There was no electricity to brew more tea. All power sources appeared to have been knocked out; only those appliances relying on battery power were still operational, but Morgan knew their life was limited. People were coming in to take refuge from outlying areas with reports of the dust and debris that were already blowing across and polluting the air. No one dared mention the nuclear power plants that, presumably, had also been flattened in the strikes. Their deadly fallout would also be adding to the noxious mix. Vulnerable as they were, Morgan wondered if they’d be able to last even until moonrise when she could begin to weave the spells that she hoped would lead them to safety.
She had thrown her laptop into her backpack, even though she realized it was probably useless to take it. She wanted to ask Lance what to bring with her, what would be most useful, but he was preoccupied with monitoring incoming reports on his receptor. Arthur was also busy, consoling Elaine and the boys in between making futile calls that went unanswered. Left to her own devices, Morgan added a change of clothing and some underwear to her belongings. And a toothbrush. Fear was almost paralyzing her; she felt sick with it. She was haunted by the possibility that she might be unable to open the way to any Otherworld and that her promises might come to nothing. If they stayed, they would die here, she knew that now, and she was filled with dread. Yet the unknown also filled her with fear. What awaited them all, if the path opened up, if she succeeded in leading them away? There was no guarantee that they’d be made welcome anywhere else. There was no guarantee that they’d even be able to survive.
Fighting despair, she placed the wands of oak, hazel and ash that Merlin had fetched from his shop on top of the other things in her backpack, along with the crystal. She was about to collect up the spread of wooden tiles when something made her pause. She looked around for Merlin, but there was no sign of him. She stretched out a hand, snatched it back, then slowly stretched it out again. Her hand hovered over the blank wooden slats. Would they give her guidance, tell her whether she would be successful in her quest to reach safety? Or would they show the end of the world once more? A frisson of terror ran down her back. Without giving herself time to think further, she snatched up a tile and turned it over. She saw the figures of a man and a woman, arm in arm, standing under a rainbow. Close by, two small children danced in a circle, clasping hands. Arthur and his family? But one of the children was a little girl. Her and Lance at some time in the future? A wave of longing swept over her and she looked about for him. He was hunched over his receptor, his face ashen as he continued to monitor the reports coming in from all around the world. Sensing her gaze, he glanced at her. She dredged up a smile. It was too soon to hold out any hope for the future; it was certainly too soon to start making plans for it. She looked down at the tile; the embracing figures had given her an idea. She hurried up to her room.
The green velvet dress had traveled everywhere with her since that calamitous night at the music festival. Looking at it always brought waves of misery, yet she couldn’t bear to be parted from it, for in her mind it represented her last link with Lance. There was no room left to pack it – and besides, Lance was here now, and she no longer needed it. Or did she?
She took it down from the hanger and lovingly smoothed its folds before shucking off the shirt and jeans she’d been wearing. Would the gown still fit her after all this time?
Bought to accommodate her burgeoning pregnancy, it slipped over her head and clung to the curves that a settled life and a regular diet had added to her body. She surveyed herself in the mirror, and smiled. Somewhat different from the business suits or practical jeans she’d been wearing lately, she thought, as she went downstairs once more.
Lance looked up as she entered the room. His eyes widened at the sight of her. He stood up and walked towards her. Wordlessly, he took her in his arms and kissed her, a long and lingering kiss that left the silent watchers in the room in no doubt as to his intentions.
Merlin coughed, and the moment was broken. Smiling, he approached the couple. “Now I know why you needed to have that dress,” he said. Morgan was afraid he’d continue his explanation. This was something she’d rather tell Lance herself, and at some other time. To her relief, Merlin said no more about it, but instead invited her to have a look through the grimoire while they waited, in case there was anything he had missed.
The hours dragged on. People started to cough as the air thickened with dust, until finally Merlin approached Morgan. “Can we hurry this up at all?” he asked.
Morgan shrugged. She had the grimoire open in front of her, revising once more the incantations she would need to say, and now she indicated the page. “You know everything I know,” she said. “What’s your opinion?” Even as she said the words, she realized that perhaps she was wrong; that perhaps Merlin now knew far more than she did. She stared at him, aware that there was a new energy about him, and a new sense of purpose.
Yes, I’ve been studying the grimoire while I’ve been translating it, and I’ve learned a lot about the ancients and their magic. Merlin grinned at her. There are some things I can teach you, if you’d like to learn?
“Yes, I’d like that,” Morgan said, in answer to his thoughts. She looked up as Arthur approached them.
“I think we should go out to Bride’s Mound now, and make a start,” he said.
Morgan was about to argue, but he cut across her. “We don’t know how many people have already gathered out there. There could be hundreds. Thousands, even. They’ll want to know what’s going on; they’ll want reassurance. And they’ll also need to be managed. We can’t have everyone pushing and shoving, trying to follow you once you get going. Because you must lead the way, Morgan. And I will bring up the rear to herd any stragglers. But I do think we should start the process now.”
Morgan closed the grimoire and thrust it into her already bulging backpack. She stood up, ready to follow her brother.
“That makes sense,” Merlin agreed. He looked at Arthur with new respect. “I’ll help with crowd control,” he promised. “By the way, I never got to finish reading the ancient Tarot tiles. I think they have more to tell us. But I want you to know that I believe this isn’t the end; that in fact, it’s a new beginning.”
“I don’t want a new beginning. I want my old life back.” Elspeth was in tears as she went out to the car with Merlin, followed by Saffy and her husband. Morgan gave them all a hug before climbing into her own car. In convoy, they drove through the deserted town, while Morgan tried to avoid the glass shards that littered the streets.
Once at Bride’s Mound, she found a huge crowd awaiting them. There was nowhere to park until, following Merlin, Morgan pulled in on the side of the road, thinking that the place looked like a car lot with abandoned vehicles cluttering every available space. She climbed out, leaving her keys in the ignition, knowing that she wouldn’t need them again. Useless debris, she thought sadly as she threaded her way through to the entrance of the garden, dodging vehicles and people as she went.
“Attention, everyone! May I have your attention, please?” On Arthur’s instructions, Merlin had sourced a loud hailer from the local school while fetching the wands from his shop, and now Arthur was using it to address the crowd.
Morgan was so tense she hardly listened as he began to explain the situation in the hush that followed his plea for silence. She stood beside him, aware that she needed to be visible and that she had a role to play, but her mind was elsewhere, probing into the dark, desperately trying to find a connection to Marie, or Morgana, or anyone else who might give her the reassurance she needed so badly.
“So far as we’re aware, a storm of asteroids has devastated our earth, and left no one else alive,” Arthur continued. “I don’t know why we’ve been spared, but I believe we have the means to escape and establish ourselves elsewhere, at least until our world becomes habitable again – if it ever does.” Arthur raised his voice to be heard against the growing unrest as people started to call out in protest, or talk ang
rily among themselves. “That’s why we’ve brought you all out here. And yet we cannot guarantee that we will find a new world, or even if we’ll be made welcome there if we should find the path to safety. But this is our one and only chance and I urge you to take this opportunity to help yourselves. After what’s happened, it seems likely that it won’t be long before a perpetual winter engulfs us all.”
There were cries of anger, disbelief and despair, and a barrage of questions. Arthur calmly dealt with them all, sometimes calling on Morgan for clarification, while reiterating that there was no pressure on anyone to follow her when the time came; that there were no guarantees that they would be able to escape, nor any guarantee of welcome should they succeed in finding another world.
His words were followed by more howls of disbelief and protest. Arthur was almost knocked off his feet as Dru pushed forward to confront Morgan. She took a nervous step back, not knowing what to expect.
“Don’t you think this charade has gone far enough?” he sneered. “I mean, visions in meadows and ponds and so-called ancient diagrams of gardens. What possible connection is there between your fantasy world and what’s really going on around us?”
“Truly, Dru, the world as we know it is coming to an end. This is our best – our only – chance to escape, and to survive.”
“If I’d known what was on offer, I’d never have wasted my time coming here. God, I could have been a hundred miles away by now! But good luck. I reckon you’re going to need it.” He turned on his heel and strode off, beckoning his volunteers and other disbelievers to follow him.
“Dru, there’s nothing left out there – not a hundred or even a thousand miles away!” Morgan called after him. But he strode on, ignoring her plea.
“Merlin!” Morgan looked around for him and Elspeth. “Make them come back!” she pleaded.
Merlin stilled her with an upraised hand. “It’s their decision, Morgan. You and Arthur have told them everything they need to know. You can’t make them believe you, and you can’t make them come back.”
“But they’ll die!”
“It’s their decision. You’ve given them every chance to survive; there’s nothing more you can do for them now.”
Someone took Morgan’s hand, and held it tight. Lance. She didn’t need to look at him to know whose hand it was. She leaned against him, relaxing slightly. For a moment she was tempted to tell him what the last tile had revealed. Later, she thought, and closed her eyes in a silent prayer that she had interpreted it correctly. But the waiting was getting on her nerves. Now that it was nearly time, she was desperate to make a start, to find out if all she had worked towards would have a successful conclusion, or if she’d been deluding herself all along – about everything.
“Look.” Lance pointed towards a faint rim of light appearing in the darkening sky. “It’s time,” he breathed softly. He pulled Morgan into a close embrace. “I won’t wish you good luck,” he said, “because I know you’ll succeed in this. And I want you to know that, whatever we might find awaiting us, I will be by your side. We won’t be parted again, ever.” His lips found hers, and their kiss sealed his promise for their future.
With reluctance, Morgan finally stepped out of his embrace. She took the wands and the amethyst crystal out of her backpack and approached the tangle of brambles. In a loud, clear and steady voice, she said the incantation, and stepped through the twining branches. Dismayed, she looked around her garden, thinking she had failed, only to find herself enveloped in a dark tunnel of trees. She was only dimly aware of movement behind her as she walked forward into the darkness. Although she was consumed with fear, she kept on going, and at the same time recited the next incantation. She had the notion she was climbing upwards, but she couldn’t be sure. Relying only on instinct, she forged on and finally emerged once more at the edge of her garden.
She held up her hand to stop the press of people following her through, at the same time wishing she could just disappear. She had failed, and now she would have to face the disappointment of those who had trusted her to lead them to safety. Tears pricked her eyes. As she sniffed and brushed them away, she recalled Marie’s warning that she might mistake the secret garden for the garden everyone else could see.
“Courage.” She heard Lance’s whisper behind her and forced herself to walk towards the pool at the center of the garden.
“Marie!” she said desperately. “Where are you? I need your help!” She gazed into the pool, but saw only her own face reflected there in the moonlight. Panicking now, she called again. She was desperate to find out if by some miracle she had succeeded, or if she’d merely returned to where she’d started. Failing Marie’s presence, she needed a sign. Anything to tell her what she needed to know before she embarked on the next stage of the enchantment.
She recalled something else that Marie had said: she’d promised to leave her a token. To her surprise, and disappointment, Morgan had found nothing, yet she couldn’t believe that Marie would have reneged on her promise. Was this the test, then? Had Marie hidden the token, not in their own world where she was sure to find it, but in a secret place where it would stay hidden from everyone’s eyes but her own – so long as she fulfilled her promise to create the secret way? And if so, was the stone basin the key, the stone basin at the heart of the pool?
She put down the amethyst and wands, along with her backpack, and then leaned over the slowly bubbling water to reach into the fountain. The stone was rough beneath her touch. She began to feel around the bottom of the basin, getting splashed as she leaned right over to continue her search on the other side. She had almost given up hope when she felt something move under her fingers.
She grasped hold of the tiny object, and drew it out. The moon was rising fast now, and she could see the object clearly: a gold ring, decorated with an enameled disc on which was inscribed the letter M. Marie’s ring? Perhaps it had belonged to Morgana before Marie. And now it had come to her. Uttering a brief prayer of thanks, Morgan slipped it onto her finger and picked up her backpack, the wands and the crystal. With new hope and gathering courage, she rejoined the crowd waiting patiently for her signal.
She nodded to Lance, who stood at the front of the queue holding everyone back, and quickly held up her hand to show him the ring on her finger.
“Well done,” he said quietly, and stood back as, this time, she raised the wand of ash and uttered the last incantation that would lead them from the scrying pool and thence through the hawthorn tunnel to the edge of the Otherworld, and to safety.
EPILOGUE
Marie
I didn’t see Morgan again, but I was not concerned for I knew that I’d given her all the information she would need when the time came. To honor my pledge, I also left for her my mother’s ring, but I placed it in the scrying pool to keep it safe from prying eyes. I knew that she would find it one day, and I hoped that she would remember me whenever she looked at it.
Meanwhile my life continued as before. I watched the seasons come and go. I watched Aline grow, and my garden also. I had pledged to stay until my garden was fully grown and beautiful, and I knew I had succeeded when the sisters took time to whisper to me of their enjoyment of its many blessings, in particular the private bowers I had fashioned in out-of-the-way corners so that they might find a brief respite from the perpetual company of others.
Although we were secluded in the priory, word still reached us of events outside, particularly events concerning the royal court. Even though I’d never liked the man, I grieved when I heard of the murder of Thomas Becket. At the same time I recalled Meg’s assessment of his pride, and his shows of humility, that seemed more attention-seeking than coming directly from his heart. It was true that he had thwarted Henry’s attempts to enforce justice for all – and in this I was in sympathy with the king, for some of the clergy seemed to take pleasure in flouting the laws of the land, knowing that the penalty would be trivial. Nevertheless, it is a grave charge to be held responsible for the murd
er of another, and I was not surprised when Henry abased himself and had himself flagellated to show his remorse. Nor, later, was I greatly surprised when the martyr Thomas Becket was enshrined as a saint. I wondered if being first Henry’s chancellor, and later the Archbishop of Canterbury, had proved not enough for his vaunting pride and, at the end, only sainthood would suffice.
Of more concern to me were the affairs of my lady. Estranged from Henry after “the fair Rosamund” took her place in his bed, she had retired to Poitiers, and I heard many stories of her court and the scandalous behavior of everyone there, including the queen, most of which I discounted. Nevertheless, I knew of Eleanor’s deep love of Henry and that it was equaled only by her deep love of power and her need to take her place by his side as his consort and equal. Becoming second best must be bitter gall indeed. My worry intensified after news reached us of Eleanor’s sons’ rebellion against their father, led by the young king, Henry, oldest of the brothers, but instigated by Eleanor, their mother. The king wasted no time bringing his sons to heel, but his wife was another matter.
Refusing to consider a divorce, she continued to defy him until, goaded past exasperation, he had her brought, as a captive, from Poitiers to England, to be held at the castle at Sarum as a prisoner. It distressed me greatly to think of proud, fierce, independent Eleanor being held captive, and so I asked for a short leave of absence from the priory.
Taking Aline with me, we traveled to Sarum and there I presented the queen with the book I had scribed for her. “To relieve your tedium and remind you of happier times, my lady,” I said. She thanked me, and held me in a brief embrace. It was the closest I had ever seen the queen come to tears.
The Once and Future Camelot Page 31