Legacy: Arthurian Saga (115 page)

"Yes. He would have talked to you
earlier, if there had been time. I hope there will still be
time."

"What do you mean?"

"He's dying, Arthur. Are you ready to
be King?"

He stood there, the winejug still in
his hand, hollow-eyed with lack of sleep, thoughts crowding in on
him too fast for expression. "Today?"

"I think so. I don't know.
Soon."

"Will you be with me?"

"Of course. I told you so."

It was only then, as he set down the
jug, smiling, and turned to put out the lamp, that the other thing
struck him. I saw the moment when his breath stopped, then was let
out again cautiously, the way a man tries his breathing after a
mortal stroke.

He had his back to me, reaching up to
quench the lamp. I saw that his hand was quite steady. But the
other hand, which he tried to hide from me, was making the sign
against evil. Then, being Arthur, he did not stay turned away, but
faced me.

"I have something to tell you
now."

"Yes?"

The words came like something being
dragged up from a depth. "The woman I was with tonight was
Morgause." Then, as I did not speak, sharply: "You
knew?"

"Only when it was too late to stop
you. But I should have known. Before I ever went to see the King, I
knew that something was wrong. Oh, no, nothing of what it was, only
that the shadows pressed on me."

"If I had stayed in my room, as you
told me..."

"Arthur. The thing has happened. It's
no use saying 'if this' and 'if that'; can't you see that you're
innocent? You obeyed your nature, it's something young men will do.
But I, I am to blame. You could curse me, if you wished, for my
promise to the King, and for all this secrecy. If I had told you
sooner about your birth --"

"You told me to stay here. Even if you
didn't know what ill was in the wind, you knew that if I obeyed you
I would be safe. If I had obeyed you, I'd be more than safe, I
would still be -- " He bit off some word I did not quite hear, then
finished, " -- clean of this thing. Blame you? The blame is mine,
and God knows it and will judge between us."

"God will judge us all."

He took three restless strides across
the room and back again. "Of all women, my sister, my father's
daughter..." The words came hard, like a morsel one gags on. I
could see the horror clinging to him, like a slug to a green plant.
His left hand still made the sign against evil: it is a pagan sign;
the sin has been a heavy one before the gods since time began. He
halted suddenly, squarely in front of me, even at this moment able
to think beyond himself. "And Morgause herself? When she knows what
you have just told me, what will she think, knowing the sin we've
committed between us? What will she do? If she falls into despair
--"

"She will not fall into
despair."

"How can you know? You said you didn't
know women. I believe that for women these matters are heavier."
Horror struck at him again as he thought why. "Merlin, if there
should be a child?"

I think there has been no moment in my
life when I have had to exert more self-command. He was staring
wildly at me; if I had let my thoughts show in my face, God only
knows what he might have done. As he spoke the last sentence it was
as if the formless shadows which had clawed and brooded over me all
night suddenly took form and weight. They were there, clinging
round my shoulders, vultures, heavy-feathered and stinking of
carrion. I, who had schemed for Arthur's conception, had waited
blind and idle while his death also was conceived.

"I shall have to tell her." His voice
was edged, desperate. "Straight away. Even before the High King
declares me. There may be those who guess, and she may
hear..."

He talked on, a little wildly, but I
was too busy with my own thoughts to listen. I thought: if I tell
him that she knew already, that she is corrupt and that her power,
such as it is, is corrupt; if I tell him that she used him
deliberately to gather more power to herself; if I tell him these
things now, while he is shaken out of his wits by all that has
happened in this last day and night, he will take his sword and
kill her. And when she dies the seed will die that is to grow
corrupt as she is, and eat at his glory as this slug of horror eats
at his youth. But if he kills them now he will never use a sword
again in God's service, and their corruption will have claimed him
before his work is even begun.

I said calmly: "Arthur. Be still now,
and listen. I told you, what is done is done, and men must learn to
stand by their deeds. Now hear me. One day soon you will be High
King, and as you know, I am the King's Prophet. So listen to the
first prophecy I shall make for you. What you did, you did in
innocence. You alone of Uther's seed are clean. Has no one ever
told you the gods are jealous? They insure against too much glory.
Every man carries the seed of his own death, and you will not be
more than a man. You will have everything; you cannot have more;
and there must come a term to every life. All that has happened
tonight is that you yourself have set that term. What more could a
man want, that he determines his own death? Every life has a death,
and every light a shadow. Be content to stand in the light, and let
the shadow fall where it will."

He grew quieter as he listened, and at
length asked me, calmly enough: "Merlin, what must I
do?"

"Leave this to me. For yourself, put
it behind you, forget about the night, and think of the morning.
Listen, there are the trumpets. Go now, and get some sleep before
the day begins."

So, imperceptibly, was the first link
forged in the new chain that bound us. He slept, to be ready for
the great doings of the morrow, and I sat watchful, thinking, while
the light grew and the day came.

6

Ulfin, the King's chamberer, came at
length to bid Arthur to the King's presence. I woke the boy, and
later saw him go, silent and self-contained, showing a sort of
impossible calm like smooth ice over a whirlpool. I think that,
being young, he had already begun to put behind him the shadow of
the night; the burden was mine now. This was a pattern which was
common in the years to come.

As soon as he was gone, ushered out
with a ceremony wherein I could see Ulfin remembering that night so
long ago, of the boy's conception, and which Arthur himself
accepted as if he had known it all his life, I called a servant and
bade him bring the Lady Morgause to me. The man looked surprised,
then doubtful; it was to be surmised that the lady was used to do
her own summoning. I had neither time nor patience this morning for
such things. I said briefly: "Do as I say," and the fellow went,
scuttling.

She kept me waiting, of course, but
she came. This morning she wore red, the color of cherries, and
over the shoulders of the gown her hair looked rosy fair, larch
buds in spring, the color of apricots. Her scent was heavy and
sweet, apricots and honeysuckle mixed, and I felt my stomach twist
at the memory. But there was no other resemblance to the girl I had
loved -- had tried to love -- so long ago: in Morgause's
long-lidded green eyes there was not even the pretense of
innocence. She came in smiling that close-lipped smile, with the
prick of a charming dimple at the corner of her mouth, and, making
me a reverence, crossed the room gracefully to seat herself in the
high-backed chair. She disposed her robe prettily about her,
dismissed her women with a nod, then lifted her chin and looked at
me enquiringly. Her hands lay still and folded against the soft
swell of her belly, and in her the gesture was not demure, but
possessive.

Somewhere, coldly, a memory stirred.
My mother, standing with her hands held so, facing a man who would
have murdered me. "I have a bastard to protect." I believe that
Morgause read my thoughts. The dimple deepened prettily, and the
gold-fringed lids drooped.

I did not sit, but remained standing
across the window from her. I said, more harshly than I had
intended: "You must know why I sent for you."

"And you must know, Prince Merlin,
that I am not used to being sent for."

"Let us not waste time. You came, and
it's just as well. I wish to speak with you while Arthur is still
with the King."

She opened her eyes wide at me.
"Arthur?"

"Don't make those innocent eyes at me,
girl. You knew his name when you took him to your bed last
night."

"Can the poor boy not even keep his
bed secrets from you?" The light pretty voice was contemptuous,
meant to sting. "Did he come running to your whistle to tell you
about it, along with everything else? I'm surprised you let him off
the chain long enough to take his pleasure last night. I wish you
joy of him, Merlin the kingmaker. What sort of king is a
half-trained puppy going to make?"

"The sort who is not ruled from his
bed," I said. "You have had your night, and that was too much. The
reckoning comes now."

Her hands moved slightly in her lap.
"You can do me no harm."

"No, I shall do you no harm." The
flicker in her eyes showed that she had noticed the change of
phrase. "But I am also here," I said, "to see that you do Arthur no
harm. You will leave Luguvallium today, and you will not come back
to the court."

"I leave court? What nonsense is this?
You know that I look after the King; he depends on me for his
medicines, I am his nurse. I and his chamberer look after him in
all things. You cannot imagine that the King will ever agree to let
me go."

"After today," I said, "the King will
never want to see you again."

She stared. Her color was high. This,
I could see, mattered to her. "How can you say that? Even you,
Merlin, cannot stop me from seeing my father, and I assure you he
will not want to let me go. You surely don't mean to tell him what
has happened? He's a sick man, a shock might kill him."

"I shall not tell him."

"Then what will you say to him? Why
should he agree to having me sent away?"

"That is not what I said,
Morgause."

"You said that after today the King
would never want to see me again."

"I was not speaking of your
father."

"I don't see -- " She took a sharp
breath, and the green-gilt eyes widened. "But you said...the King?"
Her breath shortened. "You were speaking of that boy?"

"Of your brother, yes. Where is your
skill? Uther is marked for death."

Her hands were working together in her
lap. "I know. But...you say it comes today?"

I echoed my own question. "Where is
your magic? It comes today. So you had better leave, had you not?
Once Uther is gone, who will protect you here?"

She thought for a moment. The lovely
green-gilt eyes were narrow and sly, not lovely at all. "Against
what? Against Arthur? You're so sure you can make them accept him
as King? Even if you do, are you trying to tell me that I will need
protection against him?"

"You know as well as I do that he will
be King. You have skill enough for that, and -- in spite of what
you said to anger me -- skill enough to know what kind of a king.
You may not need protection against him, Morgause, but it is
certain that you will need it against me." Our eyes locked. I
nodded. "Yes. Where he is, I am. Be warned, and go while you can. I
can protect him from the kind of magic you wove last
night,"

She was calm again, seeming to draw
into herself. The small mouth tightened in its secret smile. Yes,
she had power of a kind. "Are you so sure you are proof against
women's magic? It will snare you in the end, Prince
Merlin."

"I know it," I said calmly. "Do not
think I have not seen my end. And all our ends, Morgause. I have
seen power for you, and for the thing you carry, but no joy. No
joy, now or ever."

Outside the window, against the wall,
was an apricot tree. The sun warmed the fruit, globe on golden
globe, scented and heavy. Warmth reflected from the stone wall, and
wasps hummed among the glossy leaves, sleepy with scent. So, once
before, in a sweet-smelling orchard, I had met hatred and murder,
eye to eye.

She sat very still, her hands locked
against her belly. Her eyes held mine, seeming to drink at them.
The scent of honeysuckle thickened, visibly, drifting in green-gold
haze across the lighted window, mingling with the sunshine and the
smell of apricots...

"Stop it!" I said contemptuously. "Do
you really think that your girl's magic can touch me? No more now
than it could before. And what are you trying to do? This is hardly
a matter of magic. Arthur knows now who he is, and he knows what he
did last night with you. Do you think he will bear you near him? Do
you think that he will watch daily, monthly, while a child grows in
your belly? He is not a cold or a patient man. And he has a
conscience. He believes that you sinned in innocence, as he did. If
he thought otherwise, he might act."

"Kill me, you mean?"

"Do you not deserve
killing?"

"He sinned, if you call it sin, as
much as I."