Gawaine chose to travel with Lamorak, a young warrior who was pleasant to a fault. Arthur had suggested that Gawaine might want a companion, no doubt because Arthur wanted a report about Lothian from someone other than the queen's son.
But Lamorak, who was from the South, proved not to be overly fond of Lothian. Gawaine thrilled at the sight of the heather, but Lamorak complained about the frequent rains, and found the air chilly. The cool air felt good to Gawaine, and he had no objection to water streaming down his face and shoulders. His horse might not have been equally pleased.
The day was fine when they came to his mother's caer, Din Eidyn. Looking up at the tall stone battlements, Lamorak said, "It looks forbidding."
Gawaine laughed. "Not if you come as a friend."
When they rode into the courtyard, the warriors of Lothian, men Gawaine had known all his life, cheered at the sight of him.
"Here's the hero himself!" they called. "Our own Gawaine, greatest warrior in the world!" "Tell us who you've fought lately!" "And tell us about the women, too. Are they really hotter in the South?"
He anticipated sharing many a good jest with the men. Leaping down from his horse, Gawaine showed that he remembered them by speaking of this one's old wounds, that one's habit of fighting with his left hand, and yet another's liking for buxom women.
Many of the men had told him on previous visits that, rather than resenting him for leaving Lot to fight with Arthur, they were proud of his fame as a warrior.
And he was proud of them for changing their ways. He recalled that on his first visit home after his father died, he had gathered the leaders of Lot's warband and told them that he and Queen Morgause would not punish them for anything they had done under Lot, but they would have to act from that day forward as if they were Arthur's own warriors, abiding by similar rules. As far as he knew, they had done so.
Some of the men called out the words "King Gawaine." But Gawaine shook his head at them. "You have a fine queen. You do not need me here. It is better that I am at Camelot with the High King to keep up the prestige of the North." He could scarcely say that he liked Arthur's court better than Lothian and Orkney.
And though he little liked the thought of ruling, he knew that Morgause enjoyed it more than food, wine, or any other thing.
Queen Morgause herself came to the courtyard to greet him. Gawaine threw his arms around her.
Her embrace was lingering, and she asked him how he was – many times.
"I am well," Gawaine assured her, "and so are Agravaine and Gaheris." His brothers, too, had joined Arthur's warband after their father had died. "They send their regrets that they could not accompany me."
"I'm glad to hear that they're well," Morgause said without undue concern. The truth was that Gawaine had not brought them along because he knew she would rather visit just with him.
"Where's Gareth?" Gawaine asked, looking about for his youngest brother.
"Off in the hills somewhere. He'll be upset that he missed the first moments of your homecoming," his mother said, still clinging to him.
"And here is a fine warrior of Arthur's, Lamorak," Gawaine told her.
Drawing herself to her full height, Morgause smiled at Lamorak, who bowed more deeply even than he had to the High King at Camelot.
Gawaine gazed at his mother. She was beautiful as ever. The sunlight sparkled on her red hair, which had not yet started turning gray. She was buxom and tall for a woman, although not as tall as her sons.
They were interrupted by loud shouts, as if from an enemy attack, and a boy hurled himself at Gawaine.
"Gareth!"
"Gawaine!" The boy, redheaded like the rest of his family, was tall for his years. What was he now? Seven, perhaps?
"Take me hunting, will you? I've caught some hares lately, but nothing worthwhile. Let's go after a bear."
Laughing, Gawaine caught him in a wrestling hold. "To be sure, I'll take you hunting. I don't know about the bear. Are there any around here? Let's go off and wrestle. Show me how strong you are."
Gawaine spent the afternoon with Gareth, but Morgause decreed that the boy could not linger after supper. Gawaine made a promise to take him hunting soon, to make up for it.
Supper in the great hall was a far more magnificent feast than could have been expected with just a day's preparation. Lords and ladies sat at the lower tables, and only Lamorak had the honor of being seated at the high table with Morgause and Gawaine. After the meal, while the harpers still were playing, Morgause indicated that the three of them should go to a smaller room where talk was easier. Servants brought wine for Morgause and northern liquor for Gawaine, as well as sweets and fruit. Lamorak hesitated over what he wanted to drink, and chose wine.
Morgause spoke almost entirely with Gawaine, but Gawaine noticed that Lamorak never took his eyes off her.
Finally, she turned her attention to him. "Do you like Lothian, Lord Lamorak?"
"It's the most beautiful place I have ever seen, Lady Morgause," he said in fervent tones. "I wish I could stay here forever."
Gawaine stared at him. Why this change in attitude? Lamorak was handsome, with long, flowing brown hair — and perhaps not distasteful to his mother.
Morgause smiled, and her smile was like no one else's, Gawaine thought. It appeared that Lamorak thought so, too.
"I was born in Cornwall," she said.
"True, Cornwall is even more beautiful than Lothian," Lamorak added hastily.
"You should visit Cornwall sometime, Mother," Gawaine said. "You would like your niece Morgan. She's clever, like you." He smiled to himself. What pleasant memories he had of Morgan. Surely it wasn't wrong to lie with a woman Arthur had discarded, even though it would anger Arthur if he knew. But by sending Morgan into exile, Arthur had given up his right to her.
Morgause turned pale. "I never want to meet a woman of my family. Don't ask me why." She sipped her wine, but the hand holding the winecup trembled.
Gawaine almost fell out of his chair. He had heard that women of his mother's age sometimes had strange humors, but he had never seen her so disconcerted. "Are you well, Mother?" he asked anxiously.
"Well enough." She drank more wine.
"Perhaps I should retire. Your hospitality is splendid, noble lady, as suits this majestic caer," Lamorak said, bowing, but with a very different look on his face than he had when he bowed before Arthur.
"Such a gracious guest is always welcome, for as long as he wants to stay." Morgause spoke in a throaty voice, and Lamorak left the room slowly, as if he found it unbearable to depart.
"An admirer." Gawaine grinned at his mother. He had chosen well — much better than he could have foreseen — in bringing Lamorak. Morgause rapped Gawaine's knuckles. "What about you? When will you marry again?"
Gawaine's stomach muscles tightened. He thought of the two wives he had married, and their deaths in childbed, especially his first wife. "Keri," he mumbled.
"Keri was a sweet girl, but she died years ago."
"Not yet three years." He sighed.
"That's a long time for a young man."
His mother's voice was not ungentle. "You can't mourn her forever. You don't grieve so much for your second wife."
"I thought of her as a little mouse because she scurried about and said so little. Before we were married, I thought her silence was just maidenly shyness, but it was not. I tried to encourage her to talk, but to no avail. And she never laughed. I didn't want a little mouse." He shook his head. "Perhaps I wasn't patient enough. Poor Little Mouse. I think she liked me. I asked her whether she wanted to marry me before I discussed it with her father, and she said yes readily. And she looked at me fondly sometimes."
"Of course she was fond of you. Do you think any girl you asked to marry you would be foolish enough to refuse?" Morgause chided him.
"Probably not, because I am a king's eldest son." Gawaine snorted.
"Not only that, but for many other reasons as well." His mother smiled at him. "You sh
ould have good memories of your little mouse. There are worse things than quietness in a wife, I assure you."
"I know that. But believe me, I have no intention of trying marriage again for a good long while. I can't replace Keri, and it's madness to try." He took a long drink. "And I don't want any more women to die bearing my children."
"Not all women die in childbed," Morgause said in a deep voice, as if showing how strong she herself was. She patted his arm. "You need sons. You needn't look to a wife for pleasure," she scolded. "You can find that elsewhere, as you already do, of course."
"Of course." Gawaine felt his face redden. "No doubt I'll find another wife someday." He took a long swallow of northern liquor, better than any he could get in the south. "I'm certain Arthur would let Lamorak stay here to help you in case there are any incursions from the Picts."
"Nonsense, I'll never look at a man again. I had quite enough with Lot." Morgause’s smile belied her words. She passed him an apple.
Gawaine took a bite of the apple. Of course, it was tasty. His mother knew how much he liked the fruit and always saved the finest for his visits. "I believe Arthur will want Lamorak to send reports," he said.
Morgause shrugged. "I doubt that he'll say anything bad."
"I'm sure he won't," Gawaine agreed. "Not that there's anything bad to say. You aren't plotting against Arthur, are you?" he teased.
"Not as long as he's a friend to you." Morgause handed Gawaine his horn of liquor as if he were still a child she was feeding. Not minding his mother's coddling, he drank from it.
Arthur entered Guinevere's room for his night's leisure. He kissed her cheek and sat down in a chair by hers.
Guinevere poured wine into a silver goblet for him.
"I miss Gawaine," he said with a sigh. "It's good having the support of kin. When I was a boy and didn't know that I was King Uther's son, I thought I had none." He sounded rather sad, which was unusual for him.
Guinevere pressed his hand and saw her chance. There would never be a better opportunity to ask him to allow Morgan to return to Camelot.
"It is sad indeed for kin to be parted. Perhaps someday your sister might return here? I would make her welcome." She spoke sweetly, as if she were concerned only for his sake, not her own. Arthur jerked his hand away. "Never!" He knocked over a candle.
Guinevere jumped backed from the table. She could not forget that her sister had been burned. "Fire!" she gasped.
"Never fear, it's nothing." Arthur put the candle, which had singed the table, back in the candlestick. He softened his voice. "I am not angry at you. You don't understand what she is like. But do not speak of her again. I have promised Bishop Dubricius of Londinium that she would never return."
So Guinevere gave up that hope. She guessed that his own mixed feelings about Morgan mattered more to him than the bishop's. He could not bring himself to face his sister again, and no wonder, after the way he had treated her. Seeing how he could hate frightened Guinevere. What would it be like if he ever came to hate her?
He was gentle only as the leather scabbard that covers the sword is soft, she figured, but unbending as the metal within.
Although Gawaine left Morgause a little time with Lamorak, she made it clear that she wanted to spend most of her hours with Gawaine while she could. He often went out riding with her.
On one such ride, a cold rain began to pour down, so they rested under a rock ledge.
The rain did not bother Gawaine. He was glad to be back in Lothian, glad to see the flowers that did not grow near Camelot.
The people's voices, with their familiar accents, sounded good to him. He was surprised that his mother seemed to mind the rain. She seldom had in previous years.
Queen Morgause looked bleaker than the day. Her shoulders drooped, and a few wrinkles showed on her face. She really is getting older, Gawaine thought, and barely stifled a sigh.
"Can I tell you the most terrible thing that I have done? Would you still love me?" she asked him.
"Of course." He fidgeted, not wanting to hear about whatever it was, but he thought he had to. No doubt it was some small matter, such as lying with a man other than his father while Lot was still alive.
"You shouldn't feel so bad if it was some man. You know how many women my father had."
She dismissed that with a bitter laugh. "Nothing like that. The men around Lot were just like him."
Thunder sounded in the distance, and lightning appeared far away. Gawaine wondered what she had done. It had seemed passing strange that Lot had died at home so soon after Gawaine had told his mother that Lot was a rapist. He would not blame Morgause if poison had been involved. How could she bear to be married to such a man?
She shook, although the cold usually did not make her do so. "I had always thought I would like a daughter for company. Then, a few years after Gaheris was born," she said in a hollow tone that was strange to him, "I gave birth to a girl."
He nodded. "The baby who died. I remember."
"The midwife handed her to me. A madness came over me, and I feared what her life might be like, with Lot as her father, and three older brothers, and a husband like Lot in her future. I turned her face to the pillow and pressed it in. That is why you have no sister."
Feeling as if he had been thrown from a horse, Gawaine reeled. He gasped, "Gods, mother, I wouldn't have touched her."
"I know, but I could not be sure about the others," she said, shuddering. "I did not trust Lot, though perhaps he would not have stooped that low. Agravaine and Gaheris have always been too much like him. They listened to their father, not to me. I can scarcely believe that they came from my body. I have never been able to bear being around another woman since then. I especially never wanted to meet your cousin Morgan, because I was afraid she would look like my daughter."
He tried to mutter consoling sounds, but what could he say?
"Do you hate me?" she asked anxiously, more subdued than he had ever seen her.
"No, no, of course not." Gawaine patted her cold hand and wondered whether his father really would have mistreated a daughter. He couldn't bear to be angry at his mother. Instead, here was another reason to hate his father.
"The worst part is that I was wrong," Morgause whispered. "I realized later that I was powerful enough to protect her, to make my husband and my sons fear to harm her, but it was too late." Exhausted, she sank back on the stones, her head in her hands.
Gawaine also staggered back and sat on a rock. His mother had always seemed to be the tenderest woman in the world – the arms where he had sought refuge as a child – as well as a fierce queen.
He could easily imagine her knifing a man if any attacked her, but he could not picture her killing a baby. Causing the death of an innocent child seemed worse to him than killing Lot would have been. He knew his thoughts about that subject were different from other men's.
If I had been a girl, I would have died, he thought, but the very idea was foolish because he never could have been a girl.
Gawaine wanted to put his wineskin to his lips and drink, but somehow the moment seemed too solemn. He thought of his own little girl, his second wife's baby, who had lived only a day. How much he had longed for the midwife to save his daughter. He had begged, promised anything in the world, if only she could save his little girl's life. Had the little sister his mother killed looked like her? Best not to think of that.
Keri's child had been a boy born dead. In a way, Gawaine had been relieved not to have to love a child who had cost Keri her life. But no, her death was his fault, not the child's.
Now he often tried not to get women with child. But he was not always that careful, he admitted to himself.
After a little while, Morgause lifted her head. "I did teach Lot to fear me. Do you know how I came to be called a witch? I started the rumors myself."
Staring at her, Gawaine took a deep breath. He groaned inwardly at the thought of hearing more revelations. Now the rain made him feel like a wildcat with soaked fu
r. It was all he could do to keep from saying, "No more, Mother, please."
"It was the first time Lot tried to beat me," Morgause went on, leaning towards her eldest son.
"Surely he never dared to beat you!" Gawaine could not fathom anyone striking his majestic mother. Why, she used to silence even Lot with a glance.
"A girl of fourteen summers, completely under his power? Of course he did." Her laugh was hollow.
"But I could think quicker than he could. I cursed him and told him that I had great powers. I would make his cock wither and his heart stop beating. I showed him a little simple magic I had learned from a jester in my father's caer, making things disappear. Lot believed me, or decided that he had better not risk learning whether I was telling the truth. He soon told his men to beware of his wife because she was a witch." She reached out to Gawaine, but did not touch him. "That was how I protected myself, and you. That was why he never beat you as hard as he might have."
"Mother!" Gawaine leapt up and threw his arms around her. Her skin felt so cold from the rain. He could remember being a shivering little boy, with Lot looming over him, and Morgause demanding, "Don't dare to injure my son." Lot had listened to her. Now Gawaine knew why. His mother had had to take on the name of witch to protect herself and him.
She had always seemed so proud and powerful. Now she felt fragile, and he wanted to protect her. He held her close.
"You are the only one I did not want to fear me. You are the only one who never has," Morgause said, putting her head on his shoulder in a gesture that was far softer than was her custom.
"Of course I haven't."
"Now I hope that Lamorak will not fear me. Do you think he'll stay long in Lothian?" she asked, an unaccustomed anxiety in her voice.
"Of course he will. How could he not?" He patted her rain-drenched shoulder. "Never fear, I'll tell him how you came to be called a witch."
He had been right to see his mother as a protector, Gawaine thought. She had been even more of one than he had reckoned. He wished, now that Lot was dead, that the rumor that she was a witch could be dispelled.
Lancelot- Her Story Page 13
