Mists of Avalon - Marion Zimmer Bradley [190]
Arthur said, and sounded ill-pleased, “What, my sister, sing like a hired musician for all these people?”
Kevin looked offended, as well he might, thought Morgaine. In a sudden rage, she rose from her seat, saying, “What the Master Harper of Avalon condescends to do, I am honored to do! In music, the Gods only are served!” She took the harp from his hand, seating herself on a bench. It was larger than her own harp and for a moment her hands fumbled on the strings; then she found the set and her hands moved more surely, playing a northern song she had heard at Lot’s court. She was suddenly grateful for the wine that had cleared her throat; she heard her own voice rich and sweet—it had come back as strong as ever, though she had not recognized it till this moment. Her voice was contralto, deep and strong, trained by the bards at Avalon, and she was proud, again. Gwenhwyfar may be beautiful, but I have the voice of a bard.
And even Gwenhwyfar crowded close when she was done, to say, “Your voice is very lovely, sister. Did you learn to sing so well in Avalon?”
“Why yes, madam, music is sacred—did you not learn the harp in your nunnery?”
Gwenhwyfar shrank. “No, it is unseemly for a woman to raise her voice before the Lord. . . .”
Morgaine chuckled. “You Christians are overfond of that word unseemly, especially when it relates to women,” she said. “If music is evil, then it is evil for men as well; and if it is a good thing, should not women do all the good things they can do, to make up for their supposed sin at the beginning of the world?”
“Still, I would not have been allowed—once I was beaten for touching a harp,” said Gwenhwyfar wistfully. “But you have cast a spell over us, and I cannot think but this magic is good.”
Kevin said, “All the men and women of Avalon learn something of music; but few have such gifts as the lady Morgaine. A fine voice is born, not trained. And if it is a gift of God, then seems it to me that it is arrogant to look down and think little of such a gift, be it given to man or woman. We cannot believe God has made a mistake in giving such a gift to a woman, since God makes no mistakes, so we must accept it wherever it is found.”
“I cannot argue theology with a Druid,” said Ectorius, “but if I had a daughter born with such a gift, I would hold it a temptation, that she would be tempted to step beyond the place appointed to a woman. We are not told that Mary, the Mother of our Lord, sang or danced—”
The Merlin said softly, “Though we are told that when the Holy Ghost descended upon her, she lifted up her voice and sang, My soul hath magnified the Lord . . .” But he said it in Greek: Megal´ynei h¯e psych´¯e mou tòn K´yrion. . . .
Only Ectorius and Lancelet and the bishop recognized the Greek words, although Morgaine too had heard them more than once. The bishop said firmly, “But she sang in the presence of God alone. Only Mary the Magdalene is said to have sung or danced before men, and only before our Redeemer saved her soul for God, for it was part of her wicked ways.”
Igraine said with a flicker of mischief, “King David was a singer and played, we are told, upon the harp. Do you suppose he beat any of his wives or daughters for playing on the harp?”
Morgaine flashed, “If Mary of Magdala—I mind the story—played on the harp and danced, still she came to be saved, and we are nowhere told that Jesus told her to sit meekly and be silent! If she poured precious balm on the head of Jesus and he would not let his Companions rebuke her, he may well have enjoyed her other gifts as well! The Gods give of their best, not their worst, to men!”
Patricius said stiffly, “If this is the form of religion which is known here in Britain, we are well in need of such councils as our church has called together!” He scowled, and Morgaine, already regretting her hasty words, lowered her head—it was hardly suitable to pick a quarrel between Avalon and the church at Arthur