Voices of the Stars

by Rowena Whaling

  My eyes were drawn to a table of glittering silver, gold and gems...

  The moment I saw it, I knew that I had found the perfect gift for Gwenyfar. It was a delicate neck torque of hammered silver with a perfectly matched pair of clear red Rubies set into each end. It was lovely. I knew that it would be costly.

  Before the Merchant would quote a price for it, he offered a small glass of wine to me, which, he said, had travelled with him all the way from his Tribal homeland. At first I declined... However, quoth he, “To quench a thirst... to feed a hunger... to console a loss... these are the customs of our hospitality. So I pray you, linger a moment in the comfort of my humble pavilion, so that you may accept my offer and that we may speak of something pleasant before discussing trade. Will you?”

  Intrigued by his softly spoken words and genteel manners, I decided to accept the drink and sit as he had invited me to and to linger awhile to look around the inside of his beautiful tent.

  The walls were hung with carpets, most of which were coloured the natural colouring of Sheep or Goats. But then, around the borders were woven intricate patterns of green, red, blue, brown, and yellow wool. On two of these carpets, in their center, were oddly intertwined geometric patterns. Upon another carpet were two figures – a Man and a Woman – also entwined. When he saw that I admired them, he said that they were called ‘Wadd’ and ‘Suwa.’ These, he told me represented the Magic of ‘Manly Power and Mutability’ – as best I could understand – and of womanly ‘Beauty.’ On another carpet were a Bull, a Horse, and a Vulture. These he said were named: ‘Yaguth,’ ‘Ya’uq,’ and ‘Nasr,’ respectively. These images, he said, imbued his travels with ‘Brute Strength,’ ‘Swiftness,’ and ‘Sharp Sight’ – or perhaps ‘Insight.’

  About the images on yet another carpet – he said with a beaming smile, “These are the Three Goddesses... ‘Al-Uzza,’ whose name means ‘The Mighty One,’ the Goddess of the Morning Star; ‘Al-Lat,’ the “Mother,” whose name means simply ‘The Goddess’; and ‘Manat,’ the Dark Mother of ‘Fate’ or ‘Time.’

  “This carpet was made by my wife’s family, as our wedding carpet, to pass on to our children and grandchildren... It has long been filled with ‘Baraka.’ This I believe you would call Luck or Divine Blessings...”

  “What does that smaller one portend?”

  “Oh, that my friend, is a ward against ‘The Evil Eye.”

  I paid to the Merchant what price he first asked for Gwenyfar’s neck torque. Somehow to me, haggling over the cost would lessen the sentiment with which it would be given. The Merchant was so surprised at this that he bade me stay to see his other works.

  “Perhaps you might bring a smaller gift to each of her ladies. That is a way to a woman’s heart.”

  I thought about that. Yes, his was a good Idea. So, for her best and favourite – Branwen – I found an amber ball with an insect caught within it. My eyes then caught sight of a wooden box with intricate designs deeply carved into its sides and a Raven carved and painted onto the top of it. Perfect. He wrapped the amber in a silk cloth and placed it in the box.

  For Igraine and Tangwen, I bought silver clasps for their hair. For the rest of Gwenyfar’s ladies I purchased thin wrist torques of plain silver. They were delicate and fine enough to show my willingness to please, but not so fine as to compete with Gwenyfar’s gift. Satisfied that I had fulfilled my purpose, I thanked the Merchant for his goods, his wine, and the sharing of his traditions.

  After taking in the baths, I left for Dumnonia, making a promise to myself that I would return to Aquae Sulis as often as I was able.

  Bedwyr had returned to Dumnonia as soon as I was sure to be out of danger from my wound. He wished to visit with Igraine and his birth parents. Gwyddion travelled with him.

  It was an hour past twilight when I arrived and all was quiet. To enter into the main courtyard, I passed the Sacred Well. Ribbons hung from the branches of the Tree that grew beside it, swaying in the Wind. Torches were burning brightly at the entrance of and inside the courtyard.

  I was well and truly home.

  After using some Water of the Holy Spring and fresh Rosemary which lay in a basket next to the well with which to cleanse myself, I dressed and joined the others in the great hall.

  Gwenyfar, Branwen, and Bedwyr were playing a board game, gaily laughing. Igraine and Gwyddion – who I had not expected to be here – were deep in conversation. Two others of Gwenyfar’s ladies were in a far corner of the hall doing needlework. I entered and went first to Gwenyfar. She was, after all, my Queen and wife. I thought it wise to do so. She stood and said, “My Lord.” I embraced her and kissing her hand said, “Greetings my wife and queen.” We smiled at each other. “Greetings Branwen” – she arose and bowed her head. Then I greeted Bedwyr, Igraine, and Gwyddion and nodded at Gwenyfar’s two other ladies. They ‘bent the knee’ to me.

  “Sit down everyone, continue your pleasures,” said I. “This is our home. Please, let us not stand on formality.” This, of course, only addressed those to whom it applied. Never would I let The Merlin or my Lady Mother bend a knee to me – and as to Bedwyr, only at state affairs where it would be expected of him.

  My Lady Mother called to the attendants to serve food and drink. They did and we all – save for Gwyddion – drank newly made honey mead and ate flat cakes with dried venison, Apples, and cheese.

  After a couple of hours, I whispered to Gwenyfar that I wished to join her in her bedchamber. As ever, she stiffened, but then complied. We bade all a good rest and retired.

  All I would do upon this Night would be to give her the silver and ruby torque in private. She Loved it and put it on – right then. It did look perfect with her Moon-lit beauty.

  “How lovely you look in it, Gwenyfar. Will you wear it tomorrow when we go riding together? It should be a warm and sunny Day.”

  “Yes, I will, Arthur, if it please you.”

  “Then I will bid a good Night to you. Sleep well.”

  I gently kissed her lips, turned away from her in our bed and bothered her no further.

  So it went every Day and evening for a week. We rode or walked and talked of her childhood, our Mothers, Princess Rowena, and so forth.

  We also talked about – as she did seem genuinely interested in – all of my youthful adventures. Slowly the wall of Ice between us melted.

  Then the Night came when I would speak to her about Morganna’s treachery. It could not have been more uncomfortable and awkward. What could I say?

  Inevitably, she asked.

  “How could she trick you so? You saw her, veiled or not. How did you not know her as your sister?”

  So here it was, the dreaded accusation, the moment of reckoning. I had vowed to Gwenyfar that I would never lie to, or deceive her.

  “I thought she was Morgan.”

  “But Morgan is your sister, too!”

  “My half sister, Gwenyfar, but we did not know this, nor did our Mother, until I was a man and chosen King.”

  So I told her the simple truth. I also told her how, at the Rite of Fertility, I had only found out that the Goddess had chosen Morgan to represent herself in the Sacred Marriage, just before it had taken place. I held nothing back. Why should I? Then I told her that now I feared I had got Morganna with child and that now there was an urgency to make a legitimate heir. She stood, wide eyed with her hands held to the top of her chest as if in protection of her heart and throat. I waited. To my relief, she seemed not scandalized by all that I had told her.

  “I am sorry for you, Arthur.”

  “I am sorry for you, as, well Gwenyfar. I know that you did not want this marriage, but now we must make a child.”

  I smiled.

  “I know that you do not Love me but perhaps you will even enjoy our bed frolics…” said I, trying to be light hearted. “Have no fear in answering this, for it matters not to me. But have you ever been with a man in this way? No? Well, I promise to be respectful and treat you gently and lovingly.”<
br />
  Large tears began to drop down her cheeks.

  “Oh, Gwenyfar, you might even like it. It might feel very good if you could relax and try to enjoy my body. Please do not cry.”

  I wiped her tears and gently – but as a lover – kissed her mouth, then her ears and neck. She was stiff and cold. So, I gave her some wine. I was not going to trick her – I told her it had some passion-exciting herbs in it. She drank heartily. When she seemed a bit drunk, I undressed her, carried her to the bed and covered her. Then I removed my clothes, drank another whole flagon of the drugged wine and lay beside her. I caressed her. She was beautiful and soft. The drugs in my body were working. I pulled her atop myself and felt the full length of her naked body and her soft breasts upon my chest. I kissed her more passionately and caressed her between her legs. I could do this. I rolled her on her back and sucked on her small round breasts and slowly I ran my mouth down to her belly all the while rubbing her between her legs. When finally my mouth grasped the nub of flesh just above the entrance to her womb, I sucked on it to please her. She screamed out, “No, no!”

  Her body was wracked with trembling.

  “No, please, no. I do not want this, please!”

  She jumped out of bed. I sat with my head in my hands. My member was as soft as her pillow.

  “Stop screaming, Gwenyfar. Everyone in the fortress will hear you.”

  “I do not care!”

  “I will not rape you. Have I moved too quickly?”

  “I don’t know – perhaps. Oh, I am sorry, Arthur.”

  I covered her naked body, wrapped it in a blanket, kissed her forehead and said, “Goodnight then, Gwenyfar.”

  I let the Night go by. Upon the next Day she seemed truly contrite.

  The following Night I tried again. She only lay in bed stiffly, crying softly. But this Time, drugged wine or no, I could not become hard enough to enter her. I knew that it was no use. How could I spill my seed if I felt numb? I slept chastely in her bed again that Night.

  I thought I heard weeping in the next chamber...

  By the end of the week, my patience had worn thin. I had to leave upon the next Day as there was word of enemy Saxons on the move and their boats coming toward land near Lindisfarne. So, for one last Time, I tried again. This Time my body responded – perhaps from desperation and a bit of anger. She spurned me again – vehemently saying, “You just do not understand!”

  I got up, threw my tunic on, and said, “No, I do not! I do not understand!”

  Then I slammed the door behind me. I did not get very far down the hall when I stopped and put my head against the Stone wall. “Breathe, Arthur,” I told myself – as The Merlin had taught me to. What had she said? “You just do not understand”? What did I not understand? Perhaps she had been violated somehow. Perhaps even in her childhood. I stood there composing myself for a few moments. Then compassion overtook my heart. I strode back to her chamber door, flung it open – prepared to say, “What do I not understand Gwenyfar?” But my voice only got as far as “What do…”

  To my complete astonishment, what I beheld answered everything. Gwenyfar and Branwen stood in the center of the chamber. Gwenyfar was completely naked and they were locked in a lover’s kiss and embrace. Gwenyfar’s back was to me and Branwen held her head and beautiful blonde hair in a caress of such Love that it took my breath away. I said nothing, speechless. They broke their embrace and Branwen pushed Gwenyfar behind herself in a pose of protection.

  “Do not hurt her! Kill me if you must, but I beg of you – do not hurt her.”

  She dropped to her knees.

  “Take your sword and run me through but by all the Gods do not hurt her.”

  “You Love her!” I said. “Truly Love her...”

  “Yes – since we were children.”

  This I understood well.

  I smiled. So now I knew.

  “I will never hurt either of you, and I will never make Gwenyfar cry again.”

  I walked toward them.

  Please, lord, do not put her away. Take two wives, but do not shame her.”

  “I will do neither. Your secret Love is safe with me. I kissed both on their foreheads.

  “There is no shame in Love. It is the Goddess’ greatest gift.”

  I turned and left them to their privacy. So it was settled. There would be no legitimate heir.

  I got Bedwyr up from his bed.

  “Tomorrow, Bedwyr, we ride to battle. Tonight, let us drink, laugh, and go wenching.”

  He looked surprised.

  “I will be dressed in a moment, Arthur.”

  We rode to our usual village tavern. However, before we paid our gold for the rooms and the wenches, he said, “Arthur, let us talk a moment.”

  “Alright.”

  We were served ale and he began...

  “Is there trouble between Gwenyfar and yourself?”

  “No.” I laughed. “Not anymore, Bedwyr.”

  “I do not understand – you were just in her chamber, are you not spent?”

  The reason Bedwyr dared speak so frankly to me of such intimate things was because of the closeness of our hearts. He knew that I would not be offended by his query.

  “No, my brother, I am not spent. The marriage has never been consummated. Of course you must give your oath of honour to me that this conversation between us tonight will never be repeated to anyone.”

  “Yes, yes, on my honour and my Love for you... But the blooded sheets?”

  “A trick to save her honour... What is wrong Bedwyr?” asked I as his face paled.

  He blurted out “Is she just afraid of sex?”

  “Oh, I think not...” said I, with a chuckle of laughter.

  Incomprehension filled his eyes...

  “But then, what?”

  “It is a sensitive issue, Bedwyr.”

  “But Arthur, it is also a sensitive and very important matter that you must get an heir upon her! Truly, there must be a way to persuade?”

  “You are missing a great piece of this puzzle, Bedwyr. The Weavers play seemingly cruel tricks upon us all.”

  I looked deeply into his eyes. It did not take the ‘Sight’ for me to see into his troubled heart. I had always known that he desired and perhaps even Loved Gwenyfar. I saw a sudden dawning realization in his eyes. Had he just read my thoughts – that I knew of his emotional attachment to her?

  “Arthur,” said he, “You know that you can trust me with anything.”

  Yes – it was true – never would he betray me.

  “Of course I trust you Bedwyr, as much as anyone else in this world. So, to satisfy your burning curiosity and worry, I will give the missing piece of this puzzle to you.

  “First I must tell you that I will never put Gwenyfar away and I will not take a second wife as do some other Kings. While she lives, she will be Queen of our realm. My voice trailed away, deeply into my thoughts.

  “You see Bedwyr, Morgan’s Voices have told her that I already have a son.”

  “What? How?”

  Silence hung between us for a moment.

  “Oh, Gods... Damn Morganna’s trickery!”

  “Never to worry, Bedwyr – I myself am bastard born and this has not stopped my gaining the Kingship.”

  “But why, Arthur, does Gwenyfar refuse you? Surely she could not hate you so much, for you have ever been kind to her.”

  “No, she should not. And hatred is not the problem; rather – Love is the problem. We may even become friends someday, I believe... I hope.”

  “Arthur, this is a puzzle. I feel that there is much more to this than you are saying. So tell me... Why?”

  And so I did. I told of all my efforts, patience, and cajoling; of the events and revelations of this very Night and of Gwenyfar and Branwen’s Love.

  Round-eyed as a Buck surrounded by a pack of Wolfs was he. Shocked, Bedwyr was sitting before me in disbelief of the unfathomable truth that had evaded us both for all of this Time. When I had finished explaining
this to him, I felt a sardonic smile growing upon my face, although I tried – for the sake of his feelings and for Gwenyfar’s honour – to seem a bit grave. Ah, but my efforts were of no use, for in the telling of it all, I found it ironically humorous. I could not help my expression any more than my sense of relief.

  Bedwyr was just staring at me, blank faced. I looked down at the wooden table at which we sat, save I break out in uncontrollable laughter. I took a draught of ale, swallowed it, and played with a knife that lay upon the table in front of me. I spun it with my fingers like a nervous child. I bit my bottom lip and then looked up at him. I was still hopelessly grinning and trying ever so hard not to laugh.

  When finally he found his voice, all he could say was, “Oh...”

  Such a small word... just, “Oh...” a word of total comprehension and clear vision of the changing of his world and mine forever.

  I said, still smiling with that fool’s grin, “Indeed!”

  “Drink up, Bedwyr, and let us find the two most plump, alluring, and desirable wenches with whom to quench the Fires of our loins this Night. For, on the morrow, we ride to battle.”

  To my dearest Morgan...

  I have written what is above for it is truth. However, if you think these words of a too scandalous nature – I mean that they should not be left for posterity – well... I will defer to your judgment in this. Remove them at your will...

  Chapter 21

  The Genealogies

  Nimue

  Just past the Time of the Earth Mother’s fertility, but not quite yet to Mid-Summer, I arrived in Bergundian Affolonia, there to seek audience with my Grandmother, Queen Vivianne the first – of the court of King Merovech. I immediately sent word to her in the guise of my being a traveling Merchant, offering to her extensive and beautiful wares.

  Theirs was obviously a very wealthy court, but beyond that, it seemed as though the wealth was shared by all in the land. There were no grasping beggars; no starving people to be seen and no shabby huts with leaky roofs were evident, either. Everyone was, to some measure, clean and comfortably clothed.