As is our long-held tradition, the one to be ‘Goddess’ in the fertility Rites was chosen thusly:
From all of our Enchantresses, The Nine would discuss amoungst themselves the qualities, Gifts, and devotion of each, and from them, select nine names to seal into a chest, called the Bowl of Choosing.
Why it was called a bowl? I have no idea – except that at one Time, long ago, perhaps it was a bowl.
But, I digress...
So it was that at the beginning of our year, which was at the Time of Red and Gold leaves, Morgan’s name had been sealed in the Bowl of Choosing, along with the names of the eight other Enchantresses who were deemed to be ready and worthy to fill the role of the Goddess in the Sacred Marriage with the man who was to be the Stag God for this year’s Rite.
At the end of our next Festival – that of The Longest Night – The Nine would hold a three-Day council, in which none would leave the company of the others, to thoroughly compare the attributes of each of the young women whose names were retrieved from the chest. Then we would vote as to which one of the Enchantresses would have this Sacred privilege.
I, being the Lady, would always hold my vote until the last. We preferred a unanimous decision on this, however, upon some years the votes were split. Mine, being the ninth, could always be a tie-breaker.
The great problem was that I had already known, having been told by Igraine, that Arthur – and not Bedwyr – was Morgan’s true brother and that Gwyddion, The Merlin had raised him to be fit as High King. But that information had been for my ears only at that Time – I had promised to tell no one of it.
To place these events in their proper sequence for the reader, this choosing council was held before Gwyddion, Bedwyr, and Arthur had come to the Isle for the Ritual Blessing – and before any of my sisters of The Nine knew that Arthur and Morgan were half-brother and sister – or even that Arthur or Bedwyr would become King!
The Night before our choosing council, I, in a fretful fatigue, had finally fallen to sleep just before Dawn. I had a Great Dream. The Weavers appeared before my eyes, to tell me that Morgan must, without fail, be the chosen one. Even in my Dream I questioned the Wisdom of this – of the potential political implications, what with the over-sensitive morality of the Christians – even with some of the Clans... and then there was the heartache it would undeniably cause to Morgan – perhaps even to Igraine... or to Arthur??? The answer came as if a roar of the Ocean... as if the whole Earth shook... “I AM WISDOM!” After that I feared to question again.
So, when the Time came to discuss Morgan’s qualities at the conclave, I held nothing back. She was, of course, my favourite. I had said all but that. I knew from the first round of discussion that Morgan was the choice of every one of the other eight. At the end of all talk, when everyone else’s votes had been cast, I told my sisters of my Dream. Then I added my vote to theirs, to make it unanimous.
Yes, Morgan was just that exceptional. She had obtained – or perhaps, better said, had been Gifted by the Spirits – Mysteries and Wisdoms far beyond her years or even beyond the level of our Order’s teachings; for there are indeed “Knowings” and abilities which are given to some few ascended ones directly by the Gods.
I knew that to lie with her brother would present a very difficult problem for Morgan. But what could I do? The Goddess had spoken... What will be, will be! Only the Weavers can know how they will spin our lives to the ending of a thing – or what blessing or calamity may come of it... Of course I said nothing to Morgan of this at that Time.
A week before the Rite, I told Morgan that she had been chosen to embody the Goddess/Lover in the Heiros Gamos – the Sacred Marriage. She cried inconsolably.
“Oh no, you cannot ask this of me! We were born and raised in the same household! He is my little brother of the heart, I have always thought of him as such, although I knew not we were of the same Mother. The Night the babes were born, I held them both in my arms. I played children’s games with Arthur, my little Bear. I taught him to read and write. It was I who gave him the knowledge of Herbal lore, the Forest secrets, and the myths of my Mother’s people. It was I who sat awake all Night when he was but three year-turns and had the spotted fever. I wiped the tears from his eyes when he was six and had cut his knee, so that no one else would know that he had been crying. I...”
“Morgan, shh... The Goddess has spoken – not only once, but twice!”
Morgan replied, “Oh, my Lady Vivianne” – she having fallen to her knees in supplication before me – “Forgive me, my Lady, but are we not all Human and fallible, even you my Lady? Have you not taught this to us yourself?”
“Yes... This is true, I am fallible Morgan. What would satisfy your doubt?”
“I... Let me think... Yes, if you would call all of the Enchantresses here together and let us Divine Her answer once more by drawing lots, then, if I am chosen for the third Time, by the Power of Three, I will obediently submit to Her will.”
She must have been in a terrible state of feeling, for really, she had no choice in this matter. But because my heart – yes, I do have one, although many may not think so – went out to her in her pain, I decided to prove the GODDESS’ will – by the Power of Three.
I called the Nine and all the Enchantresses together, had the young women draw lots and the outcome was the same... SHE had chosen Morgan!
And so it was...
Chapter 9
Morgan and Arthur
Arthur
Two weeks before the Rite of Fertility, Gwyddion, Bedwyr, and I arrived at the Isle; I, for cleansing, preparation, and learning the secrets of the Sacred Marriage – Gwyddion to rest and refresh his Spirit and body – and for Bedwyr to work with the young Priests in preparation for the joyous Night.
Now, Bedwyr was not like me in that he was no stranger to the Sacred Pleasures – the acts of Love between a man and a woman. Igraine had spoken well with him of all the ways of pleasuring a woman. This, he said, she had done not long before he left with The Merlin and me at our twelfth year-turn.
Bedwyr had shared with me what she had said: “For to drink at the Well of a woman’s body is an act of worship to the Goddess.”
So, these pleasures he had enjoyed often and apparently with much relish, whereas I had never... There was, after all, a small village not very far from Gwyddion’s Cave...
But Lady Igraine, not knowing that I was her son, had said nothing to me.
My parents – Tangwen and Marcus – had never had these talks with me. I suppose they expected that The Merlin would include this into my training, but alas...
No one told me which Enchantress had been chosen to lie with me on that fateful occasion. So it was – and always would be – that I, upon arrival and having been greeted by the Lady Vivianne, sought out my Morgan.
I had wandered the whole of the Order’s lands, seeking her for the entire first Day, but to no avail... That Night I asked The Lady where I might find Morgan... She only said, “She is in solitude... meditating, I believe, my Lord.”
It was strange to my ears to be called “my Lord” by The Lady of the Lake... I supposed I must become used to this.
Morgan was not at the bonfire that Night, either.
The next morning, after I had arisen, I hurried to the communal tables to break my fast. Even there, Morgan was not to be found.
“Oh, well, then,” thought I, ”she is probably already busy with her Bees.” So I looked there. She was still not to be found...
Where then, could she be? Of course! She must be meditating at the Stone Circle on top of the Tor.
So I followed the great spiral path up, up, up – toward the top of the Tor. I became dizzy and disoriented half the way to the top. In fact, I barely made it there without falling off of the path. Not from the physical exertion – for I was Warrior trained. No, it was from some other “Pull”– which I had never felt before! Finally I did reach the top. There I found Morgan.
“Greetings and Love, my sister, ha
ve you been well?”
I kissed her on both cheeks and her forehead and then knelt at her feet.
“Yes, Arthur,” she replied.
“Morgan, it is so good to see you. You grow even more beautiful every Day, it seems.” I lowered my gaze for a moment... “I have missed you so.”
“And I you, my Bear.”
She had addressed me by my childhood name. I felt it smart. Could she not see that I was a man grown now?
There was an awkward silence between us... Or perhaps it was only I who was awkward. I turned my eyes downward again...
“Arthur, something is bothering you. Is it anything I can help you with?”
“Yes, Morgan, I am bothered. But, this which bothers me... well, it is a secret that I have held from all but Bedwyr. It is so embarrassing to speak of – and all the more so to say it to you. Yet, you are the only one who I feel will not shame me for it... except for Gwyddion that is. But he would be of no help to me in this matter.
“Oh, how impetuous I am, always rushing. My concerns can wait...
“How I have longed to see you, Morgan.”
Morgan peered straight into my eyes, and she looked as sad as I had ever seen her... So beautiful was she, even in sorrow.
“Are you really alright, Morgan?”
“Oh, yes, Arthur...” said she, with a sigh of weariness.
“You are tired, Morgan. Well, then, please let us just sit here on this cool, Sunny Day and talk with one another while we have this Time alone. Let us speak only of pleasurable things for as long as you will, before I burden you with my troubles.”
She smiled.
“Arthur, that is so like you – always kind and considerate. Of all the many things which I have Loved and admired about you, your selflessness and concern for others tops my very long list.”
“I have always Loved you, too, Morgan, as much as I could ever Love! To learn that you are my half-sister changes nothing. I think you know this.”
At that moment, I knew that she understood my meaning... She understood everything! The North Wind stirred... She knew... “Daughter of the Wind” that she was... She knew... Nothing more need be said of it.
And so, she veered our conversation toward safer ground. We spoke of shared childhood memories. Then, we spoke of Morgan’s work and studies here on the Isle of Apples. How she had accomplished three stages of Initiation and that now she was an “Enchantress.” I mused that she had always Enchanted me... She talked about her beloved Bees.
Thusly did we while away the afternoon and all too soon the Sun began to fall beneath the disk of the Earth. Twilight was upon us.
Then Morgan broached the subject of my concerns again:
“We are entering the hour of deep shadows and of darkness. This is the Time between Times. Once it is full dark, it can be treacherous coming down the Tor’s spiral path with no torchlight. So speak to me of these shadows that you hold within you. You trust me Arthur, I know this and so you can. In this you pay me great honour. Nothing can be as bad as all that, for you have not within you a place for evil. Tell me what you will Arthur, my Love, for you will not be diminished by whatever haunts you. I want to help you if I can.”
I lowered my gaze from hers, but she raised my head with her gentle hand and bade me not to turn away from her.
I blurted it out... “I have never lain with a woman! Oh, it is not that I desire men... It is just that... I can feel no desire for anyone but... with anyone who is not...” I sighed... “for anyone I have met since I left home!”
How could I tell her that she was the only woman I could ever desire? For as long as I can remember, it was only Morgan. As soon as my body began to change and to feel sexual urges... the Dreams of my Nights, which left me panting in a sweat, were always of Morgan. When, as a youth the flames within my waking body had to be quenched by my own hand, it was Morgan’s beautiful face I saw behind my closed eyes. I had always believed that one Day I would make her my own. We would marry; have children and live our lives in true happiness. But then, thought I – “Where is the humanity? She is a Priestess, living on this Isle and I must be King – so far from her touch... And now, the ugliest of all the Trickster’s tricks... Oh, Gods, you have dealt me treachery! She is of my own Mother’s blood! Oh the dreadfulness of Fate, that she is my sister... Why do the Gods torment us so?
Like the feasts of Spiders... we hang suspended... bound in their silken threads... where ne’er they let go...
“Oh, but what folly of mine is this, to curse the Gods in this Holy place? Here – I whimper and moan like a puppy. Of course, other men will know her! And I will never – this, then, is the curse of Arthur, the King. All the rest I could accept, if only she could be near to me, even if only as sister.”
Lost in thought as I was, still I heard her gentle voice call my name:
“Bear, I will always be with you, for you are in my heart and there you will stay, until I close my eyes in Death’s embrace.”
Had she been reading my thoughts again?
Well, so be it! I act like a clumsy fool when I am around her. I wish I could hide the truth from her.
Then, from somewhere behind my eyes I heard...
“Would that not be the greatest tragedy of all?”
What? Who had spoken those words to me? Were those the “Voices” of whom I had heard Gwyddion speak? Had they truly whispered this into my head? Could it be so – that I curse the Gods and then in their infinite mercy, they give the only answer I could live with? So then, I must tell her with my words, when the moment is right. Whatever we are to be to each other, it will at least be honest. We would have no dark secrets to shadow what fond closeness we might share.
Morgan
I enter here, into Arthur’s writings, this page of my own, for the sake of continuity and to tell what my own thoughts and feelings were at that Time...
I said to him, “Arthur, let us speak without embarrassment or discomfort. If you are afraid that you will not know what to do, do not worry about that. As part of our training and worship of the Goddess, all of the Enchantresses are taught to be very proficient in the Art of sexual Love. In fact, you could have none better to teach you the ways of great pleasure – for yourself – as well as the women in your life with whom you are sure to share these skills.”
“But, I want no one save...”
“Arthur! You ask for my help, but you do not listen... Your natural healthy desires will awaken to the Enchantress – or to ANY woman, and your body will take over and respond.”
“You know this yourself Morgan? Have you... Oh, forgive me; I have no right to question... to ask you this. I say too much. I am so sorry.”
I looked at Arthur – perhaps for the first Time as a man. I coolly appraised him. The first thing one notices about him are his stunning and compelling, beautiful blue eyes... Beyond beautiful! No one could look at them without becoming enthralled. He stood straight and tall, with wide shoulders and muscular arms. Yet he was lithe and agile as a Stag... A Stag... The King Stag... The Hunter... Yes, he looked like a God – the strong, but finely chiseled features of his face, his straight Roman nose. He had very light brown hair, streaked golden by the Sun, which rolled in waves pushed back from his face. He was very tall – taller than most men, which was surprising to me, as he was Igraine’s son. But then, I remembered that Uther’s blood was his as well. His hands and feet were large, which we Enchantresses were taught usually meant that he would be well endowed in his man-parts. I imagined that every woman’s head would turn toward him at his approach – and that all of the other Enchantresses would be having fun with their bawdy talk and laughter, wishing that they could have been the one chosen as his “Goddess” for the Festival Night. Yes, why would any woman not want him?
I said, “Arthur, do you not realise how desirable you are to women? He looked at me with a question in his eyes...
“Am I, Morgan?”
We stood looking at each other in silence – my uneasiness grow
ing. Was that a seductive tone I had just heard in his voice? What could I say to him, without crushing my beautiful little brother’s heart? He whom I had so Loved since he was a babe?
Yes, I knew the significance behind his question…
“Arthur – trust me, you will be alright. Through your life you will bring many women to your bed, to give and to receive pleasure and to ease the pressures of being King. All will be well Arthur, please believe me.”
But when I had spoken those words, a shiver went through my body. Was this truth or lie? Or was it only wishful thinking on my part?
Arthur
I, Arthur, have written of this – my most secret of secrets – because, when we were still children at Dumnonia, and Morgan offered to teach me how to read and write, it was with the promise that I would someday keep a book of my life and of my true feelings. I gave to her the promise that I would. I have always and always will keep my promises to her.
If you are reading this entry Morgan, I have probably died and am awaiting you in the Summerlands – for there, too, will I Love you beyond all measure.
Morgan
The Sacred Marriage...
The Days were coming closer and closer to the Rite of the Heiros Gamos...
Oh, what would I do? I do not really mean do... I had been well taught which things to do and say to inflame a man to passion and how to emit the scent of mating which all Animals awaken to by their very nature – but which many Humans have lost the ability to recognize. These are things that were well known by all women of our ancient Ancestors, but it seems that, as Time goes by, more and more people have disconnected from their instincts. It is said that only the Magi... the Adepts... and the wild Tribes upon the Earth now live by their instincts along with their thoughts. To live this way is one of the highest goals of all Mystery Traditions: To BE... and feel as one with the All and to know our Animal natures as well as our Godlike natures. Yet even more: To speak with the Green Earth, the bubbling and rushing Waters, to listen to all flying Creatures as well as those who walk, slither, creep and crawl. These things, I hope I have learned well.
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