Mists of Avalon - Marion Zimmer Bradley [310]
Morgause said with silky wrath, “But the Goddess willed it not that you should do your own will, so it seems to me, Viviane. I am weary of this talk of old prophecy . . . if there be any Gods at all, of which I am not even certain, I cannot believe they would stoop to meddle in the affairs of men. Nor will I wait upon the Gods to do what I see clearly must be done—who’s to say that the Goddess cannot work through my hand as well as another.” She saw that Niniane was shocked—aye, she was another such ninny as Igraine, believing all this talk of Gods. “As for the royal line of Avalon, you see I have fostered it well.”
“He seems strong and well, a healthy boy,” said Viviane, “but can you swear you have not flawed him within, Morgause?”
Gwydion raised his head and said sharply, “My foster-mother has been good to me. The lady Morgaine cared not much for the fostering of her son—not once has she come hither to ask whether I lived or died!”
Kevin said severely, “You were bade speak only when spoken to, Gwydion. And you know nothing of Morgaine’s reasons or purposes.”
Morgause looked sharply at the crippled little bard. Has Morgaine confided in this wretched abortion, when I had to force her secret from her by spells and the Sight? She felt a surge of wrath, but Viviane said, “Enough. You fostered him well while it suited you, Morgause, but I mark you have not forgotten he stands one step nearer the throne than did Arthur at his age, and two steps nearer than your own son Gawaine! As for Gwenhwyfar, I have seen that she is to play some part in the fate of Avalon—she cannot be wholly without the Sight or the vision, for once she broke through the mists and stood upon the shores of Avalon. Perhaps if she were given a son, and it was made clear that it was by Avalon’s arts and will—” She glanced at Niniane. “She is capable of conception—with a strong sorceress at her side to keep her from casting forth the child.”
“It is too late for that,” Kevin said. “It was all her doing that Arthur betrayed Avalon and set aside the dragon banner. The truth is, I suppose, that her wits are not in the right place.”
“The truth is,” said Niniane, “that you bear her a grudge, Kevin. Why?”
The harper cast his eyes down and stared at his scarred and twisted hands. He said at last, “True. I cannot even in my thoughts deal fair with Gwenhwyfar—I am no more than human. But even if I loved her well, I would say she is no queen for a king who must rule from Avalon. I would not grieve, should she suffer some accident or mischance. For if she gave Arthur a son, she would think it only the goodness of Christ, though the Lady of the Lake herself stood by her bed. I cannot help but pray she has no such good fortune.”
Morgause smiled her cat smile. “Gwenhwyfar may seek to be more Christian than Christ’s self,” she said, “but I know something of their Scriptures, for Lot had a priest here from Iona to teach the lads. The Holy Writ runs thus, that he is damned who shall put his wife away save for adultery. And even here in Lothian we have heard—the Queen is hardly so chaste as all that. Arthur is away often at the wars, and all men know how she looks with favor upon your son, Viviane.”
“You do not know Gwenhwyfar,” Kevin said. “She is pious more than reason, and Lancelet is so much Arthur’s friend that I think Arthur would not move against them unless he took the two of them together in his bed before all of the court.”
“Even that might be arranged,” said Morgause. “Gwenhwyfar is too beautiful to think that other women would love her much. Surely someone around her could make an open scandal, to force Arthur’s hand—”
Viviane made a grimace of distaste. “What woman would betray a fellow woman like that?”
Morgause said, “I would, if I were convinced it was for the good of the kingdom.”
“I would not so,” said Niniane, “and Lancelet is honorable, and Arthur’s closest friend. I doubt he would betray Arthur for Gwenhwyfar. If