THE CURSE OF EXCALIBUR: a gripping Arthurian fantasy (THE MORGAN TRILOGY Book 2)

by Lavinia Collins

  Chapter Eleven

  The next day was the day I had to return to Gore with Uriens. I had not spoken to him, really, the whole time we had been in Camelot, and once we were back at his castle, I would not be able to hide from him with my sister. I asked her to come with me, but she had to return to Lothian with her two youngest sons. She was afraid to leave it too long, in case one of her barons tried to seize it from them. With Gawain and Aggravain in Camelot, there was less of an incentive for them to hold back from trying to seize power from her, and she did not like leaving her kingdom long.

  When I had kissed her goodbye, and her two youngest sons, and they left, I sat down on the edge of her bed, the bed we had shared like children for the past few weeks, and let out a sigh. I should have brought some kind of protection with me, some weapon, some magic, but all I had was my power to change my shape, and I could not hide from Uriens forever.

  There was a soft knock at the door, and I was afraid it was him, but it was not. It was Kay. Nervous and awkward, he stepped through the door and shut it softly behind himself. I had never seen him look so uncomfortable, but I was not about to ease his discomfort. He stepped towards me, and I stood to meet him. I wanted to look him in the eye.

  “Morgan, I hoped I would find you here, before you left,” he said gently.

  “So you were not looking for my sister, then?” I demanded.

  “No, Morgan, listen.” He stepped forward again and tried to take my hand, but I pulled it away. “Morgan, that was a mistake; I was drunk, I –”

  I crossed my arms over my chest, against his pleading look. I could see that he was sorry, but I was not ready to forgive.

  “Morgan –” He began to speak again, but the words seemed to freeze in him, as though they were not enough. I reached out to slap him, but, quick as a cat, he caught me by the wrist. I tried to pull away, to strike at him again, but he held me fast, and as I stepped back away, I felt the bedpost at my back. He stepped towards me, and I felt the fire of anger in me turn suddenly to the heat of desire as he, fired with the same potent memory of our past passion, pulled me against him and kissed me hard. When I felt his lips against mine, all of the wonderful memories seemed to rush fast around me; lying together in the sunlight, the first time, Kay falling to the floor with me and tearing through my dress in a haze of passion, the night before I was married, when he had told me he loved me. I was drowning in the memories and I ran my hands through his hair, pulling him tighter against me.

  I was about to slide my hand up under his shirt, when I heard the door open suddenly behind us. We jumped apart, both still hot and breathing hard. It was Uriens, and I saw the dark rage flash across his face. He had seen. Good. He stood warily back from Kay. The shadow of the bruise still lingered green-yellow against his jaw, and he remembered all too well which man had given it to him. I saw him notice, too, that Kay’s sword hung around his hips, his hand resting on the hilt.

  “That’s my wife, you know? Not a boy, though I know she looks like one,” Uriens sneered at Kay. Kay turned around to face him, but said nothing. Uriens’ eyes fell on me. “Come, you nasty little whore. It’s time for you to go home.”

  Kay drew his sword as Uriens made to stride across the room to seize me. Uriens stopped where he stood, but I could see in his eyes that he would make me suffer for this when he could. Kay could not stand there between us forever.

  Uriens held out a hand towards me, and Kay stepped suddenly towards him, and Uriens jumped back.

  “What’s the matter, Uriens?” Kay demanded, his voice edged with cruelty. I was glad, at least, that he seemed to hate my husband as much as I did. “Are you jealous? Do you want me to fuck you as well? You might enjoy it. I know what men like.”

  Uriens looked terrified for a second, as though he really thought Kay meant it. He did not seem to follow the point that Kay was trying to make. Flustered and afraid, Uriens turned back to me.

  “We are leaving. Now,” he spat, and turned and fled from the room. Kay put his sword back in his sheath, letting the breath sigh out of him. He ran a hand through his hair thoughtfully, before turning back to me. He looked sad. I missed the bright laughter of his eyes. I would have thought he would enjoy frightening Uriens more than he seemed to. He walked back over to me and, taking my face gently in his hands, kissed me softly, deeply. I hated it, because it was so wonderful, and because I knew it was a kiss goodbye.

  It was only when I was on my horse, riding away from Camelot, that I remembered how angry I had been with Kay. He had been with my sister; he had kissed her like he had kissed me, he had touched her like he had touched me. And he had kissed me as though that made it all go away. It did not make it all go away. I knew I had no right to be angry since I too had another lover, but the thought of Kay and Morgawse was unbearable. Morgawse got everything that she wanted. But I could not hate her.

  Uriens and I rode a long way in silence, side by side. It was only when the sun began to sink in the sky and I knew that we were near to Rheged that he spoke.

  “I suppose you did that to spite me, Morgan,” he growled.

  “What?” I snapped.

  “Your little play at being lovers with the Seneschal. Only because you know how much I dislike perverse little men like him. I do not know why you make it your life’s aim to cause me humiliation and suffering.”

  “I cause you humiliation and suffering?” I cried. He had not experienced true humiliation. He had been embarrassed in front of Arthur a couple of times. That was all. He had never felt his own awful weakness underneath the hands of man.

  “You know, Morgan, it makes me very angry the way you treat me. You are no good wife to me, and no good mother to our child. If I could, I would take another wife, and send you back to the abbey. That you continue to refuse me when I have been a good husband to you despite your shortcomings as a wife makes me very very angry, Morgan.”

  I turned to look at him. He was red in the face, slightly spitting his words. I could see the vein bulge angry with blood on his forehead. I shrugged my shoulders and turned away again, gazing off into the distance.

  “Well, Uriens,” I said, “how you feel is of no importance in the matter.”

  I did not need to look at him to know that his anger was great enough to choke him into silence, and I was glad.

  I thought he would try to punish me when we reached the castle. I expected him to grab me by the hair in front of his men, and drag me off with him, but he did not. He was too angry even for that, and he jumped from his horse and stormed off as soon as we arrived. It was late in the night, but still mild with late spring warmth. I was happy to linger in the courtyard once I had slipped from my horse, tired and sore from the ride. There were a few knights milling around in the courtyard, but I could not see Accolon. Surely he had not left?

  I had not thought of him much while I was in Camelot – that felt like a different life entirely – but now that I was back in Rheged, I knew I had to see him.

  I took hold of my horse’s bridle and led it to the stable. When I stepped inside, I saw him there, as though he had come at my wish. I froze in the doorway with the bridle in my hand, and as though he sensed me there he turned around. I had forgotten how much I liked his rough, handsome looks.

  “Morgan,” he breathed, stepping towards me as though in a dream.

  He took another step forward to take the horse from me, and our hands brushed on the bridle. I felt the touch of it go through me, strong and delicious. I saw it flash through his eyes, too, and I knew that he wanted what I wanted. I let go of the bridle and grasped hold of the front of his shirt with both hands, pulling him against me, pressing my forehead against his. I felt every beat of my heart rushing the hot desire through me.

  “I have been too long away from you,” I whispered. He gave a low groan of lust and kissed me, hard and eager. I felt the relief at his touch flood through me. Still, I pulled away for a moment.

  “What if someone comes?” I whispered. He kissed me a
gain, his hands running through my hair, unwinding the plait.

  “No one comes here at night but me,” he whispered, reaching out to slam the door shut. My horse, only just through the door, whickered in alarm and walked deeper into the stable, into the place that it remembered as its own. Accolon pushed me up hard against the stable wall, and once again I felt the dangerous thrill of his strength. He tasted of honey, and spices, and wine. He had never betrayed me. I still had the heat in me from Kay’s kiss, and from my own anger, and I had a man in my grip who was all mine. I could feel the heat of his skin against mine already, in anticipation. I took his face in my hands.

  “I want you now,” I whispered to him. “Now.”

  He lifted me and braced me hard against the stable wall, and had me as I had commanded him. I wound my fingers tight into his hair and held his gaze to mine. I had longed for him, and he had given himself to me. The force of our coming together burned through me, leaving me deliciously clean, and making me strong. Things were simpler here than at Camelot. I knew whom I wanted, and I knew whom I hated, and there was no one in between.

  I woke the next day to the sound of Uriens banging on the door and shouting for me. So, the punishment I had anticipated was coming for me. Elaine – who it seemed had been sleeping in my room all the time I was away – was already awake, her big doe eyes wide with fear, and cowering in the corner of the room. I rolled my eyes at her and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her towards the door.

  “You had better go, Elaine. Oh don’t look so afraid. This isn’t for you.”

  I did not think having her here would stop him, and besides, I wanted to draw Excalibur on him again and see the fear in his eyes, and I did not want her to know about it. I opened the door and pushed her out. I heard him greet her, suddenly gentle and kind, before she scampered away. He pushed the door open and strode in. I already had Excalibur in my hands.

  He sighed in frustration at the sight of me, in my nightdress, my hair loose, the sword bare in my hands.

  “Morgan, why am I cursed with you as my wife?” he groaned.

  I wanted to step forward, to kill him, but I held myself back. I wouldn’t risk it like this, when he might be strong enough to get the sword off me. The mixture was ready; I just had to get him to drink it.

  “Uriens, leave me be.”

  He shook his head in frustration. “I will go, for now. But you cannot continue this forever. The more you do to vex me, the more unkind I will be when I can get my hands on you away from your witches’ tricks.”

  I had to kill him soon. But not just him. No. It was Arthur who had brought me to this. Arthur who had chosen for himself the wife that he desired.

  The days passed, and I kept Uriens from my bed with my threats of witchcraft, and Accolon within it. I spent those days and nights kindling the flame of anger that burned deep within me. I found I was angry with Arthur in particular. He had followed his own desires, turning down the advice of his counsellors, and pleased himself with the Breton girl, and yet despite my protests he had sold me to this brute who forced himself on me. I had given up everything for the sake of my sister, and of the kingdom, and he had cared about neither. And he had taken a woman as his wife who had the blood of Maev in her veins. That was a dangerous choice. Maev, warrior and adulteress. Half-wild, Merlin had called her. And every man that laid eyes on her seemed to desire her. That seemed an ill combination to me, and yet Arthur had taken her as his wife anyway, because he always did as he pleased. I suffered, and Morgawse suffered, and Arthur lived careless and happy. I hated him. I hated him for changing, too, from the kind boy I had known as a child into this selfish king. They were all liars. Arthur, Merlin, Kay. I would punish them all. I would have Merlin’s secrets from him, and I would use them to destroy all of those who had made me suffer.

  One night, at the hottest peak of summer, Accolon tore back the curtains of my bed, where I had been lying in the depths of my rage, and I saw him there and I felt the rage mingle hot with my desire. I was glad that Accolon had come. I wanted his hungry roughness, I wanted the power of my rage to move through our coming together. I threw him down on the bed beneath me and tore his clothes from him. I gave myself to the feel of his hands gripping me at the hips, and his eyes running over me with awe and desire as I slipped my nightdress up over my head. I took him deep inside me, and I saw how my wildness excited him, and it made my own desire hotter. I could hear him sighing my name, and my body filling with the power of my own pleasure. I held back a little, from the edge, but only until I could be sure that he had had his fill, and then I let it wash over me. I was not sure if it was all the more filled with trembling ecstasy because I knew how he loved me, or because I knew that my revenge was near.

  I sank down beside him, and we lay a long time in a pleasant silence. I did not hurry to ask him. I knew he would not deny me. Only when the candles were low and the night at its blackest depths did I speak. I lifted a hand to stroke through his hair, and he murmured with appreciation.

  “Do you love me?” I asked, softly. He pushed himself up to sit facing me.

  “Of course, Morgan. Of course I love you,” he said, pleased. Pleased that I had asked. I saw a smile spread across his face. He was anticipating sweet, meaningless lovers’ talk, but that was not what I had in mind.

  Fixing him with a serious stare, I asked him softly again, “Would you do anything for me?”

  He leaned over and kissed me, slow and tender, and then whispered, “Anything.”

  I put a hand against his cheek, and looked him deep in the eyes once more. He looked yet more pleased, slightly excited even. He thinks I am going to ask him to kill Uriens.

  “Kill Arthur,” I said.

  I saw the surprise pass across his face. He drew back a little. “King Arthur?” he asked. “Your brother King Arthur?”

  I leaned away, letting my hand fall away from his cheek.

  “Every man swears his love easily before he hears the price,” I said. I did not want a coward.

  “No, Morgan, no.” He laid a hand on my bare shoulder. “Just... you are sure this is what you want?”

  “I am sure,” I told him.

  He thought for a moment, and then, drawing in his breath deep, he nodded.

  “I will do it,” he declared. He did not sound so absolute, so entirely certain as he had done before.

  I took hold of him by the chin, turning his face up to mine and looking deep into his eyes. I could see that he would do it. I could see that he was entirely mine.

  “As you love me,” I told him softly, “you will show no mercy.”

  “No mercy,” he whispered in agreement, and I kissed him with a wild passion, and he pulled me into his arms once again.

  Chapter Twelve

  I sent Accolon away from me early in the morning. The time was not yet right to strike against Arthur. When the time came, I would press Excalibur into Accolon’s hands, and he would not fail. First, I would go to Camelot and retrieve the scabbard. I wanted to make sure that my lover would be safe.

  Arthur could wait, but I would deal with Uriens now. I had to wait until the evening, but that was not long at all. He kept away from me, and he would not drink from my hand, but that was no matter to me. When the sun had at last dipped below the horizon and the summer stars were bright in the sky, I closed my eyes and pictured Elaine’s sweet, doe-eyed face, her little, girlish frame. I felt myself change easily into the form I knew so well. I had sent her on a long errand, to the next town, and I knew she would not be back. I took the drink I had prepared for Uriens in my hand and I went to Uriens’ room. Her movements were slick and graceful, and I felt my borrowed body skip light through the hallways and up the stairs to his bedroom.

  I knocked lightly, and he called me in. He smiled when he saw it was Elaine. He had been sitting at his window in his shirt and breeches, trying to get some of the cool summer breeze. He gestured me over, and I came, holding the cup of wine out before me.

  “My Lord,”
I said, hearing her demure little voice come from my lips, “I brought you some wine. To help you sleep.”

  “Thank you, Elaine. That is kind,” he replied, gently, taking the wine from me and placing it on the table beside him. “I wish my wife were as kind as you.” To my surprise, he reached out and took me by both hands, pulling me onto his lap. So, he had not been pestering me to get into my bed because he had been with Elaine. I wondered if she liked it. He behaved as though it was a mutual desire. He slid his arm around my waist, holding me close, and reached up to turn my face towards his. The kiss he gave her was entirely different from the dry, perfunctory way he had kissed me. It was complex, sensitive. He was gentle and deep. I wanted to shout, Why did you never kiss me like that? I would never have loved him, but I could have stood him, if he had shown me even the tiniest bit of kindness.

  He murmured Elaine’s name under his breath, and his kisses became more urgent as I felt his hand at my breast. I wanted to push him off, angry and disgusted. I was hurt, too. He had not ever tried with me. It was him; he was the one who should have been making an effort to get used to me. I did not want him to touch me anymore. I laid a hand on top of his, and to my surprise, he responded, stilling his hand and letting it fall away. So, he could be refused. Just not by me. He pulled away gently, taking his arm from my waist, and letting me stand.

  “Of course, Elaine. Of course,” he said kindly, as though in response to a question. Perhaps there was somewhere Elaine had to be this time of night. But then he reached for the wine, and drank deep from it. I felt a jolt of excitement go through me. The time of my revenge was near. As the wine hit him, I saw his forehead crease. He could feel its strength, but it would not hold him back. He reached for it again, and drained the cup. I could see it run through him, making his limbs heavy, making his mind fog. It would rob the strength from his limbs and leave him at my mercy. But he had shown me no mercy.