Mists of Avalon - Marion Zimmer Bradley [313]
Morgaine lowered her face and stared at the ground. Ah, she thought, how fitting it would be if I could care so for Kevin as he for me. I value him, I love him well, I take pleasure even in sharing his bed, but marriage? No, she thought, no, no, not for all his devotion. “I have no mind to be married, Grandsire.”
“Well, you must do your own will, child,” Taliesin said gently. “You are lady and priestess. But you are not so young, either, and since you have forsaken Avalon—no, I do not reproach you, but I thought it might well be that you wished to marry and have a home of your own. I would not see you spend all your days as Gwenhwyfar’s waiting-woman. As for Kevin the Harper, no doubt he will be here if he can, but he cannot ride as swiftly as other men. It is good that you do not despise him for his body’s infirmity, dear child.”
When Taliesin had gone, Morgaine went on toward the brew house, thinking deeply. She wished she could indeed love Kevin as Taliesin thought she did.
Why am I cursed with this feeling for Lancelet? All the time she prepared scented rose water for washing guests’ hands and flavoring confections, she thought about that. Well, when Kevin was here, at least she had no reason to desire Lancelet—not that it would do her any good, she thought wryly, to desire him. Desire must go two ways or it is worthless. She resolved that when Kevin came back again to court, she would give him such a welcome as he could wish.
No doubt, I could do worse than wed with him . . . Avalon is lost to me . . . I will think of it. And indeed my dream saw true so far, that he was in Lothian . . . and I thought the Sight had forsaken me. . . .
Kevin returned to Camelot on the eve of Pentecost; all that day folk had been streaming into Camelot and the surrounding country, as if it were twice over harvest fair and spring-trading fair. It was the greatest festival ever to be held in this countryside. Morgaine welcomed Kevin with a kiss and embrace which made the harper’s eyes glow, and led him to a guest chamber, where she took his cloak and travelling shoes and sent them with one of the boys to be cleaned, and brought him ribbons to make his harp fine.
“Why, My Lady will be brave as the Queen,” said Kevin, laughing at her. “Do you not bear grudge to your only rival, Morgaine, love?”
He had never called her so before, and she came and stood close to him, her arm around his waist. He said softly, “I have missed you,” and laid his face for a moment against her breast.
“And I you, my dear,” she said, “and when all have gone to rest this night, I shall prove it to you . . . why, do you think, have I arranged that you shall have a guest chamber to yourself, when even Arthur’s dearest Companions have had to be housed four to a room and sometimes two to a bed?”
He said, “I thought it was so that none other need share quarters with me.”
“And so it shall be for the dignity of Avalon,” said Morgaine, “though even Taliesin shares his chamber with the bishop—”
“I do not admire his taste,” said Kevin. “I would sooner be housed in the stable with the other donkeys!”
“I would have it that the Merlin of Britain should be lodged in a chamber to himself, even if it is no bigger than a stall for one of those donkeys,” said Morgaine. “But it is large enough for you and for My Lady,