Mists of Avalon - Marion Zimmer Bradley [512]
“He may now call himself Christian, child,” the Queen warned, “but at heart he is an old pagan, sworn by the barbaric rites of the Druids, which you have renounced . . . you can see still the serpents he wears on his wrists!”
Nimue stroked her own satiny wrists. “Why, so does Arthur,” she said gently, “and I too might have worn them, cousin, had I not seen the great light. He is a wise man, and there is no man in all Britain who can play more sweetly upon the harp.”
“And there is the bond of Avalon to bind you,” said Gwenhwyfar, a little more sharply than she intended.
“No, no,” said Nimue, “I beg of you, cousin, say this never to him. He did not see my face at Avalon, he knows me not, and I do not wish him to think me an apostate from that faith to this. . . .”
She looked so troubled that Gwenhwyfar said lovingly, “Why, if you wish, I will not tell him. I have not told even Arthur that you came to us from Avalon.”
“And I am so fond of music, and of the harp,” Nimue pleaded. “May I not speak with him?”
Gwenhwyfar smiled indulgently. “Your father, too, was a fine musician—once he said that his mother had set a harp in his hand for a plaything before he was old enough even to hold a toy sword, and taught him to touch the strings. I would like Merlin the better if he stayed with his harp and sought not to be one of Arthur’s councillors.” Then she shuddered and said, “To me the man is a monster!”
Nimue said patiently, “I am sorry to see you so against him, cousin. It is not his doing—I am sure he would rather be as handsome as my father and as strong as Gareth!”
Gwenhwyfar bent her head. “I know it is not charitable of me . . . but from childhood I have had a revulsion for those who are so misshapen. I am not sure it was not the sight of Kevin which caused me to miscarry when last I had a chance to bear a son. And if God is good, does it not follow that what comes from God must be beautiful and perfect, and what is ugly and misshapen must be the work of the foul fiend?”
“No,” said Nimue, “it seems not at all likely to me. God himself sent trials to the folk in Holy Writ, for he afflicted Job with leprosy and boils, and he caused Jonah to be swallowed up by a great fish. And again and again we are told he made his chosen people to suffer, and even Christ himself suffered. One might say that these people suffer because it is the will of God that they shall suffer more than others. It may be that Kevin suffers this affliction for some great sin he did in some life before this one.”
“Bishop Patricius tells us that is a heathen notion and no Christian should believe that abominable lie—that we are born and reborn again. Or how should we ever go to Heaven?”
Nimue smiled, remembering Morgaine saying to her, Never speak to me again of anything Father Griffin said to you. She thought she would like to say it now to Gwenhwyfar, but she kept her voice gentle.
“Oh no, cousin, for even in Holy Scripture, it is told how men asked of John the Baptizer who he was. Some men said that Jesus Christ was Elijah come again, and he said instead, I tell you that Elijah has come among you already and ye knew him not. And men knew—so it says in Holy Writ—that he spoke of John. And so, if Christ himself believed that men were reborn, how can it be wrong for mankind so to believe?”
Gwenhwyfar wondered how so much knowledge of Scripture had come to Nimue, living upon Avalon. And she remembered that Morgaine, too, had known more, she sometimes thought, of the holy writings than she herself did.
Nimue said, “I think perhaps the priests do not want us to think of other lives because they wish us to be very good in this one. Many priests think there is not much time remaining before the world will end and Christ come again, and so they are afraid that men will wait for another life to be good, and will not have time to attain perfection before Christ comes. If men knew