Mists of Avalon - Marion Zimmer Bradley [219]
“You believe that?” Gwenhwyfar asked. “You would put magic and sorceries above God’s will?”
“Why, sweetheart,” Arthur said, and touched her fair hair, “do you believe that anything man can do is in despite of God’s will? If this scabbard kept me indeed from bleeding to death, then it could not have been God’s will that I should die. It seems to me that my faith is closer to God than yours, if you fear that some wizard could undo what God wishes. We are all in God’s hands.”
Gwenhwyfar looked quickly at Lancelet; there was a smile on his face, and it seemed for a moment that he was mocking them, but it passed and the woman thought it must have been no more than a little shadow. “Well, if you wish for music, Arthur, Taliesin will come and play for you, I suppose; though he grows old and his voice is nothing for singing, his hands still have great skill at harping.”
“Call for him, then,” said Arthur, and laughed. “In Scripture we are told that the old King Saul called for his young harper to play and ease his mind, but here I am, a young king who has need of his old harper to play and cheer his soul!”
Lancelet went in search of the Merlin, and when he came with his harp, they sat for a long time in the hall listening to the music.
Gwenhwyfar thought of Morgaine, playing there. Would that she were here, to give me a charm—but not before my lord recovers . . . and then, looking across the fire at Lancelet, she felt sinking in her body. He sat on a bench, leaning back and listening to the music, his hands tucked behind his head, his long legs stretched out to the fire. The other men and women had gathered close to listen to the music; Elaine, Pellinore’s daughter, had been bold enough to come and crowd onto the bench beside Lancelet, but he sat without paying any heed to her.
Lancelet would be the better for a wife. I should bestir myself and write to King Pellinore, that he should give Elaine to Lancelet; she is my cousin and not unlike me, she is marriageable—but she knew she would not; she told herself it would be time enough for that on the day Lancelet told them that he was seeking to be wedded.
If Arthur should not recover . . .
Oh, no, no, never will I think of that. . . . She crossed herself in secret. But, she thought, it was long since she had been in Arthur’s arms, and it was likely he could not give her a child anyway. . . . She found herself wondering what it would be like to lie with Lancelet—could he give her the child she wished for? Suppose she took Lancelet as lover? She knew there were women who did such things . . . Morgause now made no secret of it; now that she was past childbearing, her harlotries were as scandalous as Lot’s wenching. She felt the color creeping up in her cheeks and hoped no one had seen as she looked at Lancelet’s hands lying quiet in his lap and wondered what it would be like to feel them caressing her—no, she dared not think of that.
When women took lovers they must take care not to be made pregnant, not to bear a child who could disgrace them or bring shame on their husbands, so if she was barren then it would not matter . . . it would be her good fortune. . . . In God’s name, how could she, a chaste and Christian woman, have such evil thoughts? Once before she had thought this, and when she told it in confession, the priest had said only that it was no more than reason that with her husband so long sick, her thoughts should turn to such things; she must not feel guilty, but pray much and care for her husband and think only that it was harder still for him. And Gwenhwyfar had known that this was good and sensible and kindly counsel, but she felt he had not understood it in full, just how sinful a woman she was and how evil and foul her thoughts. Otherwise, surely, he would have berated her, and given her heavy penance, and then she would have felt better and more free. . . .
Lancelet would never reproach her that she was barren—
She became aware that someone had spoken her name, and raised her head in confusion as if her thoughts were open to all.
“No, no