Mists of Avalon - Marion Zimmer Bradley [83]
Morgaine came and knelt before the basin of water, looking intently into its clear surface. The room was very silent, so still that Viviane could hear the small chirping of some insect outside. Then Morgaine said, in a wandering, unfocused voice, “I see a boat. It is draped with black and there are four women in it . . . four queens, for they wear crowns . . . and one of them is you . . . or is it me?”
“It is the barge of Avalon,” Viviane said, low. “I know what you see.” She passed her hand lightly over the water and saw the ripples follow her hand. “Look again, Morgaine. Tell me what you see.”
This time the silence was longer. Finally the girl said, in that same strange tone, “I see deer—a great herd of deer, and a man among them with his body painted—they put the antlers on him—oh, he is down, they will kill him—” Her voice trembled and again Viviane passed her hand above the surface of the water, and the ripples passed over the surface.
“Enough,” she commanded. “Now see your brother.”
Silence, again, a silence that stretched and dragged; Viviane felt her body cramped with the tension of stillness but she did not move, with the long discipline of her training. At last Morgaine murmured, “How still he lies . . . but he is breathing, soon he will wake. I see my mother . . . no, it is not Mother, it is my aunt Morgause, and all of her children are with her . . . there are four of them . . . how strange, they are all wearing crowns . . . and there is another, he is holding a dagger . . . why is he so young? Is he her son? Oh, he will kill him, he will kill him—ah, no!” Her voice rose to a shriek. Viviane touched her shoulder.
“Enough,” she said. “Wake, Morgaine.”
The girl shook her head like a puppy stretching after sleep. “Did I see anything?” she asked.
Viviane nodded. “Some day you will learn to see and to remember,” she said. “For now it is enough.”
Now she was armed to confront Uther and Igraine. Lot of Orkney was, as far as she knew, an honorable man, and had taken oath to support Uther. But should Uther die without an heir . . . Morgause had borne two sons already and there were likely to be more—Morgaine had seen four, and there was no way in which the little Kingdom of Orkney would support four princes. The brothers, when they grew to manhood, were likely to be at one another’s throats. And Morgause . . . sighing, Viviane remembered Morgause’s vaulting ambition. If Uther died without an heir, then Lot, married to the Queen’s own sister, would be a logical choice for the throne. And the succession would be Lot as High King, Lot’s sons heirs to the smaller kingdoms. . . .
Would Morgause stoop to plot against the life of a child?
Viviane did not like to think that of the girl she had nursed at her own breasts. But Morgause and Lot, together, with their ambitions!
Easy enough, perhaps, to bribe a groom or insinuate one of her own men into Uther’s court, with orders to lead the child into danger as often as possible. Not so easy, of course, to get past a faithful nurse who was his own mother’s faithful waiting-woman, but she could be drugged, or given stronger drink than usual, to make her confused, so that something deadly found its way past her vigilance. And no matter how well a child rode, it would take more strength than any six-year-old had to hold a stallion who scented a mare in season.
All our plans could have come to ruin in a moment. . . .
At suppertime she found Uther alone at the high table, while the vassals and serving-men ate their bread and bacon at a lower table