Mists of Avalon - Marion Zimmer Bradley [257]
Across the sky, darkening now, flamed spears of light, darting out of the north. Her cry brought Elaine and the serving-woman, and even Kevin, folding his harp tenderly into its covering, dragged himself heavily to the door.
“Oh, what is it, what does it portend?” she cried.
Kevin said quietly, “The Northmen say it is the flashing of spears in the country of the giants; when it is seen on earth, it portends a great battle. And sure enough, that is what we face now—a battle where Arthur’s legion, madam, may determine, with the help of all the Gods, whether we live as civilized men or go into the darkness forever. You should have gone to Camelot, lady Gwenhwyfar. It is not right that the High King should be concerned now with women and babes.”
She turned on him and flared, “What would you know of women or babes—or of battles, Druid?”
“Why, this would not be my first battle, my queen,” he said equably. “My Lady was from a king who gifted me for playing his war harps to his victory. Would you think I should have gone to safety with the maidens and the skirted eunuchs of the Christian priests? Not I, madam. Not even Taliesin, old as he is, will run from battle.” Silence, and above them the northern lights flamed and flared. “By your leave, my queen, I must go to my lord Arthur and speak with him and the Lord Merlin of what these lights portend for the battle which comes upon us.”
Gwenhwyfar felt it like a sharp knife run through her belly. Even this malformed heathen might be with Arthur now, yet she, his wife, must lurk here out of sight, although she bore the hope of his kingdom! She had thought, if ever she bore Arthur’s son, then he must give her place and show her great respect, not treat her still as that useless woman he had been forced to take as part of a dowry of horses! Yet here she was, packed off into a corner again because he could not be rid of her, and even her gallant banner thrust back at her unwanted.
Kevin said with swift concern, “Are you ill, my queen? Lady Elaine, assist her!” He held out a hand to Gwenhwyfar, but it was misshapen, a twisted wrist, and she saw the serpent coiling around it, tattooed there in blue . . . she recoiled sharply and struck out at him, hardly knowing what she did, so that Kevin, who was none too steady on his feet, lost his balance and fell heavily to the stone floor.
“Keep away from me,” she cried out, gasping. “Don’t touch me, with your evil serpents—pagan, hell-bound, lay not your foul serpents on my babe—”
“Gwenhwyfar!” Elaine hurried to her, but instead of supporting Gwenhwyfar she bent solicitously over Kevin and gave him her hand to rise. “Lord Druid, do not curse her—she is ill and she does not know what she does—”
“Oh, do I not?” Gwenhwyfar shrieked. “Do you think I do not know how you all look at me—like a fool, as if I were deaf and dumb and blind? And you would calm me with kind words while you go behind the back of the priests to claim Arthur for pagan wickedness and heathendom, you who would give us over to the hands of the evil sorcerers. . . . Go from here, lest my babe be born deformed because I have looked on your vile face. . . .”
Kevin shut his eyes and the twisted hands clamped, but he turned quietly away and began laboriously hoisting his harp over his shoulder. He fumbled for his stick; Elaine handed it to him, and Gwenhwyfar heard her whisper, “Forgive her, Lord Druid, she is ill and knows not—”
Kevin’s musical voice was harsh. “I know that well, lady. Think you I have never heard such sweet words from women before this? I am sorry, I wished only to give you pleasure,” he said, and Gwenhwyfar,