The Once and Future Camelot

by Felicity Pulman

  “As I thought, I suspect they’re a really early form of the Tarot,” he said. He opened the drawer and pulled out the soft cloth bag. He shuffled the tiles and placed them in four piles on the table. “See how each group bears the same symbol? This one is known as the Cup.” He touched the symbol on top of one of the piles, going on then to show her the others as he called them out. “This is the pentacle, this is the sword, and here’s the wand.”

  Morgan stared at the symbols, reconfiguring them in her mind. Perhaps influenced by the spring she’d just visited, with its link to the Chalice Well, she said, “The cup could also stand for the Chalice, the Holy Grail, couldn’t it?”

  “I’ve been wondering about that.”

  “And the pentacle – that’s some sort of crystal, isn’t it? Like this?” She lifted the lump of amethyst out of the bag.

  “Of course! And the sword?” Merlin asked. “Could that be a reference to Excalibur, do you think?”

  “Yes! I think this is all related to King Arthur and Camelot. The only thing missing is the wand – and you have plenty of those in your shop!” Morgan’s smile was matched in Merlin’s expression as he brought out the parchment book.

  “I suspect the wand needs to be made of oak and I certainly have some of those,” he said, as he ruffled through the pages until he found what he was looking for. “Oak seems to feature in a lot of the spells and incantations written here. Do you know the properties of oak, Morgan?”

  “No.” She peered at the incomprehensible scribble he was showing her, and grinned at him. “See, this is why I said I needed your help.”

  “Oak is the most revered of all trees. Sacred groves of oak are thought to carry within them the gift of prophecy, becoming especially sacred when mistletoe is also present. The wizard Merlin – the real one – was reputed to own a wand of oak, while King Arthur’s Round Table was said to be made from one slice of a huge oak tree. The oak was used by druids in all major celebrations, for they believed it opened a door to other dimensions, enabling them to perceive different realities and different worlds. In fact, the term ‘druid’ probably derives from duir, the old Irish/Gaelic name for oak. An oak wand can be a powerful tool, Morgan, but one to be used with care. Like these wooden slats; they’re made of oak too.”

  “Maybe an oak wand could help me make sense of what I’m seeing?” Morgan’s voice was troubled as she continued. “I had a vision today, and I’ve had several others as well, Merlin.”

  “Have these visions upset you?”

  “Yes, they have. And I’ll tell you all about them once Elspeth gets home. But the thing is, I’m not coming any closer to understanding why I’m seeing these visions. I just don’t know what they mean.” Morgan frowned. “That’s why I need to talk to you both. I’m hoping you’ll be able to make sense of it, because it’s all too much for me to take in. What I do know now, what I’m sure of, is that somehow or other, I’m related to the world that once was Camelot because the people I’m seeing and talking to once came from there.”

  “Really?” Merlin sat bolt upright, his hair fluffing out with excitement. “So you believe you’ve really spoken to Morgana?”

  “Yes. And not just Morgana.” Morgan managed a shaky smile. “But I’m not saying anything more until Elspeth can join us.”

  “Fair enough.” Merlin hesitated. “One of the things I do know is how to read the Tarot,” he said. “I do readings all the time for friends, and for clients. While we’re waiting, would you like to change your mind about having a reading and let me try with these tiles instead?”

  Morgan hesitated, then threw up her hands in surrender. “All right then. I’m up for it, if you are?”

  Merlin nodded. He picked up all the tiles, shuffled them somewhat awkwardly for they were thicker and not nearly as flexible as cards, and then laid them all out on the table so that the strange designs on them weren’t visible. For good measure, once they were spread out he moved them around some more to muddle them up.

  “Right,” he said. “I’m not sure what the correct number is, or even if they work in the same way, but choose ten and give them to me and we’ll see what happens.”

  Morgan did as she was told and handed them over. Merlin carefully laid them out in the order in which she’d chosen them, face up, so that she could see the mysterious pictures etched into the wood. Together they leaned closer to study them. “Some of these representations bear a similarity to what’s shown in Tarot packs today, even though their designs are somewhat different,” Merlin said. “But there are many different designs even in today’s Tarot, as you might have observed yourself if you’ve looked through the packs stocked in the shop.”

  “I haven’t. I don’t know anything about the Tarot really, but I have noticed that you have variations of it on display.”

  “Yes. Good. The important thing to remember is that all the packs have elements in common, no matter how they’re depicted or how different the pictures seem. And I’m thinking that those same elements are present here.” Merlin indicated the first tile. “It’s like the spread of cards – or tiles in this case – tell a story,” he said. “You read them in conjunction with each other as a coherent narrative, to see what they reveal about the past, the present and the future. So the first one signifies the high priestess: that’s you, Morgan.”

  “Me?” Morgan bent forward to study more closely the seated figure of a woman with a half-moon emblem on her forehead.

  “You.” Merlin studied her gravely. “The priestess indicates power, and magic, and that’s what you need to focus on.” His hand shifted to the next tile: a mounted knight. Morgan didn’t need him to tell her who that was. Lance.

  “There’s a connection here,” Merlin said softly. “A very strong one.” He showed Morgan the next tile: two lovers holding a cup between them. “The connection is still there.”

  “The connection was broken a long time ago.” Morgan’s voice was rough with pain.

  “The Tarot doesn’t lie.” Merlin shot her a sideways glance. “If not the past, maybe …?”

  “What does the next one mean?” Morgan interrupted. It would be too painful to hear Merlin put the impossible into words, no matter how much she might wish it to be true.

  Merlin picked up the tile. “He’s leaving,” he said, pointing at the bent figure creeping away. “But he’s surrounded by swords, which indicates trouble and confusion. He may not want to go or be torn between going and staying. Either way, his path is not clear.”

  But it had been clear, Morgan thought. Lance had gone, eager to make the most of the opportunity to study in the States.

  The next tile almost stopped her heart. A child, holding a cup. “My baby,” she whispered, close now to tears.

  “The child of your union – or maybe even a child to come?” Merlin said, giving her a comforting pat as he spoke.

  He made a hasty grab at the next tile, and chuckled. “That’s me,” he said. “This represents the magician with his tools: the cup, the wand, the crystal, the sword.” He pointed out the symbols as he spoke, then looked at Morgan. “Do you see how your life is unfurling here?” he asked, and indicated the next tile. “You’ve met me, and now you’re going to get your life back on track. See?”

  Morgan looked down at a figure industriously carving a symbol onto a crystal and surrounded by other crystals. “You’re working hard,” Merlin said, “and these …” He indicated the crystals piled around the laborer’s feet. “These indicate that your labors are successful.”

  “I went to live with Gran, I studied hard and earned the qualifications to do what I most wanted.”

  “And here you are, back again!” Merlin beamed at her as if he was personally responsible for her success. “Ah yes!” He pounced on the next tile and showed it to Morgan. A lady standing in a garden, with crystals piled around her. “Your garden will be a great success, Morgan. The reading shows us this.”

  Morgan hoped that this, at least, was true.

  “
And now we have the moon card. And that means choices.” Merlin studied it gravely for a moment, then held it out to Morgan. “There’s a path you must follow – see? But there is danger that you need to face. It may be the danger of making the wrong decisions, or not taking the path at all. Do you see the obstructions across it?”

  Morgan looked down at the lines of the path that led into the distance, and a hedge of thorns that seemed to bar the way. “But the moon is shining down on it,” she said tentatively. “Doesn’t that mean she’s giving the path her blessing?”

  “Not necessarily. The moon indicates the feminine side, so it’s you who has to make the choice, Morgan; you who has to show the way, although I’m not sure where the path leads, or why there are problems with it. But this is the tile that’s worrying me the most.” As he spoke, he reached out for the last illustrated slat.

  Morgan saw what looked like a tower being consumed in flames, and at once the scene she’d seen in the pool sprang clear into her mind. The winding River Thames lined both by ancient buildings and glass towers; the brilliant light and terrible noise that had followed, with nothing left at the end. She began to shake as the implications sank in. “What am I to do?” she whispered. “Oh God, Merlin. What am I to do?” She began to cry.

  At once Merlin pushed the tiles aside. “Hush,” he said. “Take heart, Morgan. These tiles are so ancient, they may not be meant for this at all. They may have quite a different purpose altogether. Or else my interpretation is all wrong.”

  “It’s not,” Morgan said through her tears. “I’ve already seen …” She stopped and gulped. “I’ve seen …” she began again.

  “Hi, everyone,” Elspeth interrupted as she walked into the room. She stopped short when she saw the wooden tiles spread out on the table. “Having your fortune told?” she chuckled.

  “I wish. But there’s no good news here.” Morgan wiped her eyes, trying to hide her distress.

  “Morgan!” Elspeth stopped and enfolded her in a hug. She cast a glance of reproof at Merlin. “What have you been saying?” she asked sternly. “I thought you never spelled out the bad news, only the good?”

  Merlin rolled his eyes. “It’s gone beyond that, I’m afraid. Sit down, Elspeth. Morgan has something to tell us – and before you ask: no, I don’t know what it is either.”

  With a grave face, Elspeth pulled up a chair and sat down with them. “Put those things away,” she said. “They’re giving me the creeps.”

  Morgan reached across Merlin to scoop up the tablets. She secured them with a band, and slipped them back into the bag. “I’ve been seeing visions in the pool. One of them was really terrifying,” she said. “And I’ve spoken to two women who both lived nearly a thousand years ago. Morgana, or Morgan le Fay as she’s known in our time, and also her daughter, Marie. It seems that somehow we’re related. But I don’t understand any of it. Merlin thought using these tablets like Tarot cards might give us some clues, but it hasn’t. All it’s done is frighten me.”

  “And me,” Merlin put in.

  Elspeth looked from one to the other. “Tell me all about it,” she said.

  Overcome with emotion, Morgan shook her head.

  “I did a spread,” Merlin said, and went on to describe for Elspeth what had just transpired.

  “Will you tell us more about the visions you’ve seen?” Elspeth turned to Morgan. “It may be that Merlin can reassure you that things aren’t as bad as they seem.”

  Morgan blew her nose and tried to control her emotions. “The first vision was of the riots in the streets of London; horrible, ugly violence with people getting stabbed, and shot, and trampled underfoot.” She shuddered.

  “Similar to what we’ve already seen on television? Maybe that’s what was on your mind?”

  Morgan wondered if Merlin didn’t believe her. “The two women I saw were real enough. I saw Morgana first. I’ve seen her before, in your shop and out in the field, Merlin. And I’ve now found out that she was the one to plan the garden that we’re recreating – but in another world, the world of King Arthur and Camelot.”

  Merlin’s eyes widened, but neither he nor Elspeth said anything as Morgan continued her explanation. “After Morgana, I spoke to Marie. She lives in our world here at Glastonbury, at the priory, but she’s determined to go and find her husband who is in an Otherworld, not this one.” Morgan gave a short laugh. “Even saying this aloud seems unbelievable, and yet I could see her in the pool, and I could hear her voice quite clearly – much more clearly than I could hear Morgana. But I’m fairly sure it’s because Marie is in the same world as us. She’s also building a garden here, based on her mother’s garden in Camelot. It’s her plan that I’m following now, but she said that it was her mother who devised it, and she’s following it because it has a secret way. A secret way that somehow – she’s still trying to work out how – has to do with the magical objects that I have here today, but that once belonged to her.”

  “That’s incredible!” Elspeth shook her head in disbelief.

  “I know. But that’s not all. While I was talking to Morgana, I saw another vision. A terrifying vision …” Morgan’s voice started to wobble. “And that’s what that tile with the tower on fire is telling us too.”

  Merlin frowned. “But what’s the purpose of these visions? Is there going to be another terrorist attack? And are you supposed to change the outcome in some way, stop it from happening? Is that what the path in the tiles is all about: the decisions or actions you need to take?”

  Morgan buried her face in her hands. “I wish I knew,” she said. “But I don’t see how I’m in a position to change anything at all. I did see a child, though. I don’t know who she was, but I knew she was in danger, and I asked Morgana to save her because it seemed important. I asked her to save us too, although I don’t really see how she can.”

  “And this Marie?” Elspeth asked. “You say she’s in our world and creating the garden that you’re trying to recreate? So when was she alive? Because all the abbeys and priory buildings in Britain were destroyed during the reign of Henry the Eighth.”

  Morgan looked up. “I told her that, and she was shocked. There’s another Henry on the throne in her time. Henry the Second.”

  “Henry’s wife, Eleanor of Aquitaine, had a daughter called Marie,” Elspeth said thoughtfully. “Were you talking to her, do you think?”

  “No, I’m sure not. She said she’d been brought up in a priory – not this one, a priory in another world. In the world of Camelot. She’s Morgana’s daughter.”

  “I don’t know about you, but I need a drink to help me digest all this.” Merlin jumped up to fetch glasses, then selected a bottle of wine from a rack in the kitchen. He brought the glasses and bottle through to the lounge, then opened the wine and poured a glass for each of them.

  “Thanks.” Morgan took the glass and stared thoughtfully into its dark red depths before taking a large swallow.

  “Marie told me that her mother used to practice magic – and made such a mess of everything that Marie refuses to practice it herself, although she obviously has a gift for it.”

  “As do you, apparently,” Elspeth put in.

  “But she did have a message for me, although I don’t think she really wanted to pass it on. She’s afraid of meddling, I think. But she told me that the message came from the Lady Viviane – she’s a high priestess or some such thing.”

  “Viviane of Avalon.” Merlin looked up with sharpened interest. “She’s a well known figure – in the legend, at least. Go on.”

  “It was about the secret way in the garden. I think she wants me to try to recreate it. And she also said …” Morgan paused to draw a deep breath. “She also said that I had to make peace with my family.”

  “And will you?” Elspeth asked quietly.

  “No!”

  “This terrifying vision you mentioned; can you tell us more about it?” Merlin asked.

  Morgan snatched up her glass and took another long swallow
of wine before setting it down again. She wiped her sweating hands down her jeans, and fought for control. “It was London,” she whispered. “I recognized the buildings along the Thames, and there were people milling all around, just going about their business. But then there was a loud bang, like an enormous clap of thunder, and a bright light, so bright I could hardly bear to look … and then there was nothing. No buildings, no people. Nothing. Only screaming.”

  “And that’s what that ancient Tarot is telling us too,” Merlin said thoughtfully. “But it doesn’t sound like something a terrorist could manage on his own. An invasion perhaps, after a declaration of war? Or a nuclear bomb?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Do you think perhaps the answer lies with your brother? Is that why you’re being urged to contact your family?”

  Morgan sighed. “I haven’t seen him for years. I’ve got nothing to say to him.”

  “But he is a Member of Parliament and he does seem to have concerns about the way Britain is going,” Merlin said thoughtfully. “I know you’re at odds with your mother and father …”

  “Stepfather.”

  “Stepfather. But what about making an approach to Arth?”

  “Arthur.”

  “Arthur. Do you know why you’re meant to reconcile with your family? Did Marie tell you what to say?”

  “No.” Morgan took another sip of wine while she thought about it. “I suppose I could give him a call,” she said grudgingly.

  “You’ve got nothing to lose – and maybe much to gain,” Merlin encouraged her. He raised his glass. “Let’s drink a toast to magic!”

  “To magic,” Morgan said, somewhat reluctantly.

  “Just so long as it’s used wisely and for a good reason,” Elspeth said, before joining them in the toast.

  They continued to discuss the situation while they finished off the bottle of wine. “I just want to watch the late news before we go to bed,” Merlin said, and picked up the remote to switch on the television. “You never know,” he joked. “Maybe we’ll find the answers on the telly.”