We old women chuckled and watched the young couple strolling beside the lake.
Arianrhod’s distraction is my chance to push harder with the Sight. I am so close to seeing the Goddess’ creation! I can feel it!
I slip down to my workroom and stare into the fire every time Arianrhod goes out with her young man.
In one vision, I see the heir to Arthur has black hair and a sharp nose—just like Mordred! Is the plan to be wrecked by the return of that madman? Then I see not-Mordred’s son, who has brown hair and a shorter nose.
Another face floats into view: Merlin’s descendant looks so like him! But I knew he was not the heir.
A vision showed me giant birds with men in them flying over the skies of Britain—but how could that be? A man with Arthur’s eyes sat inside one of these strange crafts and swooped through the air. There were terrible noises! Another bird with different markings caught flame! Arthur’s heir was exultant, as if he had won a great combat.
I cannot puzzle out what it means.
Some of what I see seemed more like dreams from a fever. The buildings climb so high in the sky! Merlin’s heir glides upon the land, the greenwood a blur. Voices and pictures appear out of the air when there is no one there.
Suddenly, I hear the Goddess’s voice proclaim:
The time is at hand! Hide from the light no longer. Use these things to reveal thy true nature. Go forth and take thy places as foretold!
And then I see it: the terrible wasteland that is Britain, the people broken. What have they done? What madness is this? But I know it was this my children’s children were born to do! They will heal the land.
The heirs of Arthur, Merlin, and Arianrhod prepare to do just that, with thousands watching their every move. They use the Oathstone to call upon Morgaine and….
The vision I see so panics me, I run out of the house.
Wait.
My steps slow. Halt. Where am I going?
I do not know.
Why was I running?
I am not quite clear.
I try to turn back, but one of my legs does not want to work. There is a noise in my head, a horrible whistling. The world pulses gray and black, to color, and back again.
Where am I? What was it I needed to do?
Merlin! I have to find Merlin and tell him … Something … I shout for him, but all that comes out is “Mmmmmmeeeeeerrrrrrr!”
I feel myself in someone’s grasp. Demons! I struggle to fight them off, but I am too weak. I can barely lift my arms.
My lips move to form a protest, but I cannot make a sound.
My sight seems all scrambled up.
“Mama!” I hear Arianrhod clearly. “Mama, focus on my voice.”
I try to concentrate. I can feel half my forehead wrinkle with the effort. The other side … I cannot feel at all.
Arianrhod’s hand is on the side of my face. Is the other one on the left of my face, as well? I cannot tell.
That is not good.
“Mama, stay with me!”
I hear a man’s voice. “Merrr …?” I try to call out his name.
I am lifted up in strong arms.
Merlin could never have lifted me. It must be Arthur! Oh, Arthur! Come and help me! There’s something we must do! It’s about… Oh! I remember! It’s about Morgaine!
“Mama, it’s Falcon. Can you hear me?”
Of course, it is Falcon. Merlin and Arthur are dead … are they not? But was I not just talking to them a moment ago?
I am so confused.
What is happening to me?
After a time, I am laid down. I see the ceiling of my workroom, but it is unclear, as if smoke from wet wood hangs at the beams. There is a smell of rotted meat in the room.
Arianrhod’s face appears. “Mama, you’re having a palsy fit. I’ll make the cure to ease the symptoms.”
I make to grasp the girl, but my hands will not obey me. “Do not …!” Suddenly, I am afraid. If Arianrhod leaves me, the one chance I have to warn her will be gone! “Ari …!”
Arianrhod returns. “I’m here, Mama. Let me make you the potion.”
Just beyond my daughter, I see it—the great light-filled doorway to the Afterlife.
Not yet! I beg the Goddess. Let me warn her! “Mor … gaine,” I gasp out.
Arianrhod looms over me, a look of concern on her face. “Did you say something about Morgaine? What about her?”
“Treach … treachery!” I struggle to make the words come out.
“How? When, Mama?” Arianrhod asks.
“Can you reach her mind?” I hear Falcon ask.
Arianrhod shakes her head. “It’s a jumble. I can’t make sense of it!”
“T … time …” I can barely gather breath now. Please, Goddess, let me just get this one last word! After a long pause, I manage: “Foretold!”
Come, the Goddess demands.
I have to tell them! Warn them! I plead.
You have fulfilled your task with them. I have other things for you to do now. Come.
And then the world is nothing but light.
Chapter Seventy-Two
Arianrhod
Spring 576
Arianrhod stopped counting when she reached 1,500 people standing outside Drunemeton Chapel, waiting to pay their respects. There were more. Many more. The people of Glast grieved as much as her family. Anya’s children endured many stories about their mother’s kindness, her healing ability, her canny way of making the best deal on livestock, her cleverness in hiding the village when the Saxons invaded.
Arianrhod was sure the service would never end.
The next day, she led her brothers and a few of the stronger adepts up to Glast Tor. Arianrhod selected a bluestone that wasn’t key to the Sacred Circle. Combining her power with theirs, they floated the huge rock back down the hill to Drunemeton’s Sacred Grove. Falcon, Turi, and Stephen dug a good-sized grave to the right of the entrance to the Sacred Grove. They placed their mother’s stone coffin in the bottom, then covered the hole with the bluestone.
Arianrhod summoned all the power she had and made a tiny blue flame above the head of the stone. “This light shall burn for the rest of time above Priestess Anya’s tomb. Let all who enter this sacred place revere her, she who was so beloved by the Goddess!” There was a lengthy rite held to honor her. Arianrhod returned the next day and planted a lilac bush—a volunteer from the original bush under the workroom window—at the foot of the tomb.
A fortnight later, Arianrhod hugged her brothers, sisters-in-law, nephews, nieces and all those who she held dear.
“Are you sure you want to leave so soon after Mama’s death?” Falcon asked. “Maybe you should think about this a while. Why go so far away?”
She kissed his cheek. “This is my path, brother dear, just as Drunemeton is yours.” You know I must leave, my darling, before we do that which is forbidden. Each day is a torment, she said in mindspeech.
I will pray daily that we are allowed to be together in some future life, my love. My only one. He handed her a small box. “Please take this with you as a wedding gift.”
Puzzled, Arianrhod opened it. Inside was the beautiful necklace of gold and pearls that Merlin had given Anya when Falcon was born. “No! This belongs to your family!”
“Mama wants you to have it, Ari. I know this,” he said.
Holding back the tears, Arianrhod put the top back on the box. “Thank you. Will you do something for me?”
“Anything,” he said.
“In the drawer in Mama’s workroom, there’s a little box of things. There’s a crude necklace with a blue shell. Will you make a box and place it in the grotto?”
Falcon looked puzzled. “A blue shell?”
“Yes. You’ll understand when you read your copy of Mama’s book I left you,” she said.
“All right,” he said, hugging her. “I’ll put it in the grotto today.”
Stephen hugged her so hard she laughed. “I hate that you’re leaving, Ari. Wri
te often.”
“I will,” she said. Then she got up on the horse behind her new husband, Turi.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, hugging him. “Let’s begin our life together.” They rode out into the lane. Arianrhod traced the pattern of the triskele tattoo on her wrist, recalling the day her mother had it put there. Behind her, she could feel the scrolls she’d copied at Anya’s request, safely stored in the bag. She looked out to the Sacred Grove, which Falcon said would now be called Anya’s Grove. She thought about the flame burning above her mother’s grave.
I go now to do what I was made for, Mama. I will do what must be done for the Goddess. We will make ready for the Time Foretold!
Epilogue
Ava Cerdwen
2029
For those who are reading this book for the first time, I envy you. In these pages, we discover our true nature. What a person was Anya, our founder. Our brave and shining star.
Whenever I am downcast, I think of Mother Anya, and all the trials she had to face. She was no better or worse than you or me. She made mistakes. She trusted her heart when she should have listened to her head. She despaired and seriously considered suicide. She laughed at the wrong time, cried too much, and cared with all her soul. She followed the path the Goddess laid out for her, sometimes accidentally.
She was a woman so very much like any of us.
And because of this wonderful person who toiled so hard for the Goddess, her work founded the Daughters of Arianrhod 1453 years ago. She had only an inkling of what was to come. But she created the solid foundation to what we all are today.
And each of us, in our turn, must take up the burden Anya laid down. We set our feet firmly on the path and hope we may do as well as she.
Blessed be.
A Note on Some of the Details in This Book
Many of the stories in The Priestess of Camelot follow the known legend of King Arthur, such as Merlin’s involvement with the events that led to Arthur’s birth, the sword in the stone, the Quest for the Holy Grail, and the fall of Camelot brought on by Mordred and his court followers.
Additionally, I have included other stories I discovered during the research for this book. All the tales Lavena, Camelot’s loquacious cook, tells were found in The Arthurian Encyclopedia, edited by Norris J. Lacey (Garland Publishing, New York, 1986). King Arthur’s explanations of his other magical weapons, and Lancelot’s tale of Joyous Gard, are from this book, as well.
The rules for the deportment of men at arms, is from Concerning Military Matters, by the Roman, Vegitius, written in about 450 B.C.E.
Finally, the Persian attack on the Holy Sepulchre did not happen in 570, but in 614. Details of that event are disputed to this point in time.
Here are explanations of celebrations, moon names, and place names:
Celebrations of the Year
(From various sources. I have used a blending of neopagan and neoDruidic names)
Imbolc February 2
Ostara March 19-22
Beltane May 1
Midsummer June 21
Lughnasadh August 1
Mabon September 21-24
Samhain October 31-November 2
Yule December 21
Pagan Moon Names
(From various sources. I have used a blending of neopagan and neoDruidic names)
Wolf Moon – January
Hunger Moon – February
Storm Moon – March
Wind Moon – April
Flower Moon – May
Rose Moon – June
Blessing Moon – July
Barley Moon – August
Harvest Moon – September
Blood Moon – October
Mourning Moon – November
Long Nights Moon - December
Other Places
Brycgstow – Bristol
Caer Mincip - St. Alban
Glast – Glastonbury
Little Britain – Brittany
Londinium – London
Noviomagus – Chichester
Noviodunum - Soissons (France)
Pictivis – Portiers
Polans - early Polish people
Portus Adoni - Christchurch
Acknowledgements
Many thanks to all the people who have kicked my butt to make this a better book. There should be some great reward for your kind patience and perseverance with my struggles, but alas, there is only this book as a result.
About the Author
Jacqueline Church Simonds is an author and publishing consultant. Her first published book was CAPTAIN MARY, BUCCANEER, a historical adventure novel loosely based on the real pirate women Ann Bonney and Mary Reade.
Simonds has done the usual authorly wanderings in life: she was a lady’s companion, a sound and lights roadie for a small Southern rock band, and managed an antiques shop. She’s sold everything from computers to 1950s pulp magazines to towels and baby clothes. The one constant in her life is a love of words, books and writing. She sold some short stories and poetry early, but didn’t pursue it until later in life.
She has had a life-long love of King Arthur and was always drawn to novels about that great hero. Finally, she sat down and wrote stories from her own point of view.
She lives in Reno, Nevada with her husband and beagle.
The Heirs to Camelot Series
Get the next thrilling volume in The Heirs to Camelot series and watch Anya’s 1,500-year legacy of magic and hope unfold.
The reincarnated souls of King Arthur, Merlin, and an anxiety-ridden priestess return to save Britain after a devastating nuclear attack, only to find an old foe: Morgaine.
After a nuclear attack on London that heralds The Time Foretold, Ava Cerdwin, the high priestess in charge of fulfilling a 1,500-year-old prophecy, must assist the heirs of King Arthur and Merlin in healing the devastated country.
The descendants of Britain’s great men of legend have kept the myths and relics for sixty-one generations, but no one is quite clear on what they must do next.
Nothing goes as planned: Ava falls for the wrong heir, the panic attacks are getting worse, the complex obligations of reincarnation are straining old relationships, and Morgaine and her henchwomen are trying to kill them.
Somehow, some way, Ava has to make the Healing happen, or Britain is finished.
The Midsummer Wife, Book One of the Heirs to Camelot is an urban fantasy that combines Arthurian lore, love, and a race to a breathtaking finish.
Praise for The Midsummer Wife
“Sex, magic, and power collide in this [Urban] Fantasy that begins when a devastating terrorist attack on modern London sparks the long-foretold return of King Arthur to heal Britain. Simonds boldly continues the Arthurian saga into the present day, as heirs to Arthur, Merlin, and the woman both men once loved struggle to understand and fulfill their destinies and outwit the sinister agenda of the sorceress Morgaine.” ~ Lisa Jensen, author of Alias Hook and Beast: A Love Story
“Imaginative, mesmerizing, and emotionally complex, Simonds’ unique story boldly expands the Arthurian legend into exciting new territory. The fantastical elements—rituals from old Celtic religions, dark magic, forces of fate—are well drawn and skillfully integrated into a contemporary setting. And then there’s the romance… the palpable chemistry between Ava and Ron (the Arthur heir), complicated by their respective destinies, makes their relationship a riveting read.” ~ Mary Fan, author of Starswept and Artificial Absolutes
Licensing Notes
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. This book, and parts thereof, may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without express written permission. For information, e-mail [email protected].
>
THE PRIESTESS OF CAMELOT
© 2018 by JACQUELINE CHURCH SIMONDS
Strange Fictions Press
An imprint of Vagabondage Press LLC
PO Box 3563
Apollo Beach, Florida 33572
http://www.vagabondagepress.com
First edition published in the United States of America and the United Kingdom, September 2018
Table of Contents
About The Priestess of Camelot
Title Page
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One: Völva of the Rus
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight: Priestess of Avalon
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen: Healer of Camelot
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three: King Arthur’s Mistress
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The Priestess of Camelot Page 33