The Priestess of Camelot

by Jacqueline Church Simonds

  At first, I began the task for my sons, to show them who their fathers were. But as I constructed the story in my mind, I realized I was writing it for the whole of Britain. I filled my goose quill with ink and began:

  Come you and hear the tale of the most remarkable men of Britain: Merlin, the Druid High Priest of Britain, and King Arthur, best of all rulers of Britain.

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  On midsummer eve in Falcon’s sixteenth year, I deemed it time. I brought the children into Merlin’s study and sat them down. “I have told you the stories about your fathers, Falcon and Stephen, and that you have a destiny. Tonight, before the rite, I wish to tell you of your great purpose.

  “Long ago,” I began, “when I was a priestess in the land you call Jutland, the Goddess selected me for Her plan.” I explained my coming to Britain, the tortured captive of a Saxon madman and how I reached out to Merlin’s mind; that King Arthur and his men saved the town because of my Sending. I described how I was taken to Avalon and made a priestess there and fell in love with Merlin the very first time we met. I related how I was driven out by Morgaine, the high priestess and evil sister of King Arthur. Then I told how I came to be the healer of Camelot just in time to save the king’s life after his great wound.

  “My story is not important, really. What is important is that, through me, the Goddess caused the sons of Merlin and Arthur to be born. She has told me that She will bring to pass a great new beginning for Her people in a time far, far in the future. Falcon, you will keep Merlin’s line alive, and Stephen, you will keep King Arthur’s line.”

  “But what about Ari?” Stephen demanded, always ready at the defense of anyone he thought unjustly treated. “What does she have?”

  I looked into the green-fire eyes of my eight-year-old daughter. “Arianrhod’s destiny is in the Goddess’s hands. We must trust that her path is carefully thought out … Although I think her descendant will be with yours in the Time Foretold to me.”

  Arianrhod smiled serenely—not at all like a little girl—but said nothing.

  I continued: “Falcon, son of Merlin, you and your heirs will be charged with keeping the rites and ceremonies we will soon create in the grotto. You will teach your descendants these things, as will each new generation—first-born son to first-born son—of both your line and Stephen’s. Falcon, your sons will be the keepers of the grotto and what it contains. Your heirs will be the tellers of the tale of Merlin and Arthur, and, as you’ve chosen the way of the bard, you’ll share the stories with the people of Britain.”

  “I will do it, Mama,” Falcon said, with all the gravity he could muster.

  “Stephen, son of Arthur, you and your heirs will attend the grotto ritual twice yearly—at midsummer and winter solstice. You will be keepers of the Arthur and Merlin stories, as well. And you will be charged with defending the families of Merlin and Arthur.”

  “With a sword and battles?” Stephen asked excitedly.

  I nodded slowly, feeling my way through the Sight. Yes, there will be actual fighting required from time to time. “But more, your family will also protect the Merlin and Arthur lines by being part of the court of whatever ruler there is.”

  “I’ll be king?” Stephen asked, a broad smile on his face.

  “No.” I watched the disappointment cloud his eyes. “Not you nor any of your heirs will rule until the Time Foretold. But your line must stay close to kings and those who make the laws. You must make sure that our kind—those who worship the Goddess—are free of persecution. That the families of Merlin and Arthur are always safe from threats both physical and legal.”

  Stephen’s face scrunched up. “I don’t understand what that means!”

  He looked so like Arthur in that moment, I almost laughed out loud. But that would hurt the boy’s tender feelings. “I know. We will talk more about this as you grow older. For now, just keep this in mind: You and your sons and their sons have a great task ahead of you.”

  He nodded, looking a trifle confused, but satisfied.

  “In the Time Foretold, your heirs, Stephen, Falcon, and Arianrhod, will complete the task the Goddess has set upon this family. The very existence of Britain will be threatened, its people in despair. Only your descendants may heal the land. And from the great healing your heirs bring, the people of all lands will achieve their full potential. But only if you follow the path laid out by the Goddess. See you submit to Her in this one thing, and your fortunes will go well. Break faith with Her and risk Her displeasure!”

  Falcon looked worried. Stephen was still thinking about sword-play. Arianrhod seemed dreamily confident.

  “Tomorrow we go to collect some items of Merlin’s. It will not be a long journey, but it will be an important one. Then tomorrow night, we will have our first rite in the grotto.” I rose. “But tonight, we go to celebrate midsummer’s Eve!” I led them out to the Sacred Grove.

  The next day, Fredic—now bald and grown stout with Droja’s cooking—drove us out in the wagon to the ancient grove north of Avalon. I had not planned to bring Arianrhod along. I worried that what we did and saw might be too much for her. But the little girl placed both hands on my arm and gave me a most grown-up stare. “Mama, I wish to go with you. Please don’t say no.” What could I do but let her go along?

  We arrived at midday. Leaving Fredic to set up a picnic, I took a box from the wagon and went with the children between the trees. The air was close and choked with ancient memories. There was hardly any power left in that once-holy place.

  There, just off the center standing stone of the grove, was an old, jagged, burnt-out stump. It was nearly three rods tall and looked like a finger pointed at the sky. The bark was black with soot.

  I called up my power. There was a crack! and a split opened to reveal a skeleton sitting within.

  “Papa,” Falcon whispered.

  Arianrhod hugged her big brother, then took his hand.

  I could feel Stephen’s desire to rush in and touch the remains, for he feared nothing, and could only understand things by placing his hands upon them. But, I held him back. “Stay. This is a holy thing and commands your respect.”

  I went forward and looked upon my beloved’s remains. Such a lonely, horrid death. And he thought he was saving Falcon and me. Did he know now, in the Afterlife, how thoroughly Morgaine used him in her game?

  Placing my hand upon the skull, I said a prayer. Then, moving too fast to let the children see what I am doing, I twisted the skull off the body.

  Stephen gasped as I remove it from the tree.

  Arianrhod brought me the cloth I had selected for that moment. Falcon carried the box over, and I placed the blackened skull within.

  Then I reached in to the stump and removed the ring from the bony hand. It was jet black, but I knew once shined, it would reveal the bronze trees of the Druids. I stepped back and resealed the stump. “That is all the tomb Merlin, Druid High Priest, needs.”

  That night, I took the boys and Arianrhod down to the grotto. I had commissioned a special embroidered green robe made for Falcon, and he wore it proudly. The others wore simple white robes. I had to assure Stephen he would have a robe just as nice as Falcon’s when it was his turn.

  We took out the skull. I had spent the afternoon polishing the bone until it had a dark brown shine. Then I carved the mystical symbols Merlin taught me belonged to the Druids. I did not know what all of them meant but felt guided as I carved them. I only knew that they were important to the future of the skull as an artifact. I placed it upon a ledge in the grotto. I set the great harp on another natural shelf. I presented Falcon with Merlin’s staff, which I had the blacksmith mend with a ring of bronze. I placed the Tree of Life ring—which cleaned up well—upon his finger. Then, I laid the Druidic wooden necklace of thirty-three carved beads and a pendant depicting the Tree of Life upon his breast. Merlin left it behind the last time he went to Camelot—perhaps knowing he would never wear it again.

  A light shone in Falcon’s e
yes. I paused, considering. It felt as if my beloved was peering out of our son’s eyes. Was that the point of this ritual? That the souls of the fathers could be present with their heirs for a few moments?

  I must not dwell on the whys right now.

  I drew myself up, cloaked in the magick of the Goddess. “Falcon, son of Merlin, you will carry the line forward that will do the Goddess’s bidding. You will protect and serve this place. You will use your wisdom to move the family to its destiny!”

  Falcon bowed low, looking both like a frightened young man and a little like Merlin.

  I taught Falcon and Stephen the ancient words I wished them to use to make the consecration ceremony complete. The boys both bowed to me. Then we put the things away in the carved chests and closed up the grotto behind the great doors.

  I wove magick that hid the true nature of the place. Reaching deep into my teachings, I cast spells that barred entry for those armed—for the Goddess warned of some future time when metal might threaten it. I spun an enchantment that hid the doors to the grotto themselves and taught the way of it to Falcon.

  Late that night, long after the children went to sleep, I allowed myself to sob.

  Oh, my dearest Merlin! I cannot bear that you are gone, and I must do this myself!

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  The next year, Stephen started his fostering with Sir Dagonet, yet he returned at midsummer and the winter solstice to celebrate the rites in the grotto.

  At seventeen, it was time for Falcon to take over more of the day-to-day work of the house and lands. He started to become the lord of the manor under my tutelage, Fredic’s, and Joran, the head landsman.

  Arianrhod acted more like the lady of the house and was deep in counsel with her brother half the day. Hardly could you find one without the other. He listened carefully to her wisdom—as did I—for she had a deeper understanding of all things than any of us. I was pleased they remained close but also worried that Falcon did not spend any time with other women—and Glast had plenty of willing, comely maids. I saw the way he looked at Arianrhod. It was the same look Merlin would turn toward me in our first year.

  And that must not happen. Not to them.

  One afternoon, I had Falcon and Arianrhod come out to the fields with me. “What is it. Mama?” Arianrhod asked, for she could feel that I had some purpose in bringing both of them out there.

  We went to Joran’s hut. He pointed to a small pen, where the calving goats were kept. Inside was a kid with no back legs. Its mother stood at the other side of the pen, with the other goats.

  “Oh, no. Not another one,” Falcon said. “What causes this, do you know, Mama?”

  “This is the result of a sister and brother breeding,” I said. “Sometimes, the defect is not easy to see, but the line is forever ruined by this close breeding.”

  Neither Falcon not Arianrhod said anything, but I could feel their worried thoughts.

  I said, “When I was a priestess with the Rus, the order kept jars of infants who were born without noses, or cleft palates, or tiny heads, limbs that were flippers. It was all from inbreeding brother and sister, or parent and child. It is important to know that there are very real consequences to our choices. I trust you will keep this in mind. You will excuse me, I must finish brewing a cure for Balloch’s son.”

  I walked back to the house alone, leaving Falcon and Arianrhod to ponder my words. I knew that they had not lain together—she was only nine winters. But I wanted to make sure they would never consider such a thing. Could they produce a monster? They were only half-siblings. But why take the chance? Besides, I knew the Goddess had other mates planned for them—though who they were, I knew not.

  With Falcon and Arianrhod running things, I was freed to concentrate on healing those who came to my workroom and work with my herbs, or just sit and think.

  And I did a lot of sitting and staring at the fire these days.

  What I was really doing was studying the Sight. The night I saw what Arthur’s unborn son would do in the future was an unlocking. Where I had never been able to use the Sight with much skill, suddenly, I was given the gift of seeing the future. But not all the time and not as much as I would like.

  By concentrating just so, I could see bits of the path the Goddess was creating. Not all at once. I am convinced the Goddess was only allowing me to follow the path of my sons and their issue in small doses.

  Here, I saw the great-great-grandson of Falcon. There, the heir of Arthur four generations along. But the Sight revealed not too much, and no resolution seemed clear.

  I took what little I could each day.

  I was determined to see it whole.

  I knew there would be a price.

  Every afternoon, when Arianrhod returned from the village school, I taught her all I knew of the uses of power, the worship of the Goddess, and the ways of healing. It was remarkable to watch how the child understood each level of magick. It was as if I merely reminded Arianrhod of the ways of power.

  We made Arianrhod’s healing drum and painted on the spells and charms together. I showed her every cure, song, and technique I knew. Arianrhod’s abilities seemed to grow each day. Sometimes, I felt she was a sister-priestess, rather my own child.

  “You are the greatest of us,” I told Arianrhod one day. And I meant that. I had never known her equal. Not even the Lady of Viborg was as powerful. “But, I do not see your path. That knowledge is hidden from me.”

  Arianrhod hugged me. “That’s all right, Mama. I know what I’m to do.”

  “You do? Is it permitted to tell me?”

  The little girl tilted her head, listening. Then she said, “I must travel to a far place, learn much, then start my own order to worship the Goddess and spread that belief. It’s a beginning.”

  “When will you leave?” I asked, frightened. For I loved Arianrhod more than I had ever loved any other person in the world. Yes, even more than Merlin or Arthur.

  “Not until you pass beyond to the Summerlands, Mama. I will be here with you until the end.”

  I was both relieved and sorrowed by her answer. But, I knew there was nothing I could do about it. “As you will, then.”

  It occurred to me that night that an order of women would need a book of healing spells and other such information. Daily, I worked on writing it, along with finishing The Book of Merlin and Arthur.

  Lota, the nurse, was no longer needed once Arianrhod gained ten winters. The old nanny moved into a croft in the village, near the stone chapel. She taught the younger children the beginnings of learning and did “housekeeping” for Cedric. Of course, I knew Lota and Cedric had been lovers since almost the first day Cedric joined the household.

  I was glad for them to have each other.

  Fredic’s second son, Turi, was accepted as a scribe to a nobleman from a far Eastern land who traveled much. Turi talked the man into hiring his sister, Cinnia, as their cook and companion. It was Turi’s hope that he could find his sister work that employed her skills as a learned woman—for it was unlikely any would hire her in chaotic Britain.

  As her youngest two rode off down the road, Droja said, “I knew this day would come, and now here it is. I am old, and my chicks have grown and flown!” We two old friends hugged. “But at least I have Kelvan here,” Droja said with a sniff.

  Indeed, Kelvan was a popular assistant priest, well-respected and listened to by the villagers. He was also well thought of in the Grove during the rites.

  In the late evenings, I started to go to the Grove by myself. There was something I needed to do for the near future, and I knew it would take some time.

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Just before the midsummer of Stephen’s sixteenth year, I had Fredic and Lairgnan—one of the new guards—take the wagon to the ruins of Camelot. Falcon, Arianrhod, and I rode in the wagon. Stephen traveled on a roan horse his foster father gifted him with. The trip made me feel older and sadder than the trip to retrieve Merlin’s things just six years before.<
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  I gasped when the castle came into view. It was so different from that day so many years ago when I walked up the road with the priestesses of Avalon and beheld the great gates, the tall battlements, and the towers with their merry flags. The stone road was tall with weeds. The gates were long rotted away. The walls had collapsed in several places. Merlin’s tower had toppled and left a huge hole in the side of the castle. There was clearly once a fire in the kitchen area, and the main roof was caved in.

  “Lo, Castle Camelot,” I said sadly.

  There was not a sound of bird or beast as we rode in the weedy courtyard. It was as if the building watched us, wondering what could bring this group of travelers hence.

  With great difficulty, we made our way through the ruins of the great hall. Both thrones were demolished and lay in splinters on the dais. Off to the side, I spotted one section of the Round Table smashed by a fallen roof timber. I did not see the other two pieces. Someone had stolen them away.

  We went up the stairs, which were missing many treads. I recalled climbing them with purpose as I nursed Arthur back to health. And later, creeping up late at night, fearing to be seen, as I went to tryst with him in our secret bower.

  Finally, we came to king’s old bedroom. I heard the echoes of the many talks Arthur and I had while he was sick. In memory, I heard the stamp of the knights’ feet tromping around in the great hall. Wait! Is that the tap of Merlin’s staff coming down the hall? But no, it was just the drip of water coming in from the broken ceiling.

  The old days of Camelot were long gone. The men who made it a magickal time were dead. We survivors and descendants of that time seemed small and somehow a lesser people.

  Just as the Goddess had told me, the concealed cabinet in the wall was safe. I opened the hidden door and let the boy remove a box first. Inside, Stephen discovered Arthur’s crown, a heavy gold chain necklace, and the king’s ring. Stephen’s eyes were big as dinner plates, his mind filled with tales of his illustrious father.