Mists of Avalon - Marion Zimmer Bradley [84]
“Igraine is still at her son’s side, sister-in-law; I begged her to go and sleep, but she said she would sleep after he wakened and knew her.”
“I have already spoken with Igraine, Uther.”
“Oh, yes, she told me, she said you have given your word that he would live. Was that wise? If he dies after that—”
Uther’s face was drawn and worried. He looked no older than when he had married Igraine; his hair was so fair, Viviane thought, that no one could see whether it was greyed or not. He was richly dressed in the Roman fashion, and he was clean-shaven, too, like a Roman. He wore no crown, but around his upper arms he had two torques of pure gold, and a rich gold collar.
“He won’t die this time. I have some experience with head wounds. And the injuries to the body haven’t penetrated the lungs. He’ll be running around in a day or two.”
Uther’s face relaxed somewhat. “If I ever find out who loosed that mare . . . I should beat the boy senseless for riding Thunder!”
“There would be no point in that. He has already paid the price of his rashness, and I am sure it will teach him whatever lesson is needed,” Viviane said. “But you should set better guard on your son.”
“I cannot guard him night and day.” Uther’s face was haggard. “I am away so often at the wars, and I cannot keep so big a boy tied to his nurse’s apron! And we have come near to losing him before this—”
“Morgaine told me.”
“Bad luck, bad luck. The man with only one son walks always at the mercy of any stroke of bad luck,” said Uther. “But I am remiss in courtesy, kinswoman. Here, sit beside me, share my dish if you will. I know Igraine longed to send to you, and I gave her leave to send a messenger, but you have come more swiftly than any of us dreamed—is it true, then, that the witches of the Holy Islands can fly?”
Viviane chuckled. “Would that I could! I would not have spoiled two pair of good shoes in the mire! Alas, the folk of Avalon, and the Merlin himself, must walk or ride, even as common folk.” She took a piece of the wheaten loaf and helped herself to butter from a small wooden cask. “You who wear the serpents at your wrists should know better than to credit those old fables! But there is a bond of blood between us. Igraine is my mother’s daughter, and I know when she has need of me.”
Uther set his lips tight. “I have had dreams and sorceries enough, I want no more of them in my life.”
This, as it was intended to do, silenced Viviane. She allowed one of the serving-men to help her to salted mutton, and spoke amiably about the fresh boiled herbs, the first of the year. When she had eaten sparingly, she set down her knife and said, “However I came here, Uther, it was by good fortune, and a sign to me that your child is guarded by the Gods, for he is needed.”
“I cannot bear much more of such fortune,” Uther said, and his voice was taut. “If you are a sorceress indeed, sister-in-law, I would beg you to give Igraine a charm against barrenness. I thought when we were wedded that she would give me many children, since she had already borne a daughter to old Gorlois, but we have only one, and already he is six years old.”
It is written in the stars that you shall have no other son. But Viviane forbore to say this to the man before her. Instead she said, “I will speak with Igraine, and be sure whether it is not some sickness in her which keeps her from conceiving.”
“Oh, she conceives right enough, but she can carry the child no more than a moon or two, and the one she brought to birth bled to death when his navel string was cut,” Uther said grimly. “He was misshapen, so perhaps it was as well, but if you could give her some charm for a healthy child—I do not know whether I believe in such things, but I am ready to grasp at any straw!”
“I have no such charms,” Viviane said, honestly pitying him. “I am not the Great Goddess, to give or withhold children from you, and I would not if I could. I cannot meddle with what the fates have decreed. Does not your own priest say as much to you?”
“Oh, aye, Father Columba