Mists of Avalon - Marion Zimmer Bradley [415]
They had had only a little wine and water before setting out, so Morgaine asked, “Are you hungry, Nimue? We can stop and break our fast as soon as we find a clearing, if you wish.”
“Yes, Aunt.”
“Very well.” And soon she dismounted and lifted the little girl from her pony.
“I have to—” The child cast down her eyes and squirmed.
“If you have to pass water, go behind that tree with the serving-woman,” said Morgaine, “and never be ashamed again to speak of what God has made.”
“Father Griffin says it is not modest—”
“And never speak to me again of anything Father Griffin said to you,” Morgaine said gently, but with a hint of iron behind the mild words. “That is past, Nimue.”
When the child came back she said, with a wide-eyed look of wonder, “I saw someone very small peering out at me from behind a tree. Galahad said you were called Morgaine of the Fairies—was it a fairy, Aunt?”
Morgaine shook her head and said, “No, it was one of the Old People of the hills—they are as real as you or I. It is better not to speak of them, Nimue, or take any notice. They are very shy, and afraid of men who live in villages and farms.”
“Where do they live, then?”
“In the hills and forests,” Morgaine said. “They cannot bear to see the earth, who is their mother, raped by the plow and forced to bear, and they do not live in villages.”
“If they do not plow and reap, Aunt, what do they eat?”
“Only such things as the earth gives them of her free will,” said Morgaine. “Root, berry and herb, fruit and seeds—meat they taste only at the great festivals. As I told you, it is better not to speak of them, but you may leave them some bread at the edge of the clearing, there is plenty for us all.” She broke off a piece of a loaf and let Nimue take it to the edge of the woods. Elaine had, indeed, given them enough food for ten days’ ride, instead of the brief journey to Avalon.
She ate little herself, but she let the child have all she wanted, and spread honey herself on Nimue’s bread; time enough to train her, and after all, she was still growing very fast.
“You are eating no meat, Aunt,” said Nimue. “Is it a fast day?”
Morgaine suddenly remembered how she had questioned Viviane. “No, I do not often eat it.”
“Don’t you like it? I do.”
“Well, eat it then, if you wish. The priestesses do not have meat very often, but it is not forbidden, certainly not to a child your age.”
“Are they like the nuns? Do they fast all the time? Father Griffin says—” She stopped, remembering she had been told not to quote what he said, and Morgaine was pleased; the child learned quickly.
She said, “I meant you are not to take what he says as a guide for your own conduct. But you may tell me what he says and one day you will learn to separate for yourself what is right in what he says, and what is folly or worse.”
“He says that men and women must fast for their sins. Is that why?”
Morgaine shook her head. “The people of Avalon fast, sometimes, to teach their bodies to do what they are told without making demands it is inconvenient to satisfy—there are times when one must do without food, or water, or sleep, and the body must be the servant of the mind, not the master. The mind cannot be set on holy things, or wisdom, or stilled for the long meditation which opens the mind to other realms, when the body cries out ‘Feed me!’ or ‘I thirst!’ So we teach ourselves to still its clamoring. Do you understand?”
“N-not really,” said the child doubtfully.
“You will understand when you are older, then. For now, eat your bread, and make ready to ride again.”
Nimue finished her bread and honey and wiped her hands tidily