Uriens reeled back in his seat, flushed with ale and impotent rage. I supposed that he had barely noticed Aggravain until then. Morgawse, happily, was too drunk to have paid the whole argument any attention, and simply sat leaning back in her chair, her eyes closed and a slack smile on her face as she rested her head against Kay’s hand. He lightly rubbed her hair, as though he were scratching a little cat. She murmured happily against it.
“Still,” Uriens began again, bracing himself against the edge of the table and blinking hard as though trying to steady himself, “I know what women like her...” It was unclear which of the several women he had been variously insulting he was talking about. “I know what women like her like. What they all want.”
I glanced up at Kay, and saw the annoyance tightening across his face, dragging him away from whatever thoughts had held him distant and staring off after his foster-brother.
“You don’t know what women like as well as you think you know, Uriens,” he snapped, and there was a new note of deliberate cruelty in his voice that I had not heard before. “Just go to bed.”
Uriens stood to his feet, pushing his chair back and squaring up to Kay. Neither of them had spoken to each other, or even, it seemed, acknowledged one another before, and Uriens was a little thrown off balance by Kay’s sudden familiarity, and insult. I hoped someone was going to hit Uriens tonight. As he stepped forward, Kay lifted up his hands, showing his palms in a gesture of peace-making. “Uriens, just go to bed,” he said.
Uriens grabbed Kay by the front of his surcoat. “What would you know about what women like, eh? Don’t pretend you know anything about women. I know what people say about you. I’ve heard. So don’t pretend that you know what women like when every man and woman in this room knows that you’re a sodomite.”
Uriens did not see it coming. His eyes were on Kay’s right hand, over his own hand on Kay’s surcoat, prising his fingers away. But Kay was mirror-handed, another gift – he had told me once – from his Otherworld mother. Kay’s fist struck him out of nowhere, hard on the jaw, and he collapsed to the ground. Kay stared down at him, wincing and shaking out his hand.
“I probably should not have done that,” he said.
Aggravain shrugged. “I saw nothing,” he said, drinking from his cup again.
I turned around in my chair to peer down at Uriens, sprawled on the floor behind me.
“Is he dead?” I asked softly.
Kay prodded him with the toe of his boot, and shook his head. “He’s breathing. I didn’t hit him very hard.” Morgawse moaned and rubbed her face beside me. She was beginning to move from the pleasant oblivion of wine to suffering with it. Kay noticed, and sighed. “Can you get someone to take Uriens to his bed? I’ll take Morgawse.”
I nodded. Kay leaned down and wrapped his arm around Morgawse’s waist, pulling her up with him. She slumped against him, but looked happy again. If I could have done, I would have left Uriens lying on the floor. As it was, after he had finished his cup of wine, Aggravain offered to take him, and threw him over his shoulder. I was pleased that he would not be handled gently. He did not deserve it.
I lingered a while, thinking Kay might come back. I had had enough wine to feel daring, and for my anger at Kay to feel fuzzy and distant. I remembered the feel of his hands on my body, of his thick, soft hair between my fingers, and his mouth on mine, and I wanted to feel it again. It would be just a moment’s escape back into our childhood innocence. I supposed it was taking him a long time to drag Morgawse to her bed.
I didn’t want to go back to my room to lie down beside Uriens’ unconscious body. I walked to Morgawse’s room. I hoped that she would not be too sick from the wine for me to sleep beside her. I really, really did not want to have to sleep in my own bed with Uriens.
When I reached her room, I hung back, for Kay was still with her. Kay was trying to open the door with one hand while holding her up with the other. He must have been a little drunk, too, because he fumbled against the latch for a long time before the door swung open, and when it did he gave his low, soft laugh.
“Goodnight, Gawse,” he said, kissing her clumsily on the forehead.
“Come in with me,” Morgawse, who seemed a little recovered from the walk to her room, but not greatly, replied in tones of teasing pleading. She took hold of the front of Kay’s surcoat in both hands and pulled him towards her, and the open door.
“Morgawse,” Kay replied gently, trying to release her grip on his surcoat. “I don’t think that’s such a good –”
But Kay did not finish, for Morgawse leaned forward suddenly, and kissed him. I saw him reel back under it for a moment, as though he was going to pull away, but then he seemed to yield beneath it, wrapping his arms tight around her waist, and responding to her kiss. I wanted to shout out to stop them, but it was too late. Morgawse pulled Kay through the open doorway with her, and he reached out a hand behind himself to slam the door as they stumbled through. The sound of it seemed to resonate through me, sending an awful shock through my bones. Though I had a different lover now, it still felt like an awful betrayal. I was not sure which of them I was the more angry with. Kay. It was Kay. Morgawse did not know. But Morgawse knew why I did not want to sleep in my own bedroom. Now she was in there with Kay, I had nowhere to go.
I supposed there was one other woman in the castle who, that night, would have nowhere to hide from her husband. The Breton princess was far from her home, and tonight she would have to go to bed with her conqueror. The thought didn’t comfort me very much.
Chapter Nine
I wandered down into the courtyard, cold without the cloak I had left in Morgawse’s room before the feast. It was a pleasant, clear night and, though I was feeling very tired, it was soothing to stand under the open sky and look up at the stars.
Across the courtyard, I saw Ector striding towards me.
“My Lady Morgan,” he called to me, and ran over the last few steps. I could see that he was worried. “Morgan, have you seen Kay?” he asked, breathless.
Unsure of whether to lie for him – whether I needed to, or whether I wanted to – I decided on the safest truth.
“Last time I saw him he was taking Morgawse to her bedroom.”
Ector nodded, with understanding. He had been at the feast too, after all.
“He is supposed to be taking the first watch outside Arthur’s chamber. Just in case.” Were they afraid that the new Queen would try to kill Arthur? “He will have to take the second one, for I have set Percival at it now.” He shook his head. “Kay manages to disappear whenever I am looking for him. Oh.” His brow crinkled with concern. “Morgan, I am sorry about your husband,” he whispered very low. It was the first time anyone had said it, anyone but Morgawse had acknowledged that he was not a good husband and not a good man. I could have wept with relief, and with love for Ector, but I did not. I just wrapped my arms around him in a tight embrace.
I decided that I was not going to go and try to get Kay to his watch. I didn’t want to see him, and I wasn’t sure if I cared if Arthur’s new wife murdered him in his sleep. In the end I went to my mother’s room and crawled into bed beside her. I expected her to shoo me away and send me back to Uriens, but she did not. Nor did she ask me why I was not with Morgawse.
In the morning I went back to Morgawse’s room. I was glad that I did not run into Kay. I knew he had been drunk, but I did not think I could have kept myself from slapping him. When I got to Morgawse’s room, it was still before prime, and she still lay in bed, in her nightdress. Her hair, loose and wild, spread around her across the pillows and over her shoulders. She was smiling and there was a light flush on her pale cheeks. I had thought she would be sick from all the wine, but she just looked pleased with herself. Kay had left, but his surcoat lay forgotten in a heap beside Morgawse’s bed. He must have gone in a hurry.
“Oh Morgan,” Morgawse sighed when she saw it was me stepping through the door. “I’m so sorry. You didn’t have to sleep in your room did
you?”
I shook my head, climbing onto the bed beside her. I was angry with her as well, but she had suffered last night, and I didn’t blame her, really. She had only wanted a little human comfort. Just like I had.
“I stayed with mother,” I said softly, lying beside her and resting my head against her stomach. She stroked my hair like she had done when we were children.
Morgawse gave a happy sigh. “It is good to be a widow. To be a rich widow. With plenty of sons. A lady in my situation may do what she pleases. I will pray for you, Morgan, that you might be a widow soon.”
She laughed her bright, tinkling laugh. Once again, Morgawse had got her way. Well, soon I would as well. I would be a widow sooner than my sister thought.
Morgawse gave another sigh of contentment, and I felt her stretch out a little under me. I knew what was coming, and I did not want to hear it. She spoke as if to herself, but I knew it was for my benefit.
“I did not expect love like that from a man everyone says likes to have boys in his bed. Well, Morgan, I must tell you those rumours are not true. He knew what he was doing with a woman.” She puffed out a little breath as though to illustrate how impressed she had been. I held tight to the anger and jealousy twisting tight within me. “I have not been loved like that by a man since –” Morgawse stopped dead, and with a cold clench at the base of my spine I realised that she had been about to say since Arthur. She gave a little cough, and continued. “For a long time. Oh, Morgan.” She rolled over to face me in the bed, and laid a gentle hand against my cheek. “Little Morgan, you should find yourself a lover. A young man. Then you will know what it’s really like, between a man and a woman.”
The chapel bell was ringing for mass. Morgawse flopped back onto her back and sank further against the pillows with a little pout.
“I’m not going to mass today. Morgan, stay with me.” I was happy to nod my agreement and lie down next to her. “I have had my own unholy communion with a man from Otherworld last night. I think I might give up mass in favour of that in the future.” She turned to me with a playful grin, and when she saw I was not laughing, she gave me a playful prod. “Oh come on Morgan. Don’t always be such a nun. You must have something to say about it. You let that ugly old Merlin put his –”
“Morgawse, shut up,” I shouted. I had so much more to say, but nothing else would come. I felt my angry tears close to the surface. Morgawse reached out and squeezed my hand.
I thought she was going to say something, but she didn’t. After a long, long pause she said, softly, “Uriens is truly a disgusting man, isn’t he?” I nodded. So Morgawse remembered the things that he had been saying about her, and me, and Arthur’s Queen.
Morgawse called for some breakfast and the serving women brought us some fresh bread and honey, and we lay in the bed and ate it, putting off dressing and leaving the sanctuary of the bedroom. Morgawse ate with a clumsy enthusiasm, spreading crumbs around herself, tangling a little honey into her hair. Even if I had wanted to relish everything in life with Morgawse’s wildness, I did not think I could have done. I stayed neat and immaculate, as always.
Aggravain and Gareth came by just before the mass must have been about to begin to give Mordred back to their mother, and then we lazed there with the little child between us, stumbling through the folds of the sheets, and trying to pick the gold pattern off the brocade bed curtains. He had an intelligent, attentive look about him as he moved about, and I could see that Morgawse doted on her youngest son.
When it was eventually time to dress, Morgawse called for baths and we soaked in the water, our iron tubs side by side. Then we both dressed – me in my black jewelled dress, Morgawse in a dress of light blue silk that was beautiful with the soft, warm gold of her skin and hair, and richly embroidered in gold. She looked lovely, as always. She picked Mordred up in her arms.
“Morgan, I am going to take him out to the meadows. I think it is best if I stay out of the way of Arthur’s new wife. And Arthur. Just... in case.” I did not think Arthur would have mentioned it, but I did think this was the safest option. “Morgan, could you take Kay’s coat back to him? I just – I don’t want Arthur to find out. It would only make him more upset about my being here.”
I nodded. I kissed Morgawse and little Mordred on the cheek, and scooped up the fallen surcoat from the floor, folding it in my hands, and left to find Kay.
I found him in Arthur’s bedchamber, one of the first places I checked for him. He was there with Arthur and Gawain. I could not think of a worse combination of people. I expected Gawain would be quite upset indeed if he knew. Arthur sat in the frame of his window, his feet on the chair beneath the window, and he was grinning. Kay sat against the table that the chair belonged to. He had a small wicked smile on his face as well. Gawain stood, leaning against one of the bedposts. The curtains were pulled back, and the sheets on the bed were still tangled and thrown back. The sight of them made me feel uneasy. I did not want to think of Arthur holding the Breton girl down, his hand over her mouth, the sheets crumpling beneath them. Had Arthur searched through the sheets in the morning, looking for a drop of blood?
“Morgan!” Arthur greeted me excitedly as he saw me. I saw Kay’s eyes catch on his surcoat where I held it behind me, and I saw a slight blush redden his cheeks. I was glad that he was ashamed. “Morgan, did you enjoy the wedding?”
I caught Kay’s eye again, and he quickly looked away. He was guilty.
“Yes, Arthur.” He was grinning like a boy. I forced myself to ask the polite question, unsure of how detailed an answer I would get. “I trust you also enjoyed your wedding?”
Arthur laughed, and gave a shrug. “It began badly. When I got my wife alone at last, she told me that she would kill me if I touched her. But I managed to convince her otherwise.”
I felt suddenly cold. That sounded a lot to me like Uriens telling me I would get used to it. Arthur had not been unkind to Morgawse, but she had wanted him. I did not put it past Arthur to force an unwilling woman. Perhaps the Arthur I had known three years ago would not have done. I was less sure of him now. He was a king, not the boy I had known, and a king had his honour.
Gawain was laughing and shaking his head. “Arthur, she is lovely. Lovely.”
Arthur laughed in agreement. They were all laughing and smiling. Where was this girl?
“Morgan, I’m sorry. Did you come to see me for anything in particular?”
I was saved, as Uriens burst through the door behind me. I had not expected him, but for once he was welcome. I did not want to hand Kay back his surcoat from Morgawse’s bedroom in front of Gawain. Uriens’ jaw was bruised dark purple, but it did not seem to have been broken, unfortunately, for he was able to speak.
“Arthur –” He gave a cough of frustration at Arthur’s hostile look. “My Lord Arthur, last night your Seneschal struck me-”
Uriens had not noticed Gawain in the room. When Gawain stood forward, squaring up to him, Uriens stepped back. Uriens was not a small man, but beside Gawain he was nothing. Gawain was bigger still than when I had seen him in Lothian, bulked out by the long war. He was muscled like a bull, and he was scarred from battle already.
“Uriens, do you remember the things you said last night?” Gawain growled, and Uriens stepped back from him.
Arthur, annoyed that his moment of basking in the conquest of his wife had been shattered, demanded, “What happened?”
Kay cleared his throat softly, and I saw Uriens reel around to look at him with undisguised hate.
“Uriens was insulting to Gawain’s Lady Mother, and to your beloved sister Morgan, and,” he added quietly “to me.”
Arthur stepped forward, his expression darkening. I thought he might strike Uriens right there, but he did not. He turned to me.
“Morgan, is this true?”
I nodded. Kay had neglected to mention Uriens’ comment about Arthur’s new wife, but I thought that had been wise. That might have sent Arthur into a rage that would have led him to k
ill Uriens where he stood. I would have liked that, but it would have caused more war, and war had only just ended. Besides, it would deprive me of the pleasure of doing it myself.
Uriens was unrepentant. His eyes locked on Kay’s, he growled, “It is not an insult, Sir Kay, if it is the truth.”
Kay jumped to his feet and forward. Arthur put out a hand to hold him back, and if he had not been there, then Kay would have been on him again.
“Uriens,” Arthur began, his voice low with threat, “I do not tolerate slander against my kin, and I count Kay as my foster-brother among them. Do you understand me?”
I could see Uriens bridle against it, and I could see him burn with the repeated humiliation, but he nodded in agreement. He threw a dirty look at Kay, and then at me, and left, slamming the door shut behind him.
Arthur turned away from us towards the window with a groan, pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead. “Kay,” he murmured in frustration, “tell me it has stopped.”
Arthur knew what the insult would have been.
Kay, still on his feet and poised to strike Uriens, reeled around to Arthur. I could see the angry disbelief on his face. “Yes, Arthur. Long ago. How can you even ask me?”
Between them, Gawain stood awkwardly, only half-understanding. I took the opportunity to excuse myself, and as I expected, Kay slipped out soon after me. He pulled me into Merlin’s room which was thankfully empty.
“Morgan –” he began, his tone imploring, but I was not listening. I threw the surcoat hard at him, and he caught it in both hands.
THE CURSE OF EXCALIBUR: a gripping Arthurian fantasy (THE MORGAN TRILOGY Book 2) Page 7
