Even though all of these thoughts and anguishing desires were filling me, I was still aware enough to know that the child of The Merlin’s plans would come from this coupling. But, he would NEVER be the heir of the Dux of Dumnonia – for I would never allow that to be! After all, I was my Father’s “Pearl”... his rightful heir. No one will take it from me; must needs I kill them all! This I vow by all the Gods and Spirits that be – wicked or nay.
“SO BE IT!” said I, and snapped my fingers.
At once everything around me began to spin and whirl. I felt faint, as though I would vomit, for the chills and heat of the Sight were upon me. I braced myself against the cold Stones... Falling... falling...
I saw that beyond what was happening here in this chamber, there was something else afoot. What was it? Aah! It was Gwyddion, The Merlin, and his damned scheming!
As the developing Vision surrounded me, I began to understand his plot:
There was a Roman man and a woman of the Tribes in the near village – the light and the dark, the fair and the dusky – also coupling on this same Night of the Full Moon. You had arranged it, Merlin. Yes, and I can see now what you are doing. I feel the energy of your touch of blessing on this woman’s womb, so that she will become with child on this very same Night as Igraine. Yes, of course, I see the child of this couple being born on the very Night that Uther's bastard will be spawned.
But wait! I see Igraine with a cord in her hands, which she has taken from beneath her pillows. She has it in her heart to strangle that which will be born of her unholy making with Uther. But you, Merlin, you will never let that happen, for you want this child. You would make him War Chieftain and High King. I see it as clearly as I see your handsome face.
Then the Vision shifted.
Now I see you running, Merlin, you are running... running... But this is not a thing to be... No, you were on your way here to Igraine...
I see a Valley in Gwynedd... A bubbling Well... An evil bargain struck... A burning sword... I feel the terror of a battle... The downfall of the great Dragon... I see a fair-haired boy with a circlet of gold upon his head.
Then swiftly moving darkness carried me... Where?
No! Spirits, I want more! Then my Spirits left me and the Visions faded.
Slowly I returned to the dim light of my hiding place and to an awareness of where I was. Terror was rubbing against my leg in distress. I scratched behind his ears to quiet him.
I wondered for a moment, in my daze, if The Merlin’s political ambitions would go as far as to bring about the births of these two boys... – yes, they will be boys – at the very Time of Mithras’ birth... and of course, that of the Christian God’s. For, as they tell it, both of these Gods were born on “The Longest Night,” in the cold month of Luis, the Rowan.
Shameless Gwyddion... Would you fool men into equating your “King” with a savior? Do you manipulate even the tides of birth?
But I had to admit with a resentful admiration, “What a delightfully wicked plan this is, Merlin...”
But secret it is not! For I have been taken into your thoughts by what Dark Spirits ride me. Do you feel me there? Well, there I am! And I know what you are thinking. I know what you have done. I have been shown the design of your great intrigue. In fact, I have stolen your ‘Gifts’ of the Arts. Yes, the abilities to deceive, to swoon people into oblivion and forgetfulness – these I have learned from your thoughts, Gwyddion, The Merlin. Someday my powers will eclipse even yours... I have only to bide my Time!”
Yes... I knew the artful schemes of The Merlin. And I was very, very proud of myself.
It was upon that moment that I began to plot an entanglement of Divine proportion – for my own eventual triumph.
Gwyddion
My recollections of the Births...
There was a man named Markus – whose Father had been Roman and whose Mother had been of the Western Clans – living in the nearby village who was handfast to a woman of the Tribes, named Tangwen. They were good people – and of the same bloods as Uther and Igraine! The dark and the light... His colouring was just as was Uther’s... And Tangwen’s as Igraine’s... How perfect!
Now, I arranged with them that they, too, were to couple on this very Night of the Full Moon of the Alder, which of course is in the month of planting seeds!
But theirs was no ordinary Lovemaking. There were crafty acts about on this Night. Had the Voices led me to this plan, too? Never will I be sure, for I had awakened that morn with the whole idea in my thoughts. Well, no matter... there it was! I approached this childless husband and wife to ask if I might lay my hands upon her belly, to stir within her womb the ability to conceive, so that Tangwen would become with child that very Night.
I would also make sure that the two boys would be born on the same Night.
But I wondered; what was prickling at the back of my neck?
Morganna continues…
Three Days later, as the Full Moon waned, there arrived at my Mother’s house the very same couple I had seen in my Visions, along with some of their people. And just so, as The Merlin had arranged, they came into our lives and offered to stay at our fortress and be of service to my Mother in whatever way they might.
“We merely came,” said they, “out of gratitude to The Merlin... and compassion for you, Lady Igraine, and for your daughters.”
To my Mother they seemed very kindly and she immediately liked them.
So, all was set in place. The machinations of Gods and Spirits, The Merlin’s, Igraine’s and mine, began to unfold like a drama. Good, then... Let the game begin!
The months went by uneventfully and in relative peace, with no further communication from The Merlin and with both women progressively bulging like un-milked Cows. Then, the Time was upon them for the birth of the babes.
It was, of course, right on Time that The Merlin showed up to await their arrival and to put his protections into effect; this, I believe, so that Igraine’s son would not be strangled. What he did was very cunning:
The Night my Mother went into her birth pangs, her ladies were called into her chamber. The Midwives, who would help with the birthing, were there to comfort and reassure her – not allowing entrance to any male. The Grandmothers of her Tribe all stood vigil as they burned sweet Herbs and Hummed in an eerie drone. As Igraine’s pains became closer and harder, some sang sweet songs whilst others quietly Hummed and Drummed, for within their Humming and Drumming great Power is raised. This soothed her. Their wishes and Incantations were intended to let her feel only the joy of giving birth.
But Igraine said to them, “No, I would feel all the pangs of this birth. Let my joy come after this child is born.” – “...and dead,” she silently thought. And so they obeyed her.
Meanwhile, The Merlin went to see Tangwen – and as he had prearranged with her, touched his hand to her great belly to cause her Water to break – and on came her pains. He lulled her as had the Grandmothers done Igraine, so that she might have an un-eventful birthing and that the babe would be strong and live.
The boy that my Mother gave birth to looked like Uther. I knew this because again I had snuck behind the wall hangings. He had the golden skin, lighter hair, and blue eyes of many of that race of people. He did not look like Igraine, my sister, or me. In fact, he looked as Roman as he could look – as much as babies look like anything, the ugly little things…
But, the other baby born in our fortress that Night – Tangwen’s boy – came out looking like one of the Old Tribes. He was dark and black eyed. He had a head of black hair that was already full – whereas the screaming little thing that my Mother had birthed had only a little bit of scraggly blond hair on his head. And so, the two boys could not have been more different, one from other.
The Merlin quickly went to Igraine and asked if he might see the babe.
She said, “Yes.”
When he saw that Igraine’s child looked like Uther, fear filled the chamber! His fear... I could smell it!
Again he reached into his ‘bag of tricks’...
At that moment he made a great Enchantment, so that everyone in Igraine’s chamber, except for the babe, would fall to sleep and thus would they remain until he snapped his fingers to awaken them. He made it so that when they awoke, they would have forgotten everything which had transpired since the moment before the birth, with none ever being aware that he had Spelled them into forgetfulness.
He then rushed to the other birthing chamber with Igraine’s baby held fast in his arms – he, who would one Day be King. Gwyddion lay Igraine’s boy on Tangwen’s breast and took her child to Igraine – without even the knowledge of Tangwen and Marcus, or the other well-wishers who were waiting just outside the chamber door.
Just so, did Merlin the Enchanter, by his machinations, successfully switch the babes.
My Mother, when she awoke, saw everything as it had been before.
Then she looked, for the first Time, upon the babe in her arms – who she thought to be her own – and saw that he looked just as had her daughters when they were born.
She hesitated – her plan had been to have everyone leave the chamber and then to strangle the child, then to tell The Merlin that he had owned the babe for as long as it had lived.
Then, the babe turned his head, grabbed hold of the nipple of her breast and began to suck with a mighty suck. Tears fell from Igraine's eyes. A great Love for this child began to form within her.
When The Merlin reentered her room, he could feel it too.
Igraine was crying. He asked her, “Must I take this baby now before you kill it? For our bargain was that your child, who I myself must name, was to be mine when the appropriate Time arrived, to be fostered and trained to be a King! If he is in danger by your hand, Igraine, that hour is now!”
I laughed in wonder at his gift for manipulation – and at just what The Merlin would do next.
Then Terror and I turned our attentions elsewhere, for it had been a long Night. As for the rest of it, I would sleep very well, for I knew that with these revelations, I had the weapons that I would someday need to tear down the walls of The Merlin’s fortress.
Gwyddion
Once I had switched the babes and returned to stand in Igraine’s birthing chamber, she looked at the babe in her arms. He had just grabbed her breast and begun to feed.
She looked up at me and began to cry inconsolably. Sounding alarmed, I asked, “Igraine, what is the matter?”
She answered, “I must do something... for I swore to myself that I would not allow your plan for Uther’s bastard to succeed. I would kill this child of his... And yet, now... he is so small and defenseless, Gwyddion... so like my daughters were.”
Her voice trailed off.
“Oh, Igraine... Igraine... Love this baby boy. You have not another son – look at him; he looks just like you, there is very little of Uther in him.”
“Do not speak that name in my house, I loath myself for just now evoking it!”
“Excuse me Igraine, but I swore an oath to foil any plan which would bring harm to this child. Let us compromise, you keep him and give him a name of your choosing. If I have your word that no harm will befall him by your hand, then to no one will I speak a word of his parentage. All will believe him to be Gorlois’ son. But upon his twelfth year-turn, he must become mine to foster and to teach. It is then when I must give your son the name that he will carry as King of the Britons. Will this arrangement satisfy?”
She answered, “Yes, Gwyddion, we will do as you suggest” and then smiled. “Thank you, Gwyddion; I will name him Bedwyr, from the tongue of Gorlois’ Mother.” I smiled as well – but I smiled because I had accomplished the will of the Gods.
I went to the chamber where Igraine’s true son was lying in the arms of and suckling upon Tangwen. She and Markus thanked me for the safe arrival of their son and for the easy labor which she had gone through.
“You are most welcome. But now, I will ask something of you, in return.”
“Anything,” they replied.
“I must name your son upon his 12th year-turn, when I will come back to take both of the boys born this Night, to foster and to teach. This plan must remain secret amoung we three alone. In the meanwhile, name him anything you wish as his childhood name, but know that the name which I give him upon his leaving home and coming with me will from thence forward be his true name.”
“This is fine and good with us, Gwyddion, The Merlin.”
They lovingly looked into each other’s eyes.
“His name we have already chosen.”
Then out of their very mouths came: “We will name him ‘the Bear’.”
I started...
“What is this?!”
“Well, you did say that we could name him as we wished.”
“So I did... The Bear...” My voice trailed in thought… “Arthur.”
It was then that I knew with all certainty that the Weavers would have their fingers in the happenings of all things concerning Arthur, the future High King of the Britons.
I left shortly after the births.
Chapter 3
The Children
Igraine
I, Igraine, will tell you about my daughter, Morgan. We called her ‘Morgan of the Woods,’ because ever since she was a little girl, she Loved to go for long walks in the Forest. That was where she was most at home. She would splash in the Streams that wind like Serpents through the Woods. She would talk to little Birds, repeating all of their songs and chirpings and Butterflies would alight on her hands and hair and would hold themselves majestically still in her presence. Even those Creatures which crept and crawled through the sodden leafy ground were her beloved companions.
Once, from a distance, I watched as she spoke something which I could not hear. Then slowly, she swung her long silken black hair back and forth. The Butterflies followed her motions.
There was another quizzical thing about her – Bees seemed to Love her and never would they sting her. They buzzed around her always, as if speaking with her. When she thought that no one was listening, she buzzed back to them in a similar way.
Morgan flowed like a breeze through the leaves of the Trees and her eyes were aware of everything around her.
As the years went by, her ability to communicate with the Animals, Insects, and Birds – even with the Trees and Flowers – seemed to grow and grow within her. Yes, she had a special gift in these ways.
Morgan was a beautiful child; not just to look at but Enchanting from the depths of her Spirit. Although my two daughters looked almost exactly the same, Morgan’s being was different. Transcendent? Was that it, even then? There was a glow about her whole body; even the feel of the Air was changed, as, and after she walked by. Sometimes I watched as she raised her hands to the sky and I could see the Magic coursing from her fingertips upward.
Her voice was sweet as a Nightingale, exquisite in speech or song and her laugh was as winsome and light as a bubbling Spring.
Morgan was one with all of Nature and Creation. She Cast Love upon the Earth with her every footfall.
Morgan, my lovely daughter... my beautiful daughter. No matter the season, long Days would she go wandering amoungst the Snowflakes, Blossoms, Heather and Herbs or Leaves of red and gold. Sometimes I would become anxious for her as the deepening purple shadows of twilight would fall and she had not yet returned... foolish Mother. I knew the Spirits watched over her. But when it seemed she had been gone too long, I would wait for her from the lowest battlements, then suddenly she would appear from out of the Mists of the gloaming as if a specter – not wholly of this world.
Both of my daughters were beautiful, of course, but my “Morgan of the Woods” had the heart of the Great Goddess and HER blessings were within her.
As for Morganna...
Well, it would pain me to compare them so, for I hold, even yet, a Mother’s Love and bond for Morganna – Goddess help me!
Yes, Morgan was always smiling, always happ
y, except on that Night, standing in front of her Father’s funeral pyre. She held my hand so tightly. She had Loved Gorlois well, but it was me she was worried about, for my daughter Loved me with a great, abiding Love, as I did her. She was later to say that she was unaware of anything but my feelings of grief and overwhelming anger. She was only five years old.
She followed my gaze toward the unseemly clamor of armed Warriors galloping into the courtyard. And Morgan saw me stare – a vehement stare – at one man. He was Uther the Pen Dragon. But Morgan did not understand... not completely, and so thankful for that I have always been.
Only later, when she was older did she learn the truth of those heart-shattering, profane, and portentous events.
So, Time went on, and I, Igraine, continued to raise my two daughters – as much alike in the way they looked as were different beneath the skin.
As for the two young boys, they grew up, played together always and became the very best of friends.
I named my son Bedwyr “man of strength,” thereby blessing him with strength of body, skills, heart, and Spirit.
Tangwen and Markus named their boy “The Bear.”
Bedwyr and the Bear did everything together, including being trained in the Arts of war by Bedwyr’s Father, as was the custom of Warrior Fathers, and both were trained very well. But Bedwyr, my son, excelled. Although he was of smaller stature than The Bear, who grew straight and tall, Bedwyr bested him in all of the Arts of war. The Bear was excellent – Bedwyr was better. The Bear was a thinker – Bedwyr, an experiencer. Bedwyr had the Gift of the Sight – the Bear did not, but he was never jealous. He was a pleasant boy, always courteous.
In any case, the boys were best of brothers and the best of friends... they swore always to stand by each other, although there was no blood between them.
Now, Bedwyr was not as handsome in a traditional way as was the Bear. Oh, he did have charm and a very good sense of humour and he was far from ugly; he was just more ordinary in his looks. That was quizzical, because it was often said that my daughters and I were beautiful... and well... although I disdain speaking of who his true Father was, I will say that he was a handsome man – and let that be enough on the topic of his Father!
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