Marion Bradley - The Mists of Avalon

Morgaine laughed. "That is known in Avalon. Viviane could tell you if she would."

"But," said Lancelet, "what the priestesses and the Druids say may be no more truth than your pious nun's fables, Gwenhwyfar-forgive me, I should say, my lady and queen; Arthur, forgive me, I meant no disrespect to your lady, but I called her by her name when she was younger and not yet a queen-" but Morgaine knew that he was simply seeking an excuse to speak her name aloud.

Arthur yawned. "My dear friend, I do not mind if my lady does not. God forbid I should be the kind of husband who wishes to keep his wife locked away in a cage from all other human beings. A husband who cannot keep his wife's kind regards and faithfulness probably does not deserve them." He leaned over and took Gwenhwyfar's hand in his own. "I think this feasting long. Lancelet, how long before the riders are ready?"

"I think they will be ready soon," Lancelet said, deliberately looking away from Gwenhwyfar. "Does my lord and king wish me to go and see?"

Morgaine thought, He is torturing himself, he cannot bear to look on Gwenhwyfar with Arthur, he cannot bear to leave her alone with him. She said, deliberately making a joke of a truth, "I think, Lancelet, our bridal couple wishes to have a few moments to talk together alone. Why do we not leave them here and go down and see ourselves whether the riders are ready."

Lancelet said, "My lord-" and as Gwenhwyfar opened her mouth to protest, he said roughly, "Give me leave to go."

Arthur nodded permission, and Morgaine took his hand. He let her draw him along, but she saw him turn his head halfway, as if he could not take his eyes from Gwenhwyfar. Her heart was wrung; at one and the same time it seemed that she could not bear his pain, and that she would do anything to get him away so that she need not see him look at Gwenhwyfar. Behind her she heard Arthur say, "Until yesterday evening I had no idea that the fates, in sending me a bride, had sent me a beautiful one," and Gwenhwyfar answer, "But it was not the fates, my lord, it was my father." Before Morgaine could hear what Arthur answered, they were out of earshot.

"I remember," Morgaine said, "once, years ago, at Avalon, you spoke of cavalry as the key to victory over the Saxons-that and a disciplined army, like to the Romans. I suppose that is what you plan for these horsemen."

"It is true that I have been training them. I had not imagined that a woman would remember a point of military strategy, cousin."

Morgaine laughed. "I live under fear of the Saxons, like every other woman in these islands. I passed through a village once where a band of them had passed over, and every woman from little girls of five years old to old grandmothers in their nineties with no teeth and no hair had been raped. Whatever offers hope to rid us of them once and for all is meaningful to me, perhaps more than to men and soldiers, who need to fear only death."

"I had not thought of that," Lancelet said soberly. "Uther Pendragon's troops were not above scouring the countryside for willing women-nor are Arthur's-but in general, there is no rape. And I had forgotten, Morgaine, you were trained at Avalon and you think often on things which mean little or nothing to other women." He looked up and clasped her hand in his. "I had forgotten the harps of Avalon. I thought I hated the place, that I never wished to go back. And yet-sometimes-some little thing will take me back there. The sound of a harp. Sunlight on ring stones. The scent of apples and the sound of bees in the sun. Fish splashing in the lake, and the cries of water birds at sunset-"

"Do you remember," she asked softly, "the day we climbed the Tor?"

"I remember." With sudden bitterness he said, "I would to God you had not been sworn to the Goddess, that day."

She said in a low voice, "I have wished it almost as long as I can remember." Her voice suddenly broke, and Lancelet looked with apprehension into her eyes.

"Morgaine, Morgaine-kinswoman, I have never seen you weep."

"Are you like so many men, afraid of a woman's tears?"

He shook his head, and his arm went around her shoulders. "No," he confessed in a low voice, "it makes them seem so much more real, so much more vulnerable-women who never weep frighten me, because I know they are stronger than I, and I am always a little afraid of what they will do. I was always afraid of-Viviane." She sensed that he had been about to say my mother, and had shrunk from the words.

They were passing under the low lintel of the stables; the long line of horses, tied there, shadowed the day. There was a pleasant smell of hay and straw. Outside, she saw men moving back and forth, erecting piles of hay, standing up mannikins of stuffed leather, and men were coming in and out, saddling their horses.

Someone caught sight of Lancelet and shouted, "Will the High King and their lordships be ready for us soon, sir? We don't want to bring the horses out and keep them standing to get restless."

"Soon," Lancelet called back.

The soldier behind the horse resolved himself into Gawaine. "Ah, cousin," he said to Morgaine. "Lance, don't bring her in here, it's no place for a lady, a few of these damned beasts are still unbroken. Are you still resolved to take out that white stallion?"

"I'm resolved to have him ready for Arthur to ride into battle next time, if I break my own neck for it!"

"Don't jest about things like that," Gawaine said. "Who says I am jesting? If Arthur can't ride him, I'll ride him myself in battle, and I'll show him this afternoon in honor of the Queen!"

"Lancelet," Morgaine said, "don't risk your neck for that. Gwenhwyfar doesn't know one horse from another, she'd be as impressed if you rode a hobbyhorse from one end of the yard to another as by the feats of the centaur himself!"

The look he gave her was, for a moment, almost contemptuous, but she could read it clearly: How could she understand his need to show himself undamaged by this day?

"Go and get saddled, Gawaine, and give the word on the field, we'll be ready in half an hour," said Lancelet, "and ask Cai if he wants to start."

"Don't tell me Cai's going to ride, wi' that crippled leg o' his?" demanded one of the men who spoke in a strange accent. Gawaine turned on the stranger and said fiercely, "Would you grudge him that-the one military exercise where that leg makes no difference and he's not tied to the kitchens and the ladies' bowers?"

"Na, na, I see what ye mean," said the strange soldier, and turned to saddling his own horse. Morgaine touched Lancelet's hand; he looked down at her, the mischief back in his eyes. Here, she thought, arranging something, risking his neck, doing something for Arthur, he has forgotten about love, he is happy again. If he could only keep himself busy here, he would not need to moon after Gwenhwyfar or any other woman.

She said, "Show me this dangerous horse you are going to ride." He led her down between the rows of tied steeds. She saw the pale silvery nose, the long mane like linen floss-a big horse, tall as Lancelet himself across the shoulders. The creature tossed his head, and the snort was like a dream of dragons breathing fire.

"Oh, you beauty," said Lancelet, laying his hand alongside the horse's nose; he sidled and stepped away. He said to Morgaine, "This one I trained with my own hands to bit and stirrup-it was my wedding present to Arthur, who has no leisure to break a horse for his own use. I swore it would be ready on his wedding day, for him to ride, and gentle as a house pet."

"A thoughtful gift," said Morgaine.

"No, the only thing I could give," Lancelet said. "I am not rich. And anyway, he has no need of jewels or gold, he is showered with those things. This was a gift only I could give him."

"A gift of yourself," said Morgaine, and thought, How he loves Arthur; this is why he is so tormented. It is not that he desires Gwenhwyfar that tortures him; it is that he loves Arthur no less. If he were simply a wencher like Gawaine I would not even pity him; Gwenhwyfar is virtuous, and I could take pleasure in seeing her turn him away.