Mists of Avalon - Marion Zimmer Bradley [330]
And yet later that night I quarrelled with Kevin.
Working with the Queen’s women, I prepared Viviane’s body for burial. Gwenhwyfar sent her women, and she sent linen and spices and a velvet pall, but she did not come herself. That was just as well. A priestess of Avalon should be laid to rest by attendant priestesses. I longed for my sisters from the House of Maidens; but at least no Christian hands should touch her. When I was done, Kevin came to watch by the body.
“I have sent Taliesin to rest. I have that authority now, as the Merlin of Britain; he is very old and very feeble—it is a miracle that his heart did not fail this day. I fear he will not long outlive her. Balin is quiet now,” he added. “I think perhaps he knows what he did—but it is sure that it was done in a fit of madness. He is ready to ride with her body to Glastonbury, and serve such penance as the Archbishop shall decree.”
I stared at him in outrage. “And you will have it so? That she shall fall into the hands of the church? I care not what happens to that murderer,” I said, “but Viviane must be taken to Avalon.” I swallowed hard so that I would not weep again. We should have ridden together to Avalon. . . .
“Arthur has decreed,” said Kevin quietly, “that she shall be buried before the church at Glastonbury, where all can see.”
I shook my head, unbelieving. Were all men mad this day? “Viviane must lie in Avalon,” I said, “where all the priestesses of the Mother have been buried since time began. And she was Lady of the Lake!”
“She was also Arthur’s friend and benefactor,” said Kevin, “and he will have it that her tomb shall be made a place of pilgrimage.” He put out his hand that I should not speak. “No, hear me, Morgaine—there is reason in what he says. Never has there been so grave a crime in Arthur’s reign. He cannot hide away her burial place out of sight and out of mind. She must be buried where all men may know of the King’s justice, and the justice of the church.”
“And you will allow this!”
“Morgaine, my dearest,” he said gently, “it is not for me to allow or to refuse. Arthur is the High King, and it is his will that is done in this realm.”
“And Taliesin holds his peace? Or is this why you have sent him to his rest, so that he might be out of the way while you do this blasphemy with the King’s connivance? Will you have Viviane buried with Christian burial and Christian rites, she who was Lady of the Lake—buried by these folk who imprison their God within stone walls? Viviane chose me after her to be Lady of the Lake, and I forbid it, I forbid it, do you hear me?”
Kevin said quietly, “Morgaine. No, listen to me, my dear. Viviane died without naming her successor—”
“You were there that day she said she had chosen me—”
“But you were not in Avalon when she died, and you have renounced that place,” Kevin said, and his words fell on my head like cold rain, so that I shivered. He stared at the bier and Viviane’s body which lay covered there; nothing I could do could make that face fit to be seen in death. “Viviane died with no successor named to her place, and so it falls to me, as the Merlin of Britain, to declare what will be done. And if this is Arthur’s will, only the Lady of the Lake—and, forgive me, my dear, that I say it, but there is now no Lady in Avalon—could speak out against what I say. I can see that the King has reason for what he wishes. Viviane spent all her life to bring about a peaceful rule of law in this land. . . .”
“She came to reprove Arthur that he had forsaken Avalon!” I cried in despair. “She died with her mission unfinished, and now you would have it that she should lie in Christian ground within the sound of church bells, so that they should triumph over her in death as in life?”
“Morgaine, Morgaine, my poor girl!” Kevin held out his hands to me, the misshapen hands which had so often caressed me. “I loved her too, believe me! But she is dead. She was a great woman, she spent her life for this land—do you think it matters to her where her empty shell shall lie? She has gone to whatever awaits her beyond death,