“Nimue, come and see me in Gore.” Uriens’ kingdom, from where he commanded the north of Wales. Not my home. No sweet name like ‘Avalon’ that promised beauty, belonging and rest. It was an ugly-sounding place, and I did not look forward to seeing it. Nimue nodded against me. I remembered Merlin. “Nimue, Merlin knows I don’t have his book anymore.” She nodded again, and I leaned closer to her ear to whisper, “Get his secrets as soon as you can.”
She kissed me on the cheek, her kiss dry and papery, like the kiss of a child. She squeezed my hand as she left, telling me she had to go back to Avalon. There was more for her to do.
I felt exhausted, suddenly, when she left, and I lay on my bed, wrapping my arms around my head to block out the light, and let myself sink into sleep. When I slept, I dreamed of Kay, his mouth against mine, his hands on me, as passionate and intense as I had seen him with Lancelot.
I woke to a gentle hand on my shoulder, and looked up to my mother, full of gentle concern. I sat up to embrace her, and told her what she wanted to hear. That I thought I would be a happy wife, and I hoped to see her soon. She kissed me on the cheek and left. I felt as though everyone was saying goodbye to me, one by one. But Kay did not come.
The time came at last, just after midday, when I was called to depart with Uriens for his kingdom. I looked all around my room before I left. I hoped that I would be back soon. I had been torn from three homes already, Amesbury, Avalon, and now Camelot.
I picked up my bag, and I called for a servant girl to take my mother’s dresses and pack them in one of the bags. When I walked down to the courtyard, I hoped I would see Kay among the horses, where he often was, but he was not there. I felt the cold clutch of betrayal at my stomach. He was not even going to say goodbye. I could forgive him for spending last night with one he thought was Lancelot, for their love was older than his and mine, but I could not bear that he had not come to say goodbye to me. He had led me like a lamb to the slaughter into this marriage, and now he had melted away, so that he did not have to face his guilt. Perhaps he was guilty because he loved Lancelot more than he loved me, but really I thought it was because he loved Arthur more. Arthur, the little brother for whom he would sacrifice anyone. First Lancelot, so that he would not be sent from his brother’s side, and now me, so that Arthur could win the war he caused with his foolishness. Yes, that was it.
When I walked down, Uriens was already mounted on his horse, dressed in his battered armour, but without his helm, his sword at his side. Arthur stood at the side of the courtyard with Ector, dressed in his red and gold coat, his crown on his head, to say goodbye to his dear sister whom he had sold for some knights for his war.
Uriens nodded brusquely when he saw me. I went over to Ector and kissed him goodbye on both cheeks, letting him pull me into a fatherly embrace. I would miss Ector. He held me gently by the arms and smiled at me.
“My Lady, Queen Morgan, I hope I shall see you again soon,” he said, kindly. I gave him the steadiest smile I could in return.
“Me too, Ector.”
Arthur stepped forward and kissed me goodbye on both cheeks, too, but as he did, he whispered in my ear, “Make an effort with him, Morgan. I need you to help me in this.”
I gave him a cold look as we parted. As I climbed onto my horse, I looked around for Kay again, but the only other familiar face I saw was Merlin, still in his young form, loitering at the edge of the courtyard. Kay is not coming to say goodbye.
Uriens gave the shout to leave, gave a deferential nod to Arthur, and our small party departed. I wondered as we left if any of my letters had reached Morgawse. I hoped that they had. I would write to her again from Gore, so that she would know where I was. I would have liked to have seen her. I hoped that this war would not part us forever. I hoped that Aggravain was serious about protecting his mother. I hoped that he was old enough, and strong enough, to resist his father, and keep the promise that he had made to me.
As we rode away, Uriens moved beside me on his horse. I glanced sideways at him. He seemed as though he wanted to talk to me, but I was not going to make it easy for him. Not after what he had done to me this morning. But I did not need to speak first. He began, his voice tense with thwarted rage.
“That brother of yours thinks he’s so clever. So powerful. He’s just a boy. Without me, Lot would crush him in his bare hands. He thinks he’s a great king, he’s just a boy.”
I let a moment of silence pass between us, staring ahead of me as we rode.
“A boy of whom you are afraid,” I replied, pointedly. I didn’t look at him, but I was sure he was bristling with anger. Perhaps there would be parts of this marriage I would enjoy. Uriens was easy to bait, and flashed with anger fast.
“I am not afraid of Arthur,” he growled tersely.
“King Arthur,” I corrected, unable to keep a wicked smile of enjoyment from my lips. I felt him turn to look at me, burning with frustration, but I gazed off into the distance, enjoying myself at last.
The ride to Gore was not far, and we reached Uriens’ castle as night was falling. I was pleased to not have to spend a night on the road with Uriens. Perhaps he would be tired from the ride, and want to go right to sleep. I hoped so. Uriens’ castle was built like Lothian castle, tall and narrow with sharp spires, densely packed. It looked unwelcoming. Like Lothian castle, it did not have a great courtyard like Camelot with a welcoming wooden gate, but we entered through a barbican gate with two unfriendly rust-toothed portcullises. Inside, a small band of knights waited for their king and their new queen. At their head stood a knight with a torch to welcome us. In the light of the torch he held, I could see he was youngish, roughly of an age with me, not more than five years older, I thought, and handsome. Fair hair swept back from his face, dark gold stubble across his chin, and a thoughtful, angular face, just a little rugged. But I had had enough of handsome men for the moment. The young Merlin, threatening me, Lancelot kissing me then turning me away, and worst of all Kay, telling me he loved me then abandoning me at the final moment of my need.
He appeared to be Uriens’ Steward, and he greeted him first, taking the reins of his horse so that he could jump down. Making a show of courtesy in front of his men, Uriens walked around to me and offered me his hand to help me down. I took it and slipped from my horse. I landed on my feet right before his Steward, who greeted me with a confident, charming smile. He gave a small bow.
“My Lady Queen Morgan. Welcome to Rheged castle.” He kissed my hand and I gave a nod of my head in response, resistant. I was not going to give anything of myself away again. I had suffered from it too much.
Servants came out to take our belongings into the castle, and Uriens excused us, saying he was tired from the ride. He led me in silence through the courtyard to the castle’s central tower. When we walked through the door, a jolt of recognition went through me at the sight of the staircase. I had seen myself at the top of it, in my dress of black gems, wearing the crown of Gore. This was my future, then. I wondered how long it would be before I saw the red-haired woman, before she and I stood on the shores of Avalon, Excalibur drawn between us. I could not remember who had been holding the sword when I had seen it in my dream of the future. It had to be me. I would have my sword back.
Uriens led me to a bedroom where someone had lit a few candles in preparation for our arrival. I wondered if I would have a chamber of my own here. I hoped that I would. It would be well enough to have somewhere of my own, far from Uriens. But this seemed to be his chamber, for once I followed him in and he shut the door, he began to undress, unbuckling and pulling off his armour, and setting it down. He pulled off his shirt, too, and went to a basin set on the table, and splashed his face with the water, then rubbed it dry with the cloth beside the basin. I stood back, watching, dreading. Perhaps he would just go to sleep. He did not. He strode over to me, and grasped me by the shoulders, pulling me against him in a rough kiss.
I would have been glad of it if, though I hated him, I could have at leas
t enjoyed myself in this. I knew I was capable of it, but he was too rough, his lips brusque and coarse against mine, his grip violent rather than passionate in its roughness, and I felt my body stiffen instinctively against him. He turned me around roughly and unlaced the overdress, and pulled it over my head. I thought about refusing, about protesting. He had been rude to me. He had done dishonour to me, so I did not know why he thought I would go willingly with him now.
I stepped away from him, crossing my arms over my chest. A cruel smile played around his lips. Part of me wondered if he was hoping that I would refuse him. If he had been testing my wifely obedience, how far I was guilty. How far I was sorry. He was spoiling for a fight after losing his argument with Arthur. He wanted to feel he could get someone to obey him. It would not be me.
“Uriens, you have apologised for your treatment of me in public, but not yet to me in private. I will not go to bed with you as your wife until you apologise.”
He gave a low, mean laugh. “I don’t have to apologise to you. I have to pretend I believe Arthur, but,” he shook his head, “between us, I know you’re nothing more than a whore.”
I slapped him, hard across his face, feeling the anger fire through me, heat my blood. I wished, then, that I knew more, darker magic. Little good it would do me now to change my shape. I wished I could have wrapped my hand around his eyes and made him watch something he did not want to see.
It took him a moment to register that I had struck him, then his face darkened and twisted with anger. He went red, then white, and I saw the vein bulge in his forehead. I felt a flutter of fear in my stomach. I could see the hunger in his eyes, the desire for revenge, to assert his power. He had been shamed by me, and by one he considered to be a boy. Now he was alone with me, he was going to prove the one way he was stronger.
I jumped back as he lunged forward for me, but there was nowhere for me to go. He caught me by the wrist, and dragged me over to the bed. I pushed at him with my free hand, but I didn’t have the strength in my body to get him off me. Vivid and awful, the memory of Lot holding me face-down on his table flashed back through me and I struggled hard against Uriens, but he did not loosen his grip on me. He pushed me down on the bed and climbed on top of me, pinning me down with an arm across my chest. I screamed out, screamed for him to stop, but he clamped a hand over my mouth, leaning close to hiss in my ear.
“I am your lord husband, Morgan, and you will be obedient to me.”
I kicked at him, but I could not push him off, and I screwed my eyes tight shut, against the tears, against the room around me, this awful place I had been brought to. I wished that I could move outside my body, leave it behind me. When he thrust inside me, grunting over me, and puffing out his breaths, I lay limp and hopeless, closing my eyes, trying to imagine I was at Avalon, swimming in the lake, or lying with Kay under the trees. But when I thought of Kay I felt angry and hopeless again. There was blood on the sheets this time, but I did not think he would be satisfied now. I tried to drift as far from my body as I could, and all the while I thought, I will kill Uriens. I will kill him.
And after a while it became, and I will kill Arthur.
Part II
The Curse of Excalibur
For Judith, who didn’t make it this far,
but without whom I could never have begun.
And Queen Morgan said, “Tell Arthur that I will not fear him while I can change me and mine into the likeness of stones, and let him know that I will do much more, when I see my time.”
Malory Le Morte d’Arthur
Chapter Twenty Two
That was how I found myself. Alone. Betrayed by everyone; those I had trusted most, and those I had not trusted at all. Sold by Arthur into this marriage for the sake of an army for the war he had started out of selfishness. Forgotten by Kay. Alone in Rheged Castle with the husband who despised me almost as much as I hated him. Already they had all forgotten me. Even Nimue. Merlin had tricked me, and stolen my sword. Old friends and old lovers alike had left me behind. Only my sister, my careless, thoughtless sister, with no one else to protect her, kept me where I was. If I stayed, at least I had some power to protect her. To protect her child. The child Arthur had wanted so badly to kill.
The others could wait, but I was determined to have some revenge on Uriens as soon as possible, and to remove myself from the danger I found myself in now that I, as wife, was prisoner in his castle. I waited in the morning until I heard him get up, dress and leave, and I slipped from the bed. I went over to my bag and pulled out my book of healing arts. I thought I remembered something useful in it, and it was there, at the back, in the section of potions useful for women. It was called, ‘potion to take a man’s power’. I hoped it meant what I thought it did. I hoped it would humiliate him. He deserved it after what he had done to me.
I glanced down the list of ingredients. Simple enough. I thought I could find them all, as long as Rheged Castle had a proper herb store. Otherwise I would have to go out looking for them, and it would be more difficult getting Uriens to let me leave the castle on my own. I dressed in my black jewelled dress, and a clean underdress. I felt fragile, weak, and I hated it. I plaited my hair slowly, hoping that the habitual movements of my hands would soothe me. It did, but only a little. Before I left the room, I scribbled a quick letter to Morgawse.
“Marriage as you described. War soon. Hope you & M safe. Morgan.”
I hoped that Morgawse had managed to protect her little son from Arthur’s assassins. I was not really sure it was such a good idea for the boy to survive, but it seemed cowardly and immoral to send knights to kill a helpless baby. I pressed the letter into the hand of a servant, with instructions for it to be sent as quickly as possible. I hoped that it would reach her before the war began.
I walked down, through the castle, out to the courtyard. I was pleased that Uriens was not there. Autumn was drawing near, and the air smelled of it. Of hay, and sweet apples. The smell reminded me, painfully, of my summer with Kay. There were a few knights preparing their horses, checking their equipment. Uriens would be gathering his army at his borders, preparing to march north to meet Lothian’s attack. They would be caught between the Lothians coming from the North and Lot’s Breton allies landing at Dover. Arthur was in the weaker position, having to fight outwards towards his borders. He was not an experienced general, he was young. All he had was his men’s faith in him. I hoped that it would be enough. I hoped, too, that Uriens’ men would be strong and loyal, and that I would not have been given into this suffering for nothing.
I noticed the steward I had seen the night before at the edge of the courtyard, and walked over to him. He would know if Rheged had a store of herbs. He stood in his armour, plate on the chest, chainmail underneath, his dark gold hair swept back off his face. I had not imagined, before, that he was handsome. Well, I was not going to be betrayed by another man. All I wanted from him was his knowledge of the castle.
He saw me coming towards him, and turned to me with a smile.
“My Lady Morgan, how do you find the castle?” he asked with a little bow.
“Well enough,” I replied. “I wondered if you could tell me if this castle has a store of dried herbs.”
He gave a small, amused smile.
“You are one of the ladies of Avalon.”
“I schooled there,” I replied evasively. He shook his head.
“I had a sister schooled in Avalon, but she had no skill and they would not give her the woad.” I could see in his eyes that he was intrigued by me, by the blue of my skin. It was a shame that he knew too much. I hoped he would not tell Uriens that I really was a witch. “I know enough about Avalon to know that the woad is truly an honour, and given only to those who show especial talent for the magic arts.” He took a step closer to me, as though carried forward by the power of his own words, his own curiosity. “My sister told me, besides, that the woaded women of Avalon are painted in blue, not just on their hands and faces, but all over.”
/> I saw his eyes flicker down, over the bodice of my dress, and he ill hid what I knew he pictured as he looked at me. I drew myself up to my full height, and regarded him coldly.
“You are bold, aren’t you? For a steward.” He leaned back a little, but the smile still played around his lips. “Just tell me where the herbs are kept.”
He led me down a passageway, down the steps to the underground stores. I felt my heart racing in me, already nervous. If I could not find what I needed, I did not know how I was going to protect myself from Uriens. The steward lit a torch as we went down the steps. It was dark, and slightly damp in the stores below. That was not good for the herbs.
I followed him through the room, lined with barrels of food, prepared for a siege. Some were dusty, but many looked new, as though Uriens had made recent preparations for being stuck inside his castle. I could not imagine anything worse than being held to siege with Uriens. The steward stopped suddenly, and I almost walked into his back. He turned to the side, and lifted up his torch. In an alcove in a wall at the back, bunches and bunches of dried herbs hung from a series of wooden poles that looked as though they had been set up for the purpose. Everything was there. My heart skipped with joy. There must have been a witch at Rheged castle before me.
I squeezed in front of him to reach them. He did not move aside, so I had to brush past him. I ignored him when I felt him watching me as I gathered what I needed. When I turned back around, I saw he had not moved back, but stood close to me, the torch held over us, and he was smiling his curious smile.
“What are you making, my Lady?” he asked.
“A casserole,” I replied.
MORGAN: A Gripping Arthurian Fantasy Trilogy Page 19