When they did, it was like a punch in the gut. I stared at Viviane, unbelieving. “You knew all along. You knew and never told me. Do the manipulations of Avalon run so deep?”
I never saw Viviane lash out, but suddenly, there was a crack and my left cheek stung.
“I may be your friend, Guinevere, but I am still Lady of the Lake.” Viviane’s tone was stern with warning like a disapproving mother’s. “I deserve your respect, as does this sacred place. As you well know, Avalon does not mettle in the affairs of kingdoms or people. We joined together whom the gods indicated, and their will took its course. If you wish to be mad at someone, let it be your husband or Morgan. It was not I who betrayed your trust.”
Chided, I sank back in my chair, weighing her words. She was right. What was more, Merlin had tried to tell me. Years ago, at Corbenic, he’d told me I had seen the king in Avalon, but I couldn’t wrest the memory from my mind. Maybe some part of me had known all along and was just unwilling to admit it. Because if Arthur was the Sacred King. . . “Morgan was the Virgin Queen. That is how they met.”
“Yes.” Viviane examined her own cup.
I went through the course of events in my memory. “But Morgan was not with child after Beltane. When was Mordred conceived?”
Viviane looked up. “You should really discuss this with your husband. He can tell you from experience. I can only relate hearsay.”
I stood. “I don’t care if what you know is third- or fourth-hand. I only want to know the truth.”
“Guinevere, sit. I do not appreciate your tone.”
I genuflected before her, touching my thumb to my forehead, lips, and heart. “Forgive me, Lady. I forgot my place.”
She lifted my chin with her hand and bid me rise. Once I was seated again, she reluctantly continued. “From what we can tell, they reunited after Morgan was banished from the isle. I’m sure you know about that?”
“Yes. Merlin told me.”
“The reason we couldn’t find her is that she was following Uther’s army. Somehow, she had gotten wind that Arthur was a soldier and went in search of him. From what I can tell, once they found each other, they were inseparable. Until—”
“Until Uriens directed Arthur’s attention my way,” I finished for her. I rubbed my fingers on either side of my nose. “So Arthur gets his first love as well as his queen, and I get nothing. That is fair.”
Viviane stroked my leg. “The Goddess never promised to be fair. Only to lead you on the path she sees fit.”
“Apparently she plays favorites,” I grumbled.
“Perhaps, but she sees the world in its totality. We only see our small part of it.” Viviane glanced outside, and I followed her gaze to where Imogen was happily weeding in the garden, speaking in Ogham with the soon-to-be-consecrated girls. “Take Imogen, for example. She has lived a life of power and pain no one here could have predicted. Yet the Goddess chose you to bring her back to us, to give her a few years of happiness in this life. Compared to her, you are the favored one.”
I stared into my nearly empty cup, aware Viviane was watching me.
“How would you like to take up your life of priestesshood again?” she asked. “It will help you heal.”
I nodded. “It would be good to have a purpose while I’m here.”
“Good. You can begin by assisting me at the sunset ritual tonight. Tomorrow you can help Imogen with the gardens and perhaps sit in on a lesson. You remember the schedule?”
“Yes. My time here will be part of me always. Thank you, Viviane, for giving me a second chance. I doubt few others would.”
Viviane placed a hand on mine. “We all have need of mercy, including Arthur and Morgan. You would do well to remember that.”
Viviane was right. The physical labor did me good, as much, I daresay, as the rhythm of morning and evening ritual. Weeks passed, then months, and my physical wounds healed, yet I found I could not let go of my spiritual demons. Anger, pain, and resentment haunted me, a trinity of oppression I battled every day. I disarmed them by evening only to awaken to them freshly formed in the morning.
As I worked, turning the earth, planting seeds, and tending to growing sprouts, I had much time to think. Merlin had informed me about Morgan at Corbenic, but I was too thick to heed his cautions. He told me the Goddess had warned about division between sisters, and what did I do? Physically attack one of my own. Had Morgan not already been banished from Avalon, I likely would have suffered the same fate for attacking my sworn sister. But instead, I had been granted clemency.
That was what was on my mind as I approached Merlin and a group of young students one early autumn morning. He was seated on the stump of a fallen oak that had been sheared off by lightning during a recent storm, gesticulating grandly as he spun some tale that captivated the girls. They sat at his feet in the grass, some as young as ten, others much closer to legal womanhood. They looked up at him adoringly, lovesick expressions on each face.
As I approached, I heard the end of the story. “So Deirdre, foretold from birth to bring about so much destruction, took her own life by throwing herself out of a chariot and onto the rocks below.”
“Her story is so sad,” lamented one girl.
“But so romantic,” crooned another.
“Too bad she wasn’t a priestess. She could have made that terrible Conchobar leave her alone,” added a third.
Merlin smiled and nodded in acknowledgement when he caught sight of me, then he returned his attention to the students. “Nimue, what do you think?”
“I feel sorry for her. When she finally finds happiness, Conchobar has to come along and ruin it—to the point where she kills herself rather than face her fate. It’s not fair.”
Merlin leaned toward her. “No, it is not. But Deirdre isn’t all to be pitied. Remember, she manipulated Naoise into eloping with her. If she hadn’t interfered, the tragic events would not have happened.”
“Is this your way of telling us to mind our own business?” Nimue asked tartly. “Because I doubt that will happen around here.”
The girls giggled.
Merlin chuckled, spreading his arms wide. “All right, that is enough for today. You may go.”
Some of the girls cheered and scampered away while others hung around in groups, sneaking shy looks at Merlin when they thought he wasn’t watching. Nimue hung back, waiting to catch Merlin’s attention. I couldn’t hear what she said to him, but her adoration was plain. She only stopped talking when another girl elbowed her aside, complaining loudly that Nimue had taken up enough of Merlin’s time.
I shook my head. That easily could have been Morgan and me. Some things never changed.
When the girls finally straggled away, I greeted Merlin with a small bow. “She’s sweet on you, you know.”
Merlin smiled as he watched Nimue walk away. “I do. Jealous too. I daresay poor Branwen will pay for her boldness.”
“Merlin, I know it has been many years since you were my teacher, but do you think you could indulge me in one more lesson?”
“Of course. What do you wish to know?” He took me gently by the elbow and led me down to the lake where we could walk among the reeds and grasses as we talked.
“How do you ward against jealousy?”
He smiled, running a hand through his now-short hair, which was still bright orange in the soft light despite a sprinkling of silver. “That is the age-old question, is it not? I assume you speak of Morgan.”
I nodded. “I have dealt with my painful memories and am beginning to recover from Malegant’s abuse, but in all of my time here, I have yet to find a way to let go of my blinding hatred toward Morgan and Arthur or at least get control of it.”
“It is the undoing of many a life, many a nation, and something even I have not yet mastered.” Merlin stopped, turning to face me. “If I may be frank, you have always been self
ish, Guinevere.”
I glowered at him, not wanting to hear this speech yet again.
“You are a woman now, not a child. You must learn that even though you are queen, many things do not concern you at all. When you return to your husband, try to remember he did not intend to hurt you. In fact, his actions were not about you. He was thinking of the future of the realm and of his own heart. What would you have done in his place? Would you have waited for him if you believed him dead and knew Aggrivane could be yours? Be honest.”
I studied his eyes for a long time, mulling over the question. “No.”
“Then how can you ask the same of him?”
I looked away, defeated. He was right. I was being completely unreasonable. “But it is Morgan,” I whined, hanging on him as I had as a child.
He laughed. “I would have been disappointed if that wasn’t your response.” He placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I know the two of you have a natural dislike of one another. It is only because you are so much alike.” I started to object, but he silenced me with a look. “You will learn to live together because you must. But it will take time. You will need to look beyond your personal feelings and learn to sacrifice for the good of those you love. That is the true measure of a queen.”
Chapter Fourteen
Winter 502
Arthur was alone when I found him upon my return to Camelot. I needed to see him, but I was not yet ready to face Morgan. He was sitting in the circular meeting room overlooking the city and staring out the window. He appeared so deep in thought he did not hear me enter.
“Arthur.”
It took him a moment to respond, and when he did, he was like one waking from a dream. Slowly, he turned, and a smile like dawn broke on his face. He stood, hurrying to embrace me.
This was the reception I had expected and so badly needed when I first returned to him in Cadbury. I let myself melt into his arms, remembering how safe and secure I had felt there before everything changed. I would not think of Morgan, only of him. Repair my relationship with my husband first, then worry about her.
“Guinevere.” He breathed my name the way he had on our wedding night. “It is so good to have you back.”
He held me at arm’s length, looking me over as though searching for any outward signs I had changed, for anything that might still betoken the crazed woman who had entered his court six moons earlier. My bruises, cuts, and broken bones had healed of course, but if he could have seen within my heart, he would have beheld the interweaving scars and stitches threatening to burst at the slightest tug. Arthur gestured for me to sit with him, which I did, unsure of how to speak with him now.
“Lancelot has told me everything. You need not ever speak of it. If that bastard who hurt you wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him myself.” He clenched his fist in frustration that he could not avenge me. Then he asked, “How are you?” His sapphire eyes were full of concern.
I dropped my eyes to my lap. “I am better. Thank you. It is . . . strange . . . being back here again with everything so different.” I looked at him, wondering if he would acknowledge the living ghost who would forever haunt our love.
“Guinevere,” he whispered, shaking his head. “I owe you so much, an explanation words cannot begin to express.” He looked down, unable to meet my gaze.
“Why, Arthur? Can we start there?”
When he finally met my gaze, his eyes were shining with unshed tears. “I thought you were dead. No one could find you. We searched everywhere—every fortress, every cave, every seaport—and there was not even a trace. I had my suspicions your disappearance was somehow linked to Malegant—”
I flinched at his name.
“But we couldn’t find him, much less connect him to a crime we couldn’t prove had been committed. There were whispers you could have abandoned me for another man, gone back to Avalon, or worse, taken your own life.”
I gaped at the foolishness of those ideas, and Arthur put a hand on mine.
“You must believe I paid no heed to any of this. But I will not lie to you. As time went on, my hope dimmed. Then those in my council began to speak of remarriage. I didn’t think it right, but even the priests said that given the circumstances, God would understand if I wed another.”
I was silent for a moment, wondering when Arthur, a devotee of Mithras, had started listening to Christian priests. “What now then? Surely you will not stay married to both of us?” I laced my hands together in my lap to conceal their shaking.
Arthur would not meet my eyes. “Many others have already asked me the same, and Morgan has requested I divorce you. But I will not do it. You are queen. That is an honor that cannot be conferred onto more than one woman at a time, and you have done nothing to cause me to revoke it. The people would be outraged if I put you away.”
“Oh, I’m glad to know the people would be upset because you certainly don’t look as though you would be.”
Arthur shot me a contemptuous look.
I couldn’t fight my frustration any longer. “Why can you not divorce her? Why must it be me? After all, as you pointed out, I was married to you first, and I am queen.” I sounded like a petulant child, but I didn’t care. He had to understand how ridiculous this whole situation was.
“Morgan has brought me a son, a child I never expected. I cannot ignore that.”
Pain twisted my heart. Yet again I was being condemned because my children had died and I could bear no more despite my best efforts to encourage life within my womb. Would I ever escape that horrid curse? I swallowed hard, summoning the courage to ask a question I had to voice yet dreaded hearing the answer. “Forget everyone else. What does your heart tell you?”
Arthur’s gaze pierced my very soul. “I love you both. I know it isn’t what you want to hear, but it is the truth. When I met Morgan in Avalon, she was the Goddess, and I never thought to see her again. I had almost forgotten her when she appeared in camp and told me she had given up everything to be with me. From that moment on, I was hers.”
Arthur stood and made a slow circuit of the room as he spoke. “If Uther hadn’t died, if I had remained simply Lord Ector’s son, we would have wed—and quite happily. No one looks into the lineage of a soldier’s wife. But then I found out I was no mere solider but the son of the high king, and everything changed. From being free to marry her, I was now forbidden—all because she couldn’t tell me the names of her kin.” He shook his head. “It tore my heart in two to know we would never be together.”
He stopped in front of me and bent so we were at eye level. “Now, as things have changed and I am free to be with the one I love, I understand what I did to you when I asked you to marry me, that I put you in much the same tragic circumstance, and for that I am sorry. I would not wish such agony on a Saxon.”
I smiled at him because it was the right thing, the polite thing, to do, but I was certain it didn’t reach my eyes.
“I couldn’t leave Morgan to the wiles of fate, so when Uriens expressed interest in her, I realized his would be a safe household for her to be in, one where I could be sure she would not be ill-treated.”
“And one that afforded her frequent visits to court.”
“Yes, that too.” Arthur sounded guilty.
“So where does that leave us?”
Arthur did not answer. Whether he had none or simply chose not to respond, his silence unnerved me more than if he had yelled. The familiar panic I had felt since leaving Malegant’s tower was returning, coiling around my heart. If it squeezed tight, I would lose my composure again.
I stood, seeking air at one of the windows. My eyes fell on the statues surrounding us. In my absence, the stone images depicting Arthur and me as high king and high queen had been installed. “Will she have her own statue too? What a great legacy for future generations. ‘Look at King Arthur and his brood of wives,’ they’ll say. ‘He really must
have been someone grand.’”
Arthur stood too. “Guinevere, please don’t be this way.”
“What way is that? Hurt? Outraged? Indignant? How would you have me react?” I ran a fluttering hand through my hair. “Think about how you would have felt if the situation were reversed. What if you had been captured in war with the Saxons, brutally abused, then managed to escape only to return home to find me married to Aggrivane?”
Arthur’s jaw tensed, but he said nothing.
“That is how I felt seeing you with Morgan. What’s worse is she has given you the one thing I never will—a son. And she can continue providing you heirs. So as much as you may contend that I am and always will be queen, I know she means more to you for that alone.”
Arthur seized my shoulders hard. “You are my wife, and I still love you. But Morgan is my wife too, and I love her as well. This is how things are. Unless you wish to divorce me and forfeit your power as queen, you will both have to find a way to accept it.” There was no malice in his words, just the starkness of truth.
So this was my new world. Little more than a year ago, we had been celebrating Arthur’s latest victory over the Saxons. We had been happy. Now I had to share my life—though it was not of my own choosing, I had fought so hard to build and sustain this life—with the one person I hated more than all others. When would the Goddess stop testing me?
Living with Morgan meant more than simply vying for Arthur’s attention. The servants, especially the newer ones, had grown used to answering to Morgan while I was away, and they were uncertain which one of us now held sway. Some made their loyalty clear. Octavia and Sobian, who was still acting the role of my maid, would never take orders from Morgan again, while another small cadre of women were devoted to Morgan. Though their words showed they understood I was queen, their actions proclaimed Morgan their mistress. When we appealed to Arthur, each wishing to have him side with us, he held up his hands and told us to work it out without him, locking us in his study until we came to an agreement.
Guinevere's Tale Page 44
