by Anna Elliott
He’d braced himself for her to argue, to ask him what right he had to make a request like that. But instead he felt her nod again, and she said, without looking up, “No. I won’t try to go myself. I’ll stay here.”
STAY HERE, AND I’LL COME BACK for you. Isolde willed him to say it. She wished it so hard she could almost believe Trystan actually had spoken the words aloud. She could feel his surprise that she’d agreed so readily not to make the journey to Gwynedd herself, but he said nothing. Instead, he just held her. His arms about her were so warm and solid and strong, and she wondered how she was going to bear it when inevitably he let her go. When she had to come back to this small, plain furnished room and sleep on the hard wooden bed alone.
They stood together a long time, and then finally Trystan spoke. “Every time my heart beats,” he said, “every breath I take, I’ll be thinking of you.”
And then he stepped back, letting his arms drop back to his sides.
Isolde didn’t let herself cry. She walked with Trystan in silence back to the courtyard where the other four men were waiting, and she managed still to keep from crying as she bid them all good-bye. She kissed Eurig’s cheek, which made him blush again. She took Daka’s hand and smiled when Piye said something in his own tongue that his brother translated for him.
“He says thank you again for the ring,” Daka told her. “He had another fit last night, but this time he not be afraid. He know your magic would keep him from coming to harm.”
She watched Trystan speak a few words to Hereric in Saxon, watched Hereric sign a reply, and then clasp wrists with Trystan. And then they were turning to leave, going out through the abbey’s main gate. Though Hereric turned away from the others and came back to stand beside Isolde.
Trystan say Hereric stay with you, he signed. Keep safe. Guard.
Isolde nodded. She looked up at Hereric and tried to smile. “Thank you, Hereric. I’m glad to have you stay with me.”
The attempt at a smile must have been even more miserable than she’d thought, because Hereric’s broad face furrowed in concern and he touched her arm. Trystan come back, he signed.
Hereric’s light-blue gaze held the same utter, unshakable confidence as when he’d bidden them good-bye at Fidach’s camp. As when he’d told Isolde to tell a story so that Trystan would get well. Isolde shut her eyes. Tried to remember, Every breath I take, I’ll be thinking of you instead of the half-finished it’s not as though we could ever have—
She thought about Piye, holding up Garwen’s crudely made curse ring and smiling at her in farewell. Maybe that was the sum total of faith. Transforming an iron ring and a handful of Latin nonsense into a charm against the powers of night. A sanctuary for old women too ugly to wed any but the Christ, as Mother Berthildis had said. Still, though, Isolde opened her eyes, looked through the abbey gates to where she could still see Trystan and the other three walking down the road towards the surrounding forest, the rising sun slanting down on their backs. And she thought, Please, please, I don’t even ask that he come back to me. Just keep him—keep them all—safe.
Hereric’s touch on her arm made her look up again. Isolde finish story? he signed. At first Isolde had no idea what he meant, and she looked at him blankly. Story about girl? Hereric frowned, seeming to grope for the right signs. Lover stolen away?
Isolde let out a shaky breath, scrubbed a hand across her eyes. “You mean the story I told for Trystan? About the maiden who saved her love from the Fair Folk?”
Hereric nodded. Girl. Man. What happened? he asked in gestures. Isolde never told story end.
Isolde didn’t answer at once. Cabal had padded out from his bed in the abbey stables, and across the courtyard she could hear the two little girls laughing, their quarrel forgotten as they tossed an empty wooden spool for him to fetch. She turned slowly from Hereric to look out to where four men were just about to vanish amongst the trees: one bald and homely, two with skin black as coal, and one broad shouldered and tall, with a scarred left hand, gold-brown hair laced back with a leather thong.
Without looking away, Isolde raised a hand to rest her palm lightly over the girdle of her gown. “The end of the story,” she said, “is that the maiden bore her love a son.”
Author’s Note
AS WITH TWILIGHT OF AVALON, Dark Moon of Avalon is a blend of historical truth and Arthurian myth. King Cerdic of Wessex and King Octa of Kent are both taken from the Anglo-Saxon king lists for the time. Little is known about them but their names, however, so I have freely (some might say shamelessly) invented lives and personalities for both. The British King Cynlas of Rhos is mentioned in the sixth-century historian Gildas’s De Excidio et Conquestu Britanniae or On the Ruin and Conquest of Britain. Madoc of Gwynedd is loosely based on the historical sixth-century King Maelgwn Gwynedd, who was indeed a leading king of the age and whom Gildas identifies as “Dragon of the Isle.” Dywel of Logres, though, is entirely fictional. Indeed, the kingdom of Logres is really confined to Arthurian legend; Geoffrey of Monmouth uses the name “Loegria” to describe the territory containing most of England before it was taken by the Saxons. Isolde’s kingdom of Camelerd, too, appears in Arthurian legend but not in the historical record.
Oddly enough, the facet of Dark Moon of Avalon that readers may find hardest to believe—the relatively high degree of autonomy and political clout Isolde wields—is actually one of those most grounded in historical fact. The sixth century was a time of change, during which the growing influence of the Christian church was beginning to limit and restrict female freedom. However, dark age Celtic women, particularly among the nobility, had far more power than their later medieval counterparts. Early Welsh and Irish law gave women significant rights concerning property, divorce, protection from rape, and the raising of children. The Celts had many powerful goddesses, as well, and a history of warrior queens (such as Queen Boudicca) who took to the field of battle and fought both against and alongside the men. Female druids served as diplomatic envoys in negotiations between rival kings.
The one true anachronism in Dark Moon of Avalon is the Christian abbey in which Trystan and Isolde take refuge toward the end of the book. That kind of monastic establishment really belongs to an era two or three hundred years later than that of Dark Moon. But religious houses are so much an important part of the Arthurian world and the Arthurian tales that I allowed one to creep into my story, as well.
When looking for a (reasonably) credible explanation for why a Christian convent would have been established in the midst of a dark-age Saxon king’s lands, I came upon the story of King Aethelbert of Kent, who married Bertha, the Christian daughter of Charibert, king of the Franks. Bertha was a Christian, and her influence may have led to the decision by Pope Gregory I to send Augustine as a missionary from Rome in A.D. 597 an event which is seen as the beginning of the relatively swift conversion to Christianity of the Anglo-Saxon world. Although my story takes place a full generation earlier, I freely (or shamelessly) grafted a bit of King Aethelbert’s story onto my Cerdic’s and gave Cerdic of Wessex a Frankish wife of the Christian faith. In fact, nothing at all is known of Cerdic’s wife (or, possibly, wives), though many historians have theorized that Cerdic himself may have been of mixed Saxon-Celtic heritage, as I have made him in Dark Moon.
For more on the book’s historical background and a partial bibliography, please visit my website, www.annaelliotttbooks.com. I was fortunate to find many wonderful resources while writing Dark Moon of Avalon; any errors in the book are entirely mine.
Acknowledgments
I WOULD LIKE TO THANK THE following:
My daughter, Isabella, for continuing as a toddler to be an incredibly good sleeper and all-around great kid. Nathan, my husband and webmaster and full-time peerless helpmate. My mom and dad, warm and great and supportive as always. My lovely in-laws, for countless hours of babysitting. My superb agent, Jacques de Spoelberch, and my wonderful editor, Danielle Friedman.
And special thanks this time
around to my fabulous writing partner, Sarah, who was a sounding board and an invaluable help throughout the entire writing process; who checked my historical facts and dug up countless new research resources; and who, when it came time to write the wedding scene and I was drawing an utter, complete blank on credible dark-age Celtic marriage vows, responded to my plea for suggestions within the hour with the beautiful lines that appear in the final version of this book. You are a gift.
Thank you all.
Touchstone Reading Group Guide
Dark Moon of Avalon
For Discussion
1. “She’d been called Witch Queen for all the seven years she’d been wedded to Con …[a]nd in all that time, she’d had not a flicker of true Sight, what her grandmother had once called the space inside where one might hear the voice of all living things. …” (page 11). How would you characterize Isolde’s experience of the Sight? Why was her gift of the Sight absent during her first marriage? To what extent do Isolde’s visionary abilities differ from those of her grandmother, Morgan? Why might some people compare her abilities to witchcraft?
2. What does Isolde’s recurring dream of Lord Marche and their wedding night suggest about the nature of their connection? How does the fact that Marche is Trystan’s father complicate Isolde’s feelings about her brief marriage to Marche? In what respects do Isolde’s memories of that night hint at the post-traumatic stress of a victim of sexual assault?
3. “Camelerd was hers, her own domain by right of her birth, however little her place as Con’s High Queen had allowed her to attend herself to its rule” (page 24). In what respects does the political intrigue of the region shape the plot of Dark Moon of Avalon? How would you characterize Isolde’s relationship with Madoc, Britain’s High King? Why does she trust him, and he, her? How much of Isolde’s decision making is based on what is best for Camelerd and its inhabitants?
4. Why is Trystan’s identity as Marche’s son a threat to his safety? What does Kian’s willingness to conceal Trystan’s true parentage suggest about his loyalty? Why does Isolde feel the need to protect Trystan from Madoc, Cynlas of Rhos, and other leaders?
5. What is the significance of the ballad that the court musician Taliesen plays to Isolde—the tale of a maid whose lover is held captive by the Fair Folk and turned into a series of savage beasts (page 113)? How does the tale relate to Isolde’s own struggles to reconcile her true feelings for Trystan? What role do stories and legends play in the course of the novel?
6. “And you want me to take you—you alone, without a guard—across the Saxon war lands? Get you inside Cerdic’s court so that you can propose an alliance to him?” (page 128). Why does Trystan agree to journey with Isolde through dangerous country to help her meet Cerdic? How would you describe their experience as fellow travelers? Who is more vigilant against their anonymous pursuers, and why?
7. How does Hereric’s injury hinder Trystan and Isolde’s progress on their travels? How would you characterize Trystan’s allegiance to Hereric? What is unique about Hereric’s method of communication? How does Isolde attempt to soothe Hereric in her healing efforts, and to what extent is she successful?
8. “That’s the trouble with growing up with someone. They know too much about you” (page 288). What do Trystan and Isolde know about each other that other people don’t know, and to what extent do you agree with Trystan that he and Isolde know “too much” about each other? How does their childhood together enable them to read each other’s thoughts? What accounts for their mutual concealment of their true feelings for each other?
9. “This whole journey, she thought …has been running away of a kind. Running from Madoc’s proposal. From the men who attacked the boat. From Fidach. Even, in a way, running from Trystan” (page 323). What explains Isolde’s compulsive need to run away? What might she be running toward? What is Trystan running away from, if anything?
10. How did you feel about Isolde’s revelation to Hereric in the closing scene of the novel? What does Isolde’s decision not to delay Trystan’s departure reveal about her strength of character? How is her decision informed by her views of fate?
A Conversation with Anna Elliott
What do you think accounts for our culture’s ongoing fascination with Arthurian legend?
There are legions of answers, of course—all different, and all valid. But for me, the unique enchantment of the Arthurian legends lies in their blend of fantasy and history. The world of the King Arthur legends is a recognizably historical one, part of our own past. Many scholars have explored the possibility of a real, historic Arthur—who, if he existed, was most likely a Celtic warlord of the mid-sixth century, a warrior who led a triumphant stand against the incursions of Saxons onto British shores. Trystan, whose existence as a real historic figure is suggested by a memorial stone in Cornwall, was likely a roughly contemporary warrior, possibly the son of a Cornish petty king, whose cycle of tales were eventually absorbed into the legends growing up around Arthur and his war band.
And yet the world of the Arthur tales is one steeped in magic as well. It’s a world filled with the voices of prophecy, with enchanted swords and otherworldly maidens and the magical Isle of Avalon, where Arthur lies in eternal sleep, healing of his wounds, waiting to ride once more in Britain’s greatest hour of need.
That combination of historical truth with the wonderful potential for magic was what most of all drew me to the Arthur stories when I first studied them in college. And it was what delighted me about living in my own version of the Arthurian world while writing the Twilight of Avalon trilogy.
In writing your fictional version of the famous legend of Trystan and Isolde, what new elements did you want to incorporate in the retelling?
I intended the Twilight of Avalon trilogy to be a blend of legend and historical truth. The fifth century, when scholars agree a historic Arthur might have lived, was a brutal, chaotic time in Britain. Roman Britain had crumbled; Rome’s legions had been withdrawn from this far-flung outpost of the empire, leaving the country prey to invading Pictish and Irish tribes from the west and north and to Saxon invasions from the east. It was in many ways also a crucible in which the British identity and sense of place was forged. And it is against this backdrop that Arthur appears, a war hero who led—or at least may have led—a victorious campaign against the invaders, driving them back for perhaps the space of a man’s lifetime and so inspiring the roots of a legend that still captures our imaginations today.
I was fascinated by this possibility of a real King Arthur, and fascinated by the world in which he might have lived. So I decided to set my story there, to make my particular Arthurian world grounded in what scraps of historical fact we know of Dark Age Britain. And yet I wanted, too, to honor the original stories and their magical, legendary world—a world that after centuries of telling and retelling, is as real in its own way as historical fact.
It was a bit of a balancing act, I discovered. My Isolde is the granddaughter of Morgan (sometimes known as Morgan le Fey in the original Arthur stories; a healer and enchantress of great renown). Isolde is gifted through Morgan with both the knowledge of a healer and with the Sight, which enables her to receive visions and hear voices from the Otherworld. All of which fitted in with what I’d read of both the legends and historic accounts of Celtic spirituality, pre-Christian Celtic belief, with its emphasis on the powers of herbs, on trances and dreams that transcend physical boundaries and touch an Otherworld that is separated from our own by only the thinnest of veils.
And yet, too, there were those elements of the original Trystan and Isolde tale that were harder to fit in with any degree of historical verisimilitude. Like the famous love potion, which in the original legend causes Trystan and Isolde to fall helplessly in love. So in those cases I took a more symbolic approach, which I’ve always felt is a way—though certainly not the only way—of reading the fantastical elements of the Arthurian tales. Dragons, for example, can be literal scaly monsters. But they can also
be seen as a metaphor for the evil that exists outside the bounds of organized society. And a love potion like the one Trystan and Isolde accidentally imbibe can be viewed as a metaphor for the overwhelming, all-consuming nature of passionate romantic love.
So in Dark Moon of Avalon, Trystan and Isolde do journey together by boat, as in the original tale, and it is over the course of the journey that they deepen and develop their relationship, which again is true to the original legend. But the purpose of their journey is based on what scraps of historical fact we can gather about the shaky political situation of sixth-century Britain. And they don’t need a literal draft of a magical potion to fall in love—only the magic of their own powerful emotional bond.
I did take a fair number of liberties with the legend—liberties that are, I hope, justified. After all, after so many centuries of retellings, adding yet another version of the story seemed silly unless I could add something new to the age-old tale.
Can you describe the challenges you experienced in narrating the book from the perspectives of both Trystan and Isolde?
I actually loved—and found it very easy—to write from both Trystan and Isolde’s perspectives and have them share the narration of this story. I think, especially when there’s romance involved, that it adds so much to be able to see what both protagonists are thinking, for the reader to see exactly what’s in each character’s mind, to know how they see each other, what they reveal to each other and what they’re each holding back. I did try to always make Trystan and Isolde’s narrative voices very distinct from each other—but that wasn’t really a challenge. Each of them talked to me from the first in a very individual way, which I hope comes across on the page.