Mists of Avalon - Marion Zimmer Bradley [284]
She said, “I had no thought of it.”
Gwenhwyfar came and embraced her too, feeling the other woman’s body sharp-boned and thin against her arms. She said, “You look as if you had been long on the road, my sister.”
“True—I have come very far,” Morgaine said, and Gwenhwyfar kept her hand as they walked within.
“Where have you been? You were so long away—almost I thought you would never return,” Gwenhwyfar said.
“Almost I thought so myself,” said Morgaine. But, Gwenhwyfar noticed, she did not say, either, where she had been.
“Such gear as you left with us—your harp, your gowns, all these things—they were left at Caerleon. Tomorrow I will send for them as swiftly as a messenger can ride,” Gwenhwyfar said, as she took her to the room where her women slept. “Till then, if you will, I will lend you a gown—you have been travelling long, sister, and you look as if you had been sleeping within a cow byre. Were you attacked by robbers and your gear stolen?”
“I had ill fortune indeed on the road,” Morgaine said, “and if you will send someone to me that I may bathe, and dress myself clean, I will bless you. I would ask the loan of a comb too, and pins for my hair, and a shift.”
“My gown will be too long for you,” said Gwenhwyfar, “but no doubt you can pin it up somehow until your own clothes have come. Combs and veils and shifts I will give you gladly, and shoes as well—those look as if you had walked in them from here to Lothian and back!” She beckoned to one of her waiting-women and said, “Bring the red gown, and the veil that goes with it, and a shift and my other indoor shoes and hose—choose everything so that my lord’s sister is dressed as is fitting to her station. And send for a bath and a bath-woman too.” She looked disdainfully at the gown Morgaine was taking off, and said, “If that one cannot be fitly aired and cleaned, give it to one of the dairy-women!”
When Morgaine appeared at the King’s table she wore the red gown, which lent color to her dark skin and became her well; they besought her to sing, but she would not, saying that as Kevin was at hand, no one would listen to a robin’s chirping when a nightingale was near.
The next day Kevin sought private audience with Arthur, and he and the King and Taliesin, too, were closeted for many hours, and even had supper brought to them there; but Gwenhwyfar never knew what they spoke of—Arthur told her little of affairs of state. No doubt, they were angered with him that he had chosen to renounce his vows to Avalon, but soon or late they must accept it—that he was a Christian king. As for Gwenhwyfar, she had other things to think of.
That spring there was fever at the court, and some of her women fell sick of it, so that until Easter was past she had no leisure to think of anything else. She had never thought she would be glad of Morgaine’s presence, but Morgaine knew much of herb lore and of healing, and she thought it was due to Morgaine’s wisdom that there were no deaths in the court—in the country round, she heard, many died, though mostly little children and old folk. Her little half-sister Isotta took the fever, but her mother heard and would not have her stay at court, so that she was sent back to the island, and later in that month Gwenhwyfar heard that she had died. She mourned for the girl—she had come to be fond of her, and had hoped to marry her to one of Arthur’s Companions when she was older.
Lancelet fell sick of the fever too, and Arthur gave orders that he should be quartered in the castle and nursed by Gwenhwyfar’s own women. While there was still danger that she might take the fever she did not go near him—she had hoped herself pregnant again, but it turned out not to be so; only her own hopes and illusions. When he began to recover she went often and sat by his side.
Morgaine came too, to play the harp, while he was unable to leave his bed. One day, watching them when they spoke of Avalon, Gwenhwyfar caught the look in Morgaine