The whole back wall of this Fire chamber is a secret Stone doorway. If I were to push this door open, I would find behind it a deep cylindrical shaft made of dirt and Stone, which is twice as wide as I am tall. It extends far upward as well as downward beyond sight. Every now and then, within its walls, there are open portals. If I were to jump into this shaft – which I have done on many occasions before this Day – I would float like a feather on a breeze, gliding downward or upward at will – there awaiting the one portal which most intrigues me. When found, I can enter it by reaching out to grasp the post and lintel opening, then pulling myself toward and through it. And there, as I enter through the opening, I would find myself in another Time and place; sometimes in another life in the distant past, or sometimes in a future realm. However, this is not the working for this Day, so I pass the Fire chamber and its passage by.
Walking toward the great hall’s back wall, I see through its large arched openings a perfect Forest and hidden garden, which is strewn with Standing Stones – some erect, some fallen. Although the light in this great chamber is always subdued – like mid-twilight, somewhere between light and darkness – the Forest – which is deep, lush and completely covered by a canopy of branches and leaves has a very different light and season each Time I walk into it. Sometimes it is Day and then in the blink of an eye, Night. Or Winter and then Summer. At this hour a beautiful Snow is falling in my Woodland garden. Perhaps, by the Time that I have my answer, it will be early Summer here, with petals falling, or perhaps the season of Red and Gold leaves. My Forest ever changes his face.
I exit through another passage on the far right of this wall, leading out to my sanctuary. There, in the distance, is a Spring, bubbling up between the exposed gnarled roots of a Birch Tree. All about I hear the whispering of the Wind through leaves, Bird song, and the rustling of small Creatures. There is a small clearing in the middle of the Forest where there is another Spring feeding a Well. It bubbles up in great, large, persistent bubbles coming from far beneath the Earth’s surface. It makes the sound of “gu-glug, gu-glug, gu- glug.” Beside this Well stands a monolith that is indwelled by the Spirit of the Spring.
It is here – amidst the Waters springing up from the depths of the Earth – that I will ask for the answer that I seek and listen for it.
So, I laid myself upon the Mossy ground near to the Well – for it had indeed turned to Summer in the blink of an eye. I aligned my Dream body with my body of flesh and bone, which lay upon the green Star Stone on the Tor – back in the world of form.
I prayed: “Great Mother, Goddess of the Stars, of the Sun disc in the Sky, and of the Fire in the belly, Healer of wounds, Great One of Magic, Granter of desires – please answer my entreaty.
“My questions are these: Why does this overwhelming Love between Arthur and I take each of us upon a different path – for so strong is our bond, yet we each feel it in our own and different way? And how may be prevented the dire consequences of Arthur’s jealousy over me? Speak to me, oh Lady of comforts; give answer through the sparks of this Fire – of this, my libation to you. For surely, the not knowing will drive me mad.”
I began to Hum an ancient tune... waiting. Then did the Voices of the Stars speak: “Morgan…” whispered they – “Yours is an eternal Love. You and the Bear have been together through many lifetimes in this world of form and so will you be for many more – and even when you have each accomplished what works have been fated for you upon this Earth will you be together amoung the Stars. There in the breast of the GREAT GODDESS will you be together and still will you Love. For there is a Sacred Secret; that once Love or anything else exists in this Cosmos, it can never die completely and become nothing. For all things, once in existence, become a strand of thread in the fabric of the Weavers’ great Web – the ONE, the ALL. Even beyond the next great dissolution, perhaps Love will remain. For when all returns to the MOTHER, SHE – who is Love – remains. This, however, is only a supposition on our part, for we, too, are part of this Time and can see no farther than what will be in this incarnation of this Cosmos.
“Morgan – at Arthur’s birth, the Stars were crossed. In this life, each of you has a great work to do, albeit different tasks, one from other. In each your own way, you will work towards the same objective. Arthur will make History and you will be its Keeper.
“You must be the Stone from which his sword finds its voice. And his must be the voice of the people, of peace, and of saving the old Gods and the old ways from extinction. So write, Morgan, collect your histories, thereby you may save the knowledge of the Mysteries.
“As lovers reveling in the gifts of each others’ souls and flesh, both of you would be distracted from these grand works you are about. For this reason the Stars crossed, but only for this Time, Morgan – only for this life, only for now.”
The Voices disappeared into the laughter of the bubbling Waters.
“Oh, Arthur,” quoth I, “then I am truly barred and forbidden to desire you in the way that you desire me. But my dearest one, never will my Love be barred from you.”
Tears wet my cheeks.
“But wait, do not leave me – please come back!” I prayed. “Oh Spirits, I have not yet gained the answer to the most important question of all…
“How can I be the Stone from which his sword finds voice and what must I do to protect him from this obsession of wanting me – from the dangers and distraction of it? His dread of my ever loving another could kill him, this I know. I would do anything to protect him. So please, what must I do?”
Once more they crept quietly and slowly into my awareness.
“Morgan... Morgan...” whispered They.
“Yes?”
“You know what you must do. Do we really have to tell you? Have you not yet learned, Morgan, that you must be careful of what you ask for? Everything has its cost. For everything there is a price. If we tell you what to do, you will obey us because of who and what you are. Do you really, then, want us to say it?”
“Yes,” said I, “because I would not have the courage to do what I think must be done without your direction.”
“Well then, if We must say it: If you would insure Arthur’s safety from the distraction of his jealousy over you, then you must never share your Love – your body – with another man while Arthur lives, and this you must vow to him.
“But be warned, although this will save him from his distraction – his obsession – and you will save his life for a Time, you cannot save him from his desire for you, or from the grief he must surely feel over what he has caused. He will loathe himself always for what price you will pay. Remember, Morgan, everything has its cost. We are sorry for you... We are sorry for you… We Love you...”
The Voices faded. I lay there softly crying with the gift of understanding.
I exhaled and opened my eyes. There I was amidst the Stones of the Tor, in the cold Midnight Air, with an aching back and a broken heart.
Everything has its cost.
Arthur
An entire rising and setting and rising again of the Sun had passed. She was gone from me, yet I was feeling better somehow.
On the Day past, Lucian had sent a request to speak with me. I was embarrassed to see him, but of course, I did let him come. Not a word passed between us of our combat – only did we speak of the Games and of who had been named Champion this year.
It had unfolded like this: At the very last, when all other contenders had been eliminated, the contest was between Bedwyr and the Scald Cuthbert of Hengist’s court.
This Bard had done well in the Games, in both strength and wit, but had saved his best for last. He bragged that no valiant acts of Archer, Swordsman, Ax Thrower, or Wrestler’s skill could compare with the wonder of the story he was about to tell.
With his marvelous voice that could be heard by all participants around the field and the audience of the Games, he told of the mighty adventures of Thunor – the Lightning and Thunder God of the Teutons. On and on he went
in a great song of power and beauty, as the Sun moved one sixth of the way from horizon to horizon. Never did his voice tire, nor did he stumble over a single word. All in rhyme was it, and all held within his memory.
Although the story was old and honoured, he himself had made the poetry and the melody and put the words together in rhyme. And, although he was Saxon, he had composed and sung it all in the tongue of the Clans. I believe this to have been the first of their sagas ever to have been translated and rhymed in Cymric.
Everyone was so rapt in their attention to him that for the whole while he sang and spoke, no one else uttered a word. Not a sound was heard but his enthralling performance. When he was finished with his story, many women and even some men had wiped tears from their eyes. None could but name him Champion.
Bedwyr was the first to call it. He said, “I bow to your greatness, Cuthbert the Bard; you are indeed Champion of the Games of Lleu! I concede to your brilliance.”
When Lucian described all of this to me – with his infectious charm – I had to leave my concerns and mad jealousy behind me and call this man ‘friend.’ I asked if he would stay here with us, in Our Fair Isles, as one of my Companions. This, he said he would gladly do.
As Time has gone by – until the hour of my writing this – he has become one of our greatest Warriors and truest of my friends.
He left me after a few hours and then I rested, awaiting Morgan.
When Morgan returned, I was fast asleep. She sent my attendant away and sat beside me.
For the first Time in my life, I had Dreamt a Dream that seemed more than just a Dream. I saw Morgan in a deep Cavern and then, abruptly, she was in a Forest by a Well. It was Snowing. I thought I heard voices whispering to her – then it changed again and she was on the Tor, crying. I awoke to find her beside me.
“The Dream I just had, Morgan – it was so real.”
I told her about it.
“Arthur, you were there! Did you hear what the Voices said to me?”
“No.”
She smiled sadly at me, held my hand in hers and said, “My beloved brother, listen to me – for what I tell you now is my Sacred, unchangeable, vow.”
A feeling of foreboding began in my heart and spread quickly to my arms, stomach, throat – where I felt that it might choke me to Death. She continued: “Please do not speak until I have finished. You are our King and the one who will bring peace amoung the peoples. Your great Vision as well as your acts of honour and valor will become part of history and because of my efforts in saving the true history of this Time, the old and true ways will not be forgotten. This has been promised to me Arthur, and this I believe. And so, I vow to you: as you live Arthur, I will Love no other nor to any other will I give my passion or body. You need never fear or imagine this again, for there is no one that I could ever Love as much as I Love you, my brother – my Bear.”
“No, Morgan! I will not be your bane – your ruin... I forbid this!”
“No, Arthur – this is my decision and my vow. You cannot change it.”
“Oh Morgan, no... I never meant for you to sacrifice your happiness for me. It is unthinkable.”
“It is unchangeable.”
“Oh, GREAT GODDESS, say it is not so. I have ruined your chances for Love and happiness. I never meant to hurt you, Morgan. I have been so blind and selfish. I loathe myself for this.”
“Arthur, I am happy, and I have much Love in my life. I live here, on the Isle of Apples, in peace. I have my work, my sisters and brothers of the Order, my bees – and I have my Love for you and our dear Mother...”
“I am cut to the bone by this. I will never recover from this wound. I am punished for my selfishness. Then, Morgan, I will also vow to you. Never will I…”
“Arthur! Do not dare to copy my vow! You will be mocking the cause of it and making my vision of you untrue. You are speaking from pain and self-imposed guilt. Stand strong, my King, this is the way it must be. It is Time for you to put aside your fears and put your Kingship before your feelings.”
I opened my mouth to say something else...
“Stop! On your Love for me, do not dare say what will or will not be. I have seen it... And I have seen your bedding many women in the future...”
“I could never... not now.”
“Long ago, Bear, before you were born, my wise and kind Father admonished me: ‘Never say, ‘Fountain – I shall not drink of thy Waters.’”
I felt the Wind from her energy blowing my hair back... so powerful had she become. I sat staring at her. Her eyes... they held me captive, and they were shouting at me: “Arthur this would be unforgiveable folly!”
She was speaking...
“What did you say?”
“It must become known that you can desire a woman who is not your sister. No insinuations of perversion can tarnish your history.”
“Perversion? You are but my half sister and we grew up not knowing. Do you, Morgan, call my Love for you perversion?”
“No, I will never think of it as such, Arthur. But in years to come, stories and legends will grow and change. They will be coloured by the values of those telling them.
“You will have an heir, a bastard like yourself... This, too, I have seen.”
“Oh, Morgan, will you ever forgive me?”
“My Bear, I Love and honour the man you are. You have done nothing for me to forgive. Let us vow to each other here and now that we shall allow no wedge to separate us or tear us apart – not ever.”
“I vow it, Morgan.”
“And I vow it too, Arthur.”
Morgan’s eyes – or those who spoke through them – had said: “You will have an heir, a bastard like yourself.” “Perversion... an heir? Morganna! Why had I never thought? Of course – Hers is the perversion. She will raise her child to hate me. Will he – or she – then Spell my doom?
For some strange reason, just as these realizations dawned in my thoughts, the ancient words I should have spoken at the Heiros Gamos Ritual – while I had instead just stood silent – came flooding back into my memory:
I am the great Stag
The hunted and the hunter
I am the Grain of the Barley
Full and ripe in my prime...
I am feral
I am hungry
I will taste of the ecstasy of your body
We will be as one...
Ever knowing I will be cut down
Like the Harvest at its prime
Devoured by you
Great Mother of the Earth
And there waiting in your belly
For the good and proper Time
Will I rise again as does the Grain
Another King, another son...
For from you all proceeds and all returns...
The Stag, the King and the land are one...
So now I knew. An heir... cut me down in my prime.
“Then indeed, I have much to accomplish while I live. Again Morgan, your Wisdom leads me. Thank you, my eternal beloved.”
Post-scriptum...
If I have got a bastard upon Morganna Le Faye, then in all urgency I must beget a legitimate heir upon my wife Gwenyfar. Pray the Gods I may persuade her understanding and cooperation in this…
Chapter 20
Return to Gwenyfar
Arthur
When I healed from my wound, I took leave of Morgan, Lady Vivianne, and the others of the Order and began my return to Dumnonia. However, first I veered in a more Northerly direction to visit the great baths of Aquae Sulis, which the Romans had built. The entire setting was magnificent! Great marble statues of Roman Gods and Mythic beings stood everywhere I looked. Even the interior of the pools themselves were covered in smoothly fired pottery tiles – depictions of Neptune, Jupiter, Minerva, and Nymphs of the Seas. Around the old Roman town and baths, a great city and marketplace had sprung up. Once, there had been whole streets of Iron Forgers and Gold- and Silver-Smiths, Merchants hawking exotic Herbs and even Fruits that di
d not grow on Our Fair Isles; also were there wines from the Roman vineyards of Gaul, silks from the East, and beautiful woolen carpets. Virtually every luxury that one could hope to purchase had been available. But, that was in a Time past... Now the baths were not as well manned as they had been; where once had been a great city, there was now a mean town. Yet, it did still support a thriving market. Of course, this was the high season for travelers and therefore also for Merchants. Surely before the Days grew colder and while the passage was still good, some of these Merchants would cross the Eastern Sea to the warmer lands on the Continent.
However, the hot Healing Springs would flow all year long – intensified by brilliant Roman engineering. And there I was, fascinated by it all.
My plan was to bring a gift of great beauty and worth home to Gwenyfar. The gift must be something personal to praise and enhance her beauty – a husband’s or lover’s gift.
I searched every Merchant’s tent or wagon for two Days, walking through dusty streets filled with well-kempt tents and ramshackle huts and smells of all sorts – sweet and pungent as well as the stench of overripe meats, fish and refuse.
Finally, following the scent of an exotic perfume, I looked into the open entrance of a pavilion, the ceiling of which spiraled upward into a pointed cone shape. The light wooden frame had strange letters from the desert lands of the East etched into it. I had seen these letters before in one of Morgan’s books. Within was a man with brilliant white teeth smiling at me and welcoming my presence.
I paid close attention to the Merchant himself. He had a dusky complexion, was well dressed and groomed with perfectly clean hands – even beneath his fingernails. In his youth I suppose that he had had dark hair, but now it was mostly white, and very curly. His intelligent eyes were large and almond-shaped – and he was somewhat corpulent, which is taken as a sign of prosperity amoung his people. This would be fun. I entered.
Voices of the Stars Page 37
