Marion Bradley - The Mists of Avalon

They turned and left the underground chapel. But before they passed completely out of the room, Arthur turned back for a moment to look at the other things of the regalia, lying in shadow. His uncertainty could be seen on his face, the almost visible question, Did I do right, am I blaspheming (he God I was taught to worship as the only One?

The voice of Taliesin was low and gentle. "Know you my dearest wish, my lord and king?"

"What, Lord Merlin?"

"That one day-not now, for the land is not yet ready for it, and neither are those who follow Christ-but one day, Druid and priest should worship as one; that within their great church, their sacred Eucharist should be celebrated with yonder cup and dish to hold their bread and wine, in token that all the Gods are as One."

Arthur crossed himself, and said, almost in a whisper, "Amen to that, Lord Merlin, and Holy Jesus make it possible one day in these islands."

Morgaine felt the prickling up and down her forearms, and heard herself say, without knowing that she spoke until the Sight spoke through her, "That day will come, Arthur, but not as you think. Beware about how you bring that day to pass, for it may be a sign to you that your work is done."

Arthur said, in a hushed voice, "If that day should ever come to pass, Lady, then indeed it will be a sign to me that I have done what I came to the throne to do, and I am content to have it so."

"Beware what you speak," said the Merlin very softly, "for indeed the words we speak make shadows of what is to come, and by speaking them we bring them to pass, my king."

Morgaine blinked as they came into the sunlight. She swayed on her feet and Kevin reached out a hand to steady her.

"Are you ill, my lady?"

She shook her head impatiently, willing the blurring behind her eyes to vanish. Arthur looked at her, troubled. But then they were all in the sunshine, and his mind returned to the business at hand.

"I am to be crowned at Glastonbury, on the Isle of the Priests. If it is possible for you to leave Avalon, Lady, will you be there?"

Viviane smiled at him and said, "I think not. But the Merlin shall go with you. And Morgaine shall see your crowning if you wish, and she wishes," she added, and Morgaine wondered why the Lady spoke so, and why she was smiling. "Morgaine, my child, will you go with them in the barge?"

Morgaine bowed. She stood in the prow as the boat moved toward shore, bearing now only Arthur and the Merlin, and as it neared shore, she saw several armed men awaiting him. She saw the awe in their eyes as the draped boat of Avalon appeared quite suddenly from the mists, and one of them she recognized. Lancelet had not changed from that day two years ago, only he was taller, more handsome, dressed richly in dark crimson, bearing sword and shield.

He recognized her as well, and bowed. "Cousin," he said.

"You know my sister, the lady Morgaine, Duchess of Cornwall, priestess of Avalon," said Arthur. "Morgaine, this is my dearest friend, our cousin."

"We have met." Lancelet bent over her hand, and again, through the uneasy sickness in her, Morgaine felt a sudden thrust of that longing that would never really leave her.

He and I were meant, one for the other; I should have had the courage that day, even though it meant the breaking of a vow ... she could see in his eyes that he remembered, in the tenderness with which he touched her hand.

Then she sighed, raised her eyes, and was introduced to the others.

"My foster-brother Cai," Arthur said. Cai was big and dark and Roman to the core, and she saw as he spoke to Arthur, with natural deference and affection, that here indeed Arthur had two strong chiefs to lead his armies. The other knights were introduced as Bedwyr, Lucan, and Balin, which name made Morgaine, and the Merlin too, lift their eyes in surprise: this was foster-brother to Viviane's older son, Balan. Balin was fair-haired and broad-shouldered, in ragged clothing, but he moved as gracefully as his half-brother Lancelet. His dress was poor but his weapons and armor were bright and well kept, and looked well used.

Morgaine was content to leave Arthur to his knights; but first he raised her hand to his lips ceremoniously and kissed it.

"Come to my crowning if you can, sister," he said.

19

A few days later Morgaine went forth, with a few of the people of Avalon, to the crowning of Arthur. Never, in all her years upon Avalon -except for the few moments when she had opened the mists to allow Gwenhwyfar to find her convent again-had she set foot on the earth of the Isle of the Priests, Ynis Witrin, the Isle of Glass. It seemed to her that the sun shone with a curious harshness, unlike the soft and misty sunlight of Avalon. She had to remind herself that to almost all the people of Britain, this was the real world, and the land of Avalon only an enchanted dream, as if it were the very kingdom of fairy. To her, Avalon alone was real, and this last but a harsh dream from which, for some reason, she did not now waken.

All the space before the church seemed to have sprouted colorful tents and pavilions, like strange mushrooms. To Morgaine it seemed that the bells of the churches rang day and night, hour upon hour, a jangling sound that oppressed her nerves. Arthur greeted her, and for the first time she Ectorius, the good knight and warrior who had fostered her brother his wife, Flavilla.

For this venture into the world outside, at Viviane's advice, Morgaine had laid aside the blue robes of an Avalon priestess and the spotted deerskin overtunic, and had put on a simple dress of black wool, with linen underdress in white, and a white veil over her braided hair. Soon she realized that this made her look like a matron; among the British women, young maidens went with their hair unbound and wore dresses dyed in bright colors. They all took her for one of the women from the nunnery on Ynis Witrin, near to the church, where the sisters wore such somber robes; Morgaine said nothing to undeceive them. Nor, although he lifted his eyebrows and grinned at her, did Arthur.

To Flavilla he said, "Foster-mother, too many things are to be done -the priests want to speak to me of my soul, and the King of Orkney and the King of North Wales want audience with me. Will you take my sister to our mother, then?"

To our mother, Morgaine thought; but that mother has become a stranger to us both. She looked in her mind for any joy in this meeting and found none. Igraine had been content to let both her children go, the child of her first joyless marriage, the love child of her second; what manner of woman could she be then? Morgaine found that she was stiffening her mind and heart against the first sight of Igraine. I do not, she thought, even remember her face.

Yet when she did see Igraine, she realized that she would have known her anywhere.

"Morgaine!" She had forgotten, or remembered only in dreams, how rich and warm was Igraine's voice. "My darling child! Why, you are a woman grown, I see you always in my heart as a little maiden-and how worn and sleepless you look-has all this ceremony been heavy on you Morgaine?"

Morgaine kissed her mother, again feeling tears choking at the back of her throat. Igraine was beautiful, and she herself-again words from a half-memory flooded her mind: little and ugly like one of the fairy folk-did Igraine think her ugly too?

"But what is this?" Igraine's light hands touched the crescent on her brow. "Painted like one of the fairy people-is this seemly, Morgaine?"

Morgaine's voice was stiff. "I am a priestess of Avalon, and I wear the mark of the Goddess with pride."

"Fold your veil over it then, child, or you will offend the abbess. You are to lodge with me in the nunnery."

Morgaine set her mouth hard. Would the abbess, if she came to Avalon keep her cross out of sight for fear of offending me, or the Lady? "I do not wish to offend you, Mother, but it would not be suitable for me to lodge within the walls of a nunnery; the abbess would not like it, nor would the Lady, and I am under the Lady's orders and live under her laws." The thought of dwelling within those walls even for the three nights of the crowning, called to come and go, night and day, by the hellish jangling of those bells, made her blood run cold.