MORGAN: A Gripping Arthurian Fantasy Trilogy

by Lavinia Collins

He reached out to touch one of the herbs clutched in my hand, and as his hand brushed against mine, I felt myself startle, just a little, in a mix of fear, and the thrill I had not expected to feel at his touch. I was not ready. What kind of steward was he, anyway, already making eyes and flirting with his Lord’s new wife? For all he knew, I was still giddy with the fresh joys of marriage.

  “I do not think I have ever tasted this in a casserole,” he said, raising an eyebrow at me, but he moved his hand away, and he didn’t question me again.

  As I followed him out, I tucked the herbs up the sleeve of my dress.

  That night, I slipped the mixture I had prepared into Uriens’ drink. He did not seem to notice. Not until he decided it was time for us to go to bed. I followed him up the stairs, quiet and compliant as a little lamb, and he seemed inordinately pleased with himself. I supposed he thought he had broken me. I lay back and tried to keep the smile from my face as he grunted with frustration over me, finding that his ability had suddenly left him. He gave me a narrow look of suspicion as he rolled off me, but he was too embarrassed to make any kind of open accusation, and besides, he had drunk a lot of wine that night.

  When this happened to him again and again, he began to grant my requests. My request to have my own chamber, far from his, and to send letters to Nimue in Avalon. Before he had only allowed me to write to my sister, or to Arthur. I wrote to Nimue, asking her if she had got anything more from Merlin, and asking her to send me any news, and to come if she could. I thought about writing to Kay. But I was still angry that he had not come to say goodbye to me.

  I started to feel my freedom a little, and to enjoy wandering about the castle battlements, gazing at the wild country that surrounded it. It was all thick forests and dark craggy stone, beautiful in its own way. Almost like Avalon. I ran into the steward, who told me his name was Accolon, sometimes. He was always polite, but friendly, though he did not touch me again, nor wonder aloud what I looked like under my clothes. I think he sensed that I was wary, or that Uriens was angrier and angrier, more frustrated, every day. But I had guessed right that Uriens would not make any kind of open attack against me now that he knew it was his power as a man that I held hostage.

  The morning that Uriens came to tell me that they were departing that day, I felt sick. He came in while I was sitting at the window, wide open to the mid-autumn chill, trying to settle my stomach by breathing in the cold air. It wasn’t working, and I knew the cause.

  I only knew he was there when he spoke.

  “What is wrong with you, then?” he asked, gruffly.

  I turned around to see him standing in the door, dressed in his platemail with his helm under his arm. I was glad that he was leaving. The potion I had mixed to keep him from me was running out, and I was almost out of the herbs I needed to make it again. I didn’t know where I could find more, and I knew that if it was while he was here that he ran out, he would want to take all of his humiliation, his frustration and his anger out on me.

  I didn’t answer him.

  “So, you’re leaving today,” I said, flatly, leaning my head against my hand. I didn’t feel strong enough to sit up straight.

  He nodded. “I’m leaving the castle in the care of my steward. He is going to write to me, so don’t think that while I am gone you can do as you please.”

  “I am ever your obedient wife, sir,” I said.

  He threw me a dirty look, and left.

  I felt a rush of joy in my heart when, from my bed, I heard the hooves of the horses galloping away to war. Perhaps someone will kill Uriens, I thought. One of Morgawse’s sons. The angry one, Gawain. I imagined Gawain slicing off his head in battle. That gave me some comfort.

  By the time that winter reached its depths, and Uriens’ men had been at war a few months, I could not have mistaken the cause of my sickness, even if I had been the innocent little maid I was supposed to have been. I had thought of getting rid of it, as I had before, but the thought had struck me that it was likely enough to be Kay’s, rather than Uriens’. Besides, I was alone here, and I had seen how happy Morgawse’s children made her, and I hoped to have my own happiness that way, if I could.

  I did not want to tell anyone until it was necessary, but people had noticed. The serving women whom I largely ignored, preferring to take care of myself, noticed that I had not bled for a long time. Someone must have written to inform Uriens, because I got a letter from him telling me that he had sent for some sister of his to come and attend the birth. He didn’t trust me. I wondered if his mistrust would be well-placed. But I was dark-haired myself. I thought if it were Kay’s, it would be a while before it was evident. Someone must have written to Arthur, too, for I also got a message from him, though it was not a letter. It came in the form of a distant cousin of ours, a dull girl called Elaine, whom he had sent to keep me company, take care of me, and possibly to spy on me, until the baby came.

  She came through the thick snows of midwinter, though she was only small and weak-looking. Doe-eyed and olive skinned. As a child she had looked strange, her eyes too large and peeping like some night-time creature, but since I had seen her last, she had grown into it, and I had to admit she was very beautiful. She slid lithely from her horse and came over to wrap me in a gentle embrace. Her hair was soft, glossy, a lovely chestnut brown, and her frame was small as a child’s. She annoyed me, though I knew she was trying to be kind. She tried to read to me from a book of romances that she had brought with her, but I liked neither her soft, slightly babyish voice, nor the pointless, vacuous stories. She looked a little hurt when I told her curtly that I did not like them.

  I did not mind, however, having some company at night. I let her sleep in the bed beside me. It was warmer that way, and at night I would forget it was her as I fell asleep, and think it was Morgawse beside me, and that made me feel less lonely.

  One night, when the winter was just beginning to recede, and the swell of my stomach was just beginning to show beneath my clothes, I woke in the middle of the night from strange dreams of Kay and Lancelot, of them riding into battle side by side. I could not say what it was about it, but the dream filled me with panic. I sat up in bed, and gazed out of the window. Through the cloudy glass, I could see the points of stars. I thought it might calm me to go out, to get some air. No one else would be about. It was the middle of the night. I wrapped my woollen cloak around my nightdress and slipped on a pair of shoes, and snuck as quietly as possible out the door. If I woke Elaine, I would have to face her insipid concern, and then I would be too annoyed to go back to sleep.

  The castle was quiet and cold outside my room, where the low fire still burned in the grate. I was glad of it. It felt as though it was clearing my head. I walked out into the small courtyard. It was empty, and quiet. I turned my face up to the stars above me, taking in a deep breath of the winter night air. As I stretched out under the cold, crisp night, preparing to go back to bed, I noticed a light coming from the stables. I didn’t particularly want to talk to anyone, but I thought I might like to see the horses. Horses reminded me of Kay, and the gentle way he had with them.

  When I walked into the stables, I saw Accolon at the back, fiddling at something on one of the horses’ saddles. I got the feeling from him that he would rather be riding out to war than left at Rheged to oversee Uriens’ household while he was away. He looked like a man built for fighting.

  I said nothing as I went in, going over to the nearest horse, and stroking down its long, sleek nose. The horse gave a little whicker of appreciation, and Accolon looked up. Dropping what he was doing, he rushed over.

  “My Lady, what are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night.”

  In the suddenness of his concern he had rushed close. It was cold outside, but it was warm in the stable from the heat of a fire and the horses, so he was dressed only in his shirt and breeches. His shirt fell open at the neck and I could glimpse dark hair and a muscular chest through the opening. I forced myself to look up at his face.


  “Oh, I couldn’t sleep,” I answered absently.

  He nodded, but he did not look away, or move back from me. I felt a dangerous flutter of excitement in my heart. Chance had brought me here, alone with him in the middle of the night. I was not sure what I wanted.

  “And... you are well?” he asked, carefully. I saw him glance down at my stomach. The shape of me showed, just a little, through the nightdress. Unconsciously, I pulled my cloak tighter around myself.

  “Well,” I answered.

  He leaned away a little, looking at me, his eyes narrowing with thought.

  “Are you happy?”

  It seemed a strange question. Women were not allowed to say they were unhappy about children, especially if they were married. I thought I would be happy enough if it were not Uriens’.

  “Oh, yes.”

  His face crinkled more deeply, as though he were trying to puzzle something out. Something he had been wondering about for a long time.

  “So, your marriage was a love-match?” he asked, unable to keep the confusion from his voice.

  “No, no. Of course not. No.”

  Accolon shifted on his feet, and still looked troubled.

  “I would not have thought that a witch from Avalon would have to marry a man she did not love.”

  “I did it for my sister’s sake.” As the words came out of me, I realised that they were true. I felt raw, too honest, around him. Part of me wanted to leave, but I was deep in the middle-of-the-night honesty, and it was too late for me to walk away from it. “I did it in the hope that Uriens, or my brother, would kill her husband. Then her husband won’t kill her. She has... she gets herself into trouble. Morgawse has always needed my rescuing.”

  He looked shocked.

  “Your sister is Morgawse of Lothian?” I nodded. “I would have thought a woman with four sons would have had a happy marriage.”

  “You don’t understand much about marriage,” I replied, more sharply than I meant to. He looked at me, as though he suddenly saw me properly. He opened his mouth slightly as though there was something that he was going to say, but he did not. He reached out and, lightly, put a hand against my cheek. I felt my heart race, my blood rush in my veins. The look in his eyes was sudden understanding and, awfully, pity. I did not want anyone to feel sorry for me, but it drew me towards him, the real care I saw for me. If it had not been the middle of the night, if I had not felt vulnerable and raw, perhaps I would have questioned it, but I did not. I leaned towards him, and he leaned down towards me. I smelled the lovely warm scent of the horses nearby, and the fresh hay, and the smoke from the fire. I felt the anticipation tighten through me. I looked up to meet his gaze, his eyes, the dark green of the woods, and he was close enough that I could see the light covering of dark-gold stubble across his lip, his chin, and I let my eyes flutter shut. When I felt his lips against mine, I gave an unconscious sigh of pleasure. His lips were soft and gentle on mine at first, then quickly rough and urgent as, holding my face in his hands, he drew me towards him. It had been so long since a man I had wanted had touched me. I had not felt the loneliness of my body until that moment.

  “Morgan,” he murmured, as he moved his lips down, against my neck. I was breathing fast, and I felt the flush spread up through my body. I was hot with it already. I leaned my head back, closing my eyes, letting the feel of his lips, his hands sliding down my back pulling me closer, wash over me. It was overwhelming.

  Was I going to give in to it? I still felt bruised and vulnerable from all the betrayals I had felt at the hands of men. I wanted him, but I did not want that again.

  Accolon’s lips met mine again, and I met his kiss with an urgent passion of my own, losing my thoughts as I felt the brush of his tongue against mine, and a shock of desire went through me. I ran my hands through his hair, coarse and rough, and pressed my body against his. Through the thin material of my nightdress and his shirt, I felt the heat of his skin. He gave a low murmur of desire in response, and I felt his hand at the lace at the top of my nightdress, pulling it undone. He slid his hand gently inside, and the feel of his hand on me as he pressed to my bare breast underneath made me sigh again. My mind was becoming clouded with it, with his closeness.

  No, I didn’t want to. The horrible thought struck me that, like Merlin, he had only been kind to me to get something from me. My body, a magic sword; it was all the same. It was all so soon, so sudden. He was too eager to betray his King – a part of me wondered fleetingly if this might have been something Uriens had arranged so that he could prove to everyone that I was the whore he thought I was. I was not going to fall like a fool again.

  I put a hand against Accolon’s chest, prepared that I might have to shove him forcefully off me, but when he felt my resistance, he moved back immediately. I was surprised. I gathered my cloak defensively around myself. My body was still hot, still full of desire. But when I saw him step forward, as though to begin again, I held out my hand for him to stop.

  “I have had enough of men,” was all I managed to articulate, but miraculously, he seemed to understand.

  “I can wait,” he said, evenly, and he stepped back towards me, putting a gentle hand at the back of my neck. I looked up to meet his eye. “Just know that not all men are like Uriens.”

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Whenever I saw Accolon after that, he was kind and polite as before, but now he was also watchful, waiting for the signal from me that I was ready. I bided my time. A letter reached me from Morgawse, but she had tried rather too hard to be cryptic, and it did not make much sense. Still, I gathered from it that she was safe, and so was her youngest son. I did not think she would be afraid to tell me if he were dead.

  It was as spring was turning to summer, and my stomach grown large and heavy before me, that news came, but not in the form of a letter. It came in the form of Arthur, and Uriens and a small band of knights, and worst of all Merlin, arriving at the castle gates. I was standing with Accolon and Elaine as he was talking me through what we had in our stores. He leaned a little closer than he needed to, let his hand brush mine as he pointed to items on the list, but I did not mind. I had been enjoying it more and more, the pleasant tension of expectation growing between us.

  We heard the horns that announced the arrival of the castle’s Lord, and looked up. Arthur and Uriens rode at the head of the party. I glanced through the others, but did not see Kay. It was only Merlin, in his real form, wearing a cowled robe of rough black wool, that I recognised in the party. They had a prisoner with them, bound and led on a horse between Arthur and Uriens. At first, I thought it was a small, scrawny man, but as they came closer, I realised that it was a woman. She sat tall and proud on her horse, her hands bound before her, dressed in light leather armour set with battered plates of steel. She was covered in dirt, and dried blood, but she carried herself with haughty dignity. She must have been some great woman for them to have brought her as a prisoner, rather than slain her in the field, or worse.

  I stepped forward to greet Arthur. I noticed Uriens hang back. Good, he had learned his place. Arthur kissed me on both cheeks. He grinned, pleased to see me. Had he forgotten how he had treated me? There was no hint in his open, honest face that he knew that I hated him now, for what he had done to me. Uriens was not the only man who had wronged me. But I played the part of the loving sister, and gave Arthur a courteous smile.

  “It is a joy to see you, brother,” I told him.

  He smiled, holding me by the shoulders and looking down at the hugeness of my belly between us.

  “I, too, am glad to see you, and to see you so happy.”

  I put my hand on the top of my stomach and gave the easiest smile that I could. Why did all men think a woman with a child must be happy with her husband? I had read a book of Galenic medicine in Avalon that had been full of such rubbish, and had suggested that a woman had to enjoy to conceive. I had thrown it away. It seemed the men of Logrys still foolishly believed such tales.

 
Arthur moved past me, giving the orders to Uriens’ men to take his horses to the stable. His small band of knights dismounted and followed him. Uriens came over to me, his face a mix of pleasure to see the promise of a child he dared to hope was his, and displeasure to see me.

  “Morgan,” he greeted me tersely. I gave him a slight nod.

  “Uriens. I am pleased to see my husband safe.”

  “Morgan, I would be a very foolish man to believe a single thing you ever said to me,” he said sharply. “Can I trust you to guard our prisoner until we decide what to do with her? Actually…” He looked past me, and saw Accolon. “Steward, come here. I need you to put this prisoner somewhere.”

  “No,” I interrupted. “I will take care of it.”

  I did not want the woman put in some awful dungeon. Nor somewhere that Uriens could get his hands on her. No one deserved that. Uriens walked back and pulled her roughly from her horse, dragging her by the arm across the courtyard to me. Elaine behind me gave a demure little gasp. I wasn’t sure if she was gasping at the sight of the warlike woman, dressed in armour like a man, or at Uriens’ treatment of her. The woman had an empty scabbard at her side. So she had once been armed like a man, too. She already had the marks on her of a man’s rough treatment. A dark bruise showed against the pale skin of her cheek, high on the bone, and her lip was split. Those were not the wounds of the battlefield. When she was dragged up to me, I saw the animal fear in her fierce blue eyes.

  I reached out, and took her from Uriens. He let go of her arm reluctantly. I turned to her.

  “Come with me. No one will try to hurt you. You will be safe, as long as you do not try to run.”

  Her eyes looked back at me, uncomprehending, and wide with panic.

  “She doesn’t speak English,” Uriens told me, with a cruel grin.

  “What does she speak?” I asked. He shrugged. I was sure that he knew. “Who is she, Uriens?”

  He said nothing, just gave me a mean smirk, walking off. I turned round to Elaine.