Later, Arthur asked, “Why did you keep the soiled cloth?”
I tilted my head, trying to hear if there was a why that perhaps I missed when the Goddess prompted me to keep it, but there was nothing. “I know not, only that I must. There is a greater purpose to it.”
“Merlin used to say he sometimes heard the Goddess. Do you as well?”
“Yes. She tells me much that we need to do.” I felt myself nudged. Yes, I agree, it is time to share what I know. He can make of it what he will. “The Goddess is planning a great destiny for your son and Merlin’s. It is for the future of Britain that She asks me to do this—a time I will not see.” I explained to him all that She had told me so far, and all that I had guessed. “I promise that when I ask you to hide your crown and your ring, tapestries, and other things, I do it not for the glory of your son—who will never sit a throne—but for a time foretold to me.”
He held me for a long while. I could feel his thoughts as he weighed what he I told him. Then, he said, “As you know, I’ve never spent much time worrying what this or that god wishes from we mortals. But if it’s important to you, and you feel it helps our son, then I will do it and more.”
My heart ached, as if someone was squeezing it. I knew our time was growing short, and I did not want to lose this kind and thoughtful man. It was as if my belly was a sort of timekeeper, growing larger as Arthur’s days became shorter.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
On an evening during the Storm Moon’s waning, two riders approached the house through the snow. I sent Fredic to see who it was.
Then I heard a familiar voice in the hallway. “Pwyll!” I rushed to greet him.
The king’s physic looked older and walked a bit stooped, but it was the same old army healer. His lifeforce was a bright green, untouched by the brown of selfishness he once had. A young man I had not met helped his master to a chair by the fire. “It’s good to see you, Lady Anya,” he said, eyeing my ripening belly.
“What brings you here?” I asked, taking a seat across from him.
Pwyll practically puffed up like one of Camelot’s peacocks. “I go to a new post. King Chlothar of the Kingdom of Franks, who I attended when he was visiting Camelot, needs a healer. He’s offered me a fine house in Noviodunum if I’ll serve his court!”
“That is wonderful to hear you will do so well. But what of Camelot’s needs?”
“Llyr has taken over from me. He learned much from you and me over the years. He’ll do fine.” He looked into the fire, avoiding my curious gaze.
I felt there was more to this sudden change of position, but I did not pry with so many servants in the room. I had Droja serve us mead and some cheese we recently brought up from the cellar. When Droja and the others withdrew, I said, “Please speak plainly, old friend. What sends you away?”
The blacks of his eyes expanded quickly, then contracted. I had frightened him when I had not meant to. He cleared his throat, then said, “You have no doubt heard about Sir Mordred.”
“Yes.” The hairs on my arm stood up.
It has started.
“He speaks ever against our king. When King Arthur wouldn’t send him away … Anya, I had a dream. I was told to look for a way to get out of Britain.”
“I knew not you had the Sight,” I said, surprised.
“I don’t! But this dream was so strong, and the doings at the castle have been so unsettling … well, I decided to heed it. And it turns out I was right. Just two nights ago, the castle was set akimbo. The king departed a week hence to treat with the Saxons at their settlement. He left the castle in Lancelot’s keeping. Agravaine, Mordred, and three of the other young knights caught Lancelot in bed with the queen!”
“I thought Agravaine was loyal to the king!” I wrung my hands. Arthur told me about this trip and that Mordred was being more aggressive.
“He was, but Mordred was raised by Agravaine’s mother, Morgause, the king’s sister and widow of Lot of Orkney. Agravaine was closest in age to Mordred growing up. Since Mordred has been at Camelot, the two have been inseparable.”
Strangely, my first thought was sorrow for Lancelot and Guinevere. They had never been my friends, but through Arthur, I had come to see them as betrayed by circumstances. Now, the two long-forbidden lovers were finally exposed. The humiliation they must feel! And to be trapped by Mordred—who must have gloated at his prize. “What happened?”
“Lancelot fought his way out of the castle and rode off. The queen is locked in her apartment.”
“Had the king returned yet when you left?”
Pwyll nodded sadly. “He looked as bad as the day he took the leg wound.”
“What will happen now?” I asked.
“According to the law, he must execute them both for traitorous acts against the Crown.”
“No!” Everything was going as Arthur had most feared.
“I cannot stay and watch, Anya. Either he will let Mordred force him to kill the queen, or he will save the queen at the expense of his kingdom.”
“What an awful choice for him!” I said sadly.
“Can you not do something with your witchcraft?” Pwyll asked.
I was startled by the suggestion. “What would you have me do? Strike down Mordred from afar—as if I could? I am a healer and a servant of the Goddess. In both roles we preserve life, not kill it.”
Pwyll shook his head sadly. “I don’t know what I say. It’s just that the king has always been good to me. It’s hard to watch it all go to ruin.”
After a few days, Pwyll and his servant left.
I wished I could go to Arthur. Help him in some way.
But the Goddess said, No. It cannot be.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
A week later, a horseman came up the road at dusk. He rode slowly, as though returning from a lost battle. I realized it was Arthur and met him in the courtyard. He got off his horse so wearily, I was afraid he had been hurt. His lifeglow seemed smaller and less bright.
“Just my heart,” he said when I asked if he was injured.
Falcon had already gone to bed, and so I had Droja bring strong wine and some bread. After she left, I asked, “What has happened?”
He told me much of what I had heard from Pwyll already. “Two days ago, the trial for Gwen started. Just as she stood before me for judgment, Lance rode in—rode that damned horse right in to the hall!—scooped her up and rode off. Killed two of Mordred’s knights in the process—and Gareth as well.”
“But Gareth was Lancelot’s closest friend!”
“I know,” Arthur said sadly, then drained his wine. “When Gareth came to us from Orkney, he asked for Lance, not me, to knight him,” He shook his head sadly. “You only know the chivalrous Sir Lancelot of the castle. In battle, he can be something of a wild man. I’m sure he didn’t even see Gareth.”
“But it is good that Lancelot took Guinevere away, is it not?”
“Yes. I was sore happy for them, though I tried not to show it.” He looked for a time into the flames. I knew what he would say next. “Mordred demanded I send a force against Lance and Gwen—who must be up in the north at Joyous Gard, Lance’s castle. I refused. Mordred said I’d destroyed the law and thus my kingdom. When he walked out, half my knights—some I thought were loyal—went with him. I’ve been sent a summons to meet him in three days at Camlann for a battle to decide who rules Britain.”
“Oh, Arthur.” I could not help but shed tears as I went to hold him.
He wept a little with me, then dried my tears. “We knew this day was coming. We’re prepared as best we may be. You promise me you have a place of safety when his army runs mad?” He had his hand on my belly.
I whispered the plan to him. I did not know if Mordred had some way of spying on us at Drunemeton, but I took no chances.
“That’s fine,” he said. “And will you fetch the items I’ll hide away after the battle?”
“Not for many years. The castle will be watched, and any who go there in the e
arly days will be marked for death by your enemies. But, the things you put by for your son will be safe. At the appointed time, I will go and retrieve these things and hide them in a place where they will be kept safe by generations of your heirs.”
“Generations,” Arthur whispered and stroked my hair. He nodded. Perhaps that thought made what was ahead somehow more palatable. “Let us to bed. I want to love you one last time.”
He took me upstairs and slowly undressed me, kissing each part as it came into the light. He caressed my breasts, now heavy with milk. “So astounding, this transformation,” he said. “Watching your body change with our child has been such a gift.”
“If you say so. To me, it is a process of becoming heavy, droopy, and leaky.”
He laughed to hear me say such a thing and continued to undress me. Impatiently, I undressed him with a little less care. I wanted him so much my fingers shook.
We made love with a wild fierceness that night. I needed him to drive himself deep, so deep he reached my heart. At last, our passion was too much, and we seemed to explode together—fire and stars surrounded me as I sailed into the sky.
Later, Arthur held me close, our breathing, our hearts, totally in rhythm. “I shall love thee unto the end of time, my Anya,” he whispered in my ear.
“And I, you, beloved,” I said, tears leaking from my eyes. But, I did not allow myself to sob, as I felt I would. I would be strong for my Arthur while I yet had him.
When he rode off later that night, I wept so hard I felt in danger of dissolving.
Chapter Sixty
The next day, I set my grief aside. There would be years and years to indulge my sorrows. I had to prepare my household and the village to hide. I had made a pact with the headman of a village well north—the very lord who turned up at the Goddess rites in Drunemeton’s Sacred Grove—to keep all of Drunemeton and Glast’s livestock for a moon when asked. The payment for this would be one in every twenty animals. The villagers marked each horse, goat, sheep, and ox’s head with green dye. A group of boys drove them upcountry. Those not involved in getting the livestock safe packed up their belongings and prepared to come to Drunemeton.
What the Goddess told me many moons ago was that Drunemeton stood upon a cavern. Workers had but to dig down a rod and a half below the cellar to encounter the chamber. From there, I had them dig out small halls where many people might hide. I commissioned the digging of a midden big enough for use by many. Further in the cavern, we discovered a natural well of red water that tasted fine, despite the color. The Goddess told me it was connected to the Sacred Well at the base of Glast Tor. I had the workers build a rock containment to make access easy. Behind the well was a grotto. This was where I would build the place of memories and ceremonies for my sons in the calmer days to come. But for this time, it would be my dwelling.
For two days, people streamed through my workroom and down the steps to the cellar. From there, hand over hand, they passed food, bedding, possessions, chickens, and frail family members down the steep ladder into the secret cavern.
I felt the changes in my body that told me the birth would be soon.
On the third day, those who drove the livestock to the next village came back and joined us below. As I went down the ladder, the beginning stabs of labor hit me. But I could not give in to it just yet.
I ordered the trap door closed, casting a spell on it so it looked no different than the rest of the floor. One man volunteered to stay behind and clean the pathway down, so it was not obvious where we are hiding.
I settled into the grotto with Falcon, Fredic, Droja, and their children. The rest of the house staff stayed in other parts of the cavern. As soon as we closed ourselves in, I allowed myself to give in to the labor process. Falcon held my hand while Droja fussed about. Cedric took my healing drum and began the song of birth. I sang it with him, and Falcon joined in on the repeated choruses.
Between contractions, I watched the battle of Camlann in my mind’s eye.
The former Knights of the Round Table formed lines facing each other. So many old friends and comrades at arms now meant to kill each other. It should not be! Brother should not fight brother!
Arthur was speaking, but I could not hear the words. There was a dark chant in the air, and I knew it came from Morgaine and her priestesses. From the men’s faces, I could see Arthur was persuading them to resolve the dispute another way.
The chanting grew louder. Just then, a snake appeared and bit Sir Bors, who stood to the left of Arthur. Without thinking, Bors whipped out his sword and smote the adder dead. But those farther away believed they saw the beginning of battle—and in the end, peace was snatched cruelly from Arthur at the last moment.
There was dark laughter on the wind, but it faded quickly. Then, I heard the sound of the battle: the war cries, the shrieks of injured men, the clang of swords.
So many of the Knights of the Round Table fell! Gawaine went down with a mighty roar. Lancelot—who had returned to Arthur’s side the night before—disappeared under three men. Guivret the Younger, Pelleas’s son, took an arrow in the eye.
I watched Arthur take the sword wound, then stab his treacherous son, Mordred, in the neck with his knife, Carnwennan. Just before he died, Arthur persuaded Sir Bedevere to throw the great sword Excalibur into the Lake—for they were near to Avalon.
Moments later, the Avalon barge appeared at the shore. Morgaine and eight other priestesses went up onto the field of battle and raised Arthur from the ground.
While I had not been able to hear any words before, now Morgaine’s voice was clear as she said to Bedevere and the last of the surviving loyal knights: “We take King Arthur to Avalon for healing. Rest assured he will return to Britain in its hour of greatest need.” Walking on either side of him, they took his body to the barge. Silently, the boat slipped through the mists, away from sight.
Morgaine left Mordred’s body to the crows.
I was torn away from the vision as Stephen slid out into the world. His tiny scream of life was greeted by the villagers with hurrahs and whistling, for they believed the babe’s arrival was a good omen that they would survive this ordeal. I saw only a little face with a swirl of brown hair—the last of Arthur. The babe’s lifeforce was a fierce red and orange. Falcon and I cried together—both for the loss of Arthur and the beginning of Stephen’s life.
That night, as everyone else slept, I had another vision.
The priestesses of Avalon returned to the shore upon their barge. The body of Arthur, covered with flowers, was taken to the Tor. Morgaine said words of power I had never heard before. A tunnel appeared, and they laid him deep inside the hill in a tomb of crystal light. Then she said another word, and the way was shut for all time.
I spotted Excalibur, the king’s great sword of power, in Morgaine’s hands as she returned to Avalon. Her smile of triumph was hidden from the other priestesses.
But not from me.
The next day, we heard footsteps above us. Someone was in the house!
There was shouting and a loud commotion for several hours. I put away my fears and walked among the villagers, talking to them, keeping their spirits up. I told them the Goddess was watching over them, and no one could harm them. For ten days we heard noises upstairs—but we were not discovered. The house still stood. I had placed heavy spells on the place so that no harm could come to it.
I had much time to think, there in the secret caverns. And it occurred to me that the Goddess always intended for me to love both Merlin and Arthur. There was never any choice for me. She wished the boys they got on me. A part of me was offended. What am I, a mere brood mare to the Goddess? But the priestess part of me knew She had used me as a tool to accomplish Her aims. As a—perhaps unintended—result of Her plan, I had loved two extraordinary men, and they had loved me.
I must hold that in my heart …
Because I know I shall never have another lover in this life.
After a fortnight, I felt it was saf
e to leave. I sent three of the strongest men up into the house to look about. They came back and reported the place was in disarray, and it looked as if the raiders tried to burn the spare room upstairs, but the house stood. The village was also safe.
It took the better part of the day to get everyone and their belongings out of the cavern. Finally, at dusk, my family and servants were all alone in the wreckage of the house.
“They made a big mess, Mama!” Falcon said disapprovingly.
“We shall just have to clean it up, then,” I said, starting to pick up my healing room.
With Arthur gone, a fight erupted over who should rule Britain. At any one time, there were at least three who claimed the crown. The villagers, the house staff, and my family hid in the cavern three more times as the Saxons raided the countryside—just as Arthur predicted.
I had heard tell from Hector, the lord from the other village who took our livestock, that many in the region believed I had made Glast and Drunemeton disappear when Mordred’s army came to burn it.
“I ask you to tell the people who say this that it is not true. Tell them we hid in a cave I know, but say nothing of witchcraft,” I instructed.
“They should know you are powerful, my Lady,” Hector said.
“Saxons hate witches even more than the Britons do. Incite them enough, and they will come to burn me and take Drunemeton House from my sons. You must help me in this,” I said.
He nodded slowly. “I see the sense in this. It will be as you say.”
Fearing that I could not defend my home by myself, I hired four large young men to guard Drunemeton. A woman alone was a target for ruffians in these chaotic times. A woman of property, moreso.
The young men had been in Arthur’s army, but were wandering the countryside, looking for work. I suspected they might have become highwaymen. Barra, their leader, said, “We heard there was a strong witch here. I would work for a woman who could protect herself as well as an entire village.”
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