The Priestess of Camelot

by Jacqueline Church Simonds

  A thought occurred to me. “When I was studying in Avalon, I discovered that the constellation you call the Great Bear, my people called the Great Wheel. In it are all the elements of life—birth and death, success and loss, childhood to senility. You are saying he is the key to the Great Wheel?”

  I recalled the Goddess dream I had when I woke in Avalon and wondered about it. The Goddess did not say Her plan was complete but beginning. What, then, did it mean in regard to Arthur? Was he the start of something grander than Camelot? I could not imagine.

  Merlin nodded. “It is so. And see how he’s changed the kingdom? There is peace, where there hasn’t been in generations. From many squabbling little kingdoms, there is one country. A new way has entered the land—and it’s Arthur’s doing.”

  “And yours.”

  He shrugged slightly.

  “Arthur also said you are his uncle?”

  “I’m Uther’s elder brother by almost eight years. King Aurelius Ambrosius got me on a priestess at Beltane.”

  “So, you are related to Morgaine by marriage?”

  “And blood. Ygraine was the daughter of Ambrosius’ sister, Idelisa. I visited her at Tintagel frequently. That’s how I knew the path, even in a storm.”

  “So, Morgaine and Arthur are both half-siblings and cousins?”

  “Yes,” Merlin said.

  I gasped, horrified to hear of the pair’s close kin-ties.

  Merlin nodded at me. “I see what you’re thinking. In such breeding, Arthur and Morgaine should not have had a child, or it might have been born with some defect. But Mordred seems healthy and normal.”

  As a priestess, I would never have allowed such a mating to take place. I wondered why Morgaine took such a risk. Did she seek power over Arthur so fiercely that she was willing to bear a damaged child? It seemed horrific to contemplate. “But you paired Ygraine and Uther together, who were first cousins. Was there not the possibility for damage to begin with?”

  “Yes. But it was what the Goddess commanded. It is said that in the ancient kingdom of Aegypt the king and queen were always brother and sister, so perhaps this is similar.”

  I wondered if the Goddess sometimes made wrong choices or did things She might not recognize at the time were badly thought-out, as Her mortal worshippers did.

  But I shied away from such heresy.

  I saw Merlin watching me and suspected he could follow my thoughts. I turned the conversation back to him. “What was it like for you, as a boy?”

  He smiled a little. “I was pampered as a member of the royal court. But being a bastard made me ineligible to rule if King Ambrosius got a boy by better birth. Fortunately, the Goddess called me from a young age. I think I was six when I first heard Her.”

  “What happened when you had your first vision? I never tire of hearing how others discover they were to serve the Goddess.”

  He tilted his head, remembering. “It was a late fall day. The sun was shining through the red and yellow leaves in the courtyard at Sorviodunum. I was sitting beside a little fountain. I don’t know what it was, the light shining on the water? The autumn leaves? But suddenly, I was in a place where everything was made of light. Color and music and thoughts were all one. I felt as if I was everything and nothing all at once.

  “I woke up later in my bed with my nurse hovering over me. She said they found me lying, face up in the garden, singing a mad song. I tried to tell her a little of what I saw, but I was very young and had no skill with words at the time. A man stood at the foot of my bed. I’d seen him at Father’s court many times but did not know who he was.”

  “Was he a Druid?”

  “Yes, in fact, the high priest,” Merlin said. “But I didn’t know what that was at the time. He pressed me to describe things as best as I could. Once I had told all, he made a sign over me and left. A week later, I was taken to the Druid temple.”

  “Where was this?”

  “It was not far from Avalon. But the place has since gone to ruin. All the temples are farther north now. Back then, it was an important place,” he said. “After I’d been a priest for some years, I returned to my father’s court. In the intervening time, Ambrosius had a son by his woman, Fenella, the daughter of a Welsh lord. Uther was already a warrior and being trained as the king’s war chief.”

  “But as the eldest, you could have had the kingdom!”

  Merlin made a noise that was half-laugh, half-grumble. “I’ve never aspired to the throne. I serve the Goddess, rather than Man. I help Arthur—and Uther before him—as they require. I don’t need to rule to accomplish the Goddess’s aims.”

  “You are wiser than most men, I think.”

  “Perhaps,” he said with a shrug.

  Eoghann pushed open the door. “Master? The king is inquiring about you. Are you planning to come to dine?”

  “Yes, tell him I’ll be there directly,” he said. Eoghann dashed off. Merlin got up and went to kiss me on the head, but I moved so I could kiss him on the mouth. He was at first surprised but gave as good as he got. My lips and tongue tingled with his touch.

  When we parted, he said, “I’m an old man. Surely you can find a young fellow worthier of such a kiss.”

  “My heart longs for no one but you. The heart knows no age.”

  He kissed me again, then left.

  I could feel he was torn in his affection, as if he did not trust his feelings.

  But I knew mine.

  Later, I wrote down all the stories I had heard. I still do not know what would come of this scribbling. But I felt compelled to set down these accounts directly from those who lived it, rather than the bard’s embellishments.

  Certainly, I would not share it with Morgaine.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I awoke late the next day with someone pounding on my door. All knew I slept late despite the sun because of my watch with the king, so the sharp rapping seemed especially rude.

  I opened the door and blinked in the light. There stood Priestess Beatha, glaring at me.

  “Are you so lazy you sleep all day?” she demanded.

  “I am up all night taking care of King Arthur. I must sleep sometime.” Despite my reply, I was disturbed at finding her at my doorstep. That could only mean one thing.

  “Lady Morgaine has been here since the dawn. She asks that you attend her for the evening meal in her quarters,” Beatha said. “May I tell her you’ll bestir yourself to join her?”

  By the clenching of my stomach, I knew I surely would not eat much. “Please tell her I will be there momentarily.”

  Beatha turned and stalked off.

  Frantically, I got myself in a better state to meet the leader of the Avalon priestesses. I gave myself a stern talking to: I will not give in to her power or blandishments. I am strong enough to withstand her sorcery. I will not fall prey to her power or her lies.

  In a little while, I went to the guest rooms and found her and five other priestesses—some I knew, others I did not. None of them were friends to me.

  I prostrated myself to Morgaine. “My Lady. How good it is to see you.”

  “We will take our meal in my bedroom,” Morgaine said, and went into her chamber.

  The other priestesses glared at me, as if I was insulting them or the Lady—which, I could not say. I followed the high priestess, and she shut the door firmly behind me.

  Morgaine indicated I should sit on a stool in front of the fire. She took a seat by a table. Her lifeglow had changed since I last saw her. It was red with broad streaks of a dark brown. The violet of a priestess was all but gone. I was so unsettled by this, I could barely keep my seat. Otherwise, she looked not a day older. A coldness emanated from her.

  “Well,” Morgaine said in an exasperated tone, “I have been to see the usurper and spoken with him at length. He thanked me repeatedly for sending you to Camelot. Else, he says, he would be dead now.”

  It was clear she would have vastly preferred that outcome.

  “I was train
ed well. The Goddess guided my hands,” I said.

  “Indeed. How fortunate for us all,” she said in a voice devoid of emotion.

  Every hair on my body was standing up. “You placed me here to accomplish tasks of this nature, did you not?”

  “Don’t sass me, wench! If not for me, you’d be a piece of driftwood!”

  I turned my eyes to the floor. Actually, without Merlin, King Arthur and his men, I would not be here. Without Mabina’s healing arts, I would not have recovered. Morgaine did little.

  “And then you revealed the queen was being poisoned. Oh, how much the usurper praises you for that!”

  “If I was not to discover that, it might have been wise to inform me before I arrived,” I said, humbly.

  “If you loved me at all, you would have understood what you saw and made my wishes come true! A loyal priestess would have seen that things were unfolding as I desired and kept her cursed mouth shut!” Morgaine shouted.

  There was a tentative tap on the door.

  “Come!” Morgaine snapped.

  One of the younger priestesses came in with dinner and placed it on the table. It was Lavena’s pigeon pie—a specialty of hers. A flagon of wine and pewter goblets were brought by another girl. Morgaine gestured for them to get out.

  The moment the door clicked shut, she resumed her diatribe. “Really, Anya, I cannot believe you are so stupid. I told you what I wished before you left.”

  I still did not dare to look up. “Forgive me, my Lady, but you did not. I received no instructions, other than I was supposed to be the healer of the castle and report back via the courier every month. You said if I did this, I would be able to return to Avalon. To you. You knw I would do as you asked me.”

  She poured a little of the wine and sat back. “You are the most ignorant priestess I have ever had the displeasure of serving under me.”

  “I am sorry, my Lady.”

  “How could you possibly have run a Motherhouse on your own?”

  “Not very well, my Lady,” I admitted.

  Morgaine sat glaring at me, clutching her goblet, but she did not drink. In a voice full of false honey, she said, “Have some wine, girl.”

  “I am not thirsty, my Lady, but thank you.”

  There was a long pause, but I did not look up at her. I did not wish to see those angry eyes.

  “You know how much I hate the usurper Arthur and the betrayer Merlin!” she snarled.

  “Yes, my Lady. I do.”

  “Then you must find ways to do my bidding. Make life harder for them, not cure them!” she said.

  “I do not have the ability to do that, my Lady,” I said.

  “Are you saying you will not obey me?” she demanded.

  I felt her anger swelling in the room. It had the scent of sulfur and the feel of a hot, smothering blanket. I am strong enough to stand up to her. I must be. “I am saying I cannot cause them direct harm, or injury through inaction. I swore an oath to the Goddess many years before ever I met you.”

  “You dare!” Morgaine threw the goblet at me, and it hit the side of my head.

  The wine soaked my hair and splashed my face. There was a strong scent of bitter apricots with the reek of the wine, but I was careful to suck in my lips, so the liquid did not touch them.

  “Get out, fool!”

  I got up but went over and smelled the meat pie. There was a stink of apricots as well.

  “Goodbye, Morgaine. I will pray to the Goddess that you forsake your dark ways and return to Her Light,” I said, and went out.

  I heard the other goblet crash into the door behind me.

  Beatha looked surprised when I walked out. I could only chuckle as I left.

  I hurried to my room and dunked my whole head into a bucket of water, hoping it would be enough to rinse the poison out of my hair. It was likely Morgaine had Beatha use a strong dose in the wine—stronger than what was in the food. Crushed and concentrated, apricot stones were a sure and certain poison.

  I dried my hair on a piece of cloth, went down, and had a biscuit with the kitchen staff. There was much laughter as I told them how I was leaning over and a bucket of water from the table fell on my head.

  I went back upstairs, slowly, thinking.

  It was clear that I would never go back to Avalon.

  And Morgaine was now my mortal enemy.

  But I already knew that in my heart.

  Morgaine was gone by dawn.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Anticipating that Arthur would walk with a limp for some while and wouldn’t want always to be leaning on a woman, a page, or one of his knights, I had the castle carpenter fashion a stout walking stick after I first treated the wound. The woodworker knew his craft well and carved it with scenes of battle, dragons, and swords. It was a beautiful thing. I gave it to Arthur the following week.

  The look on his face was almost comical. I watched a range of expressions cross his face: pleasure at receiving a fine piece of workmanship, dismay he had to use it, and fear the stick would replace the sword Excalibur.

  “It is only temporary, Arthur. You will not need to lean on it forever.”

  “King Arthur the Lame,” he muttered.

  “Come,” I said, helping him up. “Let us try out this walking stick and work to make that title not so.”

  Soon, he was leaning more on the stick and less on me. We went for longer walks along the hallways and galleries of the castle—places I had not seen before.

  One night, we were sitting on the daybed in the gallery he had placed there for his comfort on our walks. He made mention of how he acquired Excalibur. I told him I had heard the story from the kitchen staff but did not know if I believed it.

  “It’s a tale far stranger than even the servants could make up,” he said with a chuckle.

  “I should like to hear it.”

  He leaned his chin for a moment on the top of the walking stick, his gaze far away. I could feel his thoughts shape around the memory. “The tale of the great sword Excalibur begins when I was just a child. The kingdom hadn’t a king, and the lords fought amongst themselves in the interim. Just after Uther died—I was about six at the time—a great and mysterious sword appeared in Londinium. The amazing steel blade was embedded in a large stone that had been underneath an old temple to the Roman god Mithras. That place had long ago fallen into ruin after the Romans retreated to their homeland. The sword’s appearance was the talk of all of Britain. Above it, etched into the plinth, were the words: ‘Who Withdraws the Sword Shall Rule.’ And so, every lord and war leader traveled there and tried to pull the sword from the stone. But it wouldn’t move.

  “After a couple of years, everyone accepted this was some sort of magick that couldn’t be affected by mere mortals. But the place became a sort of meeting place where lords and kings held a tournament, rather than war with each other. The winner would be warleader for a year. And each midsummer, the new leader would try to draw the sword … to no avail.

  “When Sir Ector announced he was going to the place of the sword in Londinium, I expected not to go. I knew Cai would accompany his father. He was old enough to join the jousting tournament, sword duels, and the final battle. But the hermit in the wood—Merlin—insisted I should go too. He told me to submit myself to Cai as his squire—it was my place to do so, he said. Of course, I wanted to go more than anything in the world, but I didn’t want to seem eager. The hermit cajoled me over the space of a moon until I did as he suggested. Cai intended to ask the younger brother of his friend be his squire, but Sir Ector told him to take me instead. It was in this manner that I first saw Excalibur. I was sixteen. I’d just barely managed to grow a few beard hairs—which I was very proud of.” He stroked his full beard with the streaks of gray, and chuckled.

  “It was a cold, misty day for June. It seemed as if we were all walking through a dream—you couldn’t see who was on the horse approaching until he was a rod from you. But the men came for sport, and we would have it. From morn t
ill dusk the first day there was jousting and sword fights. Everyone had their eye on Lot and Pelleas, one of whom always won.

  “The following day, Cai was keen to make a good showing at the sword fighting. He was irritable that day—more than he usually was—and cursed and shoved me. I didn’t take it personally. I knew he was terribly nervous. We were standing at the lists when he noticed the grip of his sword hilt unraveling. That can be a problem in a fight, because you can’t keep hold of your weapon,” Arthur explained. “He told me to fetch his other sword.

  “I went to get it … but it was nowhere to be found! Cai nearly lost his mind, he was so angry! He was due to fight the battle after next, and he couldn’t do it with the blade in hand. He shoved me away from him and told me not to come back until I had a proper sword.

  “I staggered off, scared and upset. I didn’t want to hurt Cai’s chances, but I was also irritated with myself that I—his squire—had failed him in this one thing. I was so agitated that I quite got lost in the fog. I made a wrong turning somewhere and instead of coming to our tent, I stumbled into an eerie clearing. There, the mist had lifted just enough to let in bright, but veiled, sunlight. Tendrils of fog wove in and out between old, broken Roman columns. I knew that magick was in the air. It tingled in my blood! And here is a thing I have only told Merlin: There was music—not something I could hear, or identify a player somewhere hiding. It was in my head.”