Mists of Avalon - Marion Zimmer Bradley [26]
“Why, as to that, I have never spoken with anyone who has been in Heaven,” Lot said, “nor, I think, have you, Lord Merlin. But you are talking as wisely as any priest—have you taken Holy Orders in your old age, sir?”
The Merlin laughed and said, “I have one thing in common with your priests. I have spent much time trying to separate the things of man from those that belong to the Divine, and when I have done separating them, I find there is not so great a difference. Here on Earth, we cannot see that, but when we have put off this body we will know more, and know that our differences make no difference at all to God.”
“Then why are we fighting?” asked Uther, and grinned as if he were humoring the old man. “If all our differences will be resolved in Heaven, why do we not lay down our arms and embrace the Saxons as brethren?”
The Merlin smiled again and said amiably, “When we are all perfected, it will be just so, Lord Uther, but they do not yet know it, any more than we do, and while human destiny provokes men to fight, well, we must do our part by playing the games of this mortal life. But we need peace in this land so that men may think of Heaven instead of battle and war.”
Uther said, laughing, “I have little taste for sitting and thinking of Heaven, old man; I will leave that to you and the other priests. I am a man of battle, I have been so all my days, and I pray to live all my life in war, as befits a man and not a monk!”
“Be careful what you pray for,” said Merlin, looking sharply at Uther, “for the Gods will certainly give it to you.”
“I do not want to be old, and think of Heaven and peace,” said Uther, “for they seem very dull to me. I want war and plunder and women—oh, yes, women—and the priests do not approve of any of those things.”
Gorlois said, “Why, then, you are not much better than the Saxons, are you, Uther?”
“Your very priests say we must love our enemies, Gorlois,” said Uther, laughing, and reaching across Igraine to clap her husband good-naturedly on the back, “and so I love the Saxon, for he gives me what I want from life! And so should you, for when we have peace like this for a little time, we can enjoy feasting and women, and then back to the fight, as befits a real man! Do you think women care for the kind of man who wants to sit by the fire and till his home acres? Do you think your beautiful lady here would be as happy with a plowman as she is happy with a duke and leader of men?”
Gorlois said soberly, “You are young enough to say so, Uther. When you are my age, you will be sick of war too.”
Uther chuckled and asked, “Are you sick of war, my lord Ambrosius?”
Ambrosius smiled, but he looked very weary. He said, “It would not matter if I were sick of war, Uther; for God has chosen in his wisdom to send me war all my days, and so it shall be, according to his will. I will defend my people, and so must those who come after. Perhaps in your days, or the days of our sons, we will have enough time at peace to ask ourselves what we are fighting for.”
Lot of Orkney broke in, in his smooth equivocal voice, “Why, we are philosophers here, my lord Merlin, my king; even you, Uther, you have taken to philosophy. But none of this tells us what we are to do against the wild men who come at us from east and from west, and from the Saxons on our own shores. I think we all know that we will have no help from Rome; if we want legions we must train them, and I think we needs must have our own Caesar as well, for just as soldiers need their own captains and their own king, so all the kings in this island need someone to rule over them.”
“Why need we call our High King by the name of Caesar? Or think of him so?” asked a man Igraine had heard called by the name Ectorius. “The Caesars ruled Britain well enough in our day, but we see the fatal flaw of an empire thus—when there is trouble in their home city, they withdraw the legions and leave us to barbarians! Even Magnus Maximus—”
“He was no emperor,” said Ambrosius,