by Cheri Marie
Morgana owns a scrying mirror which allows us to watch the world as the Christians burnt the god’s woods and destroyed anyone who worshipped the old gods. People took to hiding their deities statues and attending Christian services. Others took to the woods thinking the Christians would only go so far and for the most part, the old gods kept the Christians from entering further into the forests. The forests were their domains now since they had been driven into hiding. We help many people hide as they were being hunted as heretics or heathens. I read their futures for them sometimes lying when I saw really bad things coming their way.
We came upon a wounded man one day while collecting dandelions. The man was lying on his stomach with blood seeping through his armor. We gently turned him over and I was shocked to see such a handsome man. His hair curled around his face. His nose was a little crooked. They carried him to the cave and cared for his wounds and washed his face. I would sit beside him for hours staring at his chest expand and deflate. When he finally awoke, he was a little weary of the two women hanging over him, but thankful that they had taken care of him.
"My people will be happy to see me well," his laughter booms as his eyes locked with mine. He licked his lips so I knew he appreciated the swell of my breasts as they peaked over the smock I wore. I smiled my biggest smile feeling a strange sensation in my nether regions.
Morgana pushes me to the side so she can speak to our awakened guest. “So you be a prince, sire? I don’t see many men your stature or dressed in armor as fine as yours,” she winks at him as he tries to stand on his own. The raven is perched on a stone ledge jutting out cleaning his ruffled feathers. What if this is the knight or prince I saw in the cards?
“Aye, I am King Uther of Pendragon at the service of my beautiful saviors,” he sweeps us a fancy bow as we giggle girlishly. Morgana and I introduce ourselves as mother and daughter. Uther keeps his eyes on me as I walk to the other side of the cave where we kept the honeyed mead.
“I heard about the Christians attacking and burning several villages so I assemble some of my soldiers and set out to stop them. We encountered a group of those warrior priests and killed most of them, however; there were a few hiding in the bushes and they stole my horse while one of them sent an arrow at me.” Uther told his story as he drank deeply of the mead. When he smiled at me I thought my heart was going to jump out of my throat. Morgana left us as she said she was going into the next village to see if she could track down any of Uther’s soldiers.
With Morgana gone, I was left to entertain our royal guest. I patched up his wound which was healing nicely. Afterward, Uther would take my hand in his and kiss the palm of my hand. He decided he wanted to wonder the forest a little. He mentions a sword of much importance that he hopes the enemies didn’t steal as they waylaid him in his travels. I help him find the spot where Morgana and I had found him.
We walked the area as I dug small marks in the trees with my knife. As we walked through the forest, Uther spoke of Pendragon’s war with a neighboring chieftain who sought Uther’s throne as Uther was High King of Wales. The sun glints off something hid by trodden mud and leaves. Uther’s face lit up as I drew the long sword from the slimy muck. He calls the sword, Excalibur, exclaiming that it will defeat any enemy.
“Why what a big sword, my Lord,” I say smiling boldly at Uther as I swing the heavy sword. There are intricate designs running down the thick blade and the pommel held a black stone which was missing a piece. Almost as if the jagged black stone hidden in my pocket would be a perfect fit.
Uther hunches his back as if he is getting ready to make a move. “I have another impressive sword, I’m sure you would find fits your hands better than the one you hold now,” his words playful as he dashes toward me. I surrender the sword into his hands.
“So when do I get the pleasure of seeing this other sword?” I purr in his ear. His hands lightning quick reach out for me but I am already running towards the rushing sound of water. I hold my dress up high as I run showing them off as Uther runs after me.
I reach the waterfall pouring water into a small bowl-shaped cut into the forest floor. Lush green shrubs grow around the banks as water lilies attract bees and butterflies. Before Uther reaches me, I strip down to nothing and dive into the cool water. Upon reaching the grassy bank, Uther tears off his clothing and jumps into the water with a splash.
He disappears under the water and I become frantic when he doesn’t resurface. A fish, I can see better as a fish and cover more area. “Zim zam zin,” I’m chanting when something grabs my leg and snatches me underneath the sparkling water. Uther pulls me into his arms and we come up to fill our lungs. Before I know it, Uther is kissing me—his hand tangled in the mass of my wet hair. His tongue gently strokes my soft lips and his other hand roams my body.
Cupping my breast, Uther sucks the water from each nipple as my head lulls in ecstasy. Morgana said coupling could be nice. I rake my nails down his strong back wanting more—needing more. He carries me, naked, out of the water, lying me down on the tickling grass as the ants scurry out of our way. Uther whispers roughly in my ear as he places my hand on his growing manhood. “Tis’ be the sword you are looking for, milady.” The whisper in my ear has my body tingling. I look at the long sword that has the head of a mushroom in exhilaration and fear.
“I won’t run you through, I promise,” he chuckles as he moves my hand up and down—the length of his shaft which seemed to be growing in length and girth.
Uther spreads my legs apart and uses his finger rubbing my lady’s nub in a circular motion driving me mad. My legs shook as if my whole body was quaking. My body engulfed in an icy; hot fire that I didn’t want to stop. I start to move my hips begging for more as his finger pushes between the folds of my woman parts. I’m wet and panting while Uther looks amused. His amusement fuels something in me and I jump up pushing his back to the ground as I mounted him taking all of him. I feel like a wild horse bucking and frothing lost in a world of pain and desire. My nails bite into his shoulder as our rhythm increases.
We both cry out—the world lost—just us lost in eternal bliss. He kisses me roughly as we lay looking at the green and blue canopy above us gasping for air and wore out from our lovemaking. “You should come with me Mim. You can be a lady’s maid to my wife and I will be able to see you more often,” he pleads as he twirls a lock of my black hair around his finger.
I agree to go with him knowing I needed to live a little and I couldn’t give Uther up just yet. As we waited, we drank deep of each other, enjoying each moment as if it were our last. We set out for Pendragon as soon as Morgana returned with the news that most of his soldiers had made it home while others were food for the crows. She gives me her blessing as she loaded a sack down with things I might need, including my cards and a scrying tool.
“You will find happiness but it will be taken from you. That is all I am allowed to say. If you need me, I will be there, my daughter,” Morgana tells me as we say farewell. “Enjoy what little happiness destiny is allowing you,” she adds eyeing Uther as he readies the horses for the long journey to Pendragon.
Chapter Eight
Pendragon is busy and beautiful. The palace was cut out of a huge cliff giving the palace an advantage if the town was ever attacked. The streets were busy with vendors offering savory meat pies, foreign spices, beautiful fabrics, and mesmerizing jewelry. The land was fertile and Uther enjoyed trying out new species brought from foreign emissaries. My duties as a lady’s maid to Uther’s wife were uncomplicated and unchallenging. My main duty was to keep my lady company whether she was in her own bower filled with the ladies of the court embroidering, singing, or dancing or taking a turn about her sprawling garden. Yes, my raven followed me to Pendragon and I kept him in my spacious room in the castle. He liked to sit above the door and announce visitors.
Igraine, although royal, was not beautiful. She was pale with dark circles under her eyes. Her blonde hair was thin and stringy which is why I remedied by k
eeping it held tight in a bun as her headdress covered the rest. She dressed in the most fashionable clothes Uther could offer but they only made her ladies look that more appealing.
Unlike many ladies of her situation, Igraine was humble and carried herself as a royal woman should—face composed, never giving away what she is thinking, she gave to the needy—sewing clothes for them with her own hands, and she never complained about her husband’s infidelities—which wouldn’t really matter if she had.
I went about my duties with proficiency winning Igraine over. She allowed me ample free time which was usually spent with Uther. When I wasn’t with Uther, I was in the garden telling the gardener which plants and herbs the lady would be needing during the winter. Igraine found out quickly that I was a “medicine woman” so she allowed me the use of the garden and the still room to dry and mix my tinctures. The townspeople flocked to me with their agues and pains. Uther would tease that he was jealous of my popularity with his own people.
Most nights were spent in Uther’s fresh smelling bed sweating and panting as we explored each other's bodies. I was lying on my back suffused in the glow of a happy woman as Uther run his fingertips softly up and down my side. The fire crackled and popped in the fireplace as the wind whispered through shuttered windows. Hanging on the walls, tapestries fluttered giving the walls the appearance of breathing in and out.
I watch the shadows dance across the room trying to think happy; strong thoughts. I had called Pendragon home for many months now before Uther’s rival started terrorizing the outlying lands which were under the protection of Pendragon. There were reports that the Christians were helping this rival since he converted and Uther refused their request.
As Uther fingers trailed across my belly, I knew now was the best time to relay my news. Propped up on one elbow, I take Uther’s hand in mine. “By the time you return, we shall have a child, a son—I think.” my happiness bubbling over as I hold Uther’s heir inside my womb. I rub my expanding belly with my free hand, the cards already confirmed the child was the son and heir Uther needed.
Uther sits up and takes a sip of ale finally finds his words, “Are you sure? A child—an heir.” I sit up slowly dressing as I shake my head and smile.
“Yes, I am sure. So you must return to me and to our son,” I exclaim as tears begin to trickle down my cheeks. Uther grabs me up and swings me about the room with his own eyes blurred with happy tears.
“I thought this day would never come,” he whispers to air. “I will speak with Igraine about lightening your duties. You are not to tire yourself out or to become upset,” he orders as he laces up his boot.
“I am not breakable, Uther. I am sure my duties to Igraine will keep me occupied while you are off fighting and I won’t be treated as a child,” I speak through gritted teeth as I think about the cards I pulled so long ago revealing my handsome King. Worry begins to set in as I wonder if this is the special child.
Uther pulls me into his chest, his heartbeat calming. “All will be as you say, my love, but if the child is a boy, he is to be named….”
A woman’s deep voice interrupts Uther before he can finish his sentence, “The child will be named Arthur for he will unite us all into one nation ushering in a golden age.” The voice, I realize, belongs to me, but where did the name Arthur come from, I hadn’t thought of that. It was a vision—it had to be, of course.
I could see Uther rolling the name on his tongue before he agrees. “Arthur Pendragon, a great King he will become!” Uther prophesied as he brings the intricately designed cup to his mouth. My raven lets out a squawk of approval at the chosen name.
Before leaving, Uther speaks to Igraine about my circumstance. She is thrilled with the news and a little jealous. After Uther takes his leave, marching his troops toward the villages that had been plundered like mine years ago, Igraine and I become close friends as we sew and stitch new garments for the upcoming arrival. She makes sure Cook keeps a fresh supply of quail eggs, a favorite food of mine, especially since I had become pregnant. The village people were happy to see Uther’s mistress heavy with child. The children flocked to me bringing little gifts—a bit of ribbon and fresh flowers.
Reports ride in on tired horses, the soldiers were holding their own in a squirmish against Uther’s rival. Uther was said to be in good spirits ready to use Excaliber, his trusty sword, to rid himself of his rival and the Christians. Court life had become dull without our exuberant King there to lead us, but I enjoyed the quiet moments I was able to talk to my growing babe—telling him stories of his father’s heroism and the tales of the gods, particularly about my biological father, Bran. I spoke about his Uncle Merlin wondering if I will ever see my twin brother again. Now, more than ever, I wish he was with me now.
Chapter Nine
I will never forget the day Arthur was born. Uther rode fast upon his horse fighting skirmishes along his border. I received a letter from him weekly. He hated not being here to see the pregnancy progress, but I often reminded him, in my letters, that he had saved himself the sight of a bulging belly and a brain-idled woman. My fingers, swollen, couldn’t sew nor embroider to pass the time. My body was soft in places that had been firm. My face even took on a rounder shape. I passed more time squatting in dark corners than I did sleeping. I stopped wearing undergarments because they took too long to undo resulting in pissing oneself. Oh.. but on to that fateful day.
It was midday when the pains came upon me. I was lounging in my room chatting with other ladies of the court. Igraine sent for the midwife who made her way quickly to my room. I felt like I was in a torturous vice—a burning hot one squeezing tighter each time. The midwife made me drink a foul drink. My hair was stuck to my face and annoying me greatly. My mouth is parched and my tongue feels swollen. By the time the midwife tells me to push, my body is more relaxed as I allowed my body to do what it was intended. I could hear my mother singing. I didn’t realize that the sharp-edged black onyx was cutting into my clenched hand.
Arthur comes into the world, screaming and waving his fist. A warrior, I think to myself when the midwife hands my son to me. Igraine is sitting beside me looking on my son with the love of a mother. I hugged Arthur to me feeling a sense of foreboding. What did I fear? I wondered as I nursed Arthur. The sensation pulling at my womb. I loved this tiny infant more than I had ever loved anyone else, except maybe, Merlin. We drifted off to sleep together. Mother and son. When I wake, Igraine was sitting in the chair beside my chair, holding Arthur naked on her lap. She had him unwrapped from his swaddling board, allowing him to kick his tiny legs and throw around his small arms.
“They like to be able to stretch. My mother warned that the swaddling board did more harm than good,” she spoke in a hushed tone. “I hope you don’t mind, but as the heir to Pendragon, I feel that I have every right to act as the boy’s legitimate mother.”
A little confused by her last statement, I scowl as I look at her holding my son. The windows start to rattle as they try to throw the locks keeping them shut. I must stay calm I take a deep breath and let it go. “What do you mean his legitimate mother? I am Arthur’s mother and everyone knows that.” I stammer afraid of what she would answer.
Igraine looks at me steadily. “My husband may not give much credence to the Christians, but they will not be forced back Mim. I converted to save Uther, though much good it’s going to do. However, under the church rules, no illegitimate heir may succeed the throne of any kingdom. Mim, they are claiming all the kingdoms are under the church and must abide their rules to keep their titles and lands.” She doesn’t look embarrassed by her confession nor at the intention of this conversation. Her face arranged so I couldn’t read what she was thinking, but I can hear her thoughts—loud and clear.
She stands up, hands Arthur to me, and turns to leave the room. She stops at the door, turning around to face me once again. I am fighting the tears back. I will not allow her to see me cry.
“I will stand as Arthur’s mother, you w
ill be his nurse—always with him. I can do that for you, but I must do this for the good of Pendragon. And once you have time to think; I believe you will see the right in the deed also,” her words sympathetic. “You have a visitor waiting to see you. I will send them up in a few moments so you can gather yourself.” She gives me a small smile and walks out the door.
Igraine had swaddled Arthur before handing him back to me, he was fast asleep looking peaceful during such an emotional time for his mother. I cried large hot tears wetting the swaddling blanket that kept my son straight so he would grow tall. I didn’t want to lose my son, I was his mother, not the barren Igraine. But I would be there with him every step of the way, actually spending more time with him than Uther or Igraine. He could call me Madam Mim, meaning Mama Mim. I wiped away the tears remembering Igraine saying I had a visitor. Who would be visiting me, now?
Bent over Arthur’s cradle, I hear the sound of boots on the wood floor coming closer to my room. Was it Uther trying to surprise me? I run my fingers through my tangled hair trying to tame it. I stand with one hand on Arthur’s crib, ready to show off my son, the heir of Uther of Pendragon. A tall man steps in pulling a hood from off his head. The blue eyes twinkling at me belong to my twin brother.
“Merlin!” I squeal as I hurry to him. He wraps his long arms around me, holding me tight. He smells of water and burnt wood. Something in the doorway catches my eye—Wolfy sits there wagging his tail happily at our reunion. “How did you know where to find me? Where have you been? Have you been to our village?” I question him wondering how he has kept up with me.
