“Oh Morgan,” Morgawse sighed when she saw it was me stepping through the door. “I’m so sorry. You didn’t have to sleep in your room did you?”
I shook my head, climbing onto the bed beside her. I was angry with her as well, but she had suffered last night, and I didn’t blame her, really. She had only wanted a little human comfort. Just like I had.
“I stayed with mother,” I said softly, lying beside her and resting my head against her stomach. She stroked my hair like she had done when we were children.
Morgawse gave a happy sigh. “It is good to be a widow. To be a rich widow. With plenty of sons. A lady in my situation may do what she pleases. I will pray for you, Morgan, that you might be a widow soon.”
She laughed her bright, tinkling laugh. Once again, Morgawse had got her way. Well, soon I would as well. I would be a widow sooner than my sister thought.
Morgawse gave another sigh of contentment, and I felt her stretch out a little under me. I knew what was coming, and I did not want to hear it. She spoke as if to herself, but I knew it was for my benefit.
“I did not expect love like that from a man everyone says likes to have boys in his bed. Well, Morgan, I must tell you those rumours are not true. He knew what he was doing with a woman.” She puffed out a little breath as though to illustrate how impressed she had been. I held tight to the anger and jealousy twisting tight within me. “I have not been loved like that by a man since –” Morgawse stopped dead, and with a cold clench at the base of my spine I realised that she had been about to say since Arthur. She gave a little cough, and continued. “For a long time. Oh, Morgan.” She rolled over to face me in the bed, and laid a gentle hand against my cheek. “Little Morgan, you should find yourself a lover. A young man. Then you will know what it’s really like, between a man and a woman.”
The chapel bell was ringing for mass. Morgawse flopped back onto her back and sank further against the pillows with a little pout.
“I’m not going to mass today. Morgan, stay with me.” I was happy to nod my agreement and lie down next to her. “I have had my own unholy communion with a man from Otherworld last night. I think I might give up mass in favour of that in the future.” She turned to me with a playful grin, and when she saw I was not laughing, she gave me a playful prod. “Oh come on Morgan. Don’t always be such a nun. You must have something to say about it. You let that ugly old Merlin put his –”
“Morgawse, shut up,” I shouted. I had so much more to say, but nothing else would come. I felt my angry tears close to the surface. Morgawse reached out and squeezed my hand.
I thought she was going to say something, but she didn’t. After a long, long pause she said, softly, “Uriens is truly a disgusting man, isn’t he?” I nodded. So Morgawse remembered the things that he had been saying about her, and me, and Arthur’s Queen.
Morgawse called for some breakfast and the serving women brought us some fresh bread and honey, and we lay in the bed and ate it, putting off dressing and leaving the sanctuary of the bedroom. Morgawse ate with a clumsy enthusiasm, spreading crumbs around herself, tangling a little honey into her hair. Even if I had wanted to relish everything in life with Morgawse’s wildness, I did not think I could have done. I stayed neat and immaculate, as always.
Aggravain and Gareth came by just before the mass must have been about to begin to give Mordred back to their mother, and then we lazed there with the little child between us, stumbling through the folds of the sheets, and trying to pick the gold pattern off the brocade bed curtains. He had an intelligent, attentive look about him as he moved about, and I could see that Morgawse doted on her youngest son.
When it was eventually time to dress, Morgawse called for baths and we soaked in the water, our iron tubs side by side. Then we both dressed – me in my black jewelled dress, Morgawse in a dress of light blue silk that was beautiful with the soft, warm gold of her skin and hair, and richly embroidered in gold. She looked lovely, as always. She picked Mordred up in her arms.
“Morgan, I am going to take him out to the meadows. I think it is best if I stay out of the way of Arthur’s new wife. And Arthur. Just... in case.” I did not think Arthur would have mentioned it, but I did think this was the safest option. “Morgan, could you take Kay’s coat back to him? I just – I don’t want Arthur to find out. It would only make him more upset about my being here.”
I nodded. I kissed Morgawse and little Mordred on the cheek, and scooped up the fallen surcoat from the floor, folding it in my hands, and left to find Kay.
I found him in Arthur’s bedchamber, one of the first places I checked for him. He was there with Arthur and Gawain. I could not think of a worse combination of people. I expected Gawain would be quite upset indeed if he knew. Arthur sat in the frame of his window, his feet on the chair beneath the window, and he was grinning. Kay sat against the table that the chair belonged to. He had a small wicked smile on his face as well. Gawain stood, leaning against one of the bedposts. The curtains were pulled back, and the sheets on the bed were still tangled and thrown back. The sight of them made me feel uneasy. I did not want to think of Arthur holding the Breton girl down, his hand over her mouth, the sheets crumpling beneath them. Had Arthur searched through the sheets in the morning, looking for a drop of blood?
“Morgan!” Arthur greeted me excitedly as he saw me. I saw Kay’s eyes catch on his surcoat where I held it behind me, and I saw a slight blush redden his cheeks. I was glad that he was ashamed. “Morgan, did you enjoy the wedding?”
I caught Kay’s eye again, and he quickly looked away. He was guilty.
“Yes, Arthur.” He was grinning like a boy. I forced myself to ask the polite question, unsure of how detailed an answer I would get. “I trust you also enjoyed your wedding?”
Arthur laughed, and gave a shrug. “It began badly. When I got my wife alone at last, she told me that she would kill me if I touched her. But I managed to convince her otherwise.”
I felt suddenly cold. That sounded a lot to me like Uriens telling me I would get used to it. Arthur had not been unkind to Morgawse, but she had wanted him. I did not put it past Arthur to force an unwilling woman. Perhaps the Arthur I had known three years ago would not have done. I was less sure of him now. He was a king, not the boy I had known, and a king had his honour.
Gawain was laughing and shaking his head. “Arthur, she is lovely. Lovely.”
Arthur laughed in agreement. They were all laughing and smiling. Where was this girl?
“Morgan, I’m sorry. Did you come to see me for anything in particular?”
I was saved, as Uriens burst through the door behind me. I had not expected him, but for once he was welcome. I did not want to hand Kay back his surcoat from Morgawse’s bedroom in front of Gawain. Uriens’ jaw was bruised dark purple, but it did not seem to have been broken, unfortunately, for he was able to speak.
“Arthur –” He gave a cough of frustration at Arthur’s hostile look. “My Lord Arthur, last night your Seneschal struck me-”
Uriens had not noticed Gawain in the room. When Gawain stood forward, squaring up to him, Uriens stepped back. Uriens was not a small man, but beside Gawain he was nothing. Gawain was bigger still than when I had seen him in Lothian, bulked out by the long war. He was muscled like a bull, and he was scarred from battle already.
“Uriens, do you remember the things you said last night?” Gawain growled, and Uriens stepped back from him.
Arthur, annoyed that his moment of basking in the conquest of his wife had been shattered, demanded, “What happened?”
Kay cleared his throat softly, and I saw Uriens reel around to look at him with undisguised hate.
“Uriens was insulting to Gawain’s Lady Mother, and to your beloved sister Morgan, and,” he added quietly “to me.”
Arthur stepped forward, his expression darkening. I thought he might strike Uriens right there, but he did not. He turned to me.
“Morgan, is this true?”
I nodded. Kay had neg
lected to mention Uriens’ comment about Arthur’s new wife, but I thought that had been wise. That might have sent Arthur into a rage that would have led him to kill Uriens where he stood. I would have liked that, but it would have caused more war, and war had only just ended. Besides, it would deprive me of the pleasure of doing it myself.
Uriens was unrepentant. His eyes locked on Kay’s, he growled, “It is not an insult, Sir Kay, if it is the truth.”
Kay jumped to his feet and forward. Arthur put out a hand to hold him back, and if he had not been there, then Kay would have been on him again.
“Uriens,” Arthur began, his voice low with threat, “I do not tolerate slander against my kin, and I count Kay as my foster-brother among them. Do you understand me?”
I could see Uriens bridle against it, and I could see him burn with the repeated humiliation, but he nodded in agreement. He threw a dirty look at Kay, and then at me, and left, slamming the door shut behind him.
Arthur turned away from us towards the window with a groan, pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead. “Kay,” he murmured in frustration, “tell me it has stopped.”
Arthur knew what the insult would have been.
Kay, still on his feet and poised to strike Uriens, reeled around to Arthur. I could see the angry disbelief on his face. “Yes, Arthur. Long ago. How can you even ask me?”
Between them, Gawain stood awkwardly, only half-understanding. I took the opportunity to excuse myself, and as I expected, Kay slipped out soon after me. He pulled me into Merlin’s room which was thankfully empty.
“Morgan –” he began, his tone imploring, but I was not listening. I threw the surcoat hard at him, and he caught it in both hands.
I was too angry for words. I left.
Chapter Thirty One
Nimue came to court the next day, but she went straight to Arthur, not to me. I felt the little burn of resentment. She had not seen me at all since I was married, and though she had promised me Merlin’s secrets in return for the book, she had given me nothing.
A hunt was called, and I went down to watch them set off. Nimue had brought it as a gift – the hunt for the White Hart. I had read about it, the white beast of the quest, and the spell that called it. It was a simple thing, an innocent thing, but I was sure in Nimue’s hands it would not be the only purpose of her wedding-gift to Arthur. Uriens was going on the hunt, and I was glad that he would be gone. I stood beside Morgawse and watched the knights come down from the towers in their light hunting armour, and climb on their horses. The horses were as eager as the men, whickering and stamping their hooves.
A sudden murmur went through the crowd, and I could see people pushing forward to look at something. Beneath the murmur of interest was a low mutter of disapproval, and when I pushed up onto my tiptoes to look, I could see why. Arthur’s new Queen had come to join him. But she was dressed in what must have been the clothes of her own people. She was wearing light hunting leathers, but the kind I had seen only on young boys before. She wore boots and breeches like a man that showed the lightly muscular shape of her legs, and a leather hunting vest. It was a beautiful thing, lightly made and engraved through the leather in swirling patterns, and held together with shining bosses of brass; but it left her arms bare, and a flash of pale flesh showed at her back, beneath the vest, and above it the soft white skin of the back of her bare shoulders. I could hear the women close to me whispering. Her hair was tied back still, but more simply than before, in a rough bunch tied with a leather thread, and I could see bright, wild coils escaping from the knot already, shining bright red in the spring sunshine.
Beside me, Morgawse clicked her tongue. “She is so obviously not from around here.”
Arthur did not seem to mind the mutterings of his people. When he saw her, he strode over to her and pulled her approvingly against him. He was saying something to her – I could not see what, but it did not appear to be cover yourself. His hands were against her bare skin where it peeped between the breeches at the vest just above her hips. Even from across the courtyard I could see the hunger in his grip. I saw him hesitate, as though his desire to go hunting had been replaced with something else entirely. He leaned down to kiss her, and she turned up her face to meet his. It was the kiss of a moment, before he moved away to climb on his horse, but the rawness of Arthur’s desire that I saw in it, that he showed in front of everyone, made me feel uneasy.
When the men and the Queen had ridden away, I saw Nimue standing at the open gates, staring out through them. I walked up beside her and stood next to her, staring off after them as well.
“So, what is this magic hunt?” I asked her. I glanced at her, and saw a little smile curl across her face.
“I have filled the forest with those dreams of the future we have in Avalon.”
I felt a chill down my spine. I had never read of such things in Avalon, which meant that Nimue had got hold of some of Merlin’s knowledge and not shared it with me.
“Black Arts?” I asked her, softly. She shook her head.
“Not really. But it is knowledge I stole from Merlin. But Morgan…” She turned to me then, her pale blue eyes suddenly fierce. She was so much smaller than me, so frail-looking I found it hard to fear her. She still looked like a child, but I knew she was serious, and I could feel the strength of her Otherworld power all around me. She was stronger than me. “I hear that you have been stealing something from me. My shape.”
“I did it to frighten Merlin. To show him that I am capable of the same kind of magic as he is.” It was half true. I did it to punish Merlin for taking Lancelot’s shape.
“Morgan, I don’t want you to take my shape again,” she said, sharply. “I will share with you what I know, but only if you promise you shall not.”
I gave her the promise, though I did not see why.
I wondered what she meant by this magic hunt. We spoke a little; less than I had hoped, only half-honest with one another. She mainly spoke of Arthur. There was something in the way she said his name that made me think she might have an interest in him beyond protecting his kingship. I wondered how she felt about the new Queen, if she too would have preferred that Arthur had married the halfwit Isolde. Once, we might have told each other the truth. I remembered when we had sat side by side on the rock, staring out across the lake of Avalon. A long time ago.
I was disappointed when the knights began to return. Arthur was first, just an hour or so after they had set out, and he looked pale and shaken. He was alone. He nodded brusquely to Nimue as he rode through the gates, and jumped from his horse. He barely saw me. I glanced at Nimue. She had a look on her face as though she knew what he had seen. I felt pretty sure that in the woods Arthur had seen the image of his son. Well, it was no more than he deserved for abandoning the boy, for denying him. He came to stand beside us, and stare back, looking for the others. I saw him cast a wary, suspicious eye on Nimue, and then gaze back out at the woods.
“Arthur,” I asked softly, “where are the others?”
He did not answer. His face was dark with concern, and I wondered then how he had managed to lose the Queen so quickly in the forest.
Others came back slowly. Uriens came next, with the mousey-haired serious youth whose name was Percival, and after that Ector, who was the only one who did not bear a dark look back from the forest. I supposed that Ector was older than the rest, and had suffered much already. The visions of the wood would not have frightened him as they had the others. We all stood tensely, waiting and watching for when the rest would return. I had a very uneasy feeling about it all, as though Nimue was involved in something dark that I could not understand. The Queen, Kay, Gawain and Pellinore – who was a northern vassal-king who I had heard had been the one to kill Lot in battle – were still in the woods. I glanced at Nimue. She was still watching with rapt attention. I wondered what else she saw when she looked. It was as though she could see right into the woods.
At last, as the sun was beginning to sink down
in the sky, out of the woods came Gawain, and Kay and the Queen riding on the same horse. Kay sat behind her, and I could not tear my eyes away from his hand, pressed against the stomach of her vest. I was surprised that Arthur did not notice, but he and Nimue ran forward to meet them, and I saw the Queen slip from the horse into Arthur’s arms. They were talking to each other, but I could not hear, and I turned away. The whole thing had given me a deeply unsettled feeling.
I walked up to Morgawse’s room, but I stopped before going in, because I could hear, through the open door, her sons inside. Gawain, more favoured by Arthur than the others for his part in the war, had been the only one on the hunt, and he was telling his brothers about it. I could hear, as I crept closer, that he was talking about the Queen.
“Well, I just found her wandering around on her horse all on her own. I don’t know why Arthur had left her. But,” Gawain made a low noise of frustration, half like a growl, “what she was wearing – is that what Bretons wear? I don’t remember seeing any young girls dressed like that in the war. It’s like she doesn’t know what men see when they look at her. And she was just there, on her own. Well, I got hold of her horse, and she was right there in front of me and – if she had been any man’s wife other than Arthur’s I would have just pulled her from the horse and –”
“Gawain.” I heard Aggravain’s voice cut sharply through his brother’s, and Gawain fell silent. “Think such things if you must, but you should not say them. Not even to us. Not about any man’s wife, and especially not about Arthur’s. For my part, I think it’s ridiculous. She’s just an ordinary woman.”
“She was supposed to be my wife, do you remember that?”
“Yes, Gawain.” Aggravain answered his brother more sharply still. “And then you lost the war, and you surrendered to Arthur, so everything that was once yours and mine is now his. I, for one, am pleased enough with things as they are. Arthur is a good King, and a brave warrior. I was growing tired of Lothian. Besides, you would not have had her as your wife for sure. I heard the mother hated you.”
MORGAN: A Gripping Arthurian Fantasy Trilogy Page 26