Marion Bradley - The Mists of Avalon

"I welcome you, for yourself and for Avalon, Morgaine." Arthur took her by the hand, and placed her near where he stood. "I do you all honor as the only other child of my mother, and Duchess of Cornwall in your own right, dear sister." He released her hand and she bent her head to keep herself from fainting, because her eyes had blurred and her head swam. Why must I feel like this now? Arthur's doing. No, not his, the doing of the Goddess. It is her will, not ours.

Lot stepped forward, kneeling before Arthur, and Arthur raised him. "Welcome, dear Uncle."

That same dear Uncle, Morgaine thought, who if I am not mistaken would gladly have seen him die as an infant.

"Lot of Orkney, will you keep your shores against the Northmen, and come to my aid if the shores of Britain are threatened?"

"I will, kinsman, I swear it."

"Then I bid you keep the throne of Orkney and Lothian in peace, and never will I claim it or fight against you for it," said Arthur, and bent slightly to kiss Lot on the cheek. "May you and your lady rule well and long in the North, kinsman."

Lot, rising, said, "I beg leave to present you a knight for your company; I beg you to make him one of your Companions, Lord Arthur. My son Gawaine-"

Gawaine was big, tall and strongly built, rather like a male version of Igraine and Morgause herself. Red curls crowned his head, and though he was not much older than Arthur himself-in fact, Morgaine thought, he must have been a little younger, for Morgause had not wedded Lot until Arthur was born-he was already a young giant, six feet tall. He knelt before Arthur, and Arthur raised him and embraced him.

"Welcome, cousin. I will gladly make you the first of my Companions; I hope you will join and be welcomed by my dearest friends," he said, and nodded to the three young men standing at one side. "Lancelet, Gawaine is our cousin. This is Cai, and this Bedwyr; they are my foster-brothers. Now I have Companions, even as did that Alexander of the Greeks."

Morgaine stood and watched all that day as kings from all over Britain came to pledge fealty to the throne of the High King and swear to join him in war and to defend their shores. Fair-haired King Pellinore, lord of the Lake Country, came to bend the knee before Arthur and beg to take leave even before the end of the feasting.

"What, Pellinore?" said Arthur, laughing. "You, who I thought would be my staunchest supporter here, to desert me so soon?"

"I have had news from my homeland, Lord, that a dragon is raging there; I would swear to follow it until I have killed it."

Arthur embraced him and handed him a gold ring. "I will keep no king from his own people when they have need of him. Go and see to the killing of the dragon, then, and bring me its head when you have killed it."

It was nearing sunset when at last all the .kings and gobies who had come to swear allegiance to their High King had finished. Arthur was no more than a boy, but he stood through the long afternoon with unflagging courtesy, speaking to each person who came as if he had been the first. Only Morgaine, trained in Avalon to read faces, could see the traces of weariness. But at last it was over, and servants began to bring the feast.

Morgaine had expected Arthur to sit down to dine among the circle of youths he had appointed as his Companions; it had been a long day he was young, and he had done his duty with concentrated attention all day. Instead, he sat among the bishops and eldest kings of his father's Council - Morgaine was pleased to see that the Merlin was among them. After all, Taliesin was his own grandsire, although she was not sure that Arthur knew that. When he had eaten (and he stuffed himself like a hungry boy who was still growing)-he rose and began to make his way among the guests.

In his plain white tunic, adorned only with the slender gold coronet, he stood out among the brightly dressed kings and nobles like a white deer in the dark forest. His Companions came at his side: the huge young Gawaine, and Cai, dark, with Roman, hawklike features and a sardonic smile-as he came closer Morgaine saw chat he had a scar at the corner of his mouth, still red and ugly, which drew his face up into an ugly leer. I was a pity; he had probably been good-looking before that Lancelet, next to him, looked pretty as a girl-no; something fierce, masculine and beautiful, perhaps a wild cat. Morgause looke at him with a greedy eye.

"Morgaine, who is that beautiful young man-the one beside Cai and Gawaine, the one in crimson?"

Morgaine laughed. "Your nephew, Aunt; Viviane's son Galahad. But the Saxons named him Elf-arrow, and mostly he is called Lancelet."

"Who would have thought that Viviane, who is so plain, should have such a handsome son! Her older son Balan - now he is not handsome; rugged, strong and hearty, and trustworthy as an old dog, but he is like Viviane. No one alive could call her beautiful!

The words cut Morgaine to the heart. I am said to be like Viviane; does , everyone think me ugly, then? That girl said, little and ugly as one of the fairy folk. She said coldly, "I think Viviane very beautiful."

Morgause snickered. "It is easy to see you have been reared m Avalon, which is even more isolated than most nunneries. I do not think you know what men desire for beauty in a woman."

"Come now," said Igraine soothingly, "there are virtues other than beauty. This Lancelet has his mother's eyes, and no one has ever denied that Viviane's eyes are beautiful; Viviane has so much charm that no one knows or cares whether or no she is beautiful, only that she has pleased them with her beautiful eyes and her fine voice. Beauty is not only in queenly stature and a fair complexion and golden curls, Morgause."

Morgause said, "Ah, you too are unworldly, Igraine. You are a queen, and everyone thinks a queen is beautiful. And you were married to the man you loved well. Most of us are not so fortunate, and it's a comfort to know that other men admire one's beauty. If you had lived all your life with old Gorlois, you too would be glad of your fair face and beautiful hair, and take pains to outshine those women who have nothing but charm and nice eyes and a sweet voice. Men are like babies-they see only the first thing they want, a full breast-"

"Sister!" said Igraine, and Morgause said, with a wry smile, "Ah well, it has been easy for you to be virtuous, sister, since the man you loved was a king. Most of us are not so fortunate."

"Do you not love Lot after all these years, Morgause?" Morgause shrugged. "Love is a diversion for the bower and the winter fireside. Lot takes counsel of me in all things, and leaves the ruling of his household to me in time of war; and whenever he has plunder of gold or jewels or fine garments, I have first choice. So I am grateful to him, and he has never had the shadow of cause to think he rears another man's son. But that does not mean I must be blind when a young man has fine features and shoulders like a young bull, either-or an eye for his queen."

I doubt not, thought Morgaine, faintly disgusted, that to Morgause this seems great virtue and she thinks of herself as a very virtuous queen. For the first time in many years she felt confused, knowing that virtue could not be so simply defined. The Christians valued chastity above all other virtues, while on Avalon the highest virtue was to give over your body to the God or Goddess in union with all of the flow of nature; to each, the virtue of the other was the blackest sin and ingratitude to their own God. If one of them was right, the other was of necessity evil. It seemed to her that the Christians were rejecting the holiest of the things under heaven, but to them, she would not be considered much better than a harlot. If she should speak of the Beltane fires as a sacred duty to the Goddess, even Igraine, who had been reared in Avalon, would stare and think that some fiend spoke through her.