“I am concerned, as well. But it is the nature of the Goddess to complete the circle.”
“True,” he said.
“Did you make Cai’s sword vanish and lead the panicked boy to the shrine?” I asked.
“Yes. That was me. It only took a little spellweaving.”
“Did you have the Lady Viviene create the scabbard?” I asked.
“No. She created it as a present for him. She knew how important he was—and how clumsy! Arthur walks like a stallion now, but when he was a boy, he couldn’t get across the room without getting tangled up in his own feet!” He chuckled fondly, and I saw just how much he cared for Arthur.
“Are you aware the scabbard was missing the morning of the battle—when Arthur took the wound?” I asked.
He gave me a sharp look. “What do you mean?”
I recalled the dream I had before Arthur was wounded. The missing scabbard had to have been Morgaine’s work. “Arthur tells me when he woke up as the Saxons attacked, he found Excalibur out on the table. It wasn’t in his belt.”
“I know Ea brought the sheath just in time. It stopped the bleeding,” Merlin said. “Where was it?”
“Apparently under a horse blanket in the stable area. Do you think Morgaine was behind this?” He must be brought to see the patterns here.
Merlin stood up. “You think Morgaine stole the sheath?”
“Not Morgaine herself, no. That is not her way. But perhaps she had someone take it. And that person wasn’t particularly suited to treachery or stealing.”
“Hm,” he said, pacing the room slowly.
“What I think is most likely is that she told the Saxons that Arthur would be vulnerable if they chose to attack that morning.”
He stopped and leaned over me. “Beware, priestess. You are accusing Morgaine—the head of your Order and sister to the king—of treachery and treason.”
Dammit. I pushed too hard. “I am. The more important question is, why don’t you believe the evidence when you know she has killed before?”
He turned and stalked off to the door but did not leave. “She is my family, Anya. She took an oath before me not to try to harm Arthur when he became king.”
Oathbreaking is not hard for the likes of her, I almost said. But I did not. I could not change Merlin’s mind … at least not today. Instead, I said, “It was you who put the larger spells on the scabbard after the Lady of the Lake stitched it, correct?”
Merlin turned abruptly. His eyes widened, and his nostrils flared. “No one has known about that … until now.”
If I did not know him, if I had not already claimed him in my heart, I might have been frightened of Merlin’s fierce look. But I knew he meant no harm. Only that he did not care to have his secrets revealed. “There’s the very powerful one against poisoning, another that makes the sword incorruptible, and several others I am not clear about.”
“You mean I get to keep some of my Art from you, snoopy-nose?”
“Ah,” I said, pretending to be abashed. “I only wished to know so I could admire properly.”
Merlin shook his head, lips set firmly in a line.
I could not press him further. “They say it was you who created the Round Table,” I said, trying a different approach.
“So many questions tonight,” he said, turning to go.
“I am filled with more questions than answers in a castle full of stories and secrets!” I chuckled. “Will you not say if you built it?”
He paused by the door. “Yes. Originally, I had it built for Uther. I’d read as a lad that the Emperor Constantine had such a table to make sure none of his lords and councilors were seated more prominently than any others. Also, it’s a circle to represent the Goddess—but few know this.”
I rushed across the room and kissed him. “Thank you, Merlin. I like the truth better than the stories.”
Merlin gave me a peck on the nose, then let me kiss him more thoroughly. “There is little I can deny you,” he whispered, then hurried out.
Later, I put down into writing the tales these men had shared with me. Why? I knew only that there was some purpose for the future.
Chapter Thirty-One
Another night, I asked Arthur, “I heard some of the knights talking about the king’s ‘new way.’ What do they mean by this?”
Arthur looked pleased and explained, “Too many noblemen take what they want, leaving their people with little. Yet, if they have nothing, then they cannot work the land, raise their livestock, or buy and sell goods. Might is not right, Anya. This is the thing I’m trying to get through to these people. Just because you can force villagers, a peasant, or vassals to do a thing, does not mean one should.”
“This is a wise perspective.”
Arthur said, “That’s why I established the twelve tenets of the Round Table.”
“And they are?”
He sat on the daybed and ticked each one off: “To serve their king with valor and faith
“To fear God and defend His Church,
“To protect the weak and defenseless,
“To live with honor and die for glory,
“To refuse monetary reward,
“To fight for the welfare of the kingdom,
“To defend one’s fellow knights,
“To fight against unfairness, cruelty, and falsehood,
“At all times to speak the truth no matter the cost,
“To respect, protect, and honor all women,
“Not to take up arms over arguments about love or worldly goods,
“And always to administer justice, not vengeance,” he finished.
“Those are fine rules for fighting men. Where did you come up with them?” I asked.
“Oh, they aren’t my ideas,” Arthur said. “Merlin taught me from a book he had when he was still a hermit and I just a boy.”
“What book was it?”
“It was called Concerning Military Matters and was written by a Roman warrior named Vegetius over a hundred years ago. I’ve since read this book through many, many times. In it, he gives advice about warring, sieges—wonderful advice about sieges!” Arthur exclaimed. “But also setting up a military encampment, how to marshal men, and how those men should behave. It’s that part—the behaving of the military—that Merlin taught me. He said it was the closest thing he’d ever seen to a moral way of behavior.”
“Hm.” What he was talking about was the way of the Goddess. All should benefit. War is wrong. It was obvious that Merlin urged Arthur to adopt the codes because they were close in line with Druidic teachings.
“But more, it’s important that we respect the rights of others,” he continued. “That means we must understand the needs of those who aren’t our type, our tribe, without the fear of their strangeness. If they make a demand, is it reasonable to them, or does it spring from some fear of theirs? It’s my responsibility to listen and analyze what people say and what they actually require.”
“Does this mean you do not actually wish to fight the Saxons?”
“Exactly!” he said and grabbed me by the shoulders, before letting me go almost shyly. There was the most remarkable tingling sensation after he took his hands away. “We war with them because they persist in attacking our shores and harming our people. I’ve sent couriers after every battle to their leaders, asking if they would agree to sitting down and working with us instead of being at swords. War is wasteful—in both manpower and capital. If we worked out a settlement for them, then we could have peace, and all would benefit.”
I had little experience with kings, but his ideas seemed unusual for a war leader, such as he was. I wondered if he could make peace for his people—all of them—come to pass. Perhaps it was Merlin’s teachings, but what Arthur proposed went beyond anything I had ever heard before.
On another night, Arthur explained his support for the Christian faith. “Their tenets are the same as ours: mercy, justice, protect the weak from the strong, promote the good in all things.”
“These are all fine things, and they are also present in the religion of the Goddess, which you swore to uphold.”
He nodded but did not look at me as we walked down the gallery. “Yes, I did swear to serve the Goddess. But in truth, I don’t feel much drawn to the Christian or the Goddess way. I can’t—I won’t—believe I’m just a puppet of some sky god. Men and women choose and shape their own destinies.”
“And do you not think there is room for both the Goddess and personal initiative?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“A ‘sky god,’ as you call them, who watches over the whole, while mortals take the tools they are given and achieve—or fail to—goals set out by the deity?” I said.
“Hm,” he said, gazing off into the distance. “That’s a matter too deep for me. I’m a warrior and a leader. All I can do is what I am given to do. As king, I must lead the people. If there are fewer and fewer who obey the Goddess, and more who are followers of the Christ, then to be their leader, I must be a Christian. I’m not a tyrant, Anya. I can’t demand my people give up the Christ and follow the Goddess instead.” He sat on the daybed and glared at the floor. “A king is a king of all the people, not just some. Besides,” he finished, looking up at me with challenge in his eyes, “there is little enough difference between the two.”
I sat beside him. “This reminds me of a conversation I had with Lord Khoryn of Viborg once.”
“Oh,” Arthur asked, looking genuinely interested. “How so?”
“During one of the last Council of Elders I attended, Khoryn was asked to settle a dispute between two who had stalls in the marketplace. It seems a woman was competing with a man—selling the exact same wares as he—but she was charging less. The man took his complaint to the Elder Council. Khoryn instructed his men to tear down her stall and force her out of Viborg.”
“I would never order such a thing!” Arthur exclaimed, clearly horrified.
I held up my hand. “I said it reminded me of something, not that Khoryn and you are the same in any way. But hear me out. This last conversation we had concerned what you and I were just talking about.”
“Go on, then,” Arthur said, still looking vexed at being compared to Khoryn.
“After the others left, I asked him, ‘Why did you take the man’s side over the woman’s?’
“‘He had a family to support,’ Khoryn said.
“‘So had she,’” I replied. “I knew the woman was without a husband, and her stall was all that kept her children and herself alive.
“‘Men are more important than women.’ Khoryn said.”
“Well, that’s just an ignorant thing to say!” Arthur said.
“I thought this also at the time. So, I asked him, ‘You are a follower of Wotan, are you not?’ He said he was and asked why it mattered.” I turned to Arthur, “Do you know about the gods of Asgard?”
Arthur’s broad forehead wrinkled as he tried to recall. “I’ve heard a bard from far away tell of Asgard when I visited Cornwall once.”
“The Asgard gods are warriors with various attributes. In the very old days, the women were depicted as strong as the men—warriors and doers. But in these times, the women are mothers and hearth maidens, playthings or subservient to the men. This is the view Khoryn—and indeed the Christians—take of women.”
“What of it?” Arthur asked.
“Arthur, men and women are of equal value. One sex is not more important than the other. Favoring one over the other is a sign of imbalance. Thus, honoring the male gods of Asgard and putting the females in a secondary position is the wrong example to follow.
I continued, “Now, here is what Khoryn argued: ‘Men rule, hunt, farm, trade, protect their families. They are the more important.”
Arthur shrugged. “It’s so.”
I said, “Perhaps in your experience. In many other lands, women fight, trade, and rule just as men do. You have known many strong ladies in your life. I can make the case that women are the more important because they also bear the babes, produce milk to nourish them, care for the children, the infirm and the elderly, and make a home besides all their other tasks.”
Arthur tilted his head thoughtfully, then conceded, “Yes, I suppose.”
I said, “Khoryn argued: ‘You’re a high priestess of the Goddess. You think everything should be run by women!’
“I replied, ‘The Goddess teaches us that men and women are equal. There can be no child without a man’s seed and a woman’s womb. We do not believe a realm should be ruled solely by men or women. Both sexes must share tasks equally. Women and men each have different perspectives; the blending of them creates humanity’s strength.”’
Arthur looked off down the corridor. “This is an idea I hadn’t thought about.”
I said, “Christianity is unbalanced. This assertion that women must submit to men in all things, that her duty is to bear children and not participate in the decisions of the home, let alone her land, is not a reasonable approach. Women are more than baby-producers and bed warmers … and I suspect you do not totally believe that point of view.”
“No, of course not,” Arthur said. “But again, I must say that I have to be a Christian king in a land that is becoming more Christian by the day. It’s not my purpose to force my people to worship this or that god.”
I saw I would not win the dispute with him that night, or perhaps any. I could only hope I at least made him see things in a different light. “As you say.”
As we walk back to his room, he said, “What did Khoryn think of your argument?”
I chuckled. “I must have made a slight impression on him, for he was quiet for a time. Then he said, ‘Some day, you will make a wise woman. But it is not this day. I hear your words, but they do not ring true to me.’”
“Infuriating!” Arthur said with a laugh.
“I told him, ‘Perhaps you have not met the right woman, Lord Khoryn. When the object of your desire is also worthy of your respect, then you may understand what I have said to you.’ He snorted and walked off.”
“Fool!” Arthur replied, chuckling to himself. “He didn’t recognize your worth!”
The heat rose in my cheeks. “That, I cannot speak to.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
One snowy afternoon near the winter solstice, shortly after I awoke from a particularly long night of talking and walking with Arthur, Merlin came to my workroom. “How think you the king’s health?”
“He is healing nicely. It will be many moons until he can ride a horse with comfort, but you see that he hardly uses the walking stick.”
“Good, good,” he said, not looking at me.
“Say what troubles you.”
Merlin’s smile was forced. He stroked my hair. “You know me too well.” He sighed and said, “The queen thinks your nightly walks with the king unseemly. In truth, there’s talk in the court about you—the witch, they call you—being too close to Arthur. You’ll be amused that Pwyll is your staunchest defender.”
“Pywll.” I shook my head. “Yes, he is very glad I saved the king from his botched job. As to the rest … I should have seen this coming. I know the queen thinks me ill-favored and somehow evil. I care not, but I will not cause trouble for the king. In truth, I shall be glad not to be lying down when the cock crows!”
Merlin, clearly relieved, kissed my forehead. But I demanded a real kiss, and he gave in quickly. “Do you wish me to tell him?” he asked.
“No, that would seem cowardly. I will speak to him tonight at the usual hour and withdraw. Tell the queen I hear and obey.”
That night, I told Arthur he really had no further need of my assistance.
“Well …” he said in that sometimes slow, thoughtful way of his. “I’ve enjoyed our talks a great deal.”
“As have I, my—” He shook his finger at me with a mock frown on his face. “Arthur,” I corrected myself. “But you are very much better. I fear our nightly talks keep you from your res
t and your Lady’s bed.”
Arthur gave me a sharp look of understanding I had come to know so well. “Ah,” he said. “I see what this is about. Of course. I hadn’t meant to put you in the way of scorn or scandal, Anya. You have my undying thanks for your healing and your companionship.”
I bowed to him. “The honor is to serve, Sire.” As I left the room, his eyes were on me. I was surprised and touched to see how disappointed he looked.
The Wolf Moon rose on a frigid Camelot locked in snowstorm after storm. As I predicted, most in the castle came down with some illness or another. Fortunately, the king and queen were spared. For some of the court, it was just sniffles, which a cup of coneflower and willow bark tea handled well. But some suffered from the serious cough. Others had the flux. I slept little between brewing cures and tending to those who would accept my help. Some in the castle would not, demanding the ministrations of Pwyll, instead. He treated most effectively but relied on my advice for the coughing sickness.
After Imbolc, winter began to turn. The illnesses tapered off. Only two were lost at Castle Camelot: an old servant who died of the cough, and Sir Ganor, who had the misfortune to catch the cough and the flux at once.
I had not seen Morgaine’s courier in two moons. I assumed I would not be troubled by her again. But I kept up with the accounts of the people at Camelot. It amused me to think of reading them at some point in the future when I was an old woman.
Through all the chaos of the cold months, there were short moments of bliss with my beloved Merlin. My heart was wholly taken by him. The sound of the tap tap tap of his staff coming down the hall made me drop things and forget what it was I was doing altogether. I could tell he was fighting the idea of being my lover less, as his kisses increased in intensity to the point where I wondered if my toes were starting to melt.
I did not rush him. My heart knew we would be together soon, and then it would be for all time.
But, that did not lessen the hurt when Merlin came to tell me he would be gone for three or four moons as March began.
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