“Nay,” he said. “Ile du Lac is far off the more traveled tracks, Maia, but your family may come to visit us whenever you so desire it. I do not want you unhappy or lonely, my love. But you will make friends among the castle’s inhabitants. Not all who inhabit Ile du Lac are servants. I have distant relations who live in the castle. Most are from among the Fair Folk.”
“Averil has Fair Folk in her heritage. That is why she is so golden,” Maia said. “I am just an ordinary lass.”
“There is nothing ordinary about you, my love,” the Lord of the Lake told his wife. Then having completed his toilette he dressed himself in a clean chemise, braies, and cotte from the trunk at the foot of the bed.
Maia took her pear wood hairbrush, and brushed his wavy black hair into a semblance of order. “Your hair is as thick as mine,” she noted.
He took the brush from her hand, and seating her upon the room’s single stool began to brush out her red-gold locks. “Today, my lady, you will bind your hair up as is fitting for a married woman. I love the color of your hair, Maia. It is like the sunset.” He set the brush down.
Maia affixed her hair in a soft knot at the nape of her neck, and turning, smiled up at him. “Does this please you, my lord?” she asked.
“It suits you well,” he replied.
“I did not want to wear plaits wrapped about my head as Averil does,” Maia told him. “I wanted my own fashion.”
“The plaits suit Averil, for she is tall, but this love knot suits you, for you are more elegant,” he flattered her.
“Do not ever say that in front of Averil.” Maia laughed as she gathered the sheet from their bed.
They left their tower, and descended into the great hall below where their family awaited them. With quiet ceremony Maia handed the bedsheet to her father, and while Argel winced at the great stain upon it, Merin Pendragon congratulated his daughter on her entry into womanhood. Then he left the hall to hang the sheet himself from the roof of the tower above the bridal chamber. When he returned the Dragon Lord invited all to table that they might break their fast.
After the meal had been eaten the guests began to depart. First Lord Mortimer, and his son, Roger, who had been betrothed in early autumn to a cousin. Then Averil, Rhys and their party. Maia cradled her nephew for a long moment.
“Mayhap by this time next year,” she said, “I shall have a son.”
“You look so happy,” Averil said softly. “I am glad that you have found love, dearest sister.”
“Are you happy?” Maia replied. “Rhys certainly looks content.”
“Aye, I am,” Averil admitted, “though I did not think I would be. I believe little Mary’s death brought us closer, and she would be glad, God assoil her sweet soul.”
“Emrys and I wish to keep the Yuletide at Ile du Lac,” Maia said. “Will you try to come? Please!”
“We will try, but you know the weather can be difficult in December, Sister.”
“If it is, you will come for midsummer,” Maia responded. Then the two sisters hugged one another.
“Do not forget me!” Junia cried, pushing between them. “Oh, we shall never be together again! I do not think I can bear it!” She hugged both of her elder sisters.
“We cannot forget you, little one,” Averil said, and Maia nodded her agreement.
“Will you invite me to Ile du Lac soon, sister?” Junia pleaded.
“You shall come at Christmas if the weather allows, and if not then, in the spring I shall send for you,” Maia promised, brushing the tears from Junia’s rosy cheeks. “Now, do not weep, little one. It is not the end of the world, and soon you will find love and marriage yourself.”
“I hate being twelve!” Junia declared passionately.
Her older sisters laughed at their sibling’s remark.
“You will be fifteen before you know it,” Averil said. “Now before Rhys begins to roar, I bid you both farewell.” And turning she left them to join her party.
Now just the remainder of the immediate family lingered in the hall of Dragon’s Lair. Emrys Llyn looked at his bride, and she nodded.
“Now it is our turn to depart,” Maia said quietly.
Argel began to weep. “I cannot bear to see you go, my daughter,” she said.
“My place is with my husband now, Mother. Is that not what you have taught me? I am not so far away that you cannot visit me, but I will be honest with you. I am eager to go to my new home.” She put a comforting arm about Argel, and kissed her soft cheek.
“I will send a troop of men with you,” Merin Pendragon said.
“There is no need,” the Lord of the Lake told his father-in-law with a meaningful look. “We shall be safe. Our path has been cleared by my own people. We shall reach Ile du Lac by nightfall.”
The Dragon Lord nodded. He needed no further explanation. “Maia’s possessions have been sent to your castle previously so there is naught for you to do but go now before my wife floods the keep with her tears.” He turned to his daughter. “Make your farewells now, Maia, and be quickly gone.”
“Yes, Da,” she said with a little smile. Then she embraced Gorawen, and Ysbail, and Junia a final time.
“Remember your promises to Junia,” Ysbail said sharply.
Not in the least offended, Maia nodded. “I will, lady. I think her no less my sister because you are her mother.” Maia embraced her mother a final time, and then her father. “Farewell to you all,” she said, and taking Emrys Llyn’s hand she walked from the hall and out into the courtyard where their horses awaited them in the cold sunny air of the morning. She did not look back as she rode away from Dragon’s Lair. It was her past. It was her future that far more interested Maia.
Chapter 11
“He should be mine, old woman! Why is it that Emrys cannot see that I love him?” demanded the beautiful girl with the sable hair.
“Be silent, Morgant!” Drysi said sharply. “It has never been your fate to wed with the Lord of the Lake. Why do you persist in this quest?”
“My blood is every bit as good as hers is,” Morgant replied angrily.
“Your blood is curst, girl, and you know it!” Drysi replied. “You descend from Mordred, who betrayed Arthur.”
“Did not Lancelot betray Arthur as well?” Morgant said slyly.
“Aye, he did, and he lived to bitterly regret his actions. He tried to attone for them. Mordred neither regretted what he did, nor did he repent of his wickedness,” Drysi answered her companion.
“Mordred was Arthur’s son, and so I descend from Arthur too,” Morgant said.
“The Lord of the Lake loves his wife. But more important, she loves him. She will be tested soon, and when her love is proven, the curse will finally be broken on Lancelot’s descendants,” Drysi said.
“But then everything will change for us,” Morgant replied. “I do not want things to change, old woman!”
“Change is the natural order, child,” Drysi responded.
“Perhaps she will fail the test,” Morgant said slyly. “Or perhaps she will die like the other two.”
“You think I do not know what you did?” Drysi said.
“But you kept silent, old woman,” Morgant murmured low.
“The other two were not worthy of him, and they did not love him completely. The lady Maia does. Let it be, Morgant, or I will tell the lord what you have done.”
“I wish I were all fairy, and not half-human,” Morgant whined.
“You are what you are,” Drysi said. “But remember I hold a certain amount of power in this house. Behave yourself or I will see you punished.”
“I hate you!” Morgant said fiercely.
“I know,” Drysi replied with a wicked smile. “Now go, for your puling complaints are beginning to bore me.”
Morgant slammed from the old woman’s tower apartment.
“She is dangerous, mistress,” Drysi’s servant, Efa, said. “Why do you not have the lord send her from Ile du Lac?”
“I should hav
e to tell him why I was asking such a favor,” Drysi responded. “I made a great mistake when I did not tell Emrys that Morgant killed his first two wives. Now I am afraid to say it lest I lose his love. I have never before betrayed him. I pray that the Lady tests this new bride, and she proves worthy, before Morgant can cause any more difficulty. If the curse is lifted, then the lord will send Morgant into one of the two worlds where she must remain. She longs to be all fairy, and he knows it.”
“You should tell him, mistress. He would forgive you. You are old, and made an error in judgement. The lord loves you as he would his mother.”
“I cannot,” Drysi said. “I am truly afraid that he would not forgive me.”
Efa sighed. “Then at least warn our master that Morgant longs for him, and is jealous of the young mistress,” she suggested. “You know that she has made herself the lady Maia’s confidant, and that poor lady, eager for a friend, has embraced her totally.”
“I will attempt to warn him that the young mistress should beware,” Drysi agreed.
But Emrys Llyn, while listening to his old nurse’s admonition, said, “I know that Morgant fancies herself in love with me, but she has eyes, Drysi. She can see that I love my wife. Maia misses the company of her sisters, and Morgant is her only friend. If I take away that friend, she will pine away. Morgant keeps Maia’s mind from a child, for my wife longs to have one. She is distressed she has not yet conceived.”
“Nor will she, as you well know, until the curse is lifted, my lad,” Drysi said dourly. “Surely you cannot doubt your wife’s love for you, Emrys. You must call the Lady, and let her test Maia Pendragon. The sooner it is done, the better off we will all be, and you know that I speak truth.”
“I am not ready for Maia to know the truth, Drysi,” Emrys Llyn said. “It is too soon. Let her remain innocent for a while longer.”
“The longer you wait, the longer Morgant has to cause trouble, Emrys,” the old lady told him firmly. “And she will. Of that, you may be certain.”
The Winter Solstice was celebrated, but Maia’s family could not get to Ile du Lac, for the early snows had been heavy. Strangely she did not mind. She had her new friend, Morgant, a half-human, half-fairy girl, keeping her company by day. And she had her husband making love to her in the nights. Life at Ile du Lac was almost too perfect, Maia thought, as she watched the snow falling onto the frozen lake. If she lacked one thing, it was the hope of a child. Was she to be like her mother? Slow to conceive? She voiced her fears to Morgant as they sat together in the Great Hall one afternoon.
Morgant’s half-fairy blood gave her a piquant look. Her eyes were almond-shaped, and a silvery-gold in color. Her skin was so pale it was almost translucent. And her long, sable locks fell in rippling waves to below her buttocks. Morgant made no secret of the fact she was beautiful.
“You are a year older than I am,” Maia said to her. “I do not know why you have not been wed. You are even more beautiful than my sister Averil.”
“It takes a brave man to wed a half-fairy girl,” Morgant replied. “And to give her a child. The lord, your husband, is a magical man, though I have never heard it said he has fairy blood. Perhaps he does, and that is why he will not give you a child. You should ask him why you do not conceive. I think it very sad that you want a child and the lord will not give you one.”
“Perhaps I am like my mother,” Maia responded. “I have told you how difficult it was for her to conceive.”
“It is said such weaknesses usually skip several generations,” Morgant murmured. “I still believe you must speak with the lord himself. You do love him, and he says he loves you. But then, men always say they love you. It doesn’t mean they really do. I mean—didn’t the boys who courted you cry love?”
“Nay,” Maia said. “They didn’t. The only man who has ever claimed to love me is my husband. And I do believe him when he says it, for Emrys is not a man to lie.”
“No, no, of course not!” Morgant said, realizing that Maia was not as cow-eyed over her husband as to be led astray. “The Lord of the Lake is a most honorable man.”
But some of Morgant’s words had disturbed Maia. She knew little about these things, but was it possible that Emrys was withholding a child from her? She would ask him, for she wanted to give her husband an heir. After they had made love that night, and Maia lay contented in her husband’s arms, she spoke up.
“Why is it I cannot conceive of your seed, my lord? Do you withhold our child from me? And if you do, why would you? I love you with all my heart, and I have no doubt in your love for me.”
Emrys Llyn sighed. He would have to tell her the truth, and while he had told Drysi earlier that he did not believe Maia was ready for the truth, he supposed he had no choice now. He had hated keeping the secret from her, but he feared when she learned the truth she might be sickened by the knowledge of it. “Come,” he said to her. “Get up, and I will tell you all you need to know, Maia, but I would look into your face when I speak on it, my love.” Helping her up, he wrapped her in a velvet robe lined in softest rabbit fur. He donned a matching robe, and then pouring them each a goblet of wine he led her to the cushioned window seat overlooking the lake.
“Do you know what my name means, Maia?” he asked her.
“It means immortal,” she answered him.
“Aye, it does.” He sipped deeply from the goblet. “You know me as a descendant of Lancelot and the Lady of the Lake, but I am not their descendant. I am their son.”
Now it was Maia who drank deeply, almost draining her goblet empty. “How can this be? Lancelot lived centuries ago, my lord.”
“My father was a man who enjoyed women greatly,” the Lord of the Lake began. “That is why it was so easy for Arthur’s witch-sisters to enchant him to seduce the king’s wife even though he was wed to my mother at the time. But there was another woman in his life as well. She was the youngest of the king’s half-sisters. Her name was Elaine, and she was the Lady of Shallot. He knew her before he knew my mother, and I believe at one time he held her in some small affection.”
“How old are you?” Maia asked him, staring hard.
Emrys Llyn had to laugh, but the sound was a rueful one, not one filled with humor. “I am twenty-five, my love, as you know. Let me continue on, and I will explain further.”
Maia nodded. “Please do,” she said, but then she reached out and took his hand in hers. “This is indeed a tale of magic, my lord.”
“Aye, magic has much to do with it,” he agreed, and he lifted the hand that had taken his to his lips to kiss it tenderly. “The Lady of the Lake rarely left her own castle beneath the lake. Her duty had been to guard the sword, Excalibur, until Arthur could claim it. But she was curious at all she heard about the court at Camelot, and she finally went to see it. She arrived as befitted her station, in a great train of fairy folk. The moment she saw my father she fell in love with him, and he with her—at least briefly, for Lancelot’s heart could never belong to just one woman, as many learned to their great sadness.
“Yet he loved the Lady enough to ask her to be his wife, and in doing so set in motion much of the tragedy that was to follow. The Lady of Shallot was at first furious at my father’s betrayal of her. There had been talk of his marrying this youngest of the king’s half-sisters, although nothing formal had been agreed upon. So my father married my mother at Camelot in the presence of King Arthur, Queen Gwynefr, and all their court. And they returned here, where my mother raised up this castle for my father. She was already with child by the time they returned from Camelot.
“They spent a few months together, and then the king called my father back to his side, for Lancelot was the greatest of his warriors. While he had been gone, however, the king’s half-sisters decided to revenge themselves upon Lancelot for his betrayal of Elaine, the youngest of the trio. They worked a spell that easily caused my father to fall in love with Arthur’s queen. You know that story so I need not recall it to you.”
Maia nodded. She
was actually quite fascinated by her husband’s tale, and she wanted to know more. She sipped at the wine left in her cup.
“One evening, my mother appeared at the court with her newborn son wrapped and swaddled. The Lady of Shallot made certain that her rival knew that once again Lancelot was betraying the woman he claimed to have loved enough to wed. Then Elaine laid a curse upon me to revenge herself upon my father. I would reach the age of twenty-five, but I would grow no older. I would be a man who if he knew love would suffer, for should I love, the woman would age as the years passed, yet I would not. I would see all I cared for grow old, and die, yet I would not. I would be young, handsome, immortal. Yet I would forever lose those I loved, and never know the peace that comes with true love. He shall be known as Emrys Llyn, Elaine of Shallot told my mother. The Immortal of the Lake, though in time people will forget how he came by the name.”
The Lord of the Lake refilled his goblet, and his wife’s, before continuing on with his dark tale. “The next day Elaine, the Lady of Shallot, drank poison, and laying herself in a richly caparisoned barge in the river by her tower home, floated down past the battlements of Camelot beneath which she breathed her last, and finally out to sea where she disappeared beyond the horizon. My mother was furious. My father was devastated by the havoc his behavior was wreaking. He returned with her to Ile du Lac to do penance. But he was still troubled by the enchantment surrounding him.
“My mother, of course, despite her great magic, could not entirely undo the curse placed upon me by the king’s half-sister, but she was able to amend it slightly,” the Lord of the Lake explained to his wife.
“How?” Maia asked her husband.
“While I am a half-human, half-magical man, my humanity is stronger. Sons born of human fathers to fairy women are. Daughters, however, who are half-fairy, are more of the fairy kingdom. My mother knew that I would fall in love over the centuries to come and so she ameliorated the curse upon me. When I reached the age of twenty-five, Ile du Lac and all in it were put into a deep sleep by my mother. She then rendered the castle invisible, and so we all remained until five years ago. In this way, we were protected from outsiders and others who might discover that I never aged.
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