Although Eleanor’s living quarters at Sarum were markedly different from the opulence she was used to, she made little reference to her changed circumstances. She seemed well up on the tattle of the court, and commented drily on the mysterious death of Rosamund de Clifford, and the new scandal that was pairing her husband’s name with that of his ward, Alys, daughter of the King of France who, when only a baby, had been betrothed to Richard, Eleanor’s favorite son. “He won’t take on his father’s cast-off, even if Henry was prepared to give her up,” Eleanor commented, and I wondered if she’d heard the rumors that in fact her son preferred young men rather than women in his bed.
It was a relief to leave that grim, windy fortress on the excuse that I needed to visit my old friend, Meg, before I was due back at the priory. And it was a great joy to be able to spend a few days with her in her happy household. Her children immediately captured Aline and took her off exploring and adventuring, leaving Meg and me free to renew our friendship.
But I soon realized my mistake on our way back to the priory as Aline became more and more subdued. I didn’t have to ask to know the answer. After seeing something of the world outside, my little bird was now ready to stretch her wings and fly away.
That thought was followed by another. She was almost old enough for me to leave her, which meant that it was almost time for me to make preparations to go. I knew that, for this first time at least, I must go alone rather than risk stranding both of us in an Otherworld. The future was too important to take that risk. But I knew also that I could be gone for some time, perhaps even forever, for I was sure that there would be more than one Otherworld to explore, and I did not know how difficult or otherwise it might be to locate my beloved Guinglan, or how to return to my daughter. The very thought of it filled me with a desperate, trembling excitement, but also with woe.
By now, Aline knew all the true stories of the knights of Camelot and their king, and the part that my mother had played in their downfall. I had given her my book, and told her the stories so that Aline would know the truth about her heritage: that she was descended from a royal line. At the same time I spared no details about my mother’s practice of magic and the harm she’d caused to herself, to my father, to Arthur and Guenevere, and most important of all, to the kingdom. As I spoke of the past I felt again my grief at the loss of my mother, and of my home. “I believe that the Lady Morgana acted the way she did for she’d promised her father when she was just a child that she would rule his kingdom in his stead. But she was forced to break that promise after she was betrayed by everyone she’d ever trusted,” I said. “Rather than using her magical powers wisely to help Arthur rule Camelot, she acted out of a passionate desire for revenge and so brought everything to ruin.” I added this last as a warning, for Aline’s interest in my magical objects had led me to suspect that she might even be practicing some of the spells in secret. “But you should know that, for all her faults, my father loved my mother,” I told her, “and so did I. And I know she loved me.”
“As I love you too, Mamm,” Aline hastened to reassure me. “I know you are anxious to see my father again, but I am sure you’ll be able to find your way back here whenever you wish. Perhaps I may even be able to travel the secret path to wherever you are? I would so like to meet my father.”
I thought about Aline’s words on our return to the priory, but still I delayed my departure until I could be sure that her future was secure.
I didn’t have long to wait. Within a few weeks, a young man came calling. I had seen him before. He was the son of a close acquaintance of Meg and Alan, and I had wondered at the time why, having called once, he seemed to find an excuse to call on us every day after that. The blush rising in my daughter’s cheeks as she watched him dismount and walk towards us gave me the answer I’d been too blind to see before, as did the excess of courtliness in his bow and his effusive greeting. For her part, Aline seemed uncharacteristically tongue-tied.
I watched their courtship with mixed feelings, understanding now how my own mother must have felt when watching Guinglan and me together. Fond pride and a wish for a daughter’s happiness warred with my desolation at the thought of losing my daughter, for in spite of Aline’s encouraging words I lived in fear that I might never be able to return to her.
As always, she heard my thoughts, and understood. Laughing, she reassured me that all would be well, while promising to cherish the precious objects I needed to leave behind in her care. Even so, I waited until she and John were safely wed before I bid her goodbye.
We both shed tears as we said our farewells, just the two of us. John was not with Aline, and I wondered if he knew of her magical powers, or if she had kept him away on purpose. Realizing that what transpired between husband and wife was no concern of mine, and that I would have to trust her in everything, I finally dragged myself away and, with my newly gathered wands in one hand and a crystal amethyst bought from a local goldsmith and empowered by me in the other, I moved towards the bramble hedge.
“Give my father my love,” Aline called after me. “Tell him I will come in person one day to offer him my obeisance, and ask for his blessing.”
I raised a hand to show that I had heard and noted her request, and I gave her one last farewell smile over my shoulder before uttering the incantation. The brambles parted in front of me and I passed through and into the green hawthorn tunnel, now hurrying with hope and joy in my heart towards wherever Guinglan might be waiting for me.
Acknowledgments
Little is known about Marie de France and her life. She identifies herself, at the end of her Fables, as “My name is Marie and I am from France” although it seems clear that she spent most of her life in England. Guesses about her identity range from being the illegitimate daughter of Geoffrey of Anjou (and therefore a half-sister to Henry II of England), to Marie, Abbess of Shaftesbury in Dorset, or Mary, Abbess of Reading, or Marie de Meulan, daughter of Count Waleran and wife of Hugh Talbot, or Marie de Boulogne, daughter of King Stephen, who became Abbess of Romsey but was subsequently removed from her convent by Henry II and married off to Matthew of Flanders. The lais were written in Anglo-Norman French and are dedicated to a “noble king,” either Henry II or his son known as the “Young King,” although there are other contenders, including Henry’s illegitimate son, William Longsword or the highly regarded William Marshal. (Or perhaps Marie really was Morgana’s daughter, and that’s why she was so coy about her identity!)
Marie’s stories are embedded within this story, providing a meditation on storytelling: where inspiration comes from and how it’s assimilated and turned into stories (or poems). I owe a debt of thanks to several sources: The Lais of Marie de France, translated by Glyn Burgess and Keith Busby (Penguin Classics); The Lais of Marie de France, translated and with notes by Robert Hanning and Joan Ferrante, and a translation printed by Temple Press, UK. My thanks also to Helen Lyne, who cast a critical eye over my versions of Marie’s stories. Any mistakes I’ve made I shall excuse with the observation that this is the first time Marie has told her stories aloud, and that sometimes she changes her mind while speaking them – and changes her mind again when it comes to writing them down. I’m also supposing that not all of her stories survived to this day – in particular, the collection she scribed especially for the queen!
The sighting of the comets by Marie are based on fact. In August 1165, while Henry was off massacring the Welsh, two comets appeared before sunrise, one in the south and the other in the north (only seen in England). In those times it was believed that comets appeared most frequently on the death of a king if it looked like “a crown of shining rays,” or the destruction and ruin of a kingdom “if it had streaming hair which it sheds” (i.e., a tail).
I’m indebted to Laurie Wilson for giving me ideas for ‘end of the world’ scenarios, while the following article provided the information that I needed:
“A previously unknown asteroid belt has been located in deep space and is now hurtl
ing towards our part of the solar system. It means a ‘global killer’ could collide with Earth as soon as 2020 wiping out life as we know it and changing the climate for millennia. The terrifying predictions came as NASA revealed disturbing new data showing 400 impacts are expected between 2017–2113 based on new observational data of objects seen in space over the past 60 days. Most will have a maximum diameter of about 100 metres […] and the potential to cause significant damage. But concerned scientists warned a colossal ‘monster’ is also heading our way, with one ‘mega’ asteroid threatening earth in just SIX years […] Professor Bill Napier, an astronomy expert at the University of Buckingham said a strike by either an asteroid or debris from a comet could have devastating consequences. He said: ‘If something like this happened, depending on where it hit, it would be absolutely life-altering. The atmospheric chemistry would be upset by cutting out sunlight. It would be like a nuclear winter and could last for tens of thousands of years.” (“Shock Asteroid Warning: Planet earth faces 100 years of killer strikes starting in 2017”: article in the Daily Express by Nathan Rao, published Friday, September 5, 2014.)
I researched and wrote this story while in the UK on a writer’s residency awarded by the NSW Society of Women Writers and Professor Di Yerbury, and I am truly grateful for this opportunity. My thanks also go to Molly Talbot for sharing with me her knowledge of the Tarot and helping me devise the readings. Thanks also to Jane Bevans and Pat Wheeler for their input regarding Glastonbury and the famous music festival, and to the Waratahs who listened to and commented on my mss. Finally, my thanks to my editor, Tara Goedjen, and the team at Momentum for their faith in my work, their wonderful vision, and their professionalism.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Characters, institutions and organisations mentioned in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously without any intent to describe actual conduct.
About Felicity Pulman
Felicity Pulman is the award-winning author of numerous novels for children and teenagers, including A Ring Through Time, the Shalott trilogy, and Ghost Boy, which is now in pre-production for a movie. I, Morgana was her first novel for adults, inspired by her early research into Arthurian legend and her journey to the UK and France to ‘walk in the footsteps of her characters’ before writing the Shalott trilogy – something she loves to do. Her interest in crime and history inspired her medieval crime series, The Janna Mysteries, now repackaged as The Janna Chronicles.
Recently awarded the inaugural Di Yerbury writer’s fellowship, Felicity spent several months in the UK in 2015 researching and writing the sequel to I, Morgana. She has many years’ experience talking about researching and writing her novels both in schools and to adults, as well as conducting creative writing workshops in a wide variety of genres. Felicity is married, with two children and six grandchildren, all of whom help to keep her young and technosavvy – sort of! You can find out more about Felicity on her website and blog: www.felicitypulman.com.au or on Facebook.
Also by Felicity Pulman
The Janna Chronicles:
Blood Oath
Stolen Child
Unholy Murder
Pilgrim of Death
Devil's Brew
Day of Judgment
I, Morgana
First published by Momentum in 2016
This edition published in 2016 by Momentum
Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd
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Copyright © Felicity Pulman 2016
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A CIP record for this book is available at the National Library of Australia
The Once and Future Camelot
EPUB format: 9781760302566
Mobi format: 9781760302573
Cover design by Raewyn Brack
Edited by Tara Goedjen
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