Marion Bradley - The Mists of Avalon

Uther nodded slowly. "It will be a wrench to Igraine to part with the child," he said, "but a prince must be fostered as suits his future destiny, and schooled in military strength. I will not tell even you, sister-in-law, where he is to go."

Viviane smiled to herself, thinking, Do you really think you can keep it secret from me, Uther, if I wish to know? But she was too diplomatic to say it aloud.

"I have another boon to ask of you, brother-in-law," she said. "Give me Morgaine to foster in Avalon."

Uther stared a moment, then shook his head. "Impossible."

"What is impossible to a High King, Pendragon?"

"There are only two fates for Morgaine," said Uther. "She must marry a man completely sworn to me, one I trust. Or if I can find no such strong ally to give her, she's for the nunnery and the veil. She'll raise up no Cornwall party in this kingdom."

"She does not seem pious enough for a good nun."

Uther shrugged. "For the dower I can give her, any convent will be glad to take her."

And suddenly Viviane was angry. She fixed Uther with her gaze and said, "And do you think you can keep this kingdom long without the good will of the Tribes, Uther? They care nothing for your Christ or your religion. They look to Avalon, and when these-" She put out a finger and touched his tattooed wrists. He drew nervously away, but she went on. When these were set on your arms, they swore to obey the Pendragon. If Avalon withdraws its support from you-as high as we set you, Uther, that low can we bring you."

"Fine words, Lady. But can you do as you threaten?" Uther retorted. "Would you do that for a girl and Cornwall's daughter at that?"

"Test me." Her gaze was unflinching. This time he did not lower his eyes from her; he was angry enough to meet her stare equally, and she thought, Goddess! Had I been ten years younger, how this man and I could have ruled! In all her life she had known but one or two men who were her equal in strength; but Uther was an antagonist worthy of her steel. And he would need to be, to keep this kingdom together until the predestined king should grow to manhood. Even for Morgaine she could not endanger that. But she thought she could make him see reason.

"Uther, listen to me. The girl has the Sight; she was born to it. There's no way she can escape the Unseen, it will follow her wherever she goes, and in playing about with such things, she'll come to be shunned for a witch, and despised. Is that what you want for a princess at your court?"

"Do you doubt Igraine's ability to rear her daughter as befits a Christian woman? At worst, she could do no harm behind convent walls-"

"No!" Viviane said, so loudly that some of the folk in the lower hall raised their heads and stared round at her. "Uther, the girl's priestess-born. Put her behind convent walls and she'll pine like a caged skua gull. Could you send Igraine's child to death or lifelong misery? I truly believe-and I've spoken with the girl-that she'd kill herself there."

She could see that argument had reached him, and quickly pressed her point.

"She's born to it. Let her be properly trained to her gifts. Uther, is she so happy here, or such an ornament to your court, that you would be sorry to see her leave it?"

Slowly, he shook his head. "I have tried to love her for Igraine's sake. But she's-uncanny," he said. "Morgause used to tease her and say she was one of the fairy folk, and if I did not know her parentage I'd well believe it."

Viviane's smile was taut. "True. She is like me, and like our mother. She's not for the convent or the church bell."

"Yet how can I take both Igraine's children from her at once?" Uther demanded, despairing. That struck Viviane as well with a pang of grief, almost of guilt, but she shook her head.

"Igraine too is priestess-born. She will abide her destiny as you, Uther, abide yours. And if you fear the anger of your house priest," she added, striking shrewdly at a guess and saw, in his eyes, that she had hit home, "then tell no one where you have sent her. Put it about, if you wish, that you have sent her for schooling in a nunnery. She is too wise and sober for the ways of the court, small flirtations and womanish gossip. And Igraine, if she knows her children are safe and happy, growing toward their own fates, will be content while she has you."

Uther bowed his head. "So be it," he said. "The boy to be fostered with my trustiest and most obscure vassal-but how can I send him there unknown? Will the danger not follow him?"

"He can be sent by hidden ways, and under a glamour, as you yourself came to Tintagel," Viviane said. "You trust me not, but will you trust the Merlin?"

"With my very life," Uther said. "Let the Merlin take him. And Morgaine, then, to Avalon." He leaned his head in his hands, as if the burden he bore were too great for endurance. "You are wise," he said, then raised his head and stared at her with unflinching hatred. "I wish you were a foolish woman I could despise, damn you!"

"If your priests are right," said Viviane calmly, "I am already thoroughly damned and you may save your breath."

11

The sun was setting as they came to the Lake. Viviane twisted on her pony to look at Morgaine, who rode a little behind her. The girl's face was drawn with weariness and hunger, but she had not complained, and Viviane, who had deliberately set a hard pace to try her stamina, was satisfied. The life of a priestess of Avalon was not an easy one, and she needed to know that Morgaine could endure fatigue and hardship. She slowed her pony now, and let Morgaine draw abreast of her.

"There lies the Lake," she said. "In a little while we will be within walls, and there will be fire, and food and drink."

"I shall be glad of all three," Morgaine said. Are you tired, Morgaine?"

"A little," the girl said diffidently, "but I am sorry to see this journey end, I like seeing new things, and I have never gone anywhere before."

They halted their horses at the water's edge, and Viviane tried to see the familiar shore as it would appear to a stranger-the dull greyed waters of the Lake, the tall reeds edging the shore, silent, low-hanging clouds, and tufts of weed in the water. It was a silent scene, and Viviane could hear the girl's thoughts: It is lonely here, and dark, and dismal.

"How do we get to Avalon? There is no bridge-surely we do not have to swim the horses?" Morgaine asked her, and Viviane, remembering how they had had to do just that at a ford swollen by spring rains, reassured her quickly.

"No; I will call the boat."

She raised her two hands to cover her face, shut out unwanted sight and sound, and sent out the silent call. Within moments, over the greying surface of the Lake, a low barge appeared. Draped at one end in black and silver, it glided so silently that it seemed to skim over the water like some waterfowl-there was no sound of oars, but as it came nearer they could see the silent oarsmen, wielding their paddles without the slightest splash or sound. They were dark little men, half naked, their skins tattooed with blue woad in magical patterns, and Viviane saw Morgaine's eyes widen at the sight; but she said nothing.

She accepts all this too calmly, Viviane thought. She is young enough that she does not see the mystery of what we do; somehow I must make her aware of it.

The silent little men moored the boat, securing it with a curiously woven rope of plaited reed. Viviane signalled to the girl to dismount, and the horses were led on board. One of the tattooed men held out his hand to Morgaine to help her step on board, she half expected it to be insubstantial, a vision like the boat, but instead his hand felt callused, hard as horn. Last, Viviane took her place at the prow, and the barge moved out, slowly and silently, into the Lake.

Ahead of them rose the Isle and the Tor with its tall tower to Saint Michael; over the silent water, the sound of church bells rang a soft Angelus. Morgaine, from habit, crossed herself, and one of the little men gave her so sharp a frown that she flinched and dropped her hand. As the boat skimmed over the water through the overgrown reeds she could make out the walls of the church and the monastery. Viviane could sense the young girl's sudden fear-were they going, after all, to the Isle of the Priests, where convent walls would close about her forever?