You are sworn to obey me and the Goddess. Do not shirk your duties!
Morgaine, High Priestess of Avalon, Duchess of Cornwall
Again, I saw the scene in my mind where Lady Morgaine made sure I was humiliated in front of the royals and their people. I felt the sting of it as if it was occurring at that moment. I felt the shame and humiliation of my punishment in the dark hut. Her rejection of me—and my knowledge that some of my feelings were due to a strong enchantment.
The pain I felt on the journey to the castle rose again, but it was much worse.
What of Mabina and all the work that must be done that she had relied on me for, since the ache in her back made it so difficult? What of the girls who showed their devotion to me? Would the Lady pursue them—harm them?
And then, inevitably, I thought about the girls who were killed on the ship from Viborg. They depended on me. They loved me, I think. I surely loved them. And I could not save them. They died so brutally.
Because of me.
I am alone.
So alone!
It felt as if a great hole opened in my soul. I let myself slide down into the pit. Darkness overwhelmed me.
Chapter Eighteen
A long time later, I heard a faint sound. What it was, I did not know, nor care. But it was persistent. Slowly, I realized it was music. Not the fast kind one hears during festivals or the slightly frightening music of the rites, but something slow, comforting. It was as if the notes were searching for me, telling me I mattered somehow.
Eventually, I bestirred myself and followed the melody back into the world. It felt as if I was awakening from a long sleep after a sickness.
I found myself on the floor, in front of the dying fire of my small room in Camelot. Merlin was sitting beside me, on my bench, playing a harp. It was larger than most “hearth harps” I had heard described. The beautiful hawthorn frame was decorated with an inlay of many types of wood and ivory describing a tree of life on the back post. I realized I had never seen him with his harp before, even though Mabina told me he was as much known for it as his stories.
Merlin wore a necklace he never had in Avalon. There were thirty-three carved wooden beads, and a piece of very old oak in the center, which was a little longer than his forearm. On it was carved the Tree of Life. I noticed a purple glint on his hand; it was a bronze ring with the symbols of the Great Tree on either side, a large piece of amethyst at the center. I realized these must be the regalia of his office as high priest of the Druids. He had never worn them in Avalon, and I wondered why.
I also noticed that his nose was the same as the king’s, only larger. Were he and the king related?
When he finished the tune, he blinked owlishly down at me. “Ah, there you are, my dear.”
“When came you here?” I asked.
“I returned to Camelot this morning. The king mentioned that the girl from Wyke Regis had been brought from Avalon to be the healer here, and I knew it was you. I came to see you when I was free, but you’d fallen into a trance, I think. I had my man, Eoghann, fetch my harp and played some music to soothe you. How do you feel?”
It all crashed down on me at once, Morgaine’s betrayal—I would never think of her as “Lady” again—the horrible journey that brought me hence, the loss of not one, but two Motherhouses …
I burst into tears and sobbed for a long while, leaning against his knee.
Merlin stroked my hair until I stopped. “Better?” I nodded. “That was a long time coming, wasn’t it?”
I wiped at my still streaming eyes. “I hate to weep.”
“Sometimes, it’s the best medicine, though, little healer.” He looked at me for a long while, and I knew he was searching my soul. I allowed him to examine many things, but not all. I hid my feelings for him, my affair with Morgaine, as well as the secrets of a priestess. It was not fitting he should know any of the sacred rites.
After a time, he said, “Don’t look upon this new life as exile. See the chance to make your world larger. Learn what goes on outside the confines of a Motherhouse.”
I sniffled. “I would rather not.”
He chuckled gently. “Yes, I understand. The world is a large place and one can get hurt. But I think your place is not to stay cloistered away. I will help you as I may.”
“You are kind, as always.” And once again, I was shy with him. I tried to break out of it. “I have never seen you wear that necklace before.”
He touched it lightly. “No, indeed. I don’t wear anything to indicate my rank on Avalon. It tends to … stir up resentments.”
If it was he who was the dark priest, then how could Morgaine force him not to wear his badges of office? Would he not flaunt them in her face if he were the aggressor?
Merlin said thoughtfully. “And how did you come to Camelot? I thought you wanted to stay in Avalon and take Mabina’s place when she passed?”
Holding back the tears, I told him some of what occurred: the dispute over the girls who flocked to me, the priestess who observed us the night Merlin and I spoke together in front of the Sacred Grove, the banishment to the dark croft, and my humiliation in front of the Royal Court. In spite of my resolve, a few tears roll down my face. I could not tell him the pain of losing Morgaine as my lover. That I could never tell anyone.
“It was on the long walk here that it finally occurred to me all that was going on. Lady Morgaine felt threatened by the way the girls were drawn to me. There can only be one high priestess in each Motherhouse. I know this, but I did not heed my lessons.”
Merlin’s look was thunderous. “I’d hoped when Morgaine took over Avalon, she was done with such behavior. I’m sorry you got caught up in her plots and schemes. I’ll do my best to protect you from her while you’re in Camelot.”
“I do not even know what to do here,” I said.
“You will be the best healer Camelot has ever seen.” He banished his scowl and caressed my still damp cheek. There was a feeling his touch gave me—a shimmer like magick stretched down and sparked joy in my heart. “Now get some sleep. We will talk more in the next few days.”
“You are staying here?” I asked.
“I live here,” he said, “although I am often away.” Then he took his harp and left.
He could not be the wrong-doer Morgaine said he was.
I will not believe it.
The next day, I asked Sir Cai, the large, bald man I met on my first day in Camelot, for permission to grow some healing plants in the castle garden and to be allowed to roam outside the gates for native plants. He agreed, although he looked puzzled—partly, I guessed, because he thought I did not speak his tongue. “Erea never grew herbs.”
“Yes. She was not a very good healer, possibly because of her age,” I said.
A parchment rolled off his table, and, wincingly, Sir Cai got up to get it. I hastened to fetch the scroll and handed it to him.
He thanked me and sat back down, grimacing.
“Excuse me. I cannot help but notice you suffer pain,” I said.
He gave me a look half-way between annoyance and hostility. I could tell he hated pity, especially from a woman. “An old wound to my back,” he said. “I received it in our king’s first battle. Instead of sending me home, King Arthur made me his seneschal.”
“I have herbs that can ease the pain and salves that will help keep the ache away. I would be pleased to bring them later, if you would allow it,” I said.
Cai looked as if he might refuse, but then his fierce look gave way to something approaching relief. “I would appreciate that. The older I am, the worse it gets.”
I bowed. “I will fetch them and show you how to use them.”
“Thank you, lass,” he said, almost smiling.
Once out in the courtyard, I asked a stable hand. “Who is in charge of growing food for this enormous castle?”
He directed me to the chief gardener, Trahern, a man with a club foot. I explained to him what I wanted. He said, “Too late in the s
eason to get anything but a few sprouts, lass.”
“A few sprouts will be more than I have now, sir,” I said. “Please, just a small corner of your field will do.”
He stared off to the horizon. Following his gaze, I spotted a high hill crowned by a ring of standing stones. I did not know you could see Glast Tor from Camelot. That sacred site loomed over Avalon and was a place from which we could chart the stars. Seeing it now was like to sighting a dear friend a long way off.
Trahern started to cough—a phlegmy, hacking noise.
“Have you had that cough long?”
He nodded. “Since Imbolc. If you’re a healer, do you have something that would ease it? Keeps me and the wife awake at night.”
“I do, and will bring you some later today,” I said.
“Right then,” he said. “There’s a corner in the northwest, nearest the castle. I let it go to clover to feed the cows, but they’re off in the summer pasture. You can have that.”
I thanked him. Then, before returning to my little dark room for medicines, I went for a walk in the fields closest to the castle. It was pleasant to be in Britain’s beautiful countryside. It was not as lush as Avalon, but lovely nonetheless. I was reminded of the Goddess dream in which I beheld the wonders of this land.
As I wandered, I acquired much-needed plants for my collection. When I returned to the castle, I planted some in my garden space. Others I took back to my room to distill immediately.
Every day thereafter, I went out and gathered plants and did some gardening. It lifted my spirits to work in the dark earth. Secretly, I cast a small growing spell on my patch of herbs to help them grow faster after their late start. Trahern was all admiration for my gardening skills and even asked for some tips. I talked about steeped bloodworms and a piece of iron buried in the south corner. He nodded sagely. Whether he believed me or not, I did not know.
But his cough was better.
In the evenings, I joined the kitchen and serving staff for dinner. They were at first wary of me, but once I cured Nara’s hiccups and Aigneis’s itch, they seemed less afraid.
Nara overcame her shyness one night to ask in front of the others, “Are you a godless witch like them other women of Avalon?”
There was an intake of breath from the others. It was brave of Nara to ask what they were thinking.
Carefully, I replied, “I have studied the sacred things of this land in Avalon, it is true. But most of what I know is how to cure a rash, or a cough, or the hiccups. It is no witchcraft. Just the same knowledge that women have known since time began. Surely, God does not hate that.”
“You don’t practice evil rituals and turn people into unnatural things?” asked Henwas, an old man who oversaw the fires in the castle.
“I have never in my life changed anyone into anything. This, I promise,” I said.
Slowly, they accepted my presence.
Lavena revealed herself to be the storyteller of the group. On a rainswept night, I finally knew I was to be accepted by the servants when I was invited to stay after our meal and hear the talk.
Alric said, “Lavena, give us a tale then.”
Lavena settled her bulk on the bench by the fire. Someone handed her a tankard of mead. “A tale? What’ll ya hear then?”
There was a hubbub, as the servants vied to come up with a story they had not heard recently. Then Elise said, “I know! Tell us of the King’s Game!”
“Oh!” said the group as one. Several exclaimed, “Yes!”
“The King’s Game then,” Lavena said with a nod. “Back some years ago, King Arthur went to Wales. Seems there was a mage causing trouble.”
“A mage?” I asked. It seemed there was no end to learning this tangled tongue.
“A magick user—usually evil,” Lavena said. “This one they called Orwein. He had a mighty army and was threatening to defeat all of King Arthur’s Welsh subjects. When he seen the King and his knights arrive at his keep—called Castle Wonder—Orwein made a grand tent appear on the grounds in front o’ his gates. Soon, good smells o’ a rich feast came out, and pleasant music. A comely lass stood at the entrance and invited the king—and only the king—inside.
“Our good King Arthur went in and found Orwein sitting at a table in front o’ big chess board. All the pieces were gold, silver, and ivory. Orwein told the king, ‘Instead o’ battle, we’ll play to decide who’ll hold Wales.’
“Well, our king is a peace-loving man at heart, so he sat down and agreed to play.
“The pieces were magickal, so all they had to do was think about which o’ ‘em should move, and it did. And as they played, ho! There was a mighty racket outside. A page—who happened to be my nephew, Dermot, so this is how I know the story—came running in and said that Orwein’s army, who he called ravens, were fighting the king’s army. Our good king realized the game he and Orwein were playing was making the battle ’round him!
“He got up to go, but Orwein threatened to kill everyone if the king left. ‘Call off your ravens!’ said the king.
“But Orwein said, “Your move, Sire,’ and so they kept playing.
“Again, Dermot came in, telling the king that Orwein’s black knights were battling his men. Orwein only smiled and said, ‘Your move, Sire.’ But this time, our good king got mad and took up several of the pieces and, with his mighty strength, ground them into dust. Orwein saw his magick could nay hold the king, and so he surrendered!”
I joined with the others in praising Lavena for the story, and well-told. It was the beginning of many nights I spent listening to tales, and gossip about the knights and their ladies: who was mean, who was sleeping with whom, and who was plotting mayhem against the others.
Chapter Nineteen
Each night, after dinner, I went back up to my room and wrote down the rumors and stories the servants and house staff told me. I also put down the conversations I overheard around the castle. I did not know if anyone would come for the information, but I wished to show my obedience.
It was not that I aimed to be in Morgaine’s good graces. I was not sure she had any. But I was hoping what she wrote was true—that in two summers’ time I might return to Avalon and take up my job as healer again. If I complied with everything she asked for, perhaps Morgaine would do as she promised.
I did not actually hold out much hope.
But, I could not imagine staying in this castle, cut off from the priestess-life I had always known. I so missed the daily rhythms: the morning prayer, the daily gathering of the dew-laden plants to make into medicines, the chatter around the baths. The noon prayer and breaking of fast afterwards. If it was warm, we often swam in the lake. The swans and the geese would glide over to watch our sport, and I always felt they were amused at our featherless antics. Study and work filled the afternoons, until prayers and evening meal. Songs and stories came after, until the young ones fell asleep curled up against each other, or on elder sisters’ laps. And then the soft night came—a time for dreams and visions.
And sometimes, Morgaine’s summons.
I must stop thinking about her!
Camelot seemed always to be a-bustle with activity that no one person was in charge of. Yes, the king was the king and the queen was the queen, but Sir Cai ran the people around the palace. Lavena ran the kitchens. The stables were run by Devyn, a man of middle years missing a hand. (Lavena swore it was nipped off by a kelpie—a shape-shifting water horse that haunted the lochs of the northern land of the Scots. But Galvyn, the head of the great hall servants, said he was caught stealing bread from a church when he was young.) Varney ran the woodworks. Trahern tended the fields, and on and on. It was quite confusing.
There was something going on at every moment of the day and night. It took me quite a while to get used to the noise.
I had almost stopped jumping every time mad cries erupted from the colorful birds who strutted about the courtyard—peacocks, I was told they are called. Apparently, they were gifts from some foreign lord to the quee
n. She adored them.
There were feast days for the saints (dead servants of their god), and worship attached to the child of their god, whom they call Jesus, or the Christ. These rituals I saw as good and right, if only for sewing together the people. It was said Merlin attended some of the rites in the castle chapel.
But mostly, there was much coming and going of strangers. Knights were always riding in and boasting of their deeds. There was jousting and wrestling and sword-fighting and all manner of manly military sport going on in the courtyard. From time to time, one would get drunk and ride through the great hall. Sir Cai bellowed and drove the servants to get them out. The king seemed to find this amusing.
Every day was a feast of some sort. There was little in the way of quiet reflection time. The place was in a hubbub at all hours, as this group or that army traveled to where they were told to go.
And meanwhile, the queen led her women about—all of them very comely virgin maids—often showing up at places where all these women-less men might observe them. I had come to think she did this on purpose. Did she hope to get these girls husbands? Did she do it because—although the women are pretty—Queen Guinevere looked like the fairest flower of the garden? I could not know. But, there was some sort of purpose to it.
And the endless intrigues of the married women to help boost their fortunes, or that of their husbands and children! It was quite bewildering. Lady Jennah, Sir Caradoc’s wife, conspired to make Lady Beatrice, Sir Ywain’s wife, look like a fool by forcing her to trip in front of the king during a feast. Or the time Lady Juliana, Sir Colgrevance’s wife, fell out of her palanquin, and Lady Rohesia, King Bagdemagus’ wife put it about that she was so drunk she could not even sit a pillow. The rumors swirled and shifted daily.
The king was in evidence at dinner or riding out on hunting parties. But mostly he was in chambers. I heard he and Merlin talked with many of the knights and petty kings about future battles and holding borders. Sometimes, these talks went on all through the day and night. I had not heard when it was they slept.
The Priestess of Camelot Page 9
