Page 52 of The Faerie Morgana
“I am told she is a great beauty,” Niamh said.
“Such girls are always claimed to be beauties, are they not, Priestess?”
Niamh allowed herself a small cackle, then sobered. “It may be true. According to the messenger from the castle, Arthur saw her when he was campaigning near her father’s lands and fell in love.”
“Oh. Oh, I see.” She should have seen, but the truth was that she had not scried in weeks, having no particular reason to do so. She had fallen into indolent habits, spending her free time walking along the lake or in the woods, enticed by the first blooming of spring. She had allowed herself, for a time, to forget her life’s chief purpose. But this—it seemed unlike Arthur to make such a great decision based on some swiftly conceived passion. It would have been more in character for him to choose strategically, a foreign bride perhaps, whose family could help to strengthen Lloegyr’s borders.
“By rights, we should send Olfreth to officiate at the wedding, but King Arthur has asked for you.”
Morgana nodded, pleased. “I am happy to go, at the king’s pleasure.”
Niamh sighed, and the weight of responsibility she carried showed in every seam of her lined face and in the tired droop of her furrowed cheeks. “I’m afraid you must.”
“Will it be such a hardship for you, Priestess?”
Niamh pulled herself upright and slipped her hands into herwide sleeves. “Most of our supplicants come asking for you, Morgana. Not many will be satisfied with any other.”
“But surely Joslyn—or Olfreth—”
“Oh, yes. They are quite capable, although their work is not so… dramatic as yours, shall we say?”
Morgana thought it was an interesting way to put it. She rose, smoothing her robe and straightening her sigil. “When am I to leave?”
“I understand that the king’s bride is on her way from her father’s keep even now, and Camulod is sending a boat for you in the morning. The wedding takes place in three days.”
“That seems very soon for such a big step.”
“It does to me as well, but I suppose—a young man in love…”
Morgana frowned at the sudden sense of premonition that seized her. She could not identify it, or explain it to Niamh. She said only, “Very well. I will go and pack my things.”
“You will want your handmaid, of course.”
Morgana hesitated. She would indeed prefer to have Braithe with her. The girl lightened every load, eased every obstacle while Morgana was busy. A wedding would be a great deal of work, and there were inevitably other tasks that fell to her wherever she went. But would taking Braithe to Camulod be fair to her? To be so close to Arthur, and to watch him marry another, must surely cause her pain. Whether taking her to Camulod would help her break free of her passion or intensify it, Morgana didn’t know. She said, “I suppose she must go with me, as she has no other work to do here.”
“Are you not dependent on her? I perceive she does a great deal to ease your burdens.”
“She does, and yes, I am, Priestess. I just— Camulod—” Her sentence died unfinished.
Niamh gazed at her for a long, assessing moment, wisdom glittering in her old eyes. “There is temptation there,” she said flatly.
“I will speak with her before we go.”
“Words mean far less to the young than to those of us with experience.”
“I know.”
“I doubt you see yourself this way, but you yourself are still young. Even you could be diverted by the temptations of Camulod.” Niamh’s voice was gentler than usual.
Morgana said, “Priestess, my body may be young, but my soul is as old as this isle. The charms of royal life hold no appeal for me.”
“Hmmm.” Niamh pushed herself up out of her chair with a little groan of effort. “I will cast the stones before you go, Morgana, so you and your handmaid will have some advantage.”
Morgana forbore to point out that Niamh’s scrying was no longer strong. It was a further kindness, and she wanted nothing to taint the rare moment they had just shared. She said, “I thank you, Priestess. Some foreknowledge will be helpful.”
She inclined her head once more to Niamh, then left the inner chamber to go in search of Braithe. They had little time to prepare, and she would want a full complement of supplies. It would be wise, too, to cast the stones herself.
Braithe had no reservations. She was thrilled by the news. “Camulod!” she breathed. Visions of the castle sprang up in her mind, and she saw again the jeweled courtine, the scarlet banners lifting in the wind, the two stone towers shining above the keep. “We are really going? To Camulod?”
