“All night long, if you are able,” I teased.
“Let’s find out,” he said, laughing, and proceeded to try to prove he could.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Arthur rode out again just three days later. As soon as Falcon was sent to bed, he took me into my room and made slow, thoughtful love to me.
“I can barely get through the day for thinking of you and the baby!” he said afterward.
“I am glad you are pleased.”
“Pleased? Before now, the only son I had was Mordred!”
“I have heard little about him, except that he is at Camelot. Merlin tells me you got him with Morgaine during your Druid initiation?”
“Yes,” he said with a slight smile. “It was only two months after I pulled Excalibur from the stone. The lords who were still loyal to Uther were to gather for my coronation in the next moon. Merlin was in a hurry to get the Druids on my side. He’d apparently given me a little training there in the woods when he was pretending to be a hermit, but it was never as formal as I imagine your training to be. And because he was the high priest, the other Druids agreed to my taking the rites, although they seemed less than enthused. You know how those ritual things go. They filled me full of herbed wine that made everything a blur, there was lots of singing and chanting, and then I was sent into a hut to ‘lay with the goddess.’”
“Morgaine.”
“Yes, but I didn’t know her name … and even if I had, I’d never met her before. It was exciting making love to her—my first time! And afterwards, she was so … well, she was wonderful. I was entirely in love with her. Then, she went away. The next time I saw her was at the coronation when Merlin introduced us.”
“And how did you feel when you discovered she was your half-sister and first cousin?”
“What?” He stared at me. “How can she be my cousin?”
“Merlin told me that Ygraine was the daughter of his father’s sister. That’s how he knew her … and Tintagel.”
Arthur’s forehead was a mass of wrinkles as he sorted through the connections in his mind. “I’d never heard that before.”
“You were about to tell me how you felt when Morgaine revealed herself to you.”
“Well, I was terrified! If it got out that I’d lain with my sister … But Morgaine seemed kind. She was sorry about the ways of the Order, said she didn’t know who the god of the rite was that night. She promised me, on the soul of our mother, she would tell no one.”
“Be sure, she knew who you were.” Arthur gave me a sharp look. “And when did you know she’d delivered you a son?”
“I learned it from my other sister, Morgause, years later. She let it slip when she and Lot attended Agravaine’s—her youngest son, you know—knighting ceremony,” Arthur said. “She told me she took in Morgaine when she was pregnant. Then, Morgaine went back to Avalon and became the Lady there, so Morgause adopted Mordred as her own. But she planned to train him and send him to my court as she had all her other sons.”
I hid a shiver. Morgause was obviously part of Morgaine’s plan. “And what kind of person is Mordred?”
“Most think he’s charming and well-mannered. He can fight, but not half so well as his cousins Gareth and Gawaine,” Arthur says. “It’s only after talking to him at length that I’ve discovered what sort of man he really is.”
“How do you mean?”
There were suddenly lines around Arthur’s eyes, as if he had stared at a horror too long. “His whole idea of the world seems filled with darkness! He wants to be king, not just of Britain, but of all lands. And the people must all bow down to him, surrender their will to him. I’ve tried to reason with Mordred, explain the principles of the Round Table, my new dealings with the Saxons …”
“And?” Although, through him, I knew what the answer would be.
“He cares not. He says my way is ‘weakness.’ Mordred wants to control everyone, everywhere, from what they eat to how they dress to how they worship.”
“What way does he follow?” I poured him some wine I put next to the bed earlier that day.
He took his cup but did not drink. “I know not, but I believe if there’s any god he worships, it must be Satan. Not the Horned One, but the Christian god of evil. I’ve never heard any man say the things he does.”
Covertly, I probed his mind to see Mordred through his eyes. There was no other conclusion: “He is quite mad.”
Arthur took a sip, staring into space, “I’m afraid so.
“I am sorry to say this, but this is Morgaine’s fault.”
“How so?”
“She knew that with your close kin-ties—both half-siblings and first cousins—a monster was the likely result.”
“Our parentage matters?” Arthur asked.
“Every priestess knows the dangers of breeding too closely. At Viborg, they preserved the dead babies of such matches to impress upon us just what horrors unwise pairings produced. Some had arms and legs that were flippers—or none at all. There was one that had a vertical slit for a mouth; another had a head half the normal size.”
“I thought it was just some Christian rule,” he said, eyes wide.
“This is a mortal commandment that springs from thousands of years of nature study. Morgaine knew the risks when she bedded you. She chose to bear a monster. Perhaps, her reasoning was that if she produced a physical horror, she could parade it around to discredit you, throw doubt on your authority. The Christians think that physical deformities mean an evil soul resides in the body.”
“Dear God,” Arthur murmured, eyes closed.
“Instead, she produced a madman and unleashed him on your kingdom. She may think she can control him and from him, claim your throne. But I doubt he will allow her to take anything from him, once he has it,” I said.
Arthur lay back on the bolster, holding me in his arms. His mind was far away, but I could feel the pulse of his thoughts in the steady patting of his right hand on my upper arm. It was just the way the house tabby flicks her tail when irritated. I felt the heaviness of his ring in each tap—the weight of his kingship.
Finally, he said, “What did Merlin say about Morgaine?”
“He regretted that he didn’t watch her carefully the night of the ritual. Merlin thought when she became Lady of Avalon that she’d put away her anger and her quest to take your throne. But the poisoning of Guinevere proved that supposition false.”
Arthur sat up abruptly, spilling his wine. “Morgaine was behind that? Merlin never said!”
I mopped up what I could of the wine. “He told me not to tell. He feared it would make it harder for Mordred to become king if you got no other son.”
“But now, I do have another son!” Arthur said excitedly.
“A ‘witch’s’ son? No, your Christian lords would never accept him. Besides, Mordred is older. This boy we have made will not rule, although I see his life as a soldier.” In my mind’s eye, I saw a young man riding into battle. It wasn’t in Britain. I saw the boy and a companion riding into a desert.
Arthur watched my eyes. “What do you see?” I told him. “Does he die there?” he asked.
“No. He returns.” I considered telling him what the Goddess told me, but Arthur was no great believer in gods or goddesses. I was not sure he would take it well. “He will have two strong sons of his own,” came out of my mouth, and I knew it was truth.
“Will I live to see my grandsons?” Arthur asked.
A vision sprang up between us, and I gasped at the violence. There was a battle. A young man with long black hair and a sharp nose angrily shoved his sword in Arthur’s face. “I will take what you will not give!” he shouted, shoving the blade under the breastplate, into Arthur’s heart. But he did not see that Arthur’s left hand held his magick dagger, Carnwennan. He drove it into Mordred’s neck, and the pair fell to the ground.
“What is it?” Arthur asked as I collapsed back on the bed.
“It … he …” I could not say the words.
“You saw my death,” he said calmly. “It involves Mordred, does it not?”
“Have you the Sight?” I asked, surprised.
Arthur shook his head sadly. “It takes no knowledge from beyond to tell me I have an adder in my castle.”
“Send him away! Have him poisoned! Do not let him take away all you have made!” I urged him.
“I’ve spent my entire life making sure other people don’t rid themselves of trouble in such a way. How can I do it myself?”
I heard Merlin’s ghost say, Arthur will be killed soon. He will lose all that he once had, bereft of many of his friends, his wife, his son, his kingdom. He sees his doom. “You are braver than any man I have ever met.”
“Do you know what makes me feel brave? You,” he kissed me gently. “This baby,” he placed his hand on my womb. “I’m hopeful for the first time in many months.”
And then he made love to me again.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Arthur rode out every few evenings. I worried Mordred would mark his journeys to my door and make something of it. “Mordred watches Gwen and Lance like a cat watches a nest of mice. That’s how he’ll destroy me. All I can do is hope the pair stay discreet.”
“You are kind with those two.”
He rubbed his short graying beard. “Poor Gwen. She married me because she was ordered to. She loves Lancelot because that is how her heart goes. She is a good person and perhaps deserves Lance more than me.”
I was amused by his tender forbearance. “That is not how you characterized her when we first lay together.”
Arthur’s face scrunched up in embarrassment. “That was poorly done by me. Gwen does the best she can. It’s true, she often comes to me and tells me of all her petty observations and complaints. But do you know—I have never heard her utter any such thing outside my bed. She’s a good queen, a loving wife, and has always and ever used her power for the good of the kingdom.” He touched my face. “I’m sorry. Here I lie in your arms extolling the virtue of another!”
I kissed his nose. “How could I object to a man who honors and respects his wife?”
“Why is love so complicated?” he asked.
“I am afraid I am not the one to provide answers for that.” My heart was suddenly heavy. “So, you allow Lancelot and her to be together?”
“I do,” he said. “Indeed, I bless whatever deity made them love each other, for I know I can’t give Gwen what she needs. Lance provides her his undivided attention. I must be a king and give myself to many people and causes. They are happy, in their way. You should see them when no one but myself is with them. He’s so tender with her.”
“You permit them this in your presence?” I asked.
“What is gained by my disapproval? I love them both. They know it, and I know their feelings for each other. It is what it is.”
I recalled Lancelot’s compassionate look when he asked if Arthur and I had been lovers. He had understood my secret pain and longing better even than I had myself. But a thought occurred to me. “Is not Lancelot married?”
“He was. Elaine died in childbirth about three winters ago.”
How convenient for him. I mentally shook myself for the unkind thought. “Do they know where you go when you come here?”
“No, I’ve not spoken of it to them,” he said. “But, I make no secret of my leaving so that they have their time.”
“You are a remarkable person.” I stroked his graying temple.
He kissed me for a long while. “I have loved three women in my life, Anya. You, Gwen, and Morgaine. Of them all, you are the one who most captures my heart. Why I must share you and Gwen with other men, some deity some day may finally tell me. And Morgaine … it turns out she was always my enemy, and I knew it not.”
“I am sorry. Morgaine’s betrayal must have been hard for you to hear.” I tried not to think of my own dealings with that woman.
Arthur watched me. “What has she done to you?”
“Are you sure you have not the Sight?” How does he know?
“Apparently it’s in the blood,” he said with a little laugh. Then he turned serious. “Tell me. All of it, please.”
I drank down the wine in my cup. His look allowed for no escape. He was a king, even in our bed.
I did not explain that I had been Morgaine’s lover. I was fairly certain he would not understand, as Merlin had. But I did tell him of the misunderstanding with the young initiates and my punishment and exile from Avalon. I explained how Morgaine sent her priestess to set the queen against me. I did not tell of how she tried to poison me. Then, carefully omitting the why of the matter—for I was quite sure Arthur would take my involvement in the Grail poorly—I explained how Morgaine executed Merlin, after possibly ensorcelling him with a young priestess named Nimüe.
Arthur sagged against the bolster. “Why did she hate Merlin?”
“Morgaine told me of her jealousy and anger over the way Merlin and Uther took Tintagel—killing Gorlois and stealing Ygraine’s favors. Morgaine believed the kingdom should have been hers, since Merlin didn’t want it. She calls you ‘the usurper.’”
“I’ve been such a fool,” Arthur whispered. “No wonder she set Mordred on me.”
“I need to ask you bluntly, Anya,” Arthur said one night, holding me. “Will I see the babe born?”
I looked away. “No,” I whispered.
I felt him nod. “It’s as I thought. Not much time. I’ll arrange to get gold to you to put by for the child—let’s name him Stephen. I’ll ask Sir Dagonet to foster him when the boy’s ready. Dagonet’s a good man—he acts as court jester these days, but he keeps secrets well. Do you know him?”
I felt as if the future was rushing toward me like a runaway horse. “I cannot bear these plans you are making.”
He hugged me. “Anya, I am a warrior first and a king second. When a battle is lost, the best thing to do is think through how to salvage as much of the situation as you’re able. In this case, I must protect you and our son. I have to make sure he grows old enough to have those grandsons! Now, tell me what you’d do if an invading army came hence.”
What an odd question. Can that happen? “Hide in the cellar?”
“They would find you, my darling. Do you have neighbors—householders—who could hide you?”
“No.” I felt a nudging in my mind. The Goddess had instructions regarding the issue, but I could not take time out at the moment to listen for Her. “Do not trouble yourself. I will create a plan sufficient to our needs.”
He kissed me. “I’m grateful you’re so strong.” He talked of more pleasing topics before he left.
That night, I opened to the Goddess. She showed me what I had to do to keep my family—indeed, the entire nearby village—safe.
Merlin was right. This house was for us in many ways.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Over the next few moons, Arthur and I drew closer, and I came to love him, as I never did before.
Falcon learned new songs from the villagers he met up with and sang them for each visit. The king seemed to enjoy the entertainment—although I recalled from my time healing him that he had no great love of music. He sat the boy on his knee for most of the stay until it was bedtime.
Then, it was our time.
Arthur made it a habit to talk to the baby after we made love. He especially delighted when Stephen kicked or stretched in response to his voice. “Do you think he’ll know me once he’s out of the womb?”
“Yes.” I fought back tears. “He will not know it in his mind, but in his heart. Stephen will know that you loved him and wanted him. And I will tell him.”
“Good,” Arthur said, and went back to telling his son of the wonders of Britain he was soon to see.
During one visit, he said, “The court is so busy choosing sides around me, I rarely get to talk policy with my knights anymore.”
“Then you will tell me, and I will listen. Perhaps I can think of something sensibl
e to reply, as well.” He laughed. “But say nothing of Mordred. He is not a topic I will allow.”
Arthur grinned, then settled in to tell me the details and concerns he had that the Saxons would break the treaty settlement and turn on Britain if a strong king was not in place. Another time, he said that Sir Pellinore died chasing after his old adversary, the Beast Glatisant, and the loss had hurt him greatly. “All the old stalwarts are dead. I’m left with these new knights with smiles in their teeth and murder in their minds.”
In the meantime, we planned how he would bequeath things to Stephen without letting those at court know what he is doing.
“I would like you to save the great tapestry depicting the whole Round Table, as well as the tapestry in your bedroom of you and Merlin.”
Arthur snorted a laugh. “You don’t want much, woman! How am I to hide such things?”
“There is a small door in the column outside your bedroom door. It is a great open space, large enough for most of the furnishings of the castle, if narrow. It will hold the tapestry and whatever else you will.”
He looked startled. “This is a thing I’ve walked by a hundred times and not seen! Did you know about it when you lived there?”
“Yes.” In truth, the Goddess showed me the hiding place as I spoke.
“How shall I explain to the servants what they do?” he asked.
“That will be the last request you make of them before going to battle,” I said, feeling the chill of the Sight. “You will tell them they do this to make sure the items are not harmed in the fighting.”
Face heavy with sorrow, he said gravely, “It shall be as you will.”
One time, he came when the servants and I were moving the furniture around to accommodate my plans to hide when the time came. Arthur helped push a large trunk to the wall but got a cut at the base of his thumb. I used a cloth and held the scratch until it ceased to bleed, then bandaged it. When Droja went to throw the bloody rag away, I took it from her and put it in my pocket.
The Priestess of Camelot Page 27