Her voice was as deep and solemn as when she had spoken with Pellinore, and I knew without looking up that the Goddess was upon her.
“Go now in confidence, for your Blessing is complete. It does not matter whether your wedding is now or a week hence; you have been found fit, and I will be with you.”
When I raised my eyes the girl was smiling radiantly. She put one hand lightly on my head, and for a moment I saw Mama standing there, looking down at me as when I was a small child, and my eyes filled with tears.
“I shall see you again soon, I think,” Nimue said, her voice reverting to its youthful lightness, “so go with gladness, until we meet anon.”
The druid came forward then, along with a number of other Sanctuary folk, ready to escort me back down to the camp. But when we came down from the hill Bedivere and a small party of attendants were waiting beside the path that follows the river’s course.
“Arthur and the Companions have gone on ahead to Sarum,” the lieutenant explained, carefully tying the bundle of my morning’s clothes behind his saddle. “The rest of the cavalcade is making the best time it can and will be camped at the foot of Sarum tomorrow. It’s been arranged that you spend the night at the convent in Amesbury—if you’re ready to go, that is,” he added.
I nodded and only then looked beyond him into the group of riders and mounts. There, amid the cluster of sturdy travel horses and warriors’ steeds, stood the lovely white mare we’d seen at Chester. Her dark, lustrous eyes regarded me calmly, her long mane was plaited with ribbons and her hooves were as neat and polished as seaside shells. The reins were bedecked with bells and bronze bosses secured the halter. I gasped at the sight, and Bedivere gave me a crooked grin.
“Her name is Shadow and Arthur thought you would be pleased,” he said. “He wants the people to see by this gift how much he honors you, M’lady.”
I let the animal nuzzle my hand and hair, and admired the rich brocaded blanket that hung down on either side of the saddle. Tassels and bright fringes glowed in the afternoon sun, and when Bedivere lifted me to her back I felt as splendid as Etain the Beautiful herself.
We waved farewell to the druid and his party and began our trek toward the convent.
“What ever will the nuns say about my coming from the Sanctuary, decked out in all this pagan glory?” I asked, and Bedivere laughed.
“Very little, if they have any sense. Some things you don’t tamper with, and the wedding of King and Queen is one of them! Surely they must know he is the Lord of the Land, and you are the living embodiment of the people. Besides, Brigit says not all Christians would be opposed to today’s happenings.”
“You’ve talked with her, then?”
“With Brigit? Yes; we rode most of the way to the convent together.”
“Ah, she came out of the litter for you!” I was delighted at what certainly sounded like progress.
“It was just a morning’s trip, and not too long, but it gave us a chance to chat. As you said, she’s a remarkable woman.”
I was delighted, and made a silent little prayer to the Goddess for them before remembering how appalled Brigit would be. Ah well, if she could make Mama a saint, I could ask the Old Gods to look after her.
Amesbury is a tiny settlement named for Ambrosius Aurelius. An abbey has grown up on the bank of the Avon where the willows trail over the stream, and the choir which sings perpetually within the cloistered halls is one of the finest in the land. It amused me that so staunch a Christian center should be associated with the king who had fathered Merlin, the greatest druid of all time.
The convent was a mixture of both Roman and Celtic skills. Although it was rectangular and divided into individual rooms, the thatch roof and wood interior made it cozy arid pleasant. Bedivere allowed that there were many places being built like this, perhaps because it offered the best of both styles.
The people at the convent reflected a similar mixture of Roman discipline and Celtic naturalness. And they did not seem overly critical; Vinnie looked more askance at my day in the Sanctuary than the nuns did. But even she couldn’t help admiring the mare and trappings Arthur had sent, and there was no argument when I said I wished to wear the white robe from the Sanctuary on my trip into Sarum next day.
We spent a quiet evening in my room talking about the journey now that it was almost over, and that led to reminiscences of earlier times.
“It’s been a fine life you’ve shared with me,” Brigit said quietly, “and I want you to know how much I’ve appreciated it.”
“Good heavens, it’s not as though it were going to end now,” I said with a yawn. “Why, I’ll have as much need of your help now as ever I did in childhood.”
“Aye,” she answered slowly, plumping up the pillows. “But it will be different from now on, M’lady. The wedding may still be a week away, but after you ride into Sarum tomorrow you’ll belong to Arthur and the people, and there’s no mistaking that.”
“Ride?” Vinnie piped up, suddenly taking notice of what we were saying. I had forgotten all about my promise to enter the city in the litter, and there was a sudden tension as the matron perceived that fact.
“I didn’t even think to tell Arthur about it, and now he’s sent round that beautiful mare. What ever am I going to do?” I cried, seeing how distressed my governess was.
“You could let one of the men ride the horse, M’lady,” she suggested, “while you are carried through the gates in a style that befits your station.”
“Now, Vinnie, that would never do,” Brigit scolded. “You know how curious the people will be to see what their new queen looks like, and even with the curtains open they wouldn’t catch more than a glimpse of her in the litter.”
Lavinia reached down to smooth the coverlet at the foot of my bed and I thought contritely of all the trouble she had gone to in having the litter made specially for this trip.
“I’m sure it will be very handy when M’lady’s pregnant,” Brigit added gently. “But you saw how beautiful she looked riding in here this evening with her hair long and flowing, and the horse prancing with fair pride to carry such a treasure. Surely the people should have a chance to see her for the first time that way too.
“I suppose,” Vinnie agreed, then rounded on me imploringly. “But you will promise to wear that dress, and not go skinning into a tunic and breeches at the last minute?”
“Ah, that I promise entirely.” I smiled, relieved that her feelings weren’t more hurt. “And as you’ve said often enough, from tomorrow on I’ll be wearing dresses most all the time…I promise you that as well.”
My governess looked down at me with a mixture of fondness and exasperation and for a moment I thought she was going to lean down and kiss me good night, as Nonny would have. Instead she straightened her shoulders and muttered, “It’s about time,” then wished me good dreams and bustled from the room.
After everyone was in bed I thought of Brigit’s comment about our lives’ changing, and knew she was right. The trip tomorrow was more than simply the last few miles of a long journey; it would be my first encounter with the people who from here on would think of me not as a person, but as their queen.
Regardless if that proved good or bad, there would be no changing it; I was embarking on a course from which there could be no turning back, and the finality of it loomed before me, fierce and unyielding.
With the sunrise my fate would be set. If ever there was a last chance to bolt and run, this was it; yet the thought held no attraction and I brushed it aside as childish nonsense.
Somehow, somewhere on the Road to Sarum my desire had shifted from a longing for freedom to the meeting of a challenge. And though I was awed by the magnitude of the change that was taking place and wondered how the people would accept me, there was nowhere I wanted to run to, nothing I wanted to avoid.
I was moving now with the structure of my moira as surely as if I were following the current of a river. The whisper of Kevin’s litany circled round me: “Of
course you can…Heir to the great queens of the past, Celtic daughter of Rheged…of course you can.”
I smiled sleepily, hearing behind it all the message of the doire: I would marry Arthur because I was meant to be his wife…it really was as simple as that.
Chapter XXXV
Sarum
The bells calling the nuns to Mass rang gently in the predawn hours, and I rose to join Brigit and Lavinia in the chapel. I had never attended a Christian rite before, but it seemed fitting and proper that as Britain’s future Queen I should honor the different beliefs of the people, and this was a good place to begin.
The service was strange but not unpleasant, and when the priest offered a special prayer in behalf of the “northern girl who comes to marry our king,” I wondered if he knew mine was among the veiled heads at the back of the chapel.
Afterward we had a silent breakfast in the refectory, then returned to my room, where the simple white dress and ivy wreath hung waiting for the day to begin. By the time the sun was up I was mounted on the white mare and ready to leave.
Shadow sidled and pranced so that the bells on the bridle sent rills of music all about us like the benediction of gods long forgotten and still unknown. A light breeze of the sort that delights butterflies and honeybees slipped past and I lifted my face against its caress. The morning was undeniably beautiful.
At the last minute the abbess of the convent came hurrying across the paving stones, gingerly carrying a large bouquet. The flowers, pure white and trumpet-shaped, were unfamiliar to me, and as she handed them up she explained they were lilies sacred to the Mother of God, and would bring me Her blessing. I thanked the woman for her thoughtfulness and carefully cradled the flowers in the crook of my arm.
The remarkableness of the day came home fully then: the meeting of north and south, Pagan and Christian, past and future. As in a bright counterpoint to Samhain, I could feel the division between mortal concerns and the eternals blur, as if the two realms overlapped and all things were possible, all contradictions acceptable. When Bedivere led the way through the convent gates, I was both calm and excited. It didn’t even seem strange to be going to my new life crowned by pagan ivy and carrying the Christian seal of purity.
The river path was peaceful and quiet, and the few lastminute travelers moved to one side for us with a respectful nod or murmured greeting. But when we came clear of the woods and our destination loomed on the horizon, I caught my breath.
Sarum sits at the end of a high spur, a single white hill that rises smooth and glistening out of the surrounding plain. Around its base tents and camps and banners flourished in a sudden blaze of festivities, and they mingled and swirled through the campsites like birds along the Solway shore.
Word had spread that Arthur would welcome his bride this day, and as we came closer the crowd pressed in against the track, while children scrambled into nearby trees for a better view. Occasionally I recognized a face from the Road behind us, and here and there the banner of a Cumbrian contingent caught my eye, as reassuring as the smile of an old friend.
I asked Bedivere why Sarum’s hill was so smooth, for even from this distance it was clear that its chalk sides had been stripped of any grass or vine or tree that might soften the outline.
“No point giving the enemy a handhold,” Bedivere said. “To stand at the bottom of the ditch and stare upward at that smooth sheet of chalk is to be defeated before one even begins. Between the invincibility of the place and the fact that so many Roads meet here, it’s a natural military center. The town on top of it is fairly rough, I’m afraid, and not nearly so fine as Winchester; I hope you won’t be disappointed.”
“But I can see pennants and banners flying from the towers,” I pointed out, and he laughed.
“That’s for the wedding, M’lady. The people have decked it out like a Maypole to welcome you.”
“Oh, we must make sure they are part of the celebration too,” I replied, touched by their thoughtfulness.
“That’s already taken care of,” Bedivere said with a grin, going on to explain there would be dancing and games and all the usual activities of a fair, and the wedding feast was to be open to all who wished to attend.
Bedivere also informed me that most of the guests had already arrived: Urien and Cador, the Cornish kings and the Queen Mother, Igraine. Morgan was apparently still on the Road, however.
Ahead of us there was a scudding motion like a cloud shadow plowing across the plain. The crowd surged toward one particular spot and like everyone else I craned my neck and strained to see what was causing all the commotion. Then suddenly the throng opened and Arthur rode into view.
He came toward me on a fine black stallion with trappings of red and gold that were every bit as regal as those of my mare, and his garments were as simple in cut and material as my own, though his were bordered with the royal purple so dear to Roman hearts. The gold bracelets of a king’s treasure adorned his arms, and Excalibur gleamed at his side. There was no mistaking either the man or his rank this time.
Merlin rode beside him, tall and elegant in black and silver.
Behind them Cei glittered with jewelry and bright colors as he wheeled his horse from side to side. I smiled to myself: in spite of his reputation for pinchpenny ways, the Seneschal’s love of pomp and display was evident, and he seemed to be enjoying the occasion very much.
There were others in the train that followed: Gawain and his brother, Agricola wearing his ornate belt, and beyond them came Palomides. They were closing on us now and when I looked back to Arthur I found him staring at me with that wide, level gaze of his.
Merlin said something and turned aside, and Bedivere dropped back also, leaving just Arthur and me alone to pace proudly toward our fate.
The crowd fell silent, as though holding its breath, and all eyes watched us intently. We looked neither to right nor to left, but only at each other as the distance between us slowly closed.
Time shifted in its warp, and with each step I saw a different man before me: solemn, boyish, exuberant, thoughtful, battle-weary, optimistic, puzzled, powerful, grieving, majestic…as though Arthur embodied the whole range of human nature. We were being drawn steadily together by an invisible web and when he reached me I extended my hand, still without dropping my eyes.
He raised my fingers to his lips: then a fine, laughing smile lit his face and he turned his attention back to the crowd. With one eloquent gesture he offered me to the people and them to me.
The tension broke within me, overflowing in waves of love for him, for the multitude, for life itself, and I too turned to the throng.
A roar went up around us and even Merlin smiled. We made our way to the front of the procession still holding hands, the horses pacing evenly and in perfect step while the people fell away before us with smiles and tears.
And so we traversed the last mile to the entrance of Sarum, smiling at each other and our subjects.
***
The town was as crowded as the Road had been, and the acrobats from the trip greeted us at the gates, spinning and leaping at the head of the procession while the drummers and pipers kept time with a merry tune. Everywhere there was shouting and cheering, and we waved and laughed and let the joy of the people carry us along.
Bedivere had been right about the town, for it was obviously more military outpost than fancy city. But the people had put up bunting and hung banners, and window boxes overflowed with flowers. Baskets had been hung from the comers of eaves and filled with blossoming plants brought in from wood and meadow for the occasion. The effect was one of riotous gaiety rather than thought-out elegance, and was the more dear because of it.
The wave of celebration swept around us and everywhere I looked the faces were wreathed with smiles and goodwill.
At the Square a Roman building had been turned over to Arthur and the Dragon Banner hung resplendent before the door. This would serve as headquarters and main Hall, with one room put aside for Arthur’s personal use,
while the Queen Mother and I were to be lodged in separate buildings nearby.
“I thought you might want some privacy, so I didn’t put the two of you under the same roof,” Arthur explained as we passed the house where Igraine was staying. “She expects you to call on her this afternoon, however.”
Smiling gaily, I glanced up at the window and saw a shadowed figure behind the pane. Half-remembered stories of the sorcery and mystery that clung to Arthur’s origins rose dreamlike round Igraine’s name.
The masses of people behind us swelled out across the open Square, hurrying us along. Arthur turned down a narrow lane, to a house set well away from the noise and bustle of the Square. Here the High King called a halt and everything fell silent.
I blinked at the half-timber building, suddenly wondering what I was doing here. It was one thing to embark on a trip down the length of Britain, and quite another to come to a stop at so solid a destination. I had the giddy sense of slipping across ice and looked at Arthur for some reassurance, but he lifted me down from the horse without meeting my eyes.
The room we entered was large and comfortable. The hearth was at one end instead of in the center of the floor, but the fresh rushes and newly plumped cushions made it familiar and homey. A pair of glazed windows let in a good light, and cupboards had been built around them, creating a niche with a padded seat under each opening. The loft was well supported by heavy beams, and though it was smaller, the richness of wood and alcoves made me think of the Great Hall at Appleby.
Vinnie began checking the cupboards while Brigit and Bedivere organized the unloading of the pack animals and Arthur guided me wordlessly to a window seat where we’d be out of the way.
Child of the Northern Spring (Guinevere Trilogy) Page 37