Mists of Avalon - Marion Zimmer Bradley [499]
“I tell you, Niniane, I have seen it and so has Raven . . . we must look before sunrise into the mirror!”
“I put not much faith in such things, either,” said Niniane quietly. “What must come, will surely come . . . but if you will, Morgaine, I will go with you—”
Silent, like spots of blackness in the white and watery world, they moved toward the mirror below the Sacred Well. And as they went Morgaine could see, like a shadow at the corner of her eyes, the tall silent form of Raven, veiled, and Nimue like a pale shadow, all blossom and pale flowers like the morning. Morgaine was struck at the girl’s beauty—even Gwenhwyfar in the fullest flush of her youth had never been so beautiful. She felt a wild stab of pure jealousy and anguish. I had no such gift from the Goddess in return for all I must sacrifice . . .
Niniane said, “Nimue is a maiden. It is she who must look into the mirror.”
Their four dark forms were reflected in the pallid surface of the pool, against the pale reflection of the sky, where a few pale-pink streaks were beginning to herald the sunrise. Nimue moved to the edge of the pool, parting her long fair hair with both hands, and Morgaine found herself seeing in her mind the surface of a silver bowl, and Viviane’s stilled, hypnotic face. . . .
Nimue said in a low, wandering voice, “What would you that I should see, my mother?”
Morgaine waited for Raven to speak, but there was only silence. So Morgaine said at last, “Has Avalon been breached and fallen victim to treachery? What has befallen the Holy Regalia?”
Silence. Only a few birds chirped softly in the trees, and the soft sound of water rippled, falling from the channel which overflowed from the Well to make this still pool. Below them on the slopes Morgaine could see the white drifts of the ruined orchards, and high above, the pale shapes of the ring stones atop the Tor.
Silence. At last Nimue stirred and whispered, “I cannot see his face . . .” and the pool rippled, and it seemed that Morgaine could see a hunched form, moving slowly and with difficulty . . . the room where she had stood silent that day behind Viviane, when Taliesin laid Excalibur in Arthur’s hand and she heard his voice forbidding . . .
“No—it is death to touch the Holy Regalia unprepared. . . .” For a moment Morgaine could hear the voice of Taliesin, not Nimue’s voice . . . but he had the right, he was the Merlin of Britain, and he took them from the hiding place, spear and cup and dish, and hiding the holy things under his cloak, he went out and across the Lake to where Excalibur gleamed in the darkness . . . the Holy Regalia now reunited.
“Merlin!” whispered Niniane aloud. “But why?”
Morgaine knew her face was like stone as she said, “Once he spoke of this to me. He said that Avalon was now outside the world, and that the holy things must be within the world to the service of man and the Gods, by whatever name men called them. . . .”
“He would profane them,” Niniane said hotly, “and put them to the use of that God who would drive out all other Gods. . . .”
In the silence, Morgaine heard the chanting of monks. Then the sunlight touched the mirror and turned it all to shooting fire which flooded her head and eyes, burning, blazing, and in the glare of the rising sun it seemed as if all the world burned in the light of a flaming cross. . . . She shut her eyes, covering her face with her hands.
“Let them go, Morgaine,” whispered Raven. “The Goddess will certainly care for her own. . . .”
Again Morgaine could hear the chanting of the monks—Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison . . . Lord, have mercy, Christ, have mercy. . . . The Holy Regalia were but tokens, surely the Goddess had let this befall them as a sign that Avalon needed these things no more, that they should go into the world and be in the service of men. . . .
The flaming cross burned still before Morgaine’s eyes; she covered them and turned away from the light. “Even I cannot abrogate the Merlin’s vow. He swore a great oath and made the Great Marriage with the land in the King’s stead,