“No, I did not. Did you?” I could hear the anxiety in Morgan’s voice as she continued, “England’s in a lot of trouble. In fact we seem to be under siege from all sides. And I’m sure we’re seeing all this for a reason, only I don’t know what it is. Do you? If so, you must tell me, please, because I fear that if you don’t, it’ll be the end of England as I know it, and perhaps the end of us all.”
So it had come to this, and I had to make a choice: to interfere or not? But this was something I couldn’t discuss in front of Aline. I wondered what to do and then noticed some lay brothers a little distance away. I wasn’t sure if they’d been sent out to work in my garden but they’d obviously decided to have a little fun instead, for one of them had produced a stuffed pig’s bladder, round like a ball. He kicked it towards his companion, who made a dive for it and threw it back. I turned aside to my daughter. “Why don’t you ask the brothers if you might join in their game?” I suggested.
She gave me a long, considering look, then nodded and ran off. I was sure she knew the reason behind my suggestion. Aline was sharp as a needle. I was just grateful that she’d obeyed me in this. Perhaps she was also tempted by the notion of fresh air and some exercise after long hours of study. But I was sure she’d enjoy playing with the brothers, and I knew they’d be glad of her company, especially as that gave them licence to continue their game.
“Does what I’m seeing now have something to do with this medieval garden I’m making?” Morgan broke the silence once Aline had gone.
“What garden?”
“But these visions started when I first came to Glastonbury,” Morgan continued, without answering my question. “Maybe they’re something to do with these ancient objects I’ve found? There’s a lump of amethyst and a pack of thin tablets made of wood, with pictures on them, which I can’t work out. But Merlin knows the Tarot and he’s trying to interpret them for me, and come up with some answers.”
“Merlin?” Could this really be the mage come back to life? I blinked, wondering if I was awake or asleep.
“His real name’s Malcolm, but he owns a shop called Merlin’s Cave, so everyone calls him Merlin. But I haven’t told you the most important things I’ve found.”
“There’s something else?” Of course I recognized the objects, although I couldn’t think how they could have come into her hands all these centuries later.
“Yes. An ancient book of what looks like spells. It’s written in black ink on parchment but the writing is so crabbed and tiny I can hardly read it. Anyway, it’s all written in Latin, and Merlin’s translating it for me. But even more important: inside the book, I found this.”
I watched as the girl pulled a black bag towards her and rummaged around inside it.
“See?” She unwrapped a sheet of parchment, and waved it in front of me.
I recognized it immediately. “That’s the plan I drew up for my garden here,” I said faintly. I was almost sure now that I must be dreaming, yet it all seemed real in a bizarre sort of way. “I’ve only just started to create it, but I’m hoping that it will grow into a beautiful garden that will provide my sisters here at the priory with all they need.”
“And following this plan, we’ve now uncovered the foundations of what must have been your garden. And it’s been decided that we’re going to follow your plan and recreate it here, in the twenty-first century!”
“Those aren’t actually my ideas,” I admitted, even though my heart swelled with pride as I understood what she was telling me. “My mother devised and created the original garden. I grew up with it and I know how beautiful it was, and also how functional. So I just copied her design when I came here, to Glastonbury.”
“Where was your mother? Where’s her garden?”
I hesitated. Lie? Or tell the truth? I had to make a decision, and make it quickly.
“She was in Glastonbury too. But not in our world. She was somewhere else in a world that looked very like this one.”
“But …” Morgan looked stunned. “But …” she tried again.
Having started, I thought I might as well keep on going. “My mother, Morgana, practiced magic,” I said bluntly. “That book you were talking about belonged to her and before that, I believe, to Merlin who was her tutor in the magical arts.”
“By Morgana, do you mean Morgan le Fay?”
Morgan the Fairy. “Yes, she was sometimes called by that name. And other names too.” I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice as I continued. “Through making this garden in that Otherworld, where Arthur ruled Camelot, my mother was able to visit our world, this world we’re in now, and Otherworlds too, I suspect. But I was brought up in the priory, you see – the priory in that Otherworld. And I wanted nothing to do with magic, for I saw how much harm my mother did with her meddling.”
Morgan was silent. Her head was turned away so I couldn’t read her expression. I wondered what she was thinking. Finally she looked at me once more. “So what’s the purpose of this garden?” she asked bluntly. “And why are we both seeing these visions?”
I hesitated, remembering what we’d both seen. I was determined not to interfere in Morgan’s life. If she wanted to meddle with magic, the decision must be hers, and hers alone. But I didn’t think it would hurt to tell her my own plans. “I don’t know why we’re seeing these visions,” I said, “but I can tell you the purpose of the garden, at least the reason why my mother devised it, and why I am now copying her design. There is a secret way embedded in it. If you know the incantations and have the magical objects, the secret way will lead you to worlds other than our own. The secret to its creation lies in that ancient book that now belongs to you, along with the amethyst and several wands.”
“But I thought you didn’t want to practice magic, Marie? I thought you didn’t approve of it?”
“I don’t. But I have lost my husband and …”
“He died?” Morgan interrupted. “I’m so sorry, Marie.”
“No, I mean I really have lost him. He’s been taken to some Otherworld and my intention now is to go in search of him, both for my sake and also for my daughter’s, as she has no knowledge of her father at all. Once the garden is finished, and if I can find out how to devise the secret way, my garden will be the means to my leaving this world for another … and maybe another and another. I don’t know how many Otherworlds there are, but I shall keep looking until I find my husband.”
“Is that what I’m supposed to do too? Find a secret way?”
Again I hesitated. To meddle, or not to meddle? If this was a dream, whatever I did wouldn’t matter. But if it wasn’t a dream …? I took a deep breath. “I’ve been told to tell you that you need to reunite with your family,” I said at last.
“Never!” The answer came so loudly and so promptly that I realized whatever I said would make no difference to Morgan’s life. But at least I’ve tried, I comforted myself.
“I haven’t seen my family since I turned seventeen. In fact, I ran away from home just a few months after my birthday.” Morgan stopped, and put a hand to her mouth. I had the impression she was fighting tears. And her voice wobbled when she said, “I was expecting a child – but I had a miscarriage. I’ve been on my own ever since then. I don’t need my family, and I certainly don’t want to see them again.”
I remembered how nearly I had lost my own daughter, and my heart went out to Morgan in her distress. I tried to find some words of comfort, but she was speaking again.
“Who told you to tell me to reunite with my family?”
“The Lady Viviane, high priestess of Avalon.”
Morgan gave a loud snort. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“Kidding?” Morgan was speaking in some form of the Saxon language, but I was able to follow most of what she was saying and also to reply, for this was the language spoken by the common people and the lay sisters at the priory.
“I mean you’re joking. A high priestess sending me a message? This is a jest, right?”
“No, it’s not. The Lady Viviane is a wise woman from another world if you prefer to think of her in that way instead. She used to visit Camelot from time to time. My mother, Morgana, didn’t like her. I don’t think she trusted her either. ‘Interfering Viviane’ she called her, and so the lady is.” I remembered the messenger Viviane had sent to my mother. “But she also has a good heart,” I said. “I think she tries to do what’s right.”
“I can’t believe all this. Are you real? Am I dreaming?” Morgan echoed my own thoughts.
“I could ask you the same question. I can’t believe it either.”
“But I do know we’re in trouble in my time. We’ve become divided as a community, and as a nation, and it’s like the wolves are circling around us. People in the West are so afraid to put anyone offside by saying the wrong thing, and are so absorbed in their own personal lives, that they’re just accepting what’s happening and putting up with it. In fact, I would say the whole world is in trouble.” Morgan stopped abruptly. “Well, you’ve seen what I’ve seen,” she said at last. “Is the end of days going to happen – or is there some way of preventing it?”
“Perhaps it might be possible to escape it instead?” We were both silent as we thought about what we’d seen.
“If the answer lies in reuniting with your family, then perhaps you should reconsider your decision?” I ventured, with some reluctance.
Another loud snort followed my observation before the water went dark once more.
Aline ran over to me then, her face pink and perspiring with exertion. “Have you finished talking to the lady, Mamm? Can I talk to her now?” she asked.
“I’m sorry, Aline. She’s gone. You can talk to her next time,” I promised. But would there be a next time? Or was the end of days so imminent there’d be no time for Morgan to save herself, or her world?
CHAPTER TWELVE
Morgan
The vision she’d seen of what had looked like the annihilation of London had devastated her. Her first impulse had been to confide in Elspeth and Merlin yet she had not – how could she expect them to believe anything so unlikely? When several days had passed without another sighting in the garden, she’d begun to hope that, having seen what looked like Armageddon, the visions had now come to an end.
She’d been wrong. The visions had kept coming after all, while her latest conversation with Marie had raised far more questions than answers. Knowing now that the apocalyptic vision she’d seen had also been witnessed by Marie was terrifying. And even though Marie had passed on some weird instructions from a high priestess, Morgan just couldn’t see how reconciling with her family could prevent what might, or might not, lie in the future. The very thought of it was ridiculous, while the idea of seeing her family again was insupportable.
“I need to get away for a little while,” she thought. “I need some time out to get my head around all of this.” Her flight out of the garden was interrupted by Dru, who’d come to deliver several trays of new plants that she’d ordered. It was all systems go now, for they were making the most of the long daylight hours as spring gave way to summer.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said, amused.
Morgan pulled a face. “Something like that.”
“More visions?”
Morgan wondered if he was genuinely interested or instead hoping for ammunition to shoot her down. She wasn’t at all sure that he’d forgiven her for overriding his own plans. She hesitated, reading his thoughts before making up her mind.
“No, there’s nothing much to see,” she said briskly. “Thanks, Dru. I need to go and check up on something but the work crew should be here shortly. If you wouldn’t mind making a start with the unloading …?”
She didn’t wait for his assent before striding away to her own car. With shaking hands, she fitted the key into the ignition, and drove off. She had no idea where she was going, she just knew that she had to get away for a while. To think. And to make a plan – or not.
As she drove through Glastonbury, she came to a decision and headed towards a car park. She locked her briefcase into the trunk and, after feeding the meter, set off in the direction of the White Spring close to the Chalice Well. She’d been there once before when she’d first come to Glastonbury, pregnant with Lance’s child and so full of hope for the future. She remembered how peaceful she had felt there, and how close to the spiritual heart of Glastonbury. She had prayed to St. Bride while she was there; the same saint who was said to have visited the priory in the sixth century. Perhaps this time St. Bride would give her some answers – if she just sat quietly, and waited.
There were several people hanging around outside the chamber that housed the spring, and she stopped to put her hand under the spout of running water siphoned off from the spring inside. On impulse she touched her wet hand to her forehead and then crossed herself before going in.
After the bright sunshine, climbing down into the darkness left her momentarily blinded and she stopped where she was to get her bearings. The vaulted chambers formed two caves, each with its own deep pool. She could hear the murmuring water flowing in and spilling away, but otherwise it was quite silent. Numerous candles were set around the rocks that marked the edge of the first and larger pool, their glow reflected in the water. As Morgan’s eyes became accustomed to the dim light, she realized she wasn’t alone. A man had stripped and immersed himself in the larger pool, but was now emerging from the water. She turned aside and felt her way into the other, darker chamber. The pool there was unoccupied, although flickers of candlelight illuminated the hunched shapes of several people who had come to the spring to find comfort. They sat around on the rocky ledges with bowed heads, praying perhaps, or meditating. She found a space and sat down.
She sneaked a look around at her companions, wondering what troubles had brought them to the spring. Were they tourists “doing” the sights, or just people like her, wanting a little peace and quiet and hoping for answers? Were they true believers in the goddess of the spring, or petitioners to St. Bride? Or Christians seeking solace near the source of the chalice supposedly buried by Joseph of Arimathea when he came to Britain after the crucifixion of Christ?
The thought reminded her of Marie. She’d been brought up in a priory, she’d said. No wonder she was so torn between following her mother’s magical practices and her own strict upbringing. It was beyond doubt that the nuns would not have approved if they’d known there was a secret way in their garden that Morgana was using to travel to Otherworlds. And yet Marie was prepared now to put her scruples aside and defy her beliefs in order to be reunited with her beloved husband. Was such a thing really possible? It seemed incredible, until Morgan remembered that Marie claimed to have come to this world in exactly the same way.
Morgan had never thought of herself as being particularly spiritual, but since coming to Glastonbury she’d found herself praying to God, to St. Bridget, and to the ancient spirits who’d once guarded these sacred springs. More: she had never asked herself why she possessed the special powers that enabled her to hear people’s thoughts. Although she’d hated it when it happened, she’d always taken it for granted. But now she was talking to people from another time and even another world. It seemed that the magical had collided with the spiritual in Glastonbury, and she no longer knew what to believe, or even who she was any more. Perhaps she was just like Marie, who in this world was recreating the garden designed by her mother but with its own magical purpose. The garden that she, Morgan, had found and was also trying to recreate.
Morgan jolted upright at the thought. Was this what her own garden was for, and why she’d been compelled to build it? If she was able to recreate the secret path in some way, would it lead her to Lance? Her spirits leapt with joy at the thought, until cold reality took over. Lance was not in any Otherworld, and he was already married. To Gwen. It was too late for her to find happiness with him, or with anyone else. She was sure now that she would never find anyone who could take the pla
ce of her first and only love.
Sadly, she cast the thought aside, at the same time also dismissing Marie’s plea for her to reconcile with her family. Instead, she tried to feel her way through to understanding what she’d seen and heard. Her experiences defied rational explanation, yet they were real enough and they both horrified and frightened her.
She gazed at the flickering lights reflected in the dark water and tried to still her terror. The sound of the softly flowing water was soothing; gradually her troubled spirits calmed and serenity returned. I shall just have to follow my heart – and my instinct. In the end, it was all she could do.
Feeling somewhat refreshed by the time she left the White Spring, but still with no clear plan for the future, Morgan called in at Merlin’s Cave on her way back to the small office she’d been given within the council chambers. The only conclusion she’d reached was that it was time to interrogate Merlin about the magical objects he was supposed to be studying, and to tell him and Elspeth about her recent visions at the pool, especially the most unsettling of them all.
She smiled as she noticed Merlin near the back of the shop with a customer. He was wearing his feathery cloak once more and looked more owl-like than ever. “Will you be in this evening?” she asked, once he’d bagged the customer’s purchase and taken her money. “I need to talk to you and Elspeth.”
Merlin’s frown expressed his concern. “Is Dru giving you a hard time? What’s happened? There’s something troubling you.”
“You can say that again.” Morgan attempted a smile. “Later,” she promised, and left Merlin to his next customer while she went off to spend the rest of the day avoiding the garden and instead talking to suppliers and generally keeping herself busy. She needed to wait until Elspeth had finished her shift at the pub before she told them about the terrifying visions she’d seen in the pool, and what had then transpired between herself and Marie, and what she’d learned about the secrets within the book of magic. In the meantime, as soon as Merlin got home, she quizzed him about the wooden tiles.
The Once and Future Camelot Page 23