eyelids I could see orange from the light beyond. Kay, encouraged by my enjoyment, moved slowly on to me, so he was lying on top of me. I was surprised to find I liked the feel of his body against mine. I knew – I had read – about men getting on top of women and I had thought it would be heavy and uncomfortable, but Kay’s body on mine felt tinglingly close and present rather than heavy and pressing. I wrapped my arms around his neck, feeling the thrill of nerves within me heighten and spread through my whole body. Gently, I felt Kay’s tongue brush against mine, and a spark of something new light deep within me. I supposed that was desire, that I had read about in books also, that I had seen press men and women to one another. I could smell Kay’s scent all around me; fresh grass and the wild of the woods, the sap of the trees. I could taste the strawberries sweet on his lips. He was bold and daring where I was shy and quiet and not only did I want him, I wanted to become more like him, to feel more pleasantly wicked. So, when I felt Kay’s hands run up my body and across my breasts, though I knew I ought to push him away, instead I pressed against him, and I heard him give a low laugh of contentment. I didn’t, in that moment, see why I should care about keeping myself perfect for marriage. Not while it was bright with the end of my summer of freedom all around me, and I could smell the fresh grass, and enjoy the feeling of Kay’s lips on mine, his hands exploring my body.

  My lips tingled softly with Kay’s kisses, and I began to feel hot, and something else with it a little like dizziness, and I knew my body wanted something, but I did not know what it was, only that I hoped Kay would give it to me. The nuns had taught me well, but not well enough, what a man did with a woman, when alone, and there was only so much I could learn from what was written in books. I hoped that Kay would know. Filled with a new daring, I slid my hands up the back of Kay’s shirt, against his warm, soft skin, and felt beneath it the muscles of a man rippling with strength. I was at once acutely aware that though we had been children together a long time, Kay and I were now grown, and what we were playing at now was not a child’s game, but I did not hold back at the thought. If we had to live in a world of adult dangers, I would not hold myself back from adult pleasures. My stepfather was dying and there was no one left to punish me for not keeping myself from a man’s touch before I was wed. Besides, this might mean I would never have to marry, or I might be even allowed to marry Kay.

  I felt Kay’s hand slide up my leg under my dress, and I kissed him harder. He made a low sound of surprise, and appreciation, in response to my eagerness for him, and I gasped as I felt his hand brush between my legs, and he slid his finger inside me, into a secret place I did not know I had. Somewhere that had the thrill of the forbidden. I felt hotter, and wilder, as though Kay’s touch inside me was leading me somewhere even more daring, and I took his lip lightly in my teeth, with a hungry little tug, and I reached down to touch him where I knew I should not, under his breeches. It was warm and soft with secret hair, and hard and promising beneath. Kay groaned low at my touch and suddenly, throwing the skirts of my dress up around my waist, Kay turned me roughly over and pulled me against him. I gave a little cry as I felt him go inside me, but after the first small shock of pain, I felt the warmth of pleasure, of closeness with Kay spread through me, and I felt his tender kisses against the back of my neck where he pulled back the heavy plait of dark hair to kiss me, and his hands against my hips moving me against him. It felt as though Kay and I were not just connected with one another, but with the deepness and wholeness of the world, and the ancientness of the Otherworld, and we belonged together, and to everything else all around us. I felt the heat of my enjoyment light my cheeks, and the breath came fast and ragged for me. All too soon, while I still felt the glow of Kay’s touch through my limbs, and at the centre of me, I heard Kay groan again, and it was over. He slid away from me, and gently smoothed the skirt of my dress back down over me, and drew me around and into his arms as he lay back down, with a satisfied smile, kissing me gently again. Kay was sleepy already; I could see his eyelids hanging heavily, and feel his arm fall away from around me, limp, as he began to doze in the sun, but I still felt full of a tingling energy that had been wakened with nowhere to go.

  That night, after Kay had walked back hand in hand with me to his house in a happy silence, I reached my hand down to where Kay had touched me, and I had felt the spark within me, and there with the memory of Kay on top of me, and the smell of the grass and the warm light of the sun, I felt at last under the touch of my own hand what Kay must have felt with me to make him groan and sigh away with contentment, and it was good indeed.

  Chapter Four

  It was hard to say goodbye to Ector, Kay and Arthur. I hugged them all tight while the Lady of Avalon stood loading my things on to her horse. Kay kissed me softly on the cheek and whispered “I will miss you,” and Arthur said loudly and proudly,

&n
bsp; “Kay will be a great knight when we see you again, and maybe so will I.”

  I turned around to wave at them getting smaller and smaller as we rode away, until I saw Ector turn and lead them inside. I felt the nerves tighten in my stomach, and my shyness close my throat. I wanted to ask the Lady what Avalon would be like, and if there would be others my age there, but I said nothing. I wondered how the world outside would change while I was in Avalon, and what would happen when King Uther died. Uther had no sons, no children at all of his own. Perhaps some of the kings of Britain would try to marry me, though I did not think I would be enough to win anyone the throne on my own. Perhaps my sister Morgawse’s husband would try to take it. They had three – or was it four? – sons already, the eldest a pair of strong twins Arthur’s age, and men always wanted to follow a king with lots of sons. Sons meant peace, and security for the kingdom into the next generation. I wondered about my sister, whom I had not seen in so long. She had come to see me a few times, once huge with one of her sons, and I missed her. When my time at Avalon was finished, I thought I might try to go all the way north to Lothian to see her, and my nephews.

  The journey was short enough, and we reached the shores of Avalon’s glassy lake at just past midday. The air was beginning to smell of autumn, of falling leaves and damp earth and fragrant apples. The changing of the year, and the changing of my life.

  There was a little barge tethered at the edge of the lake, and I got in after the Lady of Avalon, curling my arms around my knees. There was a chilly wind that seemed to blow through my dress. The Lady, the long rope of pale gold and white-grey hair snaking in a plait down over her shoulder as far as her waist, leaned back against the prow of the barge, stretching her legs out. The woad patterns on her face were old, and seemed to have faded into her skin, become a part of it, so I could not imagine what she would have looked like without them, if she would have been beautiful. She was certainly beautiful with them. As she pushed the barge lazily on, we moved through a mist. It smelled of strange, cloying herbs, and I coughed, and felt my stomach turn. There was something sickening about it, and if I were not afraid of looking weak I would have stuck my head out over the edge of the barge, in case I threw up. The Lady gave a little encouraging smile.