Mists of Avalon - Marion Zimmer Bradley [262]
“But the Pendragon banner is the banner of all Britain united under one Great Dragon,” said Lot, and Arthur sighed and nodded. “We must fight under one standard, and that standard is the cross. I am sorry to refuse you anything, cousin,” Arthur said, and reached for Lancelet’s hand, “but this I may not allow.”
Lancelet stood with his mouth taut, visibly holding in his anger, then went to the window. Lot, behind him, said, “I heard it among my Northmen—they say these are the spears of the Saxons which we will face, and the wild swans are crying, and the ravens await us all. . . .”
Gwenhwyfar stood with her hand tightly clasped in Arthur’s. She said quietly, “In this sign you shall conquer . . .” and Arthur squeezed her hand.
“Though all the forces of Hell, and not the Saxons alone, were ranged against us, lady, with my Companions I cannot fail. And you at my side, Lancelet,” Arthur said, and moved to draw him close to them both. A moment Lancelet stood unmoving, his face still set in angry lines, and then he said, with a deep sigh, “So be it, King Arthur. But—” He hesitated, and Gwenhwyfar, standing very close to him, could feel the shudder which ran through his limbs. “I know not what they will say when they hear of it in Avalon, my lord and my king.”
And for a moment there was total silence in the chamber, while the lights, the spears of the flames from the north, flared over them.
And then Elaine jerked the curtains shut, closing out the portents, and cried merrily, “Come and sit to your dinner, my lords! For if you ride forth to battle at daybreak, you shall not set forth unfeasted, and we have done our best for you!”
But again and again, as they sat at meat, while Lot and Uriens and Duke Marcus spoke of strategy and troop placement with Arthur, Gwenhwyfar caught Lancelet’s dark eyes, and they were filled with sorrow and dread.
13
When Morgaine left Arthur’s court at Caerleon, asking leave only to pay a visit to Avalon and her foster-mother, she kept her thoughts on Viviane—that way she need not think of what had befallen her and Lancelet. Whenever she let her mind wander to it, it was like being burnt with a hot iron of shame; she had offered herself to him in all honesty, in the old way, and he had wanted nothing of her but childish toyings that made a mockery of her womanhood. She did not know whether it was at him or herself that she was angered, that he could have so played with her, or that she could have hungered for him. . . .
Now and again she regretted her harsh words to him. Why had she flung insults at him? He was as the Goddess had made him, no worse and no better. But at other times, while she rode eastward, she felt herself to blame; the old taunt of Gwenhwyfar, little and ugly as one of the fairy folk, scalded her mind. Had she had more to give, had she been beautiful as Gwenhwyfar was beautiful . . . had she been content with what he had to give . . . and then her mind would swing the other way again, he had insulted her and the Goddess through her. . . . So tormented, she rode through the green country of the hills. And after a time her thoughts began to turn to what awaited her at Avalon.
She had left the Holy Isle unpermitted. She had renounced her state as priestess, leaving behind her even the little sickle knife of her initiation; and in the years since, always she had dressed her hair low on her brow, so that none might see the blue crescent tattooed there. Now in one of the villages she bartered away a little gilt ring she had for some of the blue paint the Tribeswomen used, and painted the faded mark afresh.
All that has befallen me has come because I forswore the vows I had given the Goddess . . . and then she recalled what Lancelet had said in his despair, that there were neither Gods nor Goddess, but these were the shapes mankind gives, in terror, to what they cannot make into reason.
But even if this were true, it would not lessen her guilt. For whether the Goddess took the form they thought, or whether