Page 102 of The Faerie Morgana
“She did, for a time, but she disappeared. Hardly the same when she showed up again.”
“And no one knew where she had been?”
“Just rumors, sir. Pretty wild ones.”
The Blackbird pondered this for a time as he finished his meal. “King Arthur was ignorant of this when he made her his queen.”
“Oh, aye, sir. Her father made sure of that.”
Braithe assisted Morgana as she tried to revive Gwenvere. She ran downstairs for heated water, for fresh candles, for an oil lamp as the day wore on and darkness gathered. Morgana was busy with her mortar and pestle, steeping herbs she thought would help, laying her hands on Gwenvere’s forehead and wrists to detect what was happening in her slender body. Braithe stood by, marveling at how hard Morgana worked to save the woman who had twice attempted to kill her.
The Blackbird had disappeared up to his aerie, but in the evening he returned to keep watch with Morgana while Braithe and Loria went down to the kitchen to prepare a tray so they could sup in the queen’s chamber.
As they waited for a pot of soup to warm, Loria sliced bread and made a salad of early spring greens. Braithe sat down at the long, knife-scarred table, glad to be off her feet for a few moments, watching the efficient movements of the older woman. “You have served Gwenvere a long time, I think,” she said.
Loria glanced around, but they were alone. The evening meal had already concluded for the rest of the castle, pots scrubbedand dishes put away. She said, “I was a scullery maid. I thought being a lady’s maid would be better than scouring the kitchen floor.” She tossed a sprig of lettuce into her bowl with a dismissive movement. “I was wrong.”
“Could you go home if you wanted to?”
“No one to go home to.” Loria divided the supper things onto two trays and pushed one in Braithe’s direction. “Soup’s hot now,” she said. “Ladle some up for the priestess, and some for yourself.”
Braithe did as Loria suggested, and the two of them carried the trays up to the queen’s chamber. They found Morgana leaning against the window frame, breathing the cool night air. Gwenvere lay as still as a corpse on her bed, though Braithe could see she still lived. The Blackbird rose to open the door for them and brought chairs. Loria stood back, but the Blackbird indicated she should sit with them. Braithe thought for a moment the older woman would refuse, but in the end, she did sit, with a little groan of relief. She even drank some soup and nibbled a piece of bread, although she looked embarrassed to be doing it in this company.
Braithe turned her attention to persuading Morgana to eat and drink. The priestess looked exhausted, her eyes hooded and dark, her cheeks pinched.
The Blackbird noticed. He leaned toward Morgana, who was crumbling a piece of bread between her long fingers. “This was not your fault,” he said, his voice stronger than usual.
Morgana said in a flat tone, “I know.”
“But you seem—” Braithe began.
Morgana shook her head. “You misunderstand me. I have no regret. What weighs upon me is how the king will feel when he sees her like this.”
Loria drew a sharp little breath, and every head turned to her. Braithe said, “What is it?”
The maid wrapped her arms around herself, staring at the floor, her cheeks flaming. “I don’t know, should I say…”
Braithe spoke as gently as she could. “You should, Loria. If you know something, you should tell us.”
“Won’t help her,” Loria said, with a nod toward the bed, where Gwenvere still had not moved so much as a finger.
“What happened?” Morgana said, her attention sharpening.
Loria fiddled with the strings of her apron. “She said not to tell,” she blurted. “But seems like I should.”
“You are undoubtedly correct,” the Blackbird said mildly.
“He saw them,” Loria said, so softly only Morgana heard her.
“What?” Braithe and the Blackbird spoke at the same moment.
“He saw whom?” Morgana pressed.
“He saw the queen with Sir Lancelin. It was the night before they set out to fight the Romans. He went to talk to the knight, and he saw them.”
“Ah,” Morgana said. “And what did he do?”
“I wasn’t spying! I wasn’t, but—”
