Mists of Avalon - Marion Zimmer Bradley [363]
“Should I be happy at the thought of what I have brought on my own sister? I swear to you, I knew her not until the thing was done, and then, when I recognized her, it was she who comforted me, as if I had been the little boy who used to sit in her lap. . . . I think if she had turned on me and accused me, as she had every right to do, I would have gone away and drowned myself in the Lake. But I never thought what might come to her . . . I was so young, and there were all the Saxons and all the battles—” He spread his hands helplessly. “I tried to do as she bade me—put it behind us, remember that what we had done was done in ignorance. Oh, I suppose it was sin, but I did not choose to sin. . . .”
He looked so wretched that for a moment Gwenhwyfar was tempted to say what he wanted to hear, that indeed he had done no wrong; to take him in her arms and comfort him. But she did not move. Never, never had Arthur come to her for comfort, never had he acknowledged that he had done her any wrong; even now, all he could do was to insist that the sin which had kept them childless was no sin; his concern was only for the wrong he had done that damned sorceress of a sister of his! She said, crying again and furious because she knew he would think she wept from sorrow and not from rage, “You think it is only Morgaine you have wronged?”
“I cannot see I have harmed any other,” he said stubbornly. “Gwenhwyfar, it was before ever I set eyes on you!”
“But you married me with this great sin unconfessed, and even now you cling to your sin when you might be shriven and do penance, and freed of your punishment—”
He said wearily, “Gwenhwyfar mine, if your God is such a one as would punish a man for a sin he knew not he committed, would he then abate that punishment because I tell a priest, and mouth such prayers as he gives me, and I know not what all—eat bread and water for a space, or what have you—?”
“If you truly repent—”
“Oh, God, do you think I have not repented?” Arthur burst out. “I have repented it every time I looked on Morgaine, these twelve years past! Would it make my repentance stronger to avow it before one of these priests who wants nothing more than to have power over a king?”
“You think only of your pride,” Gwenhwyfar said angrily, “and pride too is a sin. Would you but humble yourself, God would forgive you!”
“If your God is such a God as that, I want not his forgiveness!” Arthur’s fists were clenched. “I must rule this kingdom, my Gwen, and I cannot do that if I kneel before some priest and accept whatever he chooses to lay on me for penance! And there is Morgaine to think of—already they call her sorceress, harlot, witch! I have no right to confess to a sin which will call down scorn and public shame to my sister!”
“Morgaine too has a soul to be saved,” said Gwenhwyfar, “and if the people of this land see that their king can put aside his pride and take thought for his soul, repent humbly for his sins, then it will help them to save their souls too, and it will be to his credit even in Heaven.”
He said, sighing, “Why, you argue as well as any councillor, Gwenhwyfar. I am not a priest, and I am not concerned with the souls of my people—”
“How dare you say so?” she cried. “As a king is above all his people and their lives are in his hand, so are their souls too! You should be foremost in piety as you are in bravery on the battlefield! How would you think of a king who sent his soldiers out to fight, and sat safe out of sight and watched them from afar?”
“Not well,” said Arthur, and Gwenhwyfar, knowing she had him now, said, “Then what would you think of a king who saw his people pursue ways of piety and virtue, and said he need have no thought to his own sins?”
Arthur sighed. “Why should you care so much, Gwenhwyfar?”
“Because I cannot bear to think that you will suffer hellfire . . . and because if you free yourself of your sin, God may cease to punish us with childlessness.”
She choked at last and began to cry again. He put his