Marion Bradley - The Mists of Avalon

Viviane drew the girl down to her side. "I came here because I had a warning of this. I have not yet inquired whence the danger comes, I had no time. Do you have the Sight still, Morgaine? When last I spoke with you, you said-"

The girl colored and looked down at her shoes. "You bade me not speak of it. And Igraine says I should turn my thoughts to real things and not daydreams, and so I have tried ... ."

"Igraine is right thus far: that you should not speak idly of these things to the once-born," Viviane said. "But to me, you may always speak freely, I promise you. My Sight can show me only such things as are relevant to the safety of the Holy Isle and the continuance of Avalon, but Uther's son is your own mother's son, and by that tie, your Sight will find him and be able to tell who is trying to compass his death. Uther has enemies enough, all the Gods know."

"But I do not know how to use the Sight."

"I will show you, if you wish it," said Viviane.

The girl looked up at her, her face taut with fear. "Uther has forbidden sorceries in his court."

"Uther is not my master," Viviane said slowly, "and no one can rule over another's conscience. Yet-do you think it an offense to God, to try to discover whether someone is plotting against your brother's life, or whether it is only bad luck?"

Morgaine said unsteadily, "No, I don't think it wicked." She stopped and swallowed and finally said, "And I do not think you would lead me into anything that was wrong, Aunt."

A sudden pain clutched at Viviane's heart. What had she done to earn this trust? With all her heart she wished that this small solemn girl was her own daughter, the daughter she owed the Holy Isle and had never been able to bear. Even though she had risked a belated childbearing, of which she had nearly died, she had borne only sons. And here, it seemed, was the successor the Goddess had sent her, a kinswoman with the Sight, and the girl was looking up at her with complete trust. For a moment she could not speak.

Am I prepared to be ruthless with this girl too? Can I train her, never sparing, or will my love make me less harsh than I must be to train a High Priestess?

Can I use her love for me, which I have in no way deserved, to bring her to the feet of the Goddess?

But with the discipline of years, she waited until her voice was clear and perfectly steady. "Be it so, then. Bring me a silver or bronze basin, perfectly clean and scoured with sand, and fill it with fresh rainwater, not water drawn from the well. Be sure that you speak to no man or woman after you have filled the basin."

She waited, composed, seated by her fire, until at last Morgaine returned.

"I had to scrub it myself," she said, but the basin she held out was shining and brilliant, filled to the brim with clear water. "Now, unbind your hair, Morgaine."

The girl looked at her curiously, but Viviane said, low and stern, "No questions."

Morgaine pulled out the bone hairpin, and her long locks, dark and coarse and perfectly straight, came tumbling down around her shoulders. "Now, if you are wearing any jewelry, take it off, and set it over there, so that it will not be near the basin."

Morgaine tugged off two little gilt rings she had on her finger, and | unpinned the brooch from her overdress. Without the pin holding it, the overdress fell around her shoulders, and without comment, Viviane helped her pull it off, so that she stood in her undergown alone. Then Viviane opened a little bag she wore about her neck and took out a small quantity of crushed herbs, which wafted a sweetish-musty scent through the chamber. She sifted only a few grains into the basin of water before saying in a low, neutral voice, "Look into the water, Morgaine. Make your mind perfectly still, and tell me what you see."

Morgaine came and knelt before the basin of water, looking intently into its clear surface. The room was very silent, so still that Viviane could I hear the small chirping of some insect outside. Then Morgaine said, in a wandering, unfocused voice, "I see a boat. It is draped with black and there I are four women in it ... four queens, for they wear crowns ... and one J of them is you ... or is it me?"

"It is the barge of Avalon," Viviane said, low. "I know what you see."

She passed her hand lightly over the water and saw the ripples follow her hand. "Look again, Morgaine. Tell me what you see."

This time the silence was longer. Finally the girl said, in that same strange tone, "I see deer-a great herd of deer, and a man among them with his body painted-they put the antlers on him-oh, he is down, they will kill him-" Her voice trembled and again Viviane passed her hand above the surface of the water, and the ripples passed over the surface. "Enough," she commanded. "Now see your brother." Silence, again, a silence that stretched and dragged; Viviane felt her body cramped with the tension of stillness but she did not move, with the long discipline of her training. At last Morgaine murmured, "How still he lies ... but he is breathing, soon he will wake. I see my mother ... no, it is not Mother, it is my aunt Morgause, and all of her children are with her ... there are four of them ... how strange, they are all wearing crowns ... and there is another, he is holding a dagger ... why is he so young? Is he her son? Oh, he will kill him, he will kill him-ah, no!" Her voice rose to a shriek. Viviane touched her shoulder. "Enough," she said. "Wake, Morgaine."

The girl shook her head like a puppy stretching after sleep. "Did I see anything?" she asked.

Viviane nodded. "Some day you will learn to see and to remember," she said. "For now it is enough."

Now she was armed to confront Uther and Igraine. Lot of Orkney was, as far as she knew, an honorable man, and had taken oath to support Uther. But should Uther die without an heir ... Morgause had borne two sons already and there were likely to be more-Morgaine had seen four, and there was no way in which the little Kingdom of Orkney would support four princes. The brothers, when they grew to manhood, were likely to be at one another's throats. And Morgause ... sighing, Viviane remembered Morgause's vaulting ambition. If Uther died without an heir, then Lot, married to the Queen's own sister, would be a logical choice for the throne. And the succession would be Lot as High King, Lot's sons heirs to the smaller kingdoms ... .

Would Morgause stoop to plot against the life of a child? Viviane did not like to think that of the girl she had nursed at her own breasts. But Morgause and Lot, together, with their ambitions!

Easy enough, perhaps, to bribe a groom or insinuate one of her own men into Uther's court, with orders to lead the child into danger as often as possible. Not so easy, of course, to get past a faithful nurse who was his own mother's faithful waiting-woman, but she could be drugged, or given stronger drink than usual, to make her confused, so that something deadly found its way past her vigilance. And no matter how well a child rode, it would take more strength than any six-year-old had to hold a stallion who scented a mare in season.

All our plans could have come to ruin in a moment ... .

At suppertime she found Uther alone at the high table, while the vassals and serving-men ate their bread and bacon at a lower table in the hall. He rose and saluted her courteously.

"Igraine is still at her son's side, sister-in-law; I begged her to go and sleep, but she said she would sleep after he wakened and knew her."

"I have already spoken with Igraine, Uther."

"Oh, yes, she told me, she said you have given your word that he would live. Was that wise? If he dies after that-"

Uther's face was drawn and worried. He looked no older than when he had married Igraine; his hair was so fair, Viviane thought, that no one could see whether it was greyed or not. He was richly dressed in the Roman fashion, and he was clean-shaven, too, like a Roman. He wore no crown, but around his upper arms he had two torques of pure gold, and a rich gold collar.