MORGAN: A Gripping Arthurian Fantasy Trilogy

by Lavinia Collins

  “I love you, Morgan,” he whispered.

  I said nothing. I did not want to say it too, not like he said it. He said it like goodbye.

  Kay stayed until I fell asleep, holding me in his arms in a silence that was half contentment, half dread, and I laid my head on his chest and closed my eyes. I wanted the moment to last, I wanted to stay awake in Kay’s arms as long as I could, and for the morning and my wedding not to come, but somehow with Kay’s comforting presence beside me, I fell asleep quickly, and when I woke in the morning, he was gone.

  Some serving maids came in the morning with a bath for me. I had rarely had baths before. I had always washed in the river, or in Avalon’s great lake. The bath came for me steaming and smelling of rose and lavender oils. So, I was to be a show of Arthur’s fine taste and sophistication as well.

  Resentfully, I got into the hot water, sending the women away first. I had not grown up with servants as my sister had, and they made me uncomfortable. The nuns and the ladies of Avalon had done everything for themselves, and having women around helping me felt intrusive. I sank down into the hot water, and rubbed my limbs clean. Through the water, the patterns on my skin looked distorted, as though I was mottled all over in blue like a fish or a lizard. I liked it, though I was sure that my new husband would not. Not all men were like Kay. Most men were not like Kay. I was not sure, actually, if any other man was like Kay. Would every other man be afraid of my blue skin? My knowledge? Because that was really it – no man wanted a wife who knew secrets that he could not even guess at.

  I ran my hands through my hair, feeling the clean hotness of the water against my scalp, and while the water cooled around me, wove it into a long four stranded plait, which was the most elaborate way I knew how to dress my hair, and not much better than the usual plait, but I supposed I ought to look different the day I got married.

  I stepped from the bath and rubbed myself dry with a clean sheet, then dressed as slowly as I could in the dress Nimue had brought for me. It would make me feel a little stronger, a little safer, to have something from Avalon with me. Nimue came in as I was dressing, and helped me tie it tightly at the back. I ran my hand over the bodice, feeling the smooth bumps of the gemstones, gleaming like the scales of a dragon. It was a magnificent dress. Not beautiful, like Nimue’s, but better. Fearsome.

  Nimue looked me up and down in it.

  “You look wonderful, Morgan,” she told me, sincere and earnest. “Beautiful.”

  She leaned up and kissed me on the cheek, and I gave her a shaky smile.

  There was another knock at the door, and without waiting for a response, my mother stepped through. I was shocked to see her, having forgotten that she was at Camelot. She had not been there when they were talking about having me married, though I supposed she would have had to agree to it. She looked beautiful as always, more beautiful than me, I thought, though she was twenty five years older. The thought struck me hard that at my age, my mother had already had my sister. I had had a few more years of freedom than she. She was dressed in a grey and silver silk dress, her hair wound into an elegant bun at the nape of her neck and secured with a silver net. She smiled when she saw me, and kissed me on both cheeks.

  “Today you become a woman, little Morgan,” she told me kindly, stroking my cheek as though I were a child. She cupped my cheeks in her hand. “You will make a wonderful queen. Just remember that men are rough and simple, and as women we must be wise, but also obedient.” She kissed me on my forehead. “You are prepared… for tonight?” she asked, fixing me with a look of concern. “You know what to expect?”

  I nodded. She smiled again and took my hand and squeezed it.

  “Good. I hope you will be a happy wife, Morgan.”

  I wondered if she had been a happy wife with my father. Or with Uther. I could not imagine that she had been with Uther. Uther had killed her husband and tricked her to have her. Morgawse always told me that our mother and father had been happy together, had loved each other, but I was not sure if that was really true, if that was not the dream Morgawse had of her childhood before Uther.

  She drew me in to a tender, motherly embrace, and I held her tight. I was not sure if I would get one of these again. Uriens would take me away to his lands, and war might tear me and my mother apart. She took my hand and tucked it in to the crook of her arm, to lead me from my room. I wanted to turn and look at it one last time, to have a final savour of my life before marriage, but I only caught a glimpse before the door was shut fast behind me. I closed my eyes and steeled myself. It would be over soon.

  Mother led us down, Nimue following behind, and across the courtyard into the chapel. It was already full of people. I felt my heart beating hard and nervous inside me. I felt small and nervous, childlike with fear and anticipation. I glanced through the crowd as Mother led me down the centre aisle. Kay hung at the back, not in the pews, but leaning against the back wall, his arms crossed over his chest, one foot braced against the stone. He was staring straight ahead of him. I did not think he was ignoring me. He seemed lost in thought. In the pews, I saw familiar faces from around Camelot, but then my eyes caught on a head of glossy chestnut-brown curls. As though sensing my look, the man turned and I saw with a stab of anger and fear that I was right; it was the young man Merlin. Of course he had come like that to see me married. He gave me a cruel little grin. I looked away.

  Arthur stood at the back of the chapel, near the altar, with Uriens. Arthur was dressed in red and gold and with his crown. He did look every bit the king. I supposed he was dressed like that to remind my new husband what a fine prize he was getting. He took my hand from my mother’s, and led me up to Uriens. I saw a look of distaste pass across Uriens’ face as my hand was placed in his, and I felt myself harden inside with resentment. Did he think I was pleased with him? I was only woaded blue; other than that I was young and desirable enough. I was the daughter of a king, the sister of a king. He ought to have been glad to have me.

  The ceremony passed in a blur, and Uriens’ kiss at the end was a dry, perfunctory brush. He still had not spoken a word to me. I was relieved when I heard the people in the chapel cheer, and Uriens led me away to the feast. At least there I could drink enough wine that I might not notice him on top of me later, or slip into a hazy, drunken half-sleep where it might not be so bad.

  I sat beside Arthur, with Uriens the other side of me, at the high table. I suppose the places had been set as a subtle reminder to Uriens that I was still closer to the king that he was, but I would have preferred not to be sat next to Arthur. I was still angry with him. On the other side of Arthur sat our mother. When I caught her eye, she gave me an encouraging smile. I must have looked as full of discomfort as I felt.

  Kay sat opposite Arthur, moved further from his usual place by me and my husband. I could see that he was drunk already. His cheeks were flushed from the wine, and when he drank, he tipped his cup back clumsily, spilling a little against his lips. Usually cheerful, and usually guiding the conversation with his charm, Kay’s sudden silence at the feasting table made conversation awkward. I didn’t want to talk pleasantries with Arthur, and my new husband was no conversationalist, so it was mainly composed of our mother asking polite questions about the homes of various lords and ladies around us.

  I knew the food was rich and opulent, but I could not really taste it through my nerves. I felt better when I had drained a few cups of wine. The fuzzy feeling than ran through my limbs made me feel further from my body, more disconnected from my limbs. I would endure Uriens better like this. When the food had been cleared, the music for the dancing began and Kay jumped up with a sudden cheer. Arthur, flushed, too, with wine, laughed with joy and relief to see Kay suddenly back to his usual self. Kay sprang away to join the dancing. I glanced at my husband. I was pleased, at least, that he had as little taste for dancing as I did. He was picking a piece of meat, or something, from his teeth. He looked bored. I did not know how a man as stolid and boring as he could be bored b
y anything.

  There was a group of people dancing already. Among them, I saw Kay twirling around with a girl with glossy brown ringlets, whom I did not think I knew, but who looked oddly familiar. His hands were at her waist, and he seemed to be dancing pressed unnecessarily close to her. I felt a burn of jealousy. I knew that I was going to bed with another man, but it did not seem fair for Kay to be drunkenly dancing like that with other women right in front of me, even if it would make him feel better that I was getting married. I caught sight of the girl’s face as Kay spun her around again, and realised with a little jump of fear that the girl looked familiar because she looked in the face like the handsome young Merlin. I glanced around the room. I could not see him there. Surely Merlin would not be doing this? What would he have to gain? Only upsetting me.

  Arthur, beside me, got up from his seat with a happy laugh and went to join the dancing. His mistake with Morgawse had not served to make him more shy or more careful around women, I noticed. Uriens, beside me, gave a little cough and I turned to see that he had stood from his chair and was offering me his hand. I supposed that meant it was time to go.

  “My Lady Morgan,” he said, politely. I took his hand. As I turned to go, I saw the girl dancing with Kay suddenly grab him by the face and kiss him. He stumbled back a step, stunned, or perhaps just drunk, but then, slowly, put his arms around her. I hoped that I was wrong, and that she was not Merlin.

  Uriens led me away, up to a room in the King’s tower of Camelot. It had obviously been specially prepared for the event. Candles were already burning. It was summer, so there was no fire, but in the low candlelight the bedsheets gleamed with gold and silver threads. They were obviously fine silk, the finest that could be found. Arthur would want Uriens to believe that every room in Camelot was as fine as this.

  I noticed for the first time how richly dressed Uriens, too, was. I had barely noticed him beside me all evening. He was dressed in a brocade surcoat sewn in pale gold and silver on grey, and he had huge gold rings on his fingers. Now we were alone, he undid his surcoat and shrugged it off, folding it carefully and placing it on the chair in the corner of the room. He stood back for a moment, looking me over. I stood uneasily, feeling the door at my back, the desire to run away. I had nowhere to go. Not really.

  “So, you’re witch,” he said flatly. It wasn’t really a question. He did not seemed pleased.

  “I was schooled in Avalon. I know some of the healing arts. That’s all,” I told him softly. Best to play obedient, to play innocent, for now. There was no point in my having got married if I could not keep him long enough to make sure that we won the war against Lot. Morgawse would be safer if Lot was dead. I had to keep him happy for now, for her sake.

  He made a small grunt of half-acceptance. He pulled his shirt over his head, and folded it, and put it with the surcoat. The hair on his chest was grey, and wispy. Beneath he was corded with lean, ageing muscle and tanned and lightly speckled with freckles from the sun. He looked at me expectantly. I did not know what I was supposed to do. I was glad that he was not going to try to kiss me, but I was not sure what I was meant to do on my own. I wished that I had drunk more wine.

  “Did no one explain this to you?” he asked, annoyed. I didn’t know what the other women that he had been with must have done. I knew what I was doing. It seemed to me that he did not know himself.

  “I need help with my dress,” I told him, already feeling myself withdrawing, resolving to hate him. It was unkind and unfair of him to be angry with his bride for not knowing or doing what he wanted. For all he knew, I was a virgin raised in an abbey. I could have been terrified, as my sister had been. As it was, I was just reluctant.

  He walked over and turned me roughly around as I held my plait out of the way so that he could unlace the dress and pull it over my head. I turned back to him, and saw the distaste deepen on his face as he saw that I was tattooed in blue all over. He ought to have been grateful to have one of the wise women of Avalon as his wife. If he were more open-minded, I might have offered to change myself into a form that he would have found more appealing, but he did not seem like the kind of man to be interested in that. He felt as though he had compromised for politics on his bride, and he was resentful. He ought to imagine how I felt. I supposed he thought himself attractive. He had a rough, plain, square face and a sullen look on it. I would never have described him so.

  Still, in the spirit of duty, I went to unlace my underdress, but he put a hand over mine to stop me.

  “Don’t take that off,” he said, gruffly. He doesn’t want to look at me. Not the blue skin, not the skinny body. I felt the burn of embarrassment on my cheeks. He could have been just a little kind to me, and we might have made the best of it, but he was determined for me to know that he did not want me. “Get in the bed,” he said, turning away from me to unlace his breeches and pull them off.

  In my underdress, I slipped beneath the covers. I felt the wine swim a little in my head, but I had not drunk enough. I thought of Kay, kissing the brown-haired girl. Maybe he had gone to bed with her by now. What if she was Merlin? What if Merlin did something to Kay, to hurt me? Perhaps he had found out that I had given Nimue the book, and he was angry. What if he hurt Kay? I felt an urge to run from the room, around the castle, looking for Kay, to warn him. I felt more and more sure that it was Merlin.

  My thoughts were interrupted by Uriens climbing in to bed on top of me. He had blown out all the candles, obviously not wanting to look at me, and the suddenness of his weight on top of me surprised me. I gave a little involuntary jump, and he made a shushing noise that was half-comforting, half-patronising. Not comforting enough for me to forgive him for it. I felt his hands pulling up the underdress to my waist, and then moving my legs apart. No. I couldn’t do this. I didn’t want to be married, he didn’t want to marry me either, we could stop now and the marriage could be undone. Stop, I wanted to say, but my voice had left me. I felt my body tense against him, but it was too late. He thrust himself hard into me and I bit back a small cry of pain. I would not give away any weakness. I screwed my eyes tight shut and tried to picture something else, but all I could picture was Kay with the girl who looked like Merlin, or suddenly and awfully, Arthur with Morgawse, kissing her against the wall of the corridor.

  It was thankfully over soon and Uriens rolled away. I felt more naked, more dirty than I had ever felt with Kay, or even with Merlin. I felt sore, too, and my skin cold and clammy with unwanted touch. Uriens was soon snoring beside me, but it was growing light outside before I could finally fall asleep. I wanted to cry, but I dared not. I didn’t want to wake Uriens, or to give in to weakness of any kind. I would need all my strength to survive being his wife.

  Chapter Twenty

  Through the half-sleep of my morning I felt Uriens leave the bed and get up to dress. I was glad that he was not waiting for me, and that he was leaving. I turned my pillow over and pressed my face into the cool side, slipping back off into sleep. But, as I felt myself drifting away, Uriens tore back the covers from the bed. I groaned, tired and annoyed, but he was searching through the bed desperately, as though he were looking for some lost object on which his life depended. He pushed me roughly out the way, as though he were looking under me for something, but I was awake now, and angry. I had put up with his coldness last night, but I wasn’t going to be shaken from my bed by his strange behaviour. I sat up to protest, and he grabbed me and turned me over, looking over me as well. I tried to wriggle away from him, but with a low grunt of anger, he grasped me hard by the arm and dragged me from the bed. I struggled against him, but I couldn’t get my arm free of him. Despite his age he was strong, with many years of fighting behind him, and I was small and skinny, the only strength I had hiding deep inside me for when the time came I could use it.

  “What is wrong with you?” I shouted at him, as he dragged me from the room, but he did not seem to hear me. He pulled me with him through the corridor and up the flight of stairs to Arthur’s be
droom.

  “What are you doing?” I asked again, angry and embarrassed. My hair hung loose and long around my shoulders, down to my waist, and I stood in only my underclothes, my feet bare against the cold stone. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this, nor did I think my new husband ought to be dragging me through Camelot like this.

  He didn’t seem to hear me, but banged hard on Arthur’s door. Before waiting for a response, he turned the handle and strode in, dragging me behind him.

  Arthur stood before his fireplace in his shirt and breeches, the shirt hanging loose and his hair still tousled with sleep. Behind him, I noticed Kay. He didn’t look up when he heard the door.