Mists of Avalon - Marion Zimmer Bradley [85]
“None of us knows what God wants,” Viviane said, “not you, nor I, nor even Father Columba. But it seems certain to me, and it needs neither magic nor sorcery to see it, that you must guard the life of this little one, since he must come to the throne.”
Uther’s mouth tightened. “God avert that fate,” he said. “I should grieve for Igraine’s sake if her son died, and even for my own—he is a fine and promising child—but he cannot be heir to the High King of Britain. There is no man in all the length and breadth of this kingdom who does not know that he was begotten while Igraine was still wife to Gorlois, and he came to birth a whole moon sooner than he should have been born, to be my son. True, he was small and puny, and babes are cast forth from the womb before their proper time, but I cannot go around and tell all those in the kingdom who were counting on their fingers, can I? He will be Duke of Cornwall when he is grown, but I cannot hope to make him High King after me. Even if he lives to grow up, which with his luck is unlikely.”
“He looks enough like you,” Viviane said. “Do you think everyone at court is blind?”
“But what of all those who have never come to court? No, I must get myself an heir on whose birth there can be no stain. Igraine must bear me a son.”
“Well, God grant it be so,” Viviane said, “but you cannot force your will on God either, nor allow Gwydion’s life to be thrown away. Why not send him to fosterage at Tintagel? That is so remote, and if you put him in charge of your most trusted vassal, sending him there would convince everyone that he was truly Cornwall’s son and you have no intention of making him High King; perhaps then they would not bother to plot against him.”
Uther frowned. “His life would not be safe till after Igraine had borne me another son,” he said, “even if I sent him as far as Rome, or to the country of the Goths!”
“And with the hazards of the road, that is not practical,” Viviane agreed. “I have, then, another suggestion. Send him to me, to be fostered in Avalon. None can come there except the faithful who serve the Holy Isle. My own youngest son is already seven, but soon he will be sent to King Ban in Less Britain, to be fostered as suits a nobleman’s son. Ban has other sons, so Galahad is not his heir, but Ban acknowledges him, and has given him lands and estates, and will have him at court as a page, and a soldier when he is grown. At Avalon, your son will learn all that he needs to know about the history of his land, and his destiny . . . and the destiny of Britain. Uther, none of your enemies knows where Avalon lies, and no harm could come near him.”
“It would keep him safe. But for practical reasons, it is not possible. My son must be reared as a Christian; the church is powerful. They would never accept any king—”
“I thought you said he could not be king after you,” Viviane said dryly.
“Well, there is always the possibility,” Uther said in despair, “if Igraine should have no other son. If he has been fostered among the Druids and their magic—the priests would call that evil.”
“Do I seem evil to you, Uther? Or does the Merlin?” She looked straight into his eyes and Uther let his gaze fall.
“No, of course not.”
“Then why will you not entrust Igraine’s son to his wisdom and mine, Uther?”
“Because I too distrust the magic of Avalon,” said Uther at last. With a nervous gesture he touched the tattooed serpents around his arms. “I saw such things on yonder island as would make any good Christian turn pale—and by the time my son is grown, this isle will be all Christian. There will be no need for a king to deal in such things.”
Viviane felt like raging, Fool, it was the Merlin and I who set you on that throne, not your Christian priests and bishops. But there was no good to be gained in arguing with Uther.
“You must do as your own conscience bids you, Uther. But I beg