Suddenly full of hope, I gave Aline a big hug. “Clever little minx,” I said, and earned another cheeky grin.
“So what are you going to do about the Lady Morgan?” she asked.
“Do as you say. Try to talk to her again, and tell her about the secret way. But she’s made it clear that she really doesn’t want to have anything to do with her family. That’s the biggest sticking point.”
“Can I come with you next time?” Aline asked. “Maybe there’s something I can do to help you change her mind.”
Somewhat reluctantly, I agreed. “But we may not see her again,” I warned as, on a fine bright day, we ventured out into the garden once more.
“We will,” Aline said. I wished I could share her confidence. On the other hand, I suspected her magical powers were more finely tuned than mine; perhaps she was hearing or seeing something that I could not?
As always, she ran straight to the pool. I had warned her about the images I’d seen and she’d accepted them without question. I wondered if she had a memory of the fiery conflagration I’d seen when first approaching London, even though she was just a baby at the time. She’d been upset then. I hoped, if the images reappeared, that she would not be so upset again. However they might distress us now, I was sure that those scenes belonged to the future. Morgan’s future, not ours.
“She’s here!” Aline called, and I quickened my footsteps to join her. I found her happily talking to Morgan on my arrival. To my surprise, Morgan was still dressed only in her shift, a pink one this time.
“She remembers me.” Aline turned to me, her face flushed with triumph.
“I do.” Morgan sounded somewhat troubled as she turned her gaze to me. “I saw Aline in the pool before, but I’ve also seen the face of a small child. I asked Morgana – your mother – to save her. It seemed important. Was that also Aline?”
I frowned, as I tried to work out why my mother would ask Morgan to save Aline. It seemed unlikely. “No, I don’t think so,” I said slowly, thinking it through as I spoke. “My mother never knew Aline because she was born in our world.” I recalled what Viviane had said. “Perhaps the child you saw was me? I’ve found out that it was important that my mother save me from the last conflagration of Camelot by bringing me into this world, so that my child could continue the line that, eventually, has led to you.”
“To me?” The words were a strangled gasp.
“Because you are the catalyst for whatever happens next, I am sure of it. And the bag of magical objects is a part of it, a part of your heritage and a part of the solution to whatever is to come.”
“And what’s coming is a catastrophe?” Morgan asked soberly.
“I’m afraid you may be right. But …” I drew a breath, marshalling my thoughts for the most effective argument I could muster. “Whatever else happens, and whatever you may think, you need to use those magical objects to fashion the secret path through your garden.”
“I’ve been thinking about that.” Morgan stopped short with a gasp. “Of course,” she said. “I saw the picture of a path on one of those wooden tablets, but with a prickly hedge across it, blocking it. I think you’re right; that’s exactly what it means.” She gave a short laugh. “I’ve found the incantations to do it – or at least, Merlin has – plus I have the objects I need. But if I’m to make this path, where should I start?”
“At the brambles next to the entrance of the garden.” Suddenly anxious, I leaned closer. “You do have brambles by the entrance?”
Morgan gave a little huff of amusement. “As a matter of fact, I do. I wondered if they had some significance.”
“That’s where you’ll go through into the secret way, but you’ll have to wait until the next full moon before you can do anything.”
“I’ll try,” Morgan promised. “But tell me – what will I find at the end of the path assuming I’m able to use it?”
“After the second incantation you may think you’re still in the same garden, but you’ll find a scrying pool instead of the pool that everyone else can see.”
“A scrying pool?”
“To help you see into the future.”
“But I can see the future now – and I don’t like it at all.”
“Neither do I. Somehow we must find a way to prevent it from happening.”
“But none of this can affect you, surely? You’ve done what you needed to do; you’ve come into this world with Aline, and the line has continued. So … why am I still seeing you?”
“Because that’s not all you have to do. Viviane says you must reconcile with your brother.”
“Interfering Viviane.” It was said with a smile. I knew she was quoting me.
“Interfering for a good reason. Somehow you must bring him to Glastonbury – either before or after you have made the secret way. But I sense that time is running out, so the sooner the better.”
“The next full moon is in a couple of weeks.” Morgan was thoughtful. “I have seen Arthur,” she said slowly. “I listened to you, and I went to see him at Parliament House.”
“Parliament House? What’s that?”
“Everyone now has a vote as to who they want to represent their interests. Parliament House is where the people’s representatives go to discuss things, and make laws for the land, and so on.”
“But I thought you had a king for that?”
“Not like in your time.” Morgan laughed. “Our king basically rubber stamps anything that the parliamentarians put up.” Perhaps she read my puzzlement because she said hastily, “He okays it. He … he passes it into law.”
I thought it all sounded somewhat confusing; nevertheless I liked the idea of people being able to choose who they wanted to speak for them.
“What’s it like in your world, Lady Morgan?” Aline asked eagerly.
“And what sort of clothes do you wear in your time?” I couldn’t help asking, concerned that her bare shoulders and arms reflected poverty rather than choice.
Morgan grinned. “My clothes are a lot more comfortable than yours, I imagine.” She stood up and pirouetted around the pool. I gasped as her long bare legs came into view.
“But … but that’s obscene!” I spluttered. Had I mistaken Morgan? Was she one of the king’s whores?
“Of course not!” Both Aline and Morgan spoke together. I blushed with embarrassment, cautioning myself to curb my tongue and my thoughts in future.
“You can hear people’s thoughts?” Morgan asked Aline.
“Yes. And so can you.” They grinned at each other.
“And I apologize. Here, women are completely covered up. We don’t show so much as even an ankle – unless we’re … er …”
“And here, when it’s warm enough, we wear sleeveless blouses …” Morgan’s hand went to the thin straps on her shoulder. “And short skirts or short pants.”
“I wish I was allowed to dress like that,” Aline said wistfully. “It would be so much easier to ride horses, and climb trees, and …”
“You can discuss clothes and fashion later,” I interrupted. “Morgan, tell me what happened when you saw your brother? I know you didn’t want to go to him, but I am so glad that you did.”
I was somewhat dismayed as Morgan recounted her meeting with Arthur. I had the impression that she didn’t trust him, and was unwilling to make contact again. “Would it not be best to send a messenger to him next time if you don’t want to go yourself?” I asked, needing reassurance that she was prepared to try again.
“We don’t have to send messengers on horseback anymore. There have been all sorts of changes, and lots of new inventions since your time, Marie. And by the way – who are you in our world, what do you call yourself?”
“I am … well, I told the court I was Marie of France, because I didn’t know what else to say. They already know stories of Camelot, you see, but they don’t know that Camelot is a real place, albeit in an Otherworld. They think it’s all just a legend, and I was too afraid to tell them otherwise.”
/>
“Marie de France?” Morgan looked suddenly excited. “Do you write stories? Lais about Arthur, and Breton legends, and that?”
“Yes, I do. It was how I entertained the court when first I came into this world. After my husband disappeared, I had to find shelter and a way to earn my keep. So I began telling stories about my life in Camelot – but I disguised them because … well, because I found the memories were too painful to share with the court.”
“We still read your lais today, Marie. Only we think that they’re all based on legends.”
“My lais?” I was excited to think that my stories had lived on past my time.
Morgan nodded. “They’ve been translated into English, among other languages. They’re very highly regarded, Marie.”
I was speechless, feeling shocked, surprised, and inordinately pleased to think that my stories and my books had lived on after my death.
“In our time we think all of this is just a fantasy,” Morgan continued thoughtfully. “But my mother, Igraine, was really into the legend of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, and that’s why she called me Morgan, and my brother Arthur. I always thought I’d rather be called Guenevere, but now I’m glad I’m not!”
“Why is that?”
“Because that’s the name of Lance’s wife. Gwen.”
Even through the centuries that separated us, I could hear the bitterness in Morgan’s voice.
“Lance? Surely you don’t mean Sir Launcelot?”
“He’s just called Lance. And I loved him once. I still do. But now he’s married to Gwen.” She gave a short laugh. “Looks like the legend’s replaying all over again, doesn’t it!”
I noted the sadness in Morgan’s voice, and my heart ached for her. “There’s something else you should know,” I said urgently, attempting to distract her. “In my world, Arthur united the tribes and fought the Saxons, bringing peace for many years. My mother believed that he had usurped her rightful place; she believed it was her destiny to rule Camelot. She never forgave Arthur, and that led to the doom of Camelot. But it’s different in your time. Your brother is already part of the rulers of your kingdom. And you have the power – somehow – to save Britain. Perhaps it is destined that the two of you do this together?”
“There is a saying that, one day, Arthur will return to save Britain in her hour of need,” Morgan said thoughtfully, adding, “but it looks like the whole world might need saving.”
“There you are then! And you will play a part in that. You must!”
“All you need is courage, Morgan,” Aline piped up unexpectedly.
Morgan gave her a watery smile, breaking the tension. “Very well,” she said. “I shall fashion the secret way, and I shall also summon my brother to Glastonbury. Of course, there’s no guarantee he’ll come, but I’ll do my best. And we’ll see what happens next. Will that do?”
Her tone was light, but I knew we were both thinking of the river of fire. I wondered if she’d seen the gray wraiths and utter destruction I’d also witnessed. But even as I thought it, the water clouded over and I saw her no more.
It was only then that I realized I should have told Morgan that, after coming to the scrying pool she needed to take the next step; she needed to find the secret way through to the Otherworlds, because that was the most important step of all. I would have to try and summon her again – and just pray that I hadn’t missed my chance, and that it was not too late.
“There’s something else you didn’t tell her either,” Aline piped up. But when I asked her to explain, she just smiled at me and said, “I’ll tell her myself.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Morgan
Morgan was thoughtful after her conversation with Marie and Aline. What she was planning seemed impossible, and yet she was beginning to accept now that things weren’t always as they appeared, and that she really could speak to people from other times and other places. But what she’d learned alarmed her. She would have to wait until the full moon before she was able to try to construct a secret way through her garden to the scrying pool, but she would make sure that she was properly prepared when the time came.
As for contacting Arthur … She pulled a wry face as she wondered what her reception would be if she followed up Arthur’s invitation to call him. Was it intended as a brush off? Was he hoping she wouldn’t follow through? Was he even now preparing excuses not to see her in case she did?
She’d stayed overnight in London, deciding to take time out to walk along the river to see if that hideous vision returned when she did so. She was grateful that it had not. She was also glad to take the chance to reacquaint herself with the city before going back to Glastonbury, for she’d enjoyed the time she’d spent working there.
But the tragedy had cast a pall on the city: everyone was subdued, frightened, and also angry. Bodies were still being discovered among the wreckage caused by the downed plane, and the media echoed the rage of the people in the streets, their bewilderment that the West should be the target of such hatred, and their anger at the incompetence of those in authority to keep people safe from the enemy within. Morgan heard the news endlessly discussed wherever she went, ranging from furious arguments to a sense of angry despair and hopelessness.
To assuage her conscience for playing hooky, she’d called in at the Chelsea Physic Garden to see if she could beg or buy some plants that were proving difficult to source from elsewhere. Inevitably, she saw Jeff who persuaded her to join him at the café for coffee and cake.
Expecting the worst, she’d agreed. To her relief he’d wasted no time in telling her all about the new woman in his life, and the talk between them was easy as she gave him a somewhat edited version of her progress in Glastonbury, while he gave her an update on workplace gossip. And she’d come away with the promise of a supply of several plants for which Dru had been searching.
Although she’d had no visions while she was in London, she’d felt some easing of tension once she boarded the bus to take her back to Glastonbury. She had visited the garden as soon as she returned, hoping to see Marie, hoping for some answers. And now it was time to consult Merlin and Elspeth once more.
She had to wait until nightfall, until both of them were home before she could give them a full report on her meeting with Arthur, and also tell them what she had learned from Marie and Aline.
“Obviously the answer lies with Arthur,” Merlin said. “You’ll have to contact him.” Morgan rolled her eyes.
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” Elspeth chirped, interpreting her expression.
A cliché, but true nevertheless, Morgan thought. “I suppose I should,” she agreed.
“Let’s try another reading,” Merlin urged. “Now that you’ve made the first contact, maybe we’ll see something more hopeful this time?”
Not giving Morgan time to argue, he fetched the bundle of tiles, shuffled them thoroughly, as he had before, and spread them out. This time Elspeth sat with them, so she was also a witness as, one after another, Morgan blindly selected the same combination of tiles she’d chosen before, the combination that spelled out the end of everything.
Merlin’s hands were shaking as he reached out to gather them up.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Morgan said. “We already know it all. It seems that we’re damned whether Arthur comes here or not.”
“Speak to him again,” Elspeth urged. “It might make all the difference in the world – literally.”
“Why don’t you pick up just one more tile,” Merlin suggested. “Let’s see if what you’ve done so far has changed anything at all?”
Morgan stretched out a tentative hand. She hovered indecisively before selecting a tile and turning it over.
Merlin breathed out a sigh, his breath a sudden whoosh of sound in the quiet room. “This looks slightly more hopeful,” he said, and pointed to the figure of a man seated on a throne, sword in hand and wearing a crown.
“Arthur?” Morgan ventured. “Is that what
you’re thinking, Merlin?”
“Yes. Absolutely. This is the sign we were seeking. You must talk to your brother without delay.”
“I’ll think about it.” It was a reluctant promise. “But there’s no guarantee he’ll come, you know. He’s probably rehearsing his excuses right now, just in case I do call.”
“MPs usually hold a surgery in their own electorates at the weekend,” Elspeth put in. “I think it’s on a Saturday, so why don’t you ask him to come over one Sunday? He may have fewer commitments then.”
Morgan sighed. “Very well, I’ll give him a call. But not just yet. I want to spend a bit more time in the garden, to check on progress and make sure everything’s in place if he comes to visit. Most especially, I want to make sure that I’m able to fashion this secret path. It might help if I can show it to Arthur if or when he comes.”
“You’ll have to wait until the full moon for that.” Merlin looked worried. “Can you afford the delay?”
Morgan shrugged. “It’ll be up to Arthur when he comes. If he comes. But I’m hoping I may be able to talk to Marie again, and maybe pick up some more clues about it. I’ll go out there again first thing tomorrow, and I’ll call Arthur afterwards.” She yawned widely. “I’m whacked,” she said. “Too much fun in the big smoke. I’ll see you two tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, Morgan.” Elspeth stepped forward and gave her an impulsive hug. “I know this isn’t easy for you,” she whispered. “You must let us know if there’s any way in which we can help.”
Morgan returned her hug. “Thank you. I appreciate your offer. Good night.”
“Courage,” Merlin called, as she headed towards the stairs.
Courage. She would need all that and more, Morgan thought, as she climbed wearily upwards.
*
Early as she was, Morgan found Dru in the garden, along with a few volunteers when she arrived the next morning. They were doing some weeding and tidying up under Dru’s supervision, and she stopped to thank them. “The pool looks good now,” she said to Dru, wondering if he would make any snide remarks about it. Merlin had said he was a druid. She was surprised he hadn’t been able to sense the presence of the spring himself right from the start.
The Once and Future Camelot Page 27