Marion Bradley - The Mists of Avalon

"Will the spring maiden bring it to you?"

"You could say so," Morgaine said, smiling despite herself.

"How can a baby be a duke?"

"My father was Duke of Cornwall. I am his only child in marriage. When Arthur came to reign, he gave Tintagel back to Igraine; it will pass from her to me and to my sons, if I have any."

Morgause, looking at the young woman, thought: Her son stands nearer the throne than my own Gawaine. I am full sister to Igraine, and Viviane but her half-sister, so Gawaine is nearer kin than Lancelet. But Morgaine's son will be Arthur's nephew. I wonder if Morgaine has thought of that?

"Certainly, then, Morgaine, your son is Duke of Cornwall-"

"Or Duchess," said Morgaine, smiling again.

"No, I can tell by the way you carry, low and broad, that it will be a son," said Morgause. "I have borne four, and I have watched my women through pregnancies ... ." She grinned maliciously at Lot and said, "My husband takes very seriously that old writing which says that a king should be father to his people!"

Lot said good-naturedly, "I think it only right for my true-born sons' by my queen to have many foster-brothers; bare is back, they say, without brother, and my sons are many ... . Come, kinswoman, will you take the harp and sing for us?"

Morgaine pushed aside the remnant of gravy-soaked oatcake. "I haves,' eaten too much for singing," she said, frowning, and began to pace the hall again, and Morgause again saw her hands pressed to her back. Gareth came; and tugged at her skirt.

"Sing to me. Sing me that song about the dragon, Morgaine."

"It is too long for tonight-you must be away to your bed," she said, but she went to the corner, took up the small harp that stood there, and sat on a bench. She plucked a few notes at random, bent to adjust one of the' strings, then broke into a rowdy drinking song of the armies.

Lot joined in the chorus, as did his men, their raucous voices ringing up to the smoky beams:

"The Saxons came in dark of night,

With all the folk asleep,

They killed off all the women, for-

They'd rather rape the sheep!"

"You never learned that song in Avalon, kinswoman," Lot said, grinning, as Morgaine rose to replace the harp.

"Sing again," Gareth teased, but she shook her head.

"I am too short of breath now for singing," she said. She put the harp down and took up her spindle, but after a moment or two put it aside and-j once more began pacing the hall.

"What ails you, girl?" Lot asked. "You're restless as a caged bear!"

"My back aches with sitting," she said, "and that meat my aunt would have me eat has given me a bellyache after all." She held her hands again to her back and bent over suddenly as if with a cramp; then, suddenly, she gave a startled cry, and Morgause, watching, saw the too-long kirtle turn dark and wet, soaking her to the knees.

"Oh, Morgaine, you've wet yourself," Gareth cried out. "You're too big to wet your clothes-my nurse would beat me for that!"

"Hush, Gareth!" Morgause said sharply, and hurried to Morgaine, who stood bent over, her face crimson with astonishment and shame.

"It's all right, Morgaine," she said, taking her by the arm. "Does it hurt you here-and here? I thought as much. You are in labor, that is all, didn't you know?" But how should the girl know? It was her first, and she was never one for listening to women's gossip, so she would not know the signs. For much of this day she must have been feeling the first pains. She called Beth and said, "Take the Duchess of Cornwall to the women's hall and call Megan and Branwen. And take down her hair; she must have nothing knotted or bound about her or her clothing." She added, stroking Morgaine's hair, "I would that I had known this sooner this day when I braided your hair-I will come down soon and stay with you, Morgaine."

She watched the girl go out, leaning heavily on the nurse's arm. She said to Lot, "I must go and stay with her. It is her first time, and she will be frightened, poor girl."

"There's no hurry," Lot said idly. "If it's her first, she'll be in labor all this night, and you'll have time to hold her hand." He gave his wife a good-natured smile. "You are quick to bring our Gawaine's rival into the world!"

"What do you mean?" she asked, low.

"Only this-that Arthur and Morgaine were born of one womb, and her son stands nearer the throne than ours."

"Arthur is young," Morgause said coldly, "and has time enough to father a dozen sons. Why should you think he has need of an heir?"

Lot shrugged. "Fate is fickle," he said. "Arthur bears a charmed life in battle-and I doubt not that the Lady of the Lake had something to do with that, damn her-and Gawaine is all too loyal to his king. But fate may turn away from Arthur, and if that day should come, I would like to know that Gawaine stood closest to the throne. Think well, Morgause; the life of an infant is uncertain. You might do well to beseech your Goddess that the little Duke of Cornwall should not draw a second breath."

"How could I do that to Morgaine? She is like my own daughter!"

Lot chucked his wife affectionately under the chin. He said, "You are a loving mother, Morgause, and I wouldn't have you otherwise. But I doubt if Morgaine is so eager to have a child in her arms. I have heard her say that she wished she had cast forth her child-"

"She was ill and weary," said Morgause angrily. "Do you think I did not say as much, when I was weary of dragging around a great belly? Any woman says such things in the last few moons of her pregnancy."

"Still, if Morgaine's child should be born without breath, I do not think she would grieve overmuch. Nor-this is what I am saying-should you."

Morgause defended her kinswoman: "She is good to our Gareth, has made him toys and playthings and told him tales. I am sure she will be just as good a mother to her own."

"Yet, it is not to our interest or our son's that Morgaine should think of her son as Arthur's heir." He put his arm around his wife, "Look sweeting, you and I have four sons, and no doubt when they're all grown they'll be at one another's throats-Lothian is not so big a kingdom as all that! But if Gawaine were High King, then there would be kingdom enough for them all."

She nodded slowly. Lot had no love for Arthur, as he had had none for Uther; but she had not thought him quite so ruthless as this. "Are you asking me to kill her child as it comes forth?"

"She is our kinswoman and my guest," Lot said, "and thus sacred, I would not invoke the curse of a kinslayer. I said only-the lives of newborn babes are frail, unless they are very carefully tended, and if Morgaine has a difficult time of it, it might be well that none has leisure to tend the babe."

Morgause set her teeth and turned away from Lot. "I must go my to kinswoman."

Behind her Lot smiled. "Think well on what I have said, my wife."

Down in the little hall, a fire had been lighted for the women; a kettle of gruel was boiling on the hearth, for it would be a long night. Fresh straw had been spread. Morgause had forgotten, as women happy with their children do, the dread of birth, but the sight of the fresh straw made her teeth clench and a shudder go down her back. Morgaine had been put into a loose shift, and her hair, unbound, was hanging loose down her back; she was walking up and down in the room, leaning on Megan's arm. It all had the air of a festival, and so indeed it was for the other women. Morgause went up to her kinswoman and took her arm.

"Come now, you can walk with me a bit, and Megan can go and prepare the swaddlings for your child," she said. Morgaine looked at her and Morgause thought the younger woman's eyes were like those of a wild animal in a snare, awaiting the hunter's hand which will cut its throat.

"Will it be long, Aunt?"