Mists of Avalon - Marion Zimmer Bradley [305]
Morgause sought to recapture her sense that she was hostess and these were her guests; she felt like a kitchen girl before the two priestesses and the Druid. Then she reminded herself angrily that both these women were her own half-sisters, and as for the Merlin, he was only an old hunchback! “Be welcome to Lothian and to my hall. This is my son Agravaine, who reigns here while Gawaine is away at Arthur’s court. And this is my foster-son, Gwydion.”
The boy bowed gracefully to the distinguished guests, but made only a polite murmur of acknowledgment.
“He is a handsome lad and well grown,” said Kevin. “This, then, is Morgaine’s son?”
Morgause lifted her eyebrows. “Would it avail anything to deny it to one who has the Sight, sir?”
“Morgaine herself told me, when she heard that I rode north to Lothian,” Kevin said, and a shadow crossed his face.
“Then Morgaine dwells again in Avalon?” asked Morgause, and Kevin shook his head. Morgause saw that Viviane too looked distressed.
“Morgaine is at Arthur’s court,” said Kevin. Viviane said, pressing her lips together, “She has work to do in the world outside. But she will return to Avalon at the appointed time. There is a place awaiting her which she must take.”
Gwydion asked softly, “Is it of my mother that you speak, Lady?”
Viviane looked straight at Gwydion and suddenly she seemed tall and imposing—the old priestess-trick, thought Morgause, but Gwydion had never seen it before. And the Lady said, her voice suddenly filling the courtyard, “Why do you ask me, child, when you already know the answer perfectly well? Would you mock at the Sight, Gwydion? Take care. I know you better than you think, and there are still a few things in this world that you do not know!”
Gwydion backed away, his mouth open, suddenly only a precocious child again. Morgause raised her eyebrows; so there was still someone and something which could frighten him! For once he did not try to excuse or explain himself in his usual glib manner.
She took the initiative again, saying, “Come in. All things are prepared to welcome you, my sisters, Lord Merlin.” And as she looked at the red cloth she had set upon the high table, the goblets and fine ware standing there, she thought, Even here at the end of the world, our court is no pigsty! She conducted Viviane to her own high seat and set Kevin Harper next to her. As Niniane was stepping up on the dais she stumbled, and Gwydion was swiftly there, with a ready hand and a polite word.
Well, well, at last our Gwydion is beginning to take notice of a pretty woman. Or is it just good manners or a wish to ingratiate himself because Viviane chided him? She was perfectly well aware that she would never know the answer.
The fish was baked to perfection, the red fish flaking lightly away from the bones, and there was enough of the honey cake for most of the house people to have some; and she had sent for extra barley beer so that each of the people in the lower hall might have something extra to their meal as well. There was plenty of fresh-baked bread and an abundance of milk and butter, as well as cheese made with ewe’s milk. Viviane ate as sparingly as ever, but she was ready in praise of the food.
“You set a queenly table indeed. I would not be better guested in Camelot. I had not looked for such welcome, coming without warning as I did,” she said.
“Have you been to Camelot? Have you seen my sons?” Morgause asked, but Viviane shook her head and her forehead ridged in a scowl.
“No, not yet. Though I shall go thither