Mists of Avalon - Marion Zimmer Bradley [273]
Morgaine cast about in her mind for what she could say.
“I have dwelt . . . in solitude, and away from the world. I have not seen nor spoken with any man for I know not how long. I had lost count even of the seasons.” And this much was true, for whatever the folk of the fairy country might be, they were not mankind.
“I can well believe it,” said Kevin. “I could believe even that you had not heard of the great battle—”
“I see that this country has been all burned over.”
“Oh, that was three years ago,” said Kevin, and Morgaine started back. “Some of the treaty troops broke their vows and came all through this country, looting and burning. Arthur took a great wound at that battle and lay abed for half a year.” He saw Morgaine’s troubled face and mistook her concern. “Oh, he does well enough now, but all that time he did not set foot to the ground—I imagine he felt the want of your healing skills, Morgaine. Then Gawaine led down all of Lot’s men from the North and we had peace for three years. And then this summer past there was the great battle at Mount Badon—Lot died in that battle—aye, there was a victory, such as bards will sing for a hundred years,” Kevin said. “I do not think there is a Saxon chief left unkilled in all this land from Cornwall to Lothian, save those who call Arthur their king. There has been nothing like it since the days of the Caesars. And now all this land lies under the peace of Arthur.”
Morgaine had risen and gone to the saddlebags. She found the flask of wine, and Kevin said, “Bring the bread and cheese too. It is near noon and I will eat here with you.” When she had served him and opened her roll of leather with the remains of the chicken, offering it, he shook his head.
“Thank you, but I eat no flesh food now, I am under vows. . . . I marvel to see you eat meat, Morgaine, a priestess of your rank—”
“That or go fasting,” said Morgaine, and told him how the chicken had come to her. “But I have not observed that prohibition since I left Avalon. I eat such things as are set before me.”
“For myself, I think it makes little matter, flesh or fish or grain,” Kevin said, “though the Christians make much of their fasting—at least this Patricius who is Arthur’s bishop now. Before that, the brethren who dwelt with us upon Avalon used to repeat a saying of their Christ, that it was not what went into a man’s mouth that defiled him, but what came out of it, and therefore man should eat humbly of all the gifts of God. And so I have heard Taliesin say. But for myself—no doubt you know that at a certain level of the Mysteries, what is eaten has so much effect on the mind—I dare not eat meat now, it makes me drunker than too much wine!”
Morgaine nodded—she had had that experience too. When she had been drinking the sacred herbs, she could eat nothing but a little bread and fruit; even cheese or boiled lentils were too rich and made her ill.
“But where do you go now, Morgaine?” And when she told him, he stared as if she were mad. “To Caerleon? Why? There is nothing there—or perhaps you did not know, though I find that hard to believe. . . . Arthur gave it to one of his knights who served him well at that battle. But on the day of Pentecost he moved his whole court to Camelot—it will be a year this summer that he has dwelt there. Taliesin liked that not, that he opened his court upon the Christian holy day, but he did it to please his queen—he listens to her in all things.” Morgaine surprised a faint grimace on his face. “But then if you had not heard of the battle, it is likely you had not heard how Arthur betrayed the folk of Avalon and the Tribes.”
Morgaine stopped the cup halfway to her lips. She said, “It is for that I came, Kevin. I heard that Raven had broken her silence and prophesied some such thing as that. . . .”
“It was more than prophecy,” said the bard. He stretched his leg uneasily, as if sitting for long in one position on the ground hurt him.
“Arthur betrayed—what did he do?” Morgaine’s breath caught. “He did not give them into the hands of the Saxons . . . ?”
“You have