Mists of Avalon - Marion Zimmer Bradley [31]
“Avalon,” he said. “It lies in the Summer Sea, does it not? You were at the Council this morning; you know we are to go there. The Merlin has promised me that he will take me to King Leodegranz and introduce me to his court, although if Lot of Orkney has his way, Uriens and I will go back to Wales like dogs howling, with our tails between our legs; or we will fight in his train and pay him homage, which I will do when the sun rises over the western coast of Ireland.”
“Gorlois said you are sure to be the next High King,” Igraine said, and it struck her with sudden wonder that she was sitting here on a tree branch with the next High King of Britain, talking about religion and matters of state. He felt it too, she could sense it in the tone of his voice, when he said, “I never thought to discuss such matters with the wife of the Duke of Cornwall.”
“Do you truly think that women know nothing of state matters?” she asked. “My sister Viviane, like my mother before her, is the Lady of Avalon. King Leodegranz, and other kings, came often to consult with her about the fate of Britain—”
Uther said, smiling, “Perhaps I should consult with her on the best way to bring Leodegranz, and Ban of Less Britain, into my fellowship. For if they listen to her bidding, then all I must do is win her confidence. Tell me, is the Lady married, and is she handsome?”
Igraine giggled. “She is priestess, and priestesses of the Great Mother may not marry, nor make alliance with any mortal man. They belong to the Gods alone.” And then she remembered what Viviane had told her, and that this man sitting on the tree branch beside her was part of the prophecy; she stiffened, frightened of what she had done—was she walking on her own feet into the trap Viviane and the Merlin had set for her?
“What is it, Igraine? Are you cold? Are you frightened of war?” Uther asked.
She said, grasping at the first thing she could think of to say, “I have been talking to the wives of Uriens and sir Ectorius—they do not seem much concerned with matters of state. I think perhaps that is why Gorlois does not believe that I can know anything of them, either.”
Uther laughed. He said, “I know the ladies Flavilla and Gwyneth—they do indeed leave all things to their husbands, save those dealing with spinning and weaving and childbearing and such women’s things. Have you no interest in those things, or are you as young as you look, too young almost to be wedded, let alone have children to worry about?”
“I have been married four years,” Igraine said, “and I have a daughter who is three years old.”
“I could envy Gorlois that; every man wants children to succeed him. If Ambrosius had a son, we would not now be in this turmoil. Now—” Uther sighed. “I do not like to think of what will befall Britain if that toad of Orkney should come to be High King, nor Uriens, who thinks everything can be solved by sending a messenger to Rome.” Again his voice broke in a sob. “Men say I am ambitious to be High King, but I would give all my ambitions for Ambrosius to be sitting here on this tree branch beside us, or even a son of his, to be crowned in that church tonight! Ambrosius was frightened of what would befall when he was gone. He might have died last winter, but he hoped to make us agree on who should follow him—”
“How was it that he had no sons?”
“Oh, he had sons, two of them. One was slain by a Saxon; Constantine was his name, like to the king who converted this island. The other died of a wasting fever when he was but twelve years old. He said, often and often, that I had become the son he wanted.” He buried his face in his hands again, weeping. “He would have made me his heir as well, but that the other kings would not have it. They followed me as war duke, but others were jealous of my influence—Lot, damn him, was the worst. Not for ambition, Igraine, I swear it, but to finish what Ambrosius left undone!”
“I think everyone knows that,” she said, stroking his hand. She felt immobilized by his grief.
“I do not think Ambrosius could