Mists of Avalon - Marion Zimmer Bradley [465]
“Lady,” said Accolon, leaning over her chair, “even you cannot disrupt this holy day, or they will serve you as the Romans served the Druids. Speak in private with Arthur, remonstrate with him there if you must—I am sure the Merlin will help you!”
Morgaine lowered her eyes. Her teeth bit into her lip.
Arthur embraced the Saxon kings one by one, welcoming them and leading them to seats near his throne. “Your sons, if they show themselves worthy, will be welcome among my Companions,” he said, and had his servants bring gifts—swords and fine daggers, a rich cloak for Adelric. Morgause took up a cake, sticky with honey, and put it between Morgaine’s clenched lips.
“You are too fond of fasting, Morgaine,” she said. “Eat this! You are pale, you will swoon where you sit!”
“It is not hunger that makes me pale,” said Morgaine, but she took the cake in her mouth. She drank a little wine too, and Morgause could see that her hands were shaking. On one wrist there were dark bruises left by Uriens’ fingers.
Then Morgaine rose. She said quietly to Uriens, “Do not worry, my most beloved husband. I will say nothing to offend you or our king.” Then, turning to Arthur, she said loudly, “My lord and brother! May I ask a favor of you?”
“My sister and the wife of my loyal subject king Uriens may ask what she will,” said Arthur genially.
“The least of your subjects, sir, may ask for audience. I ask that you will grant me such an audience,” she said. Arthur raised his eyebrows, but took his formal tone from her.
“Tonight before I sleep, if you will. I will receive you in my own room, with your husband if you wish.”
I wish, thought Morgause, that I could be a fly on the wall at that audience!
6
In the chamber Gwenhwyfar had assigned King Uriens and his family, Morgaine combed her hair again with leaden fingers and had her waiting-woman lace her into a fresh gown. Uriens was complaining that he had eaten and drunk too well and was not looking forward to the audience.
“Go to bed then,” she said. “It is I who has a thing to say to him, it has nothing to do with you.”
“Not so,” said Uriens. “I too was lessoned in Avalon. Do you think I take pleasure in seeing the holy things put to the service of the Christian God who would strip all other knowledge from the world? No, Morgaine, it is not you alone as priestess of Avalon who should show your outrage at this. It is the kingdom of North Wales, I myself as ruler, and Accolon, who is pledged to rule when I am gone.”
“Father is right, madam.” Accolon met her eyes as he said, “Our people trust us that we will not betray them, nor let church bells ring in their holy groves—” and for a moment it seemed, though she knew that neither she nor Accolon had moved, that they were standing together in one of the magical groves, joined before the Goddess. Uriens, of course, had seen nothing. He urged, “Let Arthur know, Morgaine, that the kingdom of North Wales will not fall meekly under the rule of the Christians.”
Morgaine shrugged. “As you wish.”
I was a fool, she thought. I was priestess at his kingmaking, I bore Arthur a son, I should have used that hold I had on the King’s conscience—made myself, not Gwenhwyfar, the ruler behind the throne. While I hid like an animal licking wounds, I lost my hold on Arthur. Where, at one time, I could have commanded, now I must beg, without even the power of the Lady!
She had already turned toward the door when there was a knocking; a servant went to open it, and Gwydion came in. He was still wearing the Saxon sword that Lancelet had given him at his knighting, but he had taken off his armor and wore a rich gown of scarlet; she had not known he could look so fine.
He saw her eyes light on him. “Lancelet gave it me. We were drinking in the hall, and word came from Arthur that the King wished to see me in his chambers. . . . I said