Marion Bradley - The Mists of Avalon

But after that momentary renewal of awe, which she had observed since first she came here, a novice of the House of Maidens, she turned back to her business. She set the lamp on a flat rock near the lip of the mirror pool, so that its light would reflect, as would the crescent moon, into the water. Now there were present the four elements: fire, in her lamp; water, from which she had drunk; the earth where she stood; and as she invoked the powers of air, she saw, as always during this invocation, a vagrant breeze ripple across the surface.

She sat for a moment in meditation. Then at last she formulated to herself the question for which she would consult the magical mirror.

How is it with Britain? How is it with my sister, and her daughter who is priestess-born, and with the son who is the hope of Britain?

For a moment, as the wind stirred the surface of the mirror pool, she saw only confused images, flowing-were they within her mind, or on the restless surface of the pool? She caught glimpses of battles, blurred by the restless water; she saw Uther's dragon banner and saw her Tribesmen fighting at his side. She saw Igraine robed and crowned, as she had seen her in the flesh. And then, in a flash that made her heart pound faster, she saw Morgaine weeping; and in a second and terrifying flash of Sight, she saw a fair-haired child lying senseless, motionless-dead or alive?

Then the moon sank out of sight beyond the mist, and the vision was gone, and try as she might, Viviane could summon nothing back except mocking glimpses: Morgause holding her second son, Lot and Uther pacing in a great hall and hurling angry words, and the confused memory of the bruised and dying child. But had these things been, or were they only a warning of things yet to come?

Biting her lip, Viviane bent and picked up her mirror. She cast the remaining drops of pure oil into the surface of the pool-oil burned for the Sight must never be used for mundane purpose-and went swiftly in the falling darkness along the processional way and to the dwelling of the priestesses.

Once there, she summoned her waiting-woman. "Make all ready to ride at first dawn," she said, "and let my novice make ready to serve at full moon, for before it waxes another day, I must be in Caerleon. Send to tell the Merlin."

10

They travelled mostly in the early hours, lying hidden at midday and riding again at dusk. The country was for the moment peaceful-the war was away to the east. But stray bands of marauding Northmen or Saxons had been known before this to fall upon villages or isolated country villas. Travellers, too, unless protected by armed men, went warily and trusted no one.

Viviane had half expected to find Uther's court deserted, abandoned to women and children and those who could not fight, but from a distance she saw the dragon banner flying, which meant that the King was in residence. Her lips tightened; Uther neither liked nor trusted the Druids of the Holy Isle. Yet she had set this man whom she disliked on his throne, because he was the best of the leaders who had risen in the island, and now, somehow, she must work with him. At least he was not such a dedicated Christian that he would set himself to the task of wiping out other religions. Better, she thought, to have an ungodly man for High King than a religious fanatic.

Since she had been last at Uther's court the fortified wall had risen higher, and there were sentries on the wall, who called out to challenge her party. She had instructed her men to use none of her titles, but to say only that the Queen's sister had come. It was not the time to demand that they give respect to her as the Lady of Avalon; her present mission was too urgent for that.

They were led through the grass-grown enclosure, past all the clutter of an enclosed fort. She could hear somewhere the sound of an armorer or blacksmith beating on his anvil. Some herdswomen clad roughly in skin tunics were driving sheep inside for the night. Viviane, recognizing all these preparations for a siege, raised her eyelids slightly.

A scant few years before, Igraine had run to meet her in the courtyard at Tintagel. Now a solemn chamberlain, richly clad, and having but one arm -no doubt, a veteran of Uther's service-welcomed her with a solemn bow and conducted her to an upper chamber. "I am sorry, Lady," he said, "we are short of living space here. You must share this room with two of the Queen's ladies."

"I shall be honored," she said gravely.

"I will send you a serving-woman. You have only to ask her for anything you require."

"All I require," said Viviane, "is a little water for washing, and to know when I can see my sister."

"Lady, I am certain the Queen will receive you at the proper time ... ."

"Does Uther keep state like the Caesars, then? Listen to me, fellow, I am the Lady of Avalon, and I am not accustomed to be kept waiting. But if Igraine has grown to such high state as all this, then I beg you to send the lady Morgaine to me as quickly as is possible!"

The one-armed veteran shrank back, but when he spoke his voice was less formal and more human. "Lady, I am sure the Queen would receive you willingly, at once, but you have come at a time of trouble and danger.

The young prince Gwydion fell this morning from a horse no one should have let him ride, and the Queen won't leave his side, not for an instant."

"By the Goddess! I came too late, then!" Viviane whispered to herself.

Aloud, she said, "Take me to them, at once. I am skilled in all the healing arts, and I am sure Igraine would have sent for me if she knew I were here."

He bowed and said, "Come this way, Lady."

Following him, Viviane realized that she had not even had time to remove her cloak or the men's breeches she wore for riding; and she had meant to present herself in all the dignity of Avalon. Well, this was more important.

Outside the door, the chamberlain paused. "It would be as much as my head's worth to disturb the Queen. She won't even let her ladies bring her food or drink-"

Viviane pushed the heavy door and went into the room. Dead silence; it was uncannily like a death chamber. Igraine, pale and wan, her headcloth rumpled, knelt like a stone figure beside the bed. A black-robed priest stood motionless, muttering prayers under his breath. Softly as she moved, Igraine heard her.

"How dare you-" she began in a furious whisper, and broke off. "Viviane! God must have sent you to me!"

"I had a warning that you might need me," said Viviane. This was no time to speak of magical visions. "No, Igraine, you can do no good by weeping," she added. "Let me look at him and see how serious this is."

"The King's physician-"

"Is probably an old fool who knows nothing but potions of goat's dung," said Viviane calmly. "I was healing wounds of this kind before you were out of swaddlings, Igraine. Let me see the child."

She had seen Uther's son only once, briefly; he had been about three years old, and looked like any other fair-haired, blue-eyed toddler. Now he had stretched out to unusual tallness for his age-thin, but well-muscled arms and legs, much scratched by briars and brambles like any active boy's. She put aside the covers and saw the great livid bruises on his body. "Did he cough any blood at all?"

"Not even a little. The blood on his mouth was where a tooth was knocked out, but it was loose anyway."

And indeed Viviane could see the contused lip and the extra gap in his mouth. More serious was the bruise on the temple, and Viviane knew a moment of real fear. Had all their planning come to this?

She ran her small fingers across his head. She could see him flinch when she touched the bruise, and that was the best sign she could possibly have had. If he had been bleeding inside the skull, he would by this time have been so deep in coma that no possible pain could reach him. She reached down and pinched his thigh, very hard, and he whimpered in his sleep.