The Last Enchantment - Mary Stewart [26]
I thanked the man, waiting, letter in hand, until he had gone. Then I broke the seal.
The dream had been a true one. Lot and Morgause were married. Before even Queen Ygraine and her party reached York, the news had gone before them, that the lovers were handfast. Morgause -- I was reading between the lines here -- had ridden into the city with Lot, flushed with triumph and decked with his jewels, and the city, preparing for a royal wedding, with a sight of the High King himself, made the best of its disappointment, and, with northern thrift, held the wedding feast just the same. The King of Lothian, said Ygraine, had borne himself meekly to her, and had made gifts to the chief men of the city, so his welcome had been warm enough. And Morgan -- I could read the relief in the plain words -- Morgan had showed neither anger nor humiliation; she had laughed aloud, and then wept with what appeared to be sheer relief. She had gone to the feasting in a gay red gown, and no girl had been merrier, even though (finished Ygraine with the touch of acid that I remembered) Morgause had worn her new crown from rising to bedtime...
As for the Queen's own reaction, I thought that this, too, was one of relief. Morgause, understandably, had never been dear to her, whereas Morgan was the only child she had had by her to rear. It was clear that, while prepared to obey King Uther, both she and Morgan had disliked the marriage with the black northern wolf. I did, indeed, wonder if Morgan knew more about him than she had told her mother. It was even possible that Morgause, being what she was, had boasted that she and Lot had already lain together.
Ygraine herself showed no suspicion of this, nor of the bride's pregnancy as a possible reason for the hasty marriage. It was to be hoped that there was no hint, either, in the letter she had sent to Arthur. He had too much on his mind now; there would be time yet for the anger and the distress. He must be crowned first, and then be free to go about his formidable task of war without being shackled by what was women's business -- and would, all too soon, be mine.
***
Arthur flung the letter down, was angry, that was plain, but holding it on the rein.
"Well? I take it you know?"
"Yes."
"How long have you known?"
"The Queen your mother wrote to me. I have just read the letter. I imagine it carries the same news as yours."
"That is not what I asked you."
I said mildly: "If you are asking me, did I know this was going to happen, the answer is yes."
The angry dark gaze kindled. "You did? Why did you not tell me?"
"For two reasons. Because you were occupied with things that matter more, and because I was not quite sure."
"You? Not sure? Come, Merlin! This from you?"
"Arthur, all that I knew or suspected of this came to me in a dream, one night some weeks ago. It came not like a dream of power, or divination, but like a nightmare brought on by too much wine, or by too much thinking about that hellcat and her works and ways. King Lot had been in my mind, and so had she. I dreamed I saw them together, and she was trying on his crown. Was that enough, do you think, for me to make you a report that would have set the court by the ears, and you, maybe, racing up to York to quarrel with him?"
"It would have been enough, once." His mouth showed a stubborn and still angry line. I saw that the anger sprang from anxiety, striking at the wrong time about Lot's intentions.
"That," I said, "was when I was the King's prophet. No," at his quick movement, "I belong to no man else. I am yours, as always. But I am a prophet no longer, Arthur. I thought you understood."
"How could I? What do you mean?"
"I mean that