The Once and Future Camelot

by Felicity Pulman

  He straightened to face her. “I came up with the idea of channeling the water out to irrigate the various segments of the garden. You didn’t think about that, did you?”

  Morgan’s heart sank at the hostility in his tone. Nevertheless, she kept her voice determinedly cheerful as she said, “I didn’t realize that was your doing. Well done, it’s a great idea. And you’re right; I hadn’t thought of it, and obviously Marie … that is, the woman who drew up the original plan, didn’t think it through properly either.”

  “Marie?”

  “Can you really not see any visions in the pool, Dru? Or hear the voices?”

  He stared at her. “No.”

  Was he really a druid? Did he have any magical ability or powers of divinity whatsoever? The thought came to her: maybe she was the only one who could see these visions because of her relationship to Morgana and Marie?

  Satisfied with this explanation, she said more warmly, “I wish you could see what I can see, Dru. I’m sure it would help to explain why it’s so important that this garden follows the same design as that shown in the plan.”

  He gave a curt nod. “One thing that might interest you. While we were excavating here we found an old stone basin which I think might have once formed part of a fountain. I’ve left it near the pool in case you want to re-use it.” Ignoring her thanks, he bent over to hack into a patch of sprouting thistles.

  Morgan looked around the garden, noting with approval that a lot more plants had been bedded out in her absence. “The garden’s coming along really well, too,” she said brightly. “It’s all starting to come together now. You’ve obviously been working hard while I’ve been away.”

  “Alright for some, taking time off whenever they feel like it,” Dru mumbled.

  “And while I was away, I went to the Physic Garden at Chelsea. They’re going to send us some of those plants you’ve been chasing,” Morgan retorted.

  He grunted, and kept on hacking into the thistles. Gloved and carrying shears and hoes, the volunteers had spread out further while they’d been talking. One of them, Morgan noted, was attacking the patch of brambles beside the entrance. Alarmed, she shouted “No!” and raced towards him, two hands in the air in a signal for the volunteer to stop work.

  He finished sawing through a thorny cane and gingerly pulled it aside before turning to face her.

  “These brambles are on the plan,” Morgan said breathlessly. “You have to leave them just as they are.”

  “Dru told me to get rid of them. He said they’re untidy, that they spoil the entrance of the garden.”

  Was Dru trying to sabotage her? Morgan told herself not to be paranoid. He could have no idea how important these brambles were. To him, they were probably just an eyesore. She whipped out the photocopy of the plan that she always kept with her, and showed it to the volunteer. “See.” She pointed at the swirls denoting the brambles at the entrance. “I’m trying to recreate this garden exactly as it was before, so the brambles must stay.”

  “Why? No one’s going to know the difference if they’re not here.”

  Morgan sighed. “I will know the difference. And I know that they’re important. I appreciate the work you do here, I really do, but please leave the brambles alone. I’ll have a word with Dru about it too.”

  “Well, I don’t care. They’re nasty, prickly things anyway. There’s easier things to do.” He wandered off, taking his tools with him, while Morgan strode back to Dru, still holding the plan.

  “Here.” She shoved into his hand. “Dru, I thought I’d made it clear that I want this garden recreated exactly as it’s shown on the plan. And that means that the brambles stay, okay? I’ll leave this with you just in case you need to check.” She realized how hostile she must have sounded as she watched Dru’s face darken in anger.

  “As you wish,” he said, and crumpled the paper before shoving it roughly into his pocket.

  Giving him up as a lost cause, Morgan took one of the walkways down to the pool, surveying with pleasure how the vines were already threading through the trelliswork; they would form an excellent leafy cover in the summer months once they were fully grown. It was so much easier for her than for Marie, she reflected. As supplier of plants for the garden, Dru could source what was needed from all around the world as well as his nursery, and have them delivered without delay. He had tools and machinery at his disposal as well as the expertise to oversee their bedding down. Marie didn’t have anything like that to fall back on, which must have made the creation of her garden a slow and intensely laborious process.

  Before gazing into the pool, she cast a quick peek over her shoulder to see if she was being watched. Everyone seemed busy, so she risked a glance into the dark water. Almost at once she saw Marie. Her daughter, Aline, was also with her.

  “Hello,” Morgan said.

  “I give you good day and God be with you, Lady Morgan,” Aline said politely.

  Morgan was somewhat taken aback until she recalled that the child was being raised in a priory. “And with you too, Aline,” she said faintly.

  “Morgan, I need to remind you about something important,” Marie put in. “It’s about the secret way. My mother used her own path through her garden to bring me to your world, just as I am trying to fashion a path now that I may use to visit Otherworlds in the hope of finding my husband, Guinglan. To do that, another incantation is needed, and I’ve studied the grimoire to find out what it is. Viviane says it’s important for you to make the complete path so that you, too, can visit Otherworlds. You need to fathom how it is done.”

  “Visit Otherworlds as well as the scrying pool?” Morgan’s eyes widened in surprise. “Why should I want to do that?”

  “There’s something else,” Aline piped up. “Do you know that my grandsire was Sir Launcelot?”

  “So?”

  “So you said that the father of the baby that you lost was called Lance.”

  Morgan closed her eyes against the pain of memory, but Aline chattered on. “My granddame was Morgana. She and Sir Launcelot were in love before ever he consorted with the queen. Together they made my mother.”

  “Morgan doesn’t need to know our family history and all its secrets, Aline,” Marie said quickly.

  “Yes, she does. It’s important,” Aline said. Morgan’s stomach stirred into a flurry of butterflies as Aline continued. “If you think that the legend is repeating itself, maybe it means that you and your Lance will make another baby together?”

  Morgan squeezed her eyes shut, consumed with wanting. “He’s already married. To Gwen. It’s not going to happen.” She opened her eyes, and met the concerned expressions of both mother and daughter.

  “Aline, don’t meddle,” Marie said.

  “I’m not. I’m just saying what I know.”

  “You’re interfering where you have no right.”

  Morgan managed a smile. “It’s kind of you to think of me and my happiness, Aline. I just wish it could come true.”

  “Maybe it will, one day,” she said, seemingly unrepentant.

  “I thought I might bury something here in the garden for you to find in the future,” Marie said quickly, perhaps trying to change the subject to something more cheerful.

  “That’s kind of you, Marie. Where should I look for it?”

  “I haven’t thought yet. Perhaps by the pool? It’ll be my gift to you, for your future.” A frown crossed her face. “But if you are to have a future, you must speak again to your brother, Morgan,” she said urgently. “Ask him to come …” Whatever she was about to say was swallowed in a gray mist that swept across the pool. Surprised, Morgan looked around. The rest of the garden was bathed in bright sunlight. She turned once more to the pool, and frowned. This was not just a mist. It was alive – and lethal. She thought she could discern wraiths twisting and coiling in the shifting patterns in the water, and the fancy came into her mind that these were the living dead, the shadows of what had once been people.

  She sprang to
her feet, feeling sick with terror. Without pausing to talk to anyone, or say goodbye to Dru, she made straight for her car and drove blindly until she found herself surrounded by green fields and no habitation in sight. She slowed to swerve off the road, and killed the motor. With shaking hands, she retrieved her cell phone and, not giving herself any time to think, punched in Arthur’s number.

  He answered almost straightaway. “It’s Morgan. I need to see you,” she said without preamble. There was a moment’s silence, and then he said: “You are in trouble.” It sounded like an accusation.

  “No, Arthur. We’re both in trouble. Can you come to Glastonbury as soon as you can? Please. I really need to see you.”

  “Morgan, I don’t think …” He broke off as Morgan heard a faint exclamation in the background. There was a low rumble of voices before he came back on the line.

  “Let me just check my diary.” She could hear the reluctance in his voice and waited for the excuse that she was sure he had prepared. She heard the tapping of keys in the ensuing silence. He came back on line. “I can’t make it this weekend. I’m really sorry. Next weekend is also fully booked. But I have a local commitment the following week, on the Wednesday evening. It’s a fundraiser meet-and-greet dinner in preparation for the election next year. I can get away after that. School holidays will have started by then, and parliament will be in recession. I’ll bring my wife and sons with me. I suppose it’s about time you met them.”

  “Thursday the week after next.” Morgan felt almost boneless with relief. “That would be great. Thank you, Arthur. Really. And I’d love to meet your wife and children too. Give me a call when you arrive and I’ll give you directions where to meet.” She gave him her contact details, and tapped off. It was still a couple of weeks away, but it was more than she’d expected or even dared to hope. She realized that the delay also gave Merlin and her time to study the grimoire to see if they had all the incantations they needed. The thought came to her: if Arthur was prepared to go along with it, she might even be able to involve him in creating the secret way, for that would be the time of the full moon. She wasn’t sure she was ready to travel to Otherworlds yet, or even if she wanted to, but Marie had seemed insistent that she know about it, and the ancient tiles had also shown a path. Unless that was just a metaphor for the decisions she needed to make? Shrugging aside that particular worry, she turned her concern to the visions she’d seen.

  Marie. Would Arthur be able to see her too? And Aline? It would make it so much easier to convince him if he could see both of them, and also witness the scenes that had so terrified her. She just wished that she’d thought to ask Marie to appear and talk to him if she could.

  Meantime, it was imperative that she keep an eye on Dru to make sure he obeyed her and left the brambles alone. With a curse she recalled that she’d planned to stop by and inspect the damage before leaving the site. She’d left in such a hurry she’d forgotten about it. That must be top priority next time she visited the garden. But for now, she had an arrangement to make, and then a grimoire to consult. She turned the key in the ignition and, feeling somewhat easier in her mind, she drove back to Glastonbury to find out whom to approach with regard to channeling water from the pool in order to create a fountain that would splash into an old stone basin.

  *

  Each day until Arthur’s arrival seemed to drag on forever, and yet the days seemed to be rushing by far too fast. Morgan kept busy day and night in an effort to keep the black thoughts at bay. Nevertheless she found herself becoming increasingly anxious, snappy with Dru and his workers, and with the suits at Belle Meadow during interminable meetings, and even with Merlin and Elspeth. Remembering Marie’s promise, she also did some surreptitious digging around the pool, but could find nothing. She told herself that, if there was anything to find, the workmen would have uncovered it while fashioning the stonework to contain the spring.

  Once the fountain was in working order she looked on it with pleasure as it splashed down into the old stone basin that Dru had found. And she looked for Marie on every visit to the garden, planning to ask her for more clues. But Marie didn’t come, and neither did Aline. She wondered if she’d seen the last of them. That thought made her even more jumpy, for she was relying on them to speak to Arthur when she brought him to the garden. She had no idea what they could tell him that she didn’t already know, just as she had no idea what she was meant to say to him when he came. But she was pinning her hopes on their presence. If Arthur could see them, talk to them, at least he’d know that she hadn’t completely lost her mind.

  Yet she felt as if the whole world had gone mad. She was haunted both by the nightly scenes she witnessed on television and also by the visions she’d seen; by the dire predictions Merlin had read in the wooden tiles; by all the questions that still remained unanswered. Remembering her first night in Glastonbury, she climbed the Tor and once more looked up at the stars on their never-ending journey through the sky. Those closest to the moon were outshone by its bright radiance – it was almost at its full sphere now. She sat down, propped herself against the rough stone wall of the ruined tower, and closed her eyes.

  An urgent thrumming seemed to be coming from within the heart of the Tor, as if the earth itself was trying to communicate its unease. Alarmed, she sprang to her feet. “He’s coming,” she whispered, although there was no one around to hear her. “I’ve done what I can. I can’t do anything more.” She held out a shaking hand to prop herself against the stone wall, for she wasn’t sure if her knees would hold her.

  The dark Tor was surrounded by a necklace of twinkling lights from the town and splashes of sparkles from several villages further away. The moon sailed serenely above her head as it had sailed through the millennia, touching the world with its silver light. Her fears, her fancies seemed ridiculous, and yet she could not shake her terror. “What do you want from me?” she demanded aloud, angry now that she was unable to capture the serenity she’d once felt here. She listened in case there was a response, but heard only an owl hooting in the distance before all fell silent once more.

  Finally, Morgan threaded her way back down the Tor. What had just happened up there? She shook her head. Now that it was almost time for Arthur’s visit, she knew she wasn’t ready for it. She also wondered if she’d sensed the consequences caused by the delay.

  Her experience up on the Tor was pushed aside when she re-entered the house to find Merlin and Elspeth watching the news. Their faces were ashen; they didn’t greet her, merely beckoned her urgently to come and sit down and watch with them.

  “… it’s too early to tell the full extent of the damage but it seems that the Brotherhood of Islam have finally achieved their goal. It would appear that Israel no longer exists.”

  Morgan could hear the announcer’s voice, but the screen was filled with visions of a spreading mushroom cloud that appeared to envelop everything within its lethal embrace.

  “Israel’s gone?” she whispered, as the picture morphed into wraiths twisting and coiling in a gray mist, the shadows of what had once been people.

  Merlin turned to her. “It seems those savages managed to infiltrate Iran’s nuclear facility and this is the result.” His voice was bitter as he continued, “Obama should never have agreed to trust Iran. God knows where this will all end.”

  The end of the world as we know it. Morgan bowed her head, too distressed to say any more. But the three of them continued to watch through the night as the ongoing tragedy unfolded before them.

  *

  As promised, Arthur gave her a call as he approached Glastonbury, and she gave him directions to Bride’s Mound, thinking it best to have their first meeting at the garden. As a safety measure, she asked Merlin and Elspeth to accompany her. But in spite of their reassuring presence, her heart was beating so hard she thought it might leap into her throat and choke her as she waited for her brother. Finally the car drew up to disgorge its passengers.

  “Hello, Morgan,” Arthur greeted
her. But she could not speak. Her gaze was riveted on the last person to unfold himself from the car.

  “Hello, Mo,” he said.

  She stared at Lance as the years fell away. Suddenly they were teenagers meeting for the first time.

  “I thought a Morgan was a car,” he’d said.

  “And I thought a Launcelot was a long dead knight in shining armor.” She’d grinned at him, pushing the hair out of her eyes so she could admire him properly.

  “I shall call you Mo,” he’d said.

  “And I shall call you Lance.”

  Now he came towards her, with arms outstretched, and she stepped into his embrace. “It’s been a long time,” he murmured. “I’ve missed you.”

  Morgan heard his thoughts, and knew it was true; heard also his bitter regret for the path he’d chosen with Gwen.

  She pulled out of his embrace. “I believe you’re married,” she said, in as cool a voice as she could muster. “Congratulations. Congratulations too on your success with Virtuo.”

  “Isn’t it a coincidence that Lance is in the UK.” Arthur hurried to fill the awkward silence that followed Morgan’s words. “He’s been staying with us; in fact he came to the fundraiser last night, and pledged his support next year – and I’m very grateful for that. But I think his real purpose was to make sure he accompanied us here today to see you.” He cast an affectionate glance at his friend. “In fact, he insisted on it.”

  “It’s good to see you all. Thank you for coming.” Morgan was proud of how steady her voice sounded. She held out her hand to Arthur’s wife. “Elaine? I’m so glad to meet you at last.”

  “And I you. It was quite a shock when Arthur told me you’d made contact after all these years, but I’m very glad you did.”

  Elaine wasn’t at all what she’d envisaged. Morgan had expected an uppity upper-class woman with a toffee accent, an appropriate handbag for a career politician, but Elaine seemed perfectly normal and quite friendly. With some relief, Morgan introduced Elspeth and Merlin to the gathering, amused when Ralph, Arthur’s older boy, gazed up at Merlin and breathed, “Are you really a wizard?” and Merlin proved it by producing a coin from behind the boy’s ear.