Mists of Avalon - Marion Zimmer Bradley [396]
“He will come if he can,” Arthur said, “although Lancelet sent me a message earlier in this week, asking leave to go and aid his brother Bors if he is besieged there. I sent him word to come here, for it might be that we will all go. . . . Now that Pellinore is gone, Lancelet is king there as Elaine’s husband, while their son is a little child. And Agravaine will come for Morgause of Lothian, and Uriens—or perhaps one of his sons. Uriens is marvelously well preserved for his years, but he is not immortal. His elder son is something of a fool, but Accolon is one of my old Companions, and Uriens has Morgaine to guide and counsel him.”
“That seems not right to me,” Gwenhwyfar said, “for the Holy Apostle said that women should submit themselves to their husbands, yet Morgause rules still in Lothian, and Morgaine would be more than helpmeet to her king in North Wales.”
“You must remember, my lady,” said Arthur, “that I come of the royal line of Avalon. I am king, not only as Uther Pendragon’s son, but because I am son of Igraine, who was daughter to the old Lady of the Lake. Gwenhwyfar, from time out of mind, the Lady ruled the land, and the king was no more than consort in time of war. Even in the days of Rome, the legions dealt with what they came to call “client queens,” who ruled the Tribes, and some of them were mighty warriors. Have you never heard of the Queen Boadicea?—she who, when her daughters were raped by the men of the legions, and the queen herself flogged as a rebel against Rome, raised an army and nearly drove all the Romans from these shores.”
Gwenhwyfar said bitterly, “I hope they killed her.”
“Oh, they did, and outraged her body . . . yet it was a sign that the Romans could not hope to conquer without accepting that in this country, the Lady rules. . . . Every ruler of Britain, down to my father, Uther, has borne the title the Romans coined for a war leader under a queen: dux bellorum, duke of war. Uther, and I after him, bear the throne of Britain as dux bellorum to the Lady of Avalon, Gwenhwyfar. Forget not that.”
Gwenhwyfar said impatiently, “I thought you had done with that, that you had professed yourself a Christian king and done penance for your servitude to the fairy folk of that evil island. . . .”
Arthur said, with equal impatience, “My personal life and my religious faith are one thing, Gwenhwyfar, but the Tribes stand by me because I bear this!” His hand struck against Excalibur, belted at his side, inside its crimson scabbard. “I survived in war because of the magic of this blade—”
“You survived in war because God spared you to Christianize this land,” said Gwenhwyfar.
“Some day, perhaps. That time is not yet, lady. In Lothian, men are content to live under the rule of Morgause, and Morgaine is queen in Cornwall and in North Wales. If the time were ripe for all these lands to fall to the rule of Christ, then would they clamor for a king and not for a queen. I rule this land as it is, Gwenhwyfar, not as the bishops would have it to be.”
Gwenhwyfar would have argued further, but she saw the impatience in his eyes and held her peace. “Perhaps in time even the Saxons and the Tribes may come to the foot of the cross. A day will come, so Bishop Patricius has said, when Christ will be the only king among Christian men, and kings and queens his servants. God speed the day,” and she made the sign of the cross. Arthur laughed.
“Servant to Christ will I be willingly,” he said, “but not to his priests. No doubt, though, Bishop Patricius will be among the guests, and you may feast him as fine as you will.”
“And Uriens will come from North Wales,” Gwenhwyfar said, “and Morgaine too, no doubt. And from Pellinore’s land, Lancelet?”
“He will come,” said Arthur, “though I fear, if you wish to see your cousin Elaine again, you must journey thither to make her a visit: Lancelet sent word that she is in childbed again.”
Gwenhwyfar flinched. She knew that Lancelet spent little time at home