Marion Bradley - The Mists of Avalon

"He won't die this time. I have some experience with head wounds. And the injuries to the body haven't penetrated the lungs. He'll be running around in a day or two."

Uther's face relaxed somewhat. "If I ever find out who loosed that mare ... I should beat the boy senseless for riding Thunder!"

"There would be no point in that. He has already paid the price of his rashness, and I am sure it will teach him whatever lesson is needed," Viviane said. "But you should set better guard on your son."

"I cannot guard him night and day." Uther's face was haggard. "I am away so often at the wars, and I cannot keep so big a boy tied to his nurse's apron! And we have come near to losing him before this-"

"Morgaine told me."

"Bad luck, bad luck. The man with only one son walks always at the mercy of any stroke of bad luck," said Uther. "But I am remiss in courtesy, kinswoman. Here, sit beside me, share my dish if you will. I know Igraine longed to send to you, and I gave her leave to send a messenger, but you have come more swiftly than any of us dreamed-is it true, then, that the witches of the Holy Islands can fly?"

Viviane chuckled. "Would that I could! I would not have spoiled two pair of good shoes in the mire! Alas, the folk of Avalon, and the Merlin himself, must walk or ride, even as common folk." She took a piece of the wheaten loaf and helped herself to butter from a small wooden cask. "You who wear the serpents at your wrists should know better than to credit those old fables! But there is a bond of blood between us. Igraine is my mother's daughter, and I know when she has need of me."

Uther set his lips tight. "I have had dreams and sorceries enough, I want no more of them in my life."

This, as it was intended to do, silenced Viviane. She allowed one of the serving-men to help her to salted mutton, and spoke amiably about the fresh boiled herbs, the first of the year. When she had eaten sparingly, she set down her knife and said, "However I came here, Uther, it was by good fortune, and a sign to me that your child is guarded by the Gods, for he is needed."

"I cannot bear much more of such fortune," Uther said, and his voice was taut. "If you are a sorceress indeed, sister-in-law, I would beg you to give Igraine a charm against barrenness. I thought when we were wedded that she would give me many children, since she had already borne a daughter to old Gorlois, but we have only one, and already he is six years old."

It is written in the stars that you shall have no other son. But Viviane forbore to say this to the man before her. Instead she said, "I will speak with Igraine, and be sure whether it is not some sickness in her which keeps her from conceiving."

"Oh, she conceives right enough, but she can carry the child no more than a moon or two, and the one she brought to birth bled to death when his navel string was cut," Uther said grimly. "He was misshapen, so perhaps it was as well, but if you could give her some charm for a healthy child -I do not know whether I believe in such things, but I am ready to grasp at any straw!"

"I have no such charms," Viviane said, honestly pitying him. "I am not the Great Goddess, to give or withhold children from you, and I would not if I could. I cannot meddle with what the fates have decreed. Does not your own priest say as much to you?"

"Oh, aye, Father Columba speaks about submitting myself to the will of God; but the priest has not a kingdom to rule, which will fall into chaos if I die without an heir," Uther said. "I cannot believe that is what God wants!"

"None of us knows what God wants," Viviane said, "not you, nor I, nor even Father Columba. But it seems certain to me, and it heeds neither magic nor sorcery to see it, that you must guard the life of this little one, since he must come to the throne."

Uther's mouth tightened. "God avert that fate," he said. "I should grieve for Igraine's sake if her son died, and even for my own-he is a fine and promising child-but he cannot be heir to the High King of Britain. There is no man in all the length and breadth of this kingdom who does not know that he was begotten while Igraine was still wife to Gorlois, and he came to birth a whole moon sooner than he should have been born, to be my son. True, he was small and puny, and babes are cast forth from the womb before their proper time, but I cannot go around and tell all those in the kingdom who were counting on their fingers, can I? He will be Duke of Cornwall when he is grown, but I cannot hope to make him High King after me. Even if he lives to grow up, which with his luck is unlikely."

"He looks enough like you," Viviane said. "Do you think everyone at court is blind?"

"But what of all those who have never come to court? No, I must get myself an heir on whose birth there can be no stain. Igraine must bear me a son.

"Well, God grant it be so," Viviane said, "but you cannot force your will on God either, nor allow Gwydion's life to be thrown away. Why not: send him to fosterage at Tintagel? That is so remote, and if you put him in charge of your most trusted vassal, sending him there would convince everyone that he was truly Cornwall's son and you have no intention of J making him High King; perhaps then they would not bother to plot against J him."

Uther frowned. "His life would not be safe till after Igraine had borne me another son," he said, "even if I sent him as far as Rome, or to the | country of the Goths!"

"And with the hazards of the road, that is not practical," Viviane agreed. "I have, then, another suggestion. Send him to me, to be fostered: in Avalon. None can come there except the faithful who serve the Holy Isle. My own youngest son is already seven, but soon he will be sent to King Ban in Less Britain, to be fostered as suits a nobleman's son. Ban has other sons, so Galahad is not his heir, but Ban acknowledges him, and has given him lands and estates, and will have him at court as a page, and a soldier when he is grown. At Avalon, your son will learn all that he needs to know about the history of his land, and his destiny ... and the destiny of Britain Uther, none of your enemies knows where Avalon lies, and no harm could come near him."

"It would keep him safe. But for practical reasons, it is not possible. My son must be reared as a Christian; the church is powerful. They would never accept any king-"

"I thought you said he could not be king after you," Viviane said dryly.

"Well, there is always the possibility," Uther said in despair, "if Igraine should have no other son. If he has been fostered among the Druids and their magic-the priests would call that evil."

"Do I seem evil to you, Uther? Or does the Merlin?" She looked straight into his eyes and Uther let his gaze fall.

"No, of course not."

"Then why will you not entrust Igraine's son to his wisdom and mine, Uther?"

"Because I too distrust the magic of Avalon," said Uther at last. With a nervous gesture he touched the tattooed serpents around his arms. "I saw such things on yonder island as would make any good Christian turn pale and by the time my son is grown, this isle will be all Christian. There will be no need for a king to deal in such things."

Viviane felt like raging, Fool, it was the Merlin and I who set you on that throne, not your Christian priests and bishops. But there was no good to be gained in arguing with Uther.

"You must do as your own conscience bids you, Uther. But I beg you to send him somewhere for fostering, and let that place be secret. Give it out that you are sending him out to be brought up in obscurity, away from the flattery of a prince at court-that's common enough-and let people think he's going to Less Britain, where he has cousins at Ban's court. Then send him to one of your poorer vassals-one of Ambrosius' old courtiers, perhaps: Uriens, Ectorius, someone very obscure and very trustworthy."