The Last Enchantment - Mary Stewart [66]
"Let him do what?"
"Kill the baby."
"He killed the child Morgause has at the castle?"
She was too distraught to see anything strange about the form of the question. "Yes, yes!" She gulped. "And all the while it was his own son, his very own son. I was there at the birth, and I swear it by my own hearth-gods. It was -- "
"What's that?" This, sharply, from Ulfin, on watch in the doorway.
"Lind!" I stooped, pulled her to her feet, and held her steady. "This is no time for riddles. Go on. Tell me all that happened."
She pressed the back of one wrist to her mouth, and in a moment or two managed to speak with some sort of composure. "When he came, he was angry. We had been expecting it, but nothing like this. He had heard what people were saying, that the High King had lain with her. You knew that, lord, you knew it was true...So King Lot stormed and raved at her, calling her whore, adulteress...We were all there, her women, but he cared nothing for that. And she -- if she had talked sweetly to him, lied, even..." She swallowed. "It would have calmed him. He would have believed her. He never could resist her. That's what we all thought she would do, but she did not. She laughed in his face, and said, 'But do you now see how like you he is? Do you really think a boy like Arthur could get such a son?' He said, 'So it's true? You lay with him?' She said, 'Why not? You would not wed me. You took that little honey-miss, Morgan, instead of me. I was not yours, not then.' It made him angrier." She shivered. "If you had seen him then, even you would have been afraid."
"No doubt. Was she?"
"No. She never moved, just sat there, with the green gown and jewels, and smiled. You would have thought she was trying to make him angry."
"As she was," I said. "Go on, Lind, quickly."
She had control of herself now. I loosed her, and she stood, still trembling, but with her arms crossed on her breast, the way women stand when grieving. "He tore the hangings off the cradle. The baby started to cry. He said, 'Like me? The Pendragon brat is dark, and I am dark. No more than that.' Then he turned on us -- the women -- and sent us away. We ran. He looked like a mad wolf. The others ran away, but I hid behind the curtains in the outer chamber. I thought -- I thought -- "
"You thought?"
She shook her head. Tears splashed, glinting, in the firelight. "That was when he did it. The baby stopped crying. There was a crash, as if the cradle fell over. The queen said, as calm as milk: 'You should have believed me. It was your own, by some slut you tumbled in the town. I told you there was a likeness.' And she laughed. He didn't speak for a bit. I could hear his breathing. Then he said, "Dark hair, eyes turning dark. The brat his slut threw would be the same. Where is he, then, this bastard?" She said, 'He was a sickly child. He died.' The king said, 'You're lying still.' Then she said, very slowly: 'Yes, I am lying. I told the midwife to take him away, and find me a son I dared to show you. Perhaps I did wrong. I did it to save my name, and your honour. I hated the child. How could I want to bear any man's child but yours? I had hoped it was your son, not his, but it was his. It is true that he was sickly. Let us hope that he is dead, too, by this.' The king said, 'Let us do more than that. Let us make sure.' "
It was Ulfin this time who said quickly: "Yes? Go on."
The girl drew a shuddering breath. "She waited a moment, then she said -- in a light, slighting sort of way, the way you dare a man to do something dangerous -- 'And how could you do that, King of Lothian, except by killing every child born in this town since May Day? I've told you I don't know where they took him.' He didn't even stop to think. He was breathing hard, like someone running. He said: 'Then that is just what I shall do. Yes, boys and girls alike. How else shall I know the truth of this accursed child-bed?' I would have run then, but I could not. The queen started to say something about the people, but he put her aside