Mists of Avalon - Marion Zimmer Bradley [333]
Morgaine shrugged. “I would not trust him even so far as that.”
“No doubt, like the Merlin, you have sorcery to give you knowledge of what may come if I do.”
Morgaine said indifferently, “It needs no sorcery to know that a villain is a villain, and no supernatural wisdom that bids me not let the nearest rogue hold my wallet for me.”
Whatever Morgaine said, Gwenhwyfar always felt compelled to do precisely other; always she felt that Morgaine thought her a fool without the wit to lace her own shoes. Did Morgaine think that she, Gwenhwyfar, could not settle a matter of state when Arthur was absent? Yet she had hardly been able to face Morgaine since that ill-starred Beltane a year ago when she had begged her sister-in-law for a charm against her barrenness. Morgaine had told her that charms often work as you would not have them work . . . now whenever she looked on Morgaine, she thought her sister-in-law must be remembering it, too.
God punishes me; perhaps for meddling with sorcery, perhaps for that wicked night. And as always when she allowed the faintest memory of that time to come into her mind, she felt her whole body flushing with mingled delight and shame. Ah, it was easy to say they had all three been drunken, or to excuse herself that what was done that night was done with Arthur’s consent, indeed, at his urging. Still it was grievous sin, adultery.
And since that night she had hungered for Lancelet, night and day; yet they had hardly been able to face each other. She could not look him in the eyes. Did he hate her as a shameful, adulterous woman? He must despise her. Yet she longed for him with terrible despair.
After that Pentecost, Lancelet had hardly been at court. She had never thought he had cared so much for his mother, nor yet for his brother Balan, yet he had mourned them both deeply. He had been away from court all this time.
“I wish,” said Cai, “that Lancelet were here. Who should accompany the Queen on a mission of this sort, except that knight Arthur has named as his queen’s champion and protector?”
“If Lancelet were here,” said Morgaine, “many of our troubles would be over, for he would settle Meleagrant with a few words. But there is no good talking of what cannot be. Gwenhwyfar, shall I ride with you and protect you?”
“In God’s name,” said Gwenhwyfar, “I am not a child who cannot stir forth without a nurse! I will take my chamberlain, sir Lucan, and I will take Bracca to dress my hair and lace my gown if I am there for more than a night, and to sleep at the foot of my bed; what do I need more than that?”
“Still, Gwenhwyfar, you must have an escort fitting your rank. There are still some of Arthur’s Companions here at court.”
“I will take Ectorius,” said Gwenhwyfar. “He is Arthur’s foster-father, and nobly born, and a veteran of many of Arthur’s wars.”
Morgaine shook her head impatiently. “Old Ectorius, and Lucan who lost an arm at Mount Badon—why do you not take Cai and the Merlin with you as well, so that you may have all the old and the lame? You should have an escort of good fighting men who can protect you, Gwenhwyfar, in case it is in this man’s mind to hold the Queen to ransom, or worse.”
Gwenhwyfar repeated patiently, “If he does not treat me as his sister, then his claim is worthless. And what man would offer any threat to his sister?”
“I do not know if Meleagrant is so good a Christian as all that,” Morgaine said, “but if you are not afraid of him, Gwenhwyfar, you know him better than I do. No doubt you can find an escort of old bumbling veterans to ride with you—so be it. You might offer to wed him to your kinswoman Elaine, to make his claim of kinship even more valid, and set him as regent in your place—”
Gwenhwyfar shuddered, remembering the great