Mists of Avalon - Marion Zimmer Bradley [220]
Gwenhwyfar rose, went to Elaine, and asked her to take her place in the hall; she would stay with her lord. Cai went to see to the servants, and Lancelet stayed to give Arthur a hand as he limped, with the help of his stick, to his chamber. Lancelet helped to settle Arthur in bed as tenderly as any nurse.
“If he needs anything in the night, see that you have them call for me, you know where I sleep,” he said low, to Gwenhwyfar. “I can lift him more easily than any other—”
“Oh, no, no, I think there will be no need now,” she said, “but I thank you.”
He was so tall as he stood next her; he laid his hand gently on her cheek. “If you want to go and sleep among your women, I will stay and watch with him—you look as if you were wanting a long night of unbroken sleep. You are like a nursing mother who has no rest till her babe can sleep through the night without stirring. I can care for Arthur—there is no need for you to watch with him now! I can stay in the room within earshot.”
“You are so good to me,” she said, “but I would rather be near him.”
“But send for me if he needs me. Do not try to lift him yourself,” Lancelet said, “promise me, Gwenhwyfar.” How sweet her name sounded on his lips; sweeter than when he said “my queen” or “my lady.”
“I promise you, my friend.”
He bent, gave her just the flicker of a light kiss on her forehead. “You look so overwearied,” he said. “Go you to bed and sleep well.” His hand lingered still a moment on her cheek and when he took it away she felt as if her cheek would be cold and ache as if she had a toothache there. She went and laid herself down beside Arthur.
For a time she thought he slept. But at last he said into the darkness, “He has been a good friend to us, has he not, my wife?”
“No brother could have been kinder.”
“Cai and I were reared as brothers, and I love him well, but it is true what they say, blood is thicker than water, and blood kin brings a closeness I had not imagined till I came to know some of my own blood. . . .” Arthur shifted in bed, uneasily, sighing. “Gwenhwyfar, there is something I would say to you—”
She was frightened, her heart pounding—had he seen Lancelet kiss her, would he charge her with unfaithfulness?
He said, “Promise me that you will not weep again, I cannot bear it. I swear it to you, I have no thought of reproaching you—but we have been wedded now for many years, and only twice in that time have you had even the hope of a child—no, no, I beg you, do not cry, let me speak,” he pleaded. “It may be that it is not your fault, but mine. I have had other women, as do all men. But though I never made any attempt to conceal who I was, not in all these years has any woman come to me, nor her kinfolk, and said, such and such a woman bore you a bastard child. It may be that it is I whose seed has no life, so that when you conceive, the child comes not even to quickening. . . .”
She lowered her head, letting the curtain of her hair hide her face. Did he reproach himself as well?
“My Gwenhwyfar, listen to me—a child there must be for this kingdom. If it should come about at any time that you give a child to the throne, be assured that I will never question. So far as I am concerned, any child you bear, I will acknowledge it mine and bring it up as my heir.”
She thought that the burning in her face would make her burst into flame. Could he think her capable of betraying him? “Never, never could I do so, my lord and my king—”
“You know the ways of Avalon—no, my wife, do not interrupt me, let me speak—where when a man and woman come together in this wise, the child is said even to be born of the God. Gwenhwyfar, I would like it well if God sent us a child, whoever should work God’s will in fathering him—do you understand me? And if it should so happen that the one who so did the will of heaven were my dearest of friends