CHAPTER TEN
Morgan
It was naïve to think I could outrun my misery by moving away from London, Morgan thought, surveying Merlin and Elspeth with affection. She’d gone straight to them on arriving at Glastonbury, and the warmth of their greeting brought some comfort to her aching heart.
She waited for Merlin to start with his mysterious utterances again but he did not, perhaps warned off by Elspeth. Instead, he picked up on her thoughts before she had a chance to protect herself. Was he the father of the baby you lost? Is that why you’re so unhappy? He didn’t say the words out loud, and neither did Morgan in her reply: Yes, he was. And now he’s lost to me forever.
Merlin patted her shoulder in sympathy and changed the subject. “We’re all so very pleased that the old factory site is to be rebuilt. It’s been an eyesore for years. And adding a medieval garden to the plan is a wonderful idea. Dru thinks all his Christmases have come at once.”
“And you’re in charge of it all!” Elspeth gave her a friendly nudge. “I am so proud of you, Morgan.”
“And I am so grateful to you for helping me out when I most needed it. And for finding me a job.” Morgan turned to Merlin. “It was because of my experience with Dru at the nursery that I chose my path when I went back to school and on to university. I owe you all a huge debt of gratitude.”
“Which you have repaid by doing so well, and by coming back here to put that knowledge to good use,” Merlin said. “But it means, of course, that you’ll have to go to Bride’s Mound again. Are you ready for that, Morgan?”
So he knew that something had happened there. Time to lay the ghosts to rest, Morgan decided.
“I admit I was freaked out when I went there with Dru as a teenager,” she said. “I was just walking over that field next to Bride’s Mound and it was as if the ground in front of me opened up into a sort of pool. I saw a woman’s face reflected in the water, a woman who looked like me. I’d seen a flash of her before – in your shop, Merlin – but she was gone before I really knew what was going on. But this time she was really there, so I asked her who she was. And I’m almost sure she said her name was Morgana.” Morgan shivered. “I know it sounds crazy. But then … I heard a sort of chanting, like you hear on the news when there are riots. I could sense such hatred behind the chant, it sounded like a death threat. Oh God!” She pressed her hands together. “I just wish I knew what this was all about.”
“Morgana?” Merlin echoed, adding thoughtfully, “So I was right, although maybe a bit off with my timing. You are here for a reason. I’m quite sure of it now.”
“I needed to come before too. It’s only because of what happened to me here that I followed the path that has brought me back again. And now I need to find out why.” Morgan glanced at her briefcase. She was fairly sure that part of the answer lay within, but she would have to come up with a convincing argument, especially for Dru.
“I know Dru’s looking forward to seeing you. He told me he couldn’t believe it when he found out who’d been appointed to oversee the project.”
“I’m afraid Dru might change his mind about me once we get started,” Morgan said. “In fact, I’m really not sure we’re going to be able to work together at all.”
Elspeth took Morgan’s arm and drew her inside. “Come and have a cuppa and tell us all about it,” she said. “I’m sure you’re worrying over nothing.”
“Something else happened while I was out at Bride’s Mound,” Morgan said, once Elspeth had stopped fussing around with putting out cake and making the tea. “Dru had shown me his plans but I had the sense they were all wrong. I was sure that the garden should be round, not square, and that it should be sited in the field nearby rather than close to Bride’s Mound, as Dru had designed it. The pool at the side of his design, the so-called Holy Well of St. Bridget, was also in the wrong place. He got quite huffy with me, and insisted that his plan follows what was there before. But it doesn’t, because I caught a flash of how the garden should look. I didn’t know why at the time, but I do now.”
Morgan bent down to unlock her briefcase. She withdrew a flat packet of tissue paper and carefully unwrapped it to reveal a sheet of parchment. She spread it out on the low table at the center of the room so that both Merlin and Elspeth could look at it.
“Where did you get this?” Merlin surged forward and fell on his knees beside the table. With a gentle finger, he traced the circle on the parchment, a wheel divided by radiating lines, and covered with tiny writing in faded ink. His face reflected his amazement.
“I found it in an old book which has been in my family for hundreds of years.” Morgan hesitated, wondering whether she should reveal the rest of the story. Finally making up her mind, she said, “Many years ago I found a bag with some objects in it. I stole it and hid it away even though I didn’t understand what it contained. In fact I still don’t, but I’ve kept it with me ever since. One of the things I found inside it was the book. I can’t read it because it’s in Latin. But I kept it because it seems so old and so precious. When I was packing to come away, and thinking what to bring, I had a proper look through it, and I found this tucked away at the back.” She picked up the drawing and held it up so that they could both see it. “This is the original plan of the garden that was here, and this is what I need to recreate. I am absolutely sure of it. I also need to show you the other things that were in the bag because I can’t help thinking now that all of them are important for some reason. But I’m going to need your help with this, Merlin. For a start, as you can see from this diagram, I’m afraid there’s trouble ahead. I’ve been appointed to oversee the project, but if the company has already agreed to Dru’s plans then either I’ve got a fight on my hands, or I’ll have to walk away.”
“There is an alternative,” Elspeth said, with the glimmer of a smile. “You can turn everyone around to your way of thinking without the need for bloodshed.”
“And with this in your armory,” Merlin tapped the sheet of parchment, “it might be a whole lot easier than you think. But whatever happens, we’re on your side, Morgan. And if there’s any other way I can help you …”
“We can help you,” Elspeth interrupted.
Merlin nodded. “If we can help you with anything else, you only have to ask.”
“But first things first,” Elspeth said briskly. She drained her cup, set it down with a clatter, and stood up. “Have you found somewhere to stay yet? Because the spare bedroom is yours, if you want it?”
“What about Saffy?”
“Married, and living not too far from here. We’re going to be grandparents.” Elspeth beamed with delight.
“Congratulations! And thank you, I’d love to stay with you.”
“On one condition,” said Merlin. “I want to see what else you have in that bag of yours.”
Merlin and Elspeth watched closely as Morgan unzipped her suitcase and pulled out a soft cloth bag. She sat down and placed it on her lap. “Let me tell you where this bag came from before I show you the contents,” she said, resting her hands on top of it.
Merlin shifted impatiently. Morgan could tell he was dying to see what was in the bag, but she wouldn’t be rushed. “As I said, I found it when I was just a child,” she began. “I think it must have belonged to my mother, and to her mother before her, because they all seem to have been Arthurian tragics – hence my name, and my brother’s name, which is Arthur. And my mother’s name is Igraine. My father died when I was just a baby, and my mother married again. She’s a lady now – in her own opinion, anyway. Lady Igraine of Cornwallis Hall.”
“Married to Lord Easterbrook, the … the …?” Elspeth’s eyes were wide with shock.
“Yes, the lord who got into trouble with a prostitute,” Morgan said dryly, putting into words what Elspeth was too embarrassed to mention. “And I haven’t seen any of them for years. Perhaps now you can understand why.”
“Merlin and I visited Cornwallis Hall years ago, when we were on holiday in Cornw
all.”
“Wish I’d known you then. I could have given you the grand tour.”
“We didn’t see any of the family, only the guide.”
“I was probably off at boarding school anyway. Arthur too.” And my mother certainly never mixed with the great unwashed, as she called them.
“And … Arth Easterbrook is your brother?”
“His name is Arthur, not Arth – pretentious git!”
“Whatever his name is, he’s making quite a name for himself,” Merlin said dryly.
Morgan pulled a face. She didn’t want to talk about her half-brother. But she knew what Merlin meant. Along with googling Lance she’d once googled Arthur. She’d found out that he’d dabbled in politics while at university, and that he’d stood for the United Britain Party in the last election, and had won his seat. He was the youngest parliamentarian ever to be elected, and the press had been all over it for a few days but she’d hurriedly switched off the news reports whenever he came on.
Now, after her close call with death, she was paying more attention to the news, and what she was seeing and hearing profoundly disturbed her. She was haunted by the scenes of the carnage caused by the bomb blast shown on television, knowing that one of those bodies might well have been hers, while the continuing unrest, the chanting and shouts of warring gangs reminded her of the sounds she’d heard years ago, on her first visit to Bride’s Mound.
It seemed to Morgan that Britain was fragmenting into a nation of tribes, each living in their own enclaves and holding onto their own traditions, culture and beliefs while growing increasingly hostile towards each other. The complete meltdown and chaos in the Middle East, and the inability of the Western nations to secure their borders had led to an influx of refugees from all around the world, fuelling suspicion and a growing disunity. Filling the vacuum was the rise of the Brotherhood of Islam who had taken Islamic State, along with a host of other fundamentalist groups, under their umbrella. Their stated ambition was to establish a worldwide caliphate, and their goal was backed by unlimited funds and a growing arsenal of stolen chemical and nuclear weapons. A targeted campaign of recruitment was garnering a seemingly inexhaustible supply of martyrs determined to sacrifice themselves in the name of Allah. The promise of glory in death meant that new terrorist attacks on the West were being reported almost every day. America, once the strong arm of the world, had lost all credibility, while the UN had degenerated into a rabble of dissenting voices, each delegate putting the ideology and needs of his or her country before the need to combat this descent into terror and barbarity.
“We need politicians like him and his party.” Merlin’s voice interrupted Morgan’s thoughts. “At some stage we’re going to have to draw a line and stand up for democracy and our way of life. And that may well mean taking on other nations with territorial ambitions, like Russia, and China, as well as all those who want us to live under the religion and laws of Islam.”
Morgan was inclined to agree with Merlin’s sentiments, while not sharing his faith in her brother.
She hurried on with her explanation. “Arthur is actually my half-brother. After my father died, my mother didn’t waste any time in marrying the lord of the manor, and I’m pretty sure that it was his child she was expecting.” And perhaps that’s why my father died. Morgan didn’t say the words aloud, but realized that Merlin had heard her when he nodded thoughtfully. For a brief moment she chided herself, before recalling that she’d intended to tell both of them everything anyway.
“I was very young when we moved to Cornwallis Hall. Looking back on it, I’m sure I missed my father, and my home. I know I always felt sad, and very lonely. But I do remember exploring the stately home. It’s enormous. There were a lot of rooms that were never used at all. Everything was covered with dust sheets and I was too scared to go in them because I used to think there were ghosts hiding there. At least, that’s what my brother’s nanny told me; she liked to frighten me with stories of ghosts, and the undead, and vampires and that.” Morgan felt a cold shiver run down her back at the memory.
“The rooms at the top weren’t used either, they were just storerooms for the junk that the lord’s family must have accumulated over the centuries,” she continued. “Probably some of that stuff would be quite valuable – not that my stepfather needs the money. But there were some old toys in one of the rooms, and I used to play with them. That room became my hidey-hole. There were also several large suitcases stored there which I realized, as I got older, must once have belonged to my mother.”
“Containing this bag?” Merlin could hardly conceal his impatience.
“Containing this bag,” Morgan echoed. “I went through everything really carefully, hoping to find something about my father, especially a photograph to keep as a memento, because I couldn’t really remember what he looked like. I could only remember that I’d loved him and that I missed him. But there was nothing. That b … That woman had destroyed every last shred of evidence that she’d ever been married to a humble tenant farmer, or that she came from humble stock herself. And then I found this bag. I didn’t know what the things inside it meant, but it was quite obvious that no one wanted it, and so I took it, and hid it as something of my own. And I’ve kept it ever since. I’m not sure why, other than that I found it comforting to have something from my past life, even if it did once belong to my mother.”
Morgan opened the drawstring then, and extracted a solid purple object. Cradling it in her palm, she held it out for Merlin’s and Elspeth’s inspection.
“That’s a beautiful crystal,” Merlin said thoughtfully, taking it from her to study it more carefully. “Do you know the properties of amethyst, Morgan?”
Morgan shook her head. “I’ve never really gone in for crystals and aromatherapy, and all that new age stuff.”
“It’s thought of as a stone to prevent intoxication. One that will get rid of destructive and compulsive behaviors and addictions. It brings psychic healing and spiritual growth; it gives relief from grief and personal loss, and promotes peace, happiness and contentment.” Merlin gently stroked the rough edges of the shining crystal. “More important for our purposes, it brings insight and it will increase your psychic powers. It’s a stone of the spirit, for transfiguration and transformation and I can feel that this stone is full of energy and power. This is a very useful addition to anyone’s magical toolbox.” He handed the crystal back to Morgan. “What else have you got in there?”
Morgan replaced the crystal. “This’ll interest you, Merlin. It’s a bit like the packs of Tarot cards in your shop.” She drew out the bundle of thin wooden tablets with their curious decorations. Merlin took them and, with great reverence, fanned them out across the low coffee table while Elspeth hastily cleared away cups and plates to make room for them.
“I don’t know what they mean or what they stand for,” Morgan ventured. “Do you have any ideas, Merlin?”
“Hmm. Maybe. They’re very, very old but I think they may be related in some way to the Tarot cards of today. I didn’t think the practice of Tarot was so ancient – because these would have to date back hundreds of years, surely?”
He looked at Morgan, who shrugged. “I have no idea. I’ve never paid any attention to any of these things until fairly recently.”
“See this?” Merlin indicated a tablet with the depiction of a hand holding a cup. “And this, and this.” He pointed at two other tablets, one depicting a burning tower, the other a child holding a star in its hand. “They seem to be conveying a similar message to some of the cards in the present day packs of Tarot. Will you leave them with me, Morgan? I’d like to study them, and maybe even try a reading to see if they work on the same level as the Tarot of today?”
“But what are you reading? What are they for?”
Merlin shrugged. “If you interpret them correctly, they can give you some idea about the past, and also about the future and what it holds.” He studied Morgan for a moment. “Would you like me to try a Taro
t reading for you?”
Morgan gave a little grunt of amusement. “Keep them as long as you like, but I think I’ll pass on my own reading, thanks. The thought of maybe seeing more visions out at Bride’s Mound is quite enough to freak me out.”
“So what else have you got in there?” Elspeth asked eagerly.
Morgan drew out an ancient book, its parchment leaves filled with dense writing, and handed it to her. “This is the book,” she said. “I can’t understand the Latin, but I wonder if it’s a book of spells? If that doesn’t sound too crazy, even for Glastonbury?”
“Show me!” Merlin grabbed the book from Elspeth and began to thumb through it with eager anticipation.
“That’s where I found the drawing, tucked in at the back.” Morgan pointed at the sheet of parchment she’d already shown them. “You can see from the plan that it’s a round garden, like a wheel set in a square. And from what I can make out, all the writing in each segment of the wheel refers to the plants to be found there. I believe this is the original plan for the medieval garden that I’m to recreate at Bride’s Mound. But the weird thing is, I wasn’t aware of this when I was there with Dru. I saw the actual garden in my mind’s eye, with the pool at its center.”
“And that’s why you’re here and that’s why you’ve come,” Merlin exulted. “I knew there was a reason for it. Of course you’re the best – the only – person to recreate what you must always have known was there, even if you didn’t know that you knew… if you know what I mean.”
Elspeth gave a snort of mirth. But Morgan knew exactly what Merlin meant. “It just seems bizarre,” she said slowly. “Why me? And what’s it all about?”
“I’ve thought right from the first that you were sent here for a reason – a reason beyond just the recreation of this medieval garden.” Merlin paused, looking troubled. “Now, more than ever, I feel that we’re heading for disaster. We’ve become divided as a nation, all of us seemingly at odds with one another, but we’ve become a selfish society too, where the individual’s wants and needs are paramount and to hell with your neighbor, your community, your village, your country. I believe that sooner or later we’re going to have to fight for our culture and our way of life against the populous nations who want to take over our wealth and our resources, and against the Islamic fundamentalists whose stated intent is to impose a worldwide caliphate.”
The Once and Future Camelot Page 20