THE CURSE OF EXCALIBUR
Book II of THE MORGAN TRILOGY
LAVINIA COLLINS
Published by
The Book Folks
London, 2015
© Lavinia Collins
THE CURSE OF EXCALIBUR can be enjoyed on its own or as part of THE MORGAN TRILOGY.
Download the first book, THE WITCHES OF AVALON for your kindle.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00WN9F2K4/
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00WN9F2K4/
For Judith, who didn’t make it this far,
but without whom I could never have begun.
And Queen Morgan said, “Tell Arthur that I will not fear him while I can change me and mine into the likeness of stones, and let him know that I will do much more, when I see my time.”
Malory Le Morte d’Arthur
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Four
Chapter Twenty Five
Chapter One
That was how I found myself. Alone. Betrayed by everyone; those I had trusted most, and those I had not trusted at all. Sold by Arthur into this marriage for the sake of an army for the war he had started out of selfishness. Forgotten by Kay. Alone in Rheged Castle with the husband who despised me almost as much as I hated him. Already they had all forgotten me. Even Nimue. Merlin had tricked me, and stolen my sword. Old friends and old lovers alike had left me behind. Only my sister, my careless, thoughtless sister, with no one else to protect her, kept me where I was. If I stayed, at least I had some power to protect her. To protect her child. The child Arthur had wanted so badly to kill.
The others could wait, but I was determined to have some revenge on Uriens as soon as possible, and to remove myself from the danger I found myself in now that I, as wife, was prisoner in his castle. I waited in the morning until I heard him get up, dress and leave, and I slipped from the bed. I went over to my bag and pulled out my book of healing arts. I thought I remembered something useful in it, and it was there, at the back, in the section of potions useful for women. It was called, ‘potion to take a man’s power’. I hoped it meant what I thought it did. I hoped it would humiliate him. He deserved it after what he had done to me.
I glanced down the list of ingredients. Simple enough. I thought I could find them all, as long as Rheged Castle had a proper herb store. Otherwise I would have to go out looking for them, and it would be more difficult getting Uriens to let me leave the castle on my own. I dressed in my black jewelled dress, and a clean underdress. I felt fragile, weak, and I hated it. I plaited my hair slowly, hoping that the habitual movements of my hands would soothe me. It did, but only a little. Before I left the room, I scribbled a quick letter to Morgawse.
“Marriage as you described. War soon. Hope you & M safe. Morgan.”
I hoped that Morgawse had managed to protect her little son from Arthur’s assassins. I was not really sure it was such a good idea for the boy to survive, but it seemed cowardly and immoral to send knights to kill a helpless baby. I pressed the letter into the hand of a servant, with instructions for it to be sent as quickly as possible. I hoped that it would reach her before the war began.
I walked down, through the castle, out to the courtyard. I was pleased that Uriens was not there. Autumn was drawing near, and the air smelled of it. Of hay, and sweet apples. The smell reminded me, painfully, of my summer with Kay. There were a few knights preparing their horses, checking their equipment. Uriens would be gathering his army at his borders, preparing to march north to meet Lothian’s attack. They would be caught between the Lothians coming from the North and Lot’s Breton allies landing at Dover. Arthur was in the weaker position, having to fight outwards towards his borders. He was not an experienced general, he was young. All he had was his men’s faith in him. I hoped that it would be enough. I hoped, too, that Uriens’ men would be strong and loyal, and that I would not have been given into this suffering for nothing.
I noticed the steward I had seen the night before at the edge of the courtyard, and walked over to him. He would know if Rheged had a store of herbs. He stood in his armour, plate on the chest, chainmail underneath, his dark gold hair swept back off his face. I had not imagined, before, that he was handsome. Well, I was not going to be betrayed by another man. All I wanted from him was his knowledge of the castle.
He saw me coming towards him, and turned to me with a smile.
“My Lady Morgan, how do you find the castle?” he asked with a little bow.
“Well enough,” I replied. “I wondered if you could tell me if this castle has a store of dried herbs.”
He gave a small, amused smile.
“You are one of the ladies of Avalon.”
“I schooled there,” I replied evasively. He shook his head.
“I had a sister schooled in Avalon, but she had no skill and they would not give her the woad.” I could see in his eyes that he was intrigued by me, by the blue of my skin. It was a shame that he knew too much. I hoped he would not tell Uriens that I really was a witch. “I know enough about Avalon to know that the woad is truly an honour, and given only to those who show especial talent for the magic arts.” He took a step closer to me, as though carried forward by the power of his own words, his own curiosity. “My sister told me, besides, that the woaded women of Avalon are painted in blue, not just on their hands and faces, but all over.”
I saw his eyes flicker down, over the bodice of my dress, and he ill hid what I knew he pictured as he looked at me. I drew myself up to my full height, and regarded him coldly.
“You are bold, aren’t you? For a steward.” He leaned back a little, but the smile still played around his lips. “Just tell me where the herbs are kept.”
He led me down a passageway, down the steps to the underground stores. I felt my heart racing in me, already nervous. If I could not find what I needed, I did not know how I was going to protect myself from Uriens. The steward lit a torch as we went down the steps. It was dark, and slightly damp in the stores below. That was not good for the herbs.
I followed him through the room, lined with barrels of food, prepared for a siege. Some were dusty, but many looked new, as though Uriens had made recent preparations for being stuck inside his castle. I could not imagine anything worse than being held to siege with Uriens. The steward stopped suddenly, and I almost walked into his back. He turned to the side, and lifted up his torch. In an alcove in a wall at the back, bunches and bunches of dried herbs hung from a series of wooden poles that looked as though they had been set up for the purpose. Everything was there. My heart skipped with joy. There must have been a witch at Rheged castle before me.
I squeezed in front of him to reach them. He did not move aside, so I had to brush past him. I ignored him when I felt him watching me as I gathered what I needed. When I turned back around, I saw he ha
d not moved back, but stood close to me, the torch held over us, and he was smiling his curious smile.
“What are you making, my Lady?” he asked.
“A casserole,” I replied.
He reached out to touch one of the herbs clutched in my hand, and as his hand brushed against mine, I felt myself startle, just a little, in a mix of fear, and the thrill I had not expected to feel at his touch. I was not ready. What kind of steward was he, anyway, already making eyes and flirting with his Lord’s new wife? For all he knew, I was still giddy with the fresh joys of marriage.
“I do not think I have ever tasted this in a casserole,” he said, raising an eyebrow at me, but he moved his hand away, and he didn’t question me again.
As I followed him out, I tucked the herbs up the sleeve of my dress.
That night, I slipped the mixture I had prepared into Uriens’ drink. He did not seem to notice. Not until he decided it was time for us to go to bed. I followed him up the stairs, quiet and compliant as a little lamb, and he seemed inordinately pleased with himself. I supposed he thought he had broken me. I lay back and tried to keep the smile from my face as he grunted with frustration over me, finding that his ability had suddenly left him. He gave me a narrow look of suspicion as he rolled off me, but he was too embarrassed to make any kind of open accusation, and besides, he had drunk a lot of wine that night.
When this happened to him again and again, he began to grant my requests. My request to have my own chamber, far from his, and to send letters to Nimue in Avalon. Before he had only allowed me to write to my sister, or to Arthur. I wrote to Nimue, asking her if she had got anything more from Merlin, and asking her to send me any news, and to come if she could. I thought about writing to Kay. But I was still angry that he had not come to say goodbye to me.
I started to feel my freedom a little, and to enjoy wandering about the castle battlements, gazing at the wild country that surrounded it. It was all thick forests and dark craggy stone, beautiful in its own way. Almost like Avalon. I ran into the steward, who told me his name was Accolon, sometimes. He was always polite, but friendly, though he did not touch me again, nor wonder aloud what I looked like under my clothes. I think he sensed that I was wary, or that Uriens was angrier and angrier, more frustrated, every day. But I had guessed right that Uriens would not make any kind of open attack against me now that he knew it was his power as a man that I held hostage.
The morning that Uriens came to tell me that they were departing that day, I felt sick. He came in while I was sitting at the window, wide open to the mid-autumn chill, trying to settle my stomach by breathing in the cold air. It wasn’t working, and I knew the cause.
I only knew he was there when he spoke.
“What is wrong with you, then?” he asked, gruffly.
I turned around to see him standing in the door, dressed in his platemail with his helm under his arm. I was glad that he was leaving. The potion I had mixed to keep him from me was running out, and I was almost out of the herbs I needed to make it again. I didn’t know where I could find more, and I knew that if it was while he was here that he ran out, he would want to take all of his humiliation, his frustration and his anger out on me.
I didn’t answer him.
“So, you’re leaving today,” I said, flatly, leaning my head against my hand. I didn’t feel strong enough to sit up straight.
He nodded. “I’m leaving the castle in the care of my steward. He is going to write to me, so don’t think that while I am gone you can do as you please.”
“I am ever your obedient wife, sir,” I said.
He threw me a dirty look, and left.
I felt a rush of joy in my heart when, from my bed, I heard the hooves of the horses galloping away to war. Perhaps someone will kill Uriens, I thought. One of Morgawse’s sons. The angry one, Gawain. I imagined Gawain slicing off his head in battle. That gave me some comfort.
By the time that winter reached its depths, and Uriens’ men had been at war a few months, I could not have mistaken the cause of my sickness, even if I had been the innocent little maid I was supposed to have been. I had thought of getting rid of it, as I had before, but the thought had struck me that it was likely enough to be Kay’s, rather than Uriens’. Besides, I was alone here, and I had seen how happy Morgawse’s children made her, and I hoped to have my own happiness that way, if I could.
I did not want to tell anyone until it was necessary, but people had noticed. The serving women whom I largely ignored, preferring to take care of myself, noticed that I had not bled for a long time. Someone must have written to inform Uriens, because I got a letter from him telling me that he had sent for some sister of his to come and attend the birth. He didn’t trust me. I wondered if his mistrust would be well-placed. But I was dark-haired myself. I thought if it were Kay’s, it would be a while before it was evident. Someone must have written to Arthur, too, for I also got a message from him, though it was not a letter. It came in the form of a distant cousin of ours, a dull girl called Elaine, whom he had sent to keep me company, take care of me, and possibly to spy on me, until the baby came.
She came through the thick snows of midwinter, though she was only small and weak-looking. Doe-eyed and olive skinned. As a child she had looked strange, her eyes too large and peeping like some night-time creature, but since I had seen her last, she had grown into it, and I had to admit she was very beautiful. She slid lithely from her horse and came over to wrap me in a gentle embrace. Her hair was soft, glossy, a lovely chestnut brown, and her frame was small as a child’s. She annoyed me, though I knew she was trying to be kind. She tried to read to me from a book of romances that she had brought with her, but I liked neither her soft, slightly babyish voice, nor the pointless, vacuous stories. She looked a little hurt when I told her curtly that I did not like them.
I did not mind, however, having some company at night. I let her sleep in the bed beside me. It was warmer that way, and at night I would forget it was her as I fell asleep, and think it was Morgawse beside me, and that made me feel less lonely.
One night, when the winter was just beginning to recede, and the swell of my stomach was just beginning to show beneath my clothes, I woke in the middle of the night from strange dreams of Kay and Lancelot, of them riding into battle side by side. I could not say what it was about it, but the dream filled me with panic. I sat up in bed, and gazed out of the window. Through the cloudy glass, I could see the points of stars. I thought it might calm me to go out, to get some air. No one else would be about. It was the middle of the night. I wrapped my woollen cloak around my nightdress and slipped on a pair of shoes, and snuck as quietly as possible out the door. If I woke Elaine, I would have to face her insipid concern, and then I would be too annoyed to go back to sleep.
The castle was quiet and cold outside my room, where the low fire still burned in the grate. I was glad of it. It felt as though it was clearing my head. I walked out into the small courtyard. It was empty, and quiet. I turned my face up to the stars above me, taking in a deep breath of the winter night air. As I stretched out under the cold, crisp night, preparing to go back to bed, I noticed a light coming from the stables. I didn’t particularly want to talk to anyone, but I thought I might like to see the horses. Horses reminded me of Kay, and the gentle way he had with them.
When I walked into the stables, I saw Accolon at the back, fiddling at something on one of the horses’ saddles. I got the feeling from him that he would rather be riding out to war than left at Rheged to oversee Uriens’ household while he was away. He looked like a man built for fighting.
I said nothing as I went in, going over to the nearest horse, and stroking down its long, sleek nose. The horse gave a little whicker of appreciation, and Accolon looked up. Dropping what he was doing, he rushed over.
“My Lady, what are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night.”
In the suddenness of his concern he had rushed close. It was cold outside, but it was warm in the stable fro
m the heat of a fire and the horses, so he was dressed only in his shirt and breeches. His shirt fell open at the neck and I could glimpse dark hair and a muscular chest through the opening. I forced myself to look up at his face.
“Oh, I couldn’t sleep,” I answered absently.
He nodded, but he did not look away, or move back from me. I felt a dangerous flutter of excitement in my heart. Chance had brought me here, alone with him in the middle of the night. I was not sure what I wanted.
“And... you are well?” he asked, carefully. I saw him glance down at my stomach. The shape of me showed, just a little, through the nightdress. Unconsciously, I pulled my cloak tighter around myself.
“Well,” I answered.
He leaned away a little, looking at me, his eyes narrowing with thought.
“Are you happy?”
It seemed a strange question. Women were not allowed to say they were unhappy about children, especially if they were married. I thought I would be happy enough if it were not Uriens’.
“Oh, yes.”
His face crinkled more deeply, as though he were trying to puzzle something out. Something he had been wondering about for a long time.
“So, your marriage was a love-match?” he asked, unable to keep the confusion from his voice.
“No, no. Of course not. No.”
Accolon shifted on his feet, and still looked troubled.
“I would not have thought that a witch from Avalon would have to marry a man she did not love.”
“I did it for my sister’s sake.” As the words came out of me, I realised that they were true. I felt raw, too honest, around him. Part of me wanted to leave, but I was deep in the middle-of-the-night honesty, and it was too late for me to walk away from it. “I did it in the hope that Uriens, or my brother, would kill her husband. Then her husband won’t kill her. She has... she gets herself into trouble. Morgawse has always needed my rescuing.”
THE CURSE OF EXCALIBUR: a gripping Arthurian fantasy (THE MORGAN TRILOGY Book 2) Page 1
