Camelot's Queen (Guinevere's Tale Book 2), page 32
All eyes turned to Aggrivane, who was nearly at the door, his father dragging him by the shoulder. Aggrivane faced the assembly, skin pale and clammy, clearly uncertain as to what to say. He cleared his throat. “Camille, if you wish to devote the remainder of your life to God, I grant you permission.”
The crowd buzzed again, but Bishop Marius silenced them by raising his hand. He took the dagger from Camille and returned it to me. He spoke to Camille. “That being so, I declare your marriage dissolved in the eyes of God. You may enter the order whom I council. But be forewarned. Any more rash acts such as this”—he gestured to her shorn hair—“no matter how piously intended or induced, will result in disciplinary action. A servant of God, especially one who wishes to guard the Grail, must be meek and mild, not given to flights of recklessness.”
“Thank you, Your Excellency.” Camille kissed his hand then the hem of his robe.
“It is decided then,” the Grail Maiden declared.
Elaine stepped out of the crowd in the silence that followed. “I—I have something to confess.” Her voice was timid at first but gained confidence with every word. “I know I shall not attain heaven with this secret on my soul, so I wish all of you to bear witness to my shriving.” She walked over to her son and clasped his hands. She swallowed hard before continuing. “Galahad, all your life you have asked me who your father is, and I have refused to answer you. Today, as you prepare to enter the service of the Church, I tell you to look upon him.” She pointed at Lancelot. “He is the most honored of the king’s knights, his master of the horse and the queen’s champion, Lancelot du Lac.”
I grasped Arthur’s arm, legs suddenly weak, head buzzing. Lancelot was married. My mind whirled. That meant we were doubly complicit in our affair, each betraying not only a spouse but a dear friend.
After a few moments of stunned silence, Galahad went to Lancelot and kneeled before him. “Father.” He looked up at Lancelot, all the years of wondering plain in his eyes along with his admiration. “Do you claim me as your son?”
Lancelot raised his son to his feet and embraced him. “I always have. It is I who ensured that you have had all you desire. Go with my blessing into a life of service to your god.” He turned a steely gaze on Elaine. “You, however, I do not accept. I have never loved you, nor will I ever. You lured me into your bed then into marriage by trickery. I never agreed to be your husband, nor do I call myself that now. Here and now, with public witness, I disavow all knowledge of you, woman.”
Elaine crumpled in pain, face contorting as tears streamed down her face. She wailed as the crowd broke anew into a confused buzz of conversation, some condemning Lancelot, others Elaine. I rushed to Elaine and put my arms around her, holding her up as she shook in the deepest of heartache.
“You are my husband!” Elaine shrieked.
“Actually, if he indeed entered marriage against his will, then just as with Camille, the marriage is not valid,” Marius interrupted, quieting the whole room. “However, it also means our Grail champion was not conceived within the bounds of a sanctified marriage.” He paused, holding Galahad’s future, all of our futures, in the balance. “But that is the sin of his parents, no transgression of his. If God is willing to look beyond and bless him with the Grail, then none among us may judge.”
Galahad breathed a visible sigh of relief.
Arthur took hold of the situation then, before anyone else could make more proclamations, inspired by the Grail or not. “We have all had an unforgettable morning. I beg you please do not start rumors about what has taken place here today. I do not swear you to secrecy but beg you be truthful and discreet in what you choose to disclose. Go now and return to your lives, forever changed by your encounter with the Grail.”
Elaine was still wailing as I dragged her away from the labyrinth.
“Her husband?” I rounded on Lancelot later that night when he found me in one of the deserted towers. “All these years and you couldn’t have told me you were married?”
Lancelot reached out to me. “But I am not, not in any meaningful way. You heard the bishop.”
I sat on the floor then, face buried in my hands. “How did this happen?”
Lancelot sat next to me. He took a few deep breaths before replying. “When Arthur left Corbenic to marry you, he needed someone to guard against Isolde’s wrath and the revenge of the Irish. He found me and offered me the position.” He brushed the hair out of my face. “I accepted only because I knew you to be from that house and thought I would see you again. I did not yet know you were engaged to Arthur. My first night there, Pellinor feasted me until I was deep in my cups. That is when his daughter came to me in the dark of night. Inebriated, I thought her to be you. So Galahad was conceived. It was only the next morning I discovered my mistake and Elaine told me of your upcoming wedding.
“The following month, she learned she was with child. I told her I wanted nothing to do with the child but would pay for its rearing until adulthood. That was not good enough for her pious family, who sought to undo her sin. Under pain of exposing me to Arthur—and thus to you—as a philanderer worthy of neither trust nor honor, much less the king’s esteem, they forced us to the church, where we were wed. I never told anyone because to me, there was no marriage. I do not believe in her god, nor did I vow myself to her. You are the only woman to whom I have ever pledged my heart or soul.”
I looked at him then. “Truly?”
“Truly.” He tried to slip an arm around me, but I shrugged him off.
“I need time to think, Lancelot. I cannot simply rush back into your arms after a revelation such as this.”
He bowed his head. “As you wish, my queen.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Summer 515
Construction began on a chapel to house the Grail almost immediately after our ritual. Galahad, being its champion, selected an island just off the coast, within sight of Camelot on clear days. Arthur, to my surprise, had architectural ambitions like his father, so when Galahad was free from his priestly studies, the two spent most of their time closeted away, working on designs. Marius even contacted some of his friends in Rome and paid for safe passage for two of them to Britain so Arthur’s dream could be executed with the latest advances in Roman engineering.
I had seen Arthur’s final plans. They called for an inner sanctuary with a gleaming red cupola supported by six tall stone pillars. A walled chapel and living area would surround this sanctuary, with a defensive wall three times taller than a man encircling that. The outer wall wasn’t just protection against would-be thieves. It was also defense against the crashing waves, especially during storms. The whole structure would be accessible only by a narrow causeway created by natural rock and sand deposits. At high tide, it would be completely inaccessible, except by boat, making it the perfect place to house such a treasure.
With my husband occupied and my champion at least temporarily disgraced, I returned to Avalon with Mona and Rowena. I needed time and space to sort out the tangled knot of my life, and I could think of nowhere better.
I invited Morgan to accompany us, if only to make amends with Viviane, but she just laughed, saying, “Avalon abandoned me. Why should I return, especially now? I am a Christian woman, remember?”
“You are as Christian as the Saxons,” I scoffed. “We both know you put on a show only to assure Arthur’s continuing affection. And perhaps to gain favor with Bishop Marius.”
“What I do is my business alone, Guinevere. Go back to the isle if you must. But I will remain here with my husband. You can tell Viviane I will never return.”
But when we reached Avalon, I could tell Viviane nothing. She lay ill in her chamber, growing weaker by the day, according to Ailis, who was acting as her guard. She allowed me to see Viviane only because of our long friendship.
Viviane’s skin was gray, her lips and fingers tinted lavender. Her eyes were closed as if in deep slumber, but the rise and fall of her chest was barely perceptible. A small vein slowly pulsing in her neck was the only other sign she still lived.
“She is unconscious now but had quite a time before. She started feeling ill just after the new moon, and at first we thought she had a normal illness. But then about a week ago, the convulsions began. Slowly, she became paralyzed and now…” Ailis’s voice shook, “I believe she is nearing the veil.”
“Poisoning?”
Ailis nodded. “That is what we suspect. But we have checked her belongings, and Nimue personally tests her food, so we cannot find a source.”
I tossed and turned in my bed for the next two nights, turning Ailis’s account of Viviane’s mysterious illness over and over in my mind. There had to be something we were all missing. We were a community of trained healers, after all. But then again, we were trained to give life; only a rare few knew how to take it.
Restless, I finally decided to get up and walk the labyrinth, as I often did at home when wrestling with weighty issues. Around and around I trod, allowing my feet to trace the pathways of their own accord, freeing my mind to think on Viviane, Morgan, Lancelot, and Elaine—all of the distractions I had come here to escape. So deep was I in my thoughts I barely noticed when I reached the top of the Tor. Only Merlin’s distraught voice made me pause before I was seen.
“Surely the Goddess will release her soon. Viviane has served her well. Why prolong her sojourn here?”
“Is there anything we can do bring her peace?” a female voice asked.
“Are you suggesting we hasten her death?” Merlin’s voice was sharp.
“No.” The woman laughed nervously. “I simply wish to see her death be as painless as possible. Provided we cannot find a cure, that is,” she hastily added.
I shifted my position behind the stone separating us. If I angled my body just the right way, I had a slightly obstructed view of the couple. Long dark hair came into view first, then blue priestess robes. Finally, the lone candle flickering between them illuminated bright green eyes. It was Nimue.
Merlin sighed and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Perhaps it will be my time soon as well. I have taught you everything I know, my daughters are grown, and Arthur has no need of me anymore. With Viviane dead, what will be left for me?”
Daughters? I had long suspected Ailis but was not aware of any other children of the Archdruid.
Nimue seized Merlin’s chin, forcing him to face her. Her eyes were hard with malice. “You should know the answer. Me.” She kissed him hard, letting her lips reflect her anger at his neglect to factor her into his life’s worth.
I backed away slowly. Something in Nimue’s disposition frightened me, but it also inspired a thought. Racing back down the Tor, I prayed that for Viviane’s sake, I was right.
When I reached Viviane’s chambers, I woke Ailis with a shake.
“What is it?” She raised herself onto one arm and squinted at the window. “It is not even dawn yet. Go back to sleep.”
“Ailis.” I shook her again to make sure she didn’t go back to sleep. “Who prepares Viviane’s meals?”
“Nimue. Why?”
I tugged on her arm. “Come with me.”
I lit a candle and dragged her out into the night. We paused on the threshold to Nimue’s room, just long enough to ensure it was still unoccupied. I began throwing open chests and drawers.
“What are you looking for?” Ailis asked, shocked at my actions.
“Proof of Nimue’s guilt. I have heard a secret conversation tonight that leads me to suspect her.” But there was nothing to be found. “The kitchens.”
Ailis likely thought me mad as she followed me, but when I opened a small bag of rye hidden deep in the pantry, we were assaulted by the stench of fish.
“Oh,” Ailis exclaimed. “This is ergot. Rotten rye. Deadly. Such a thing should be destroyed.” She looked at me as her thoughts fell in line with mine. “You don’t think…”
I nodded.
One of the young acolytes, a girl of perhaps ten summers, appeared to begin the day’s baking. If she was surprised by our presence, she said nothing, merely knelt and made the sign of Avalon in deference to Ailis, who was acting Lady during Viviane’s illness.
“Does Nimue prepare the Lady’s bread with this?” She held up the offending bag.
“Yes, Lady,” the girl replied. “She says it is special but not to touch it. She threatened to curse me and anyone who ate of it if I did.”
Ailis looked at me. “We must find Nimue.”
But we were too late. By the time Nimue was dragged, kicking and screaming, from the forest, even graver news than the likelihood of Nimue’s guilt reached us.
“Merlin is dead,” one of the young priestesses told us, her hand fluttering around her mouth. “They say his body is still warm. Nimue is covered in his blood.”
Viviane slowly recovered as the ergot left her system, but she was likely to have lasting damage to her nerves. Two weeks later, she was well enough to be carried to the Tor. Rowena, Ailis, and I trudged up the labyrinth behind her, just as I had done so many times in my years as a priestess in Avalon, but tonight our purpose was far grimmer than any ritual. Tonight we would see justice done for Merlin’s murderess.
Nimue knelt before the altar stone, barefoot, hands bound, and head lowered as if to shield herself from the intense heat of the fire burning on the other side of the stone.
Slowly, Druids and priestesses formed a circle of alternating white and blue robes around her. I stood to Nimue’s left, unable to read her face thanks to a thick strand of raven hair that had fallen loose of its knot during her struggle with those who had brought her here.
Viviane and the new Archdruid, who took the title Myrdin—an imposing man of middle years with a full beard as white as clouds—stood before her.
“Nimue, priestess of Avalon, you stand accused of murder, a most unholy crime on this isle and across this land,” Myrdin declared in his deep baritone. “It is said you killed the Archdruid of Britain by bloody means in the hopes of gaining his power. Also, you are accused of conspiring to kill the Lady of the Lake and take her office. What say you to these charges?”
Nimue raised her head, her hard eyes glinting like fresh-cut emeralds. “I did as you say, and I would do so again.”
“You admit your wrongdoing then,” Myrdin said. “When Merlin’s body was found, he was pierced through the wrists with wooden stakes, had suffered a blow to the head, and his throat was slashed. You said as you were apprehended that you were defending yourself. Tell us, what manner of crime requires such lengths?”
“I arranged to meet him as we have been doing for many years. It is no secret we were lovers.” She cast a gloating glance toward Viviane. Then she pointed at me. “If you wish to know what we talked about, ask her. After all, she was there.”
“You knew I could hear you? How?”
Nimue tapped her tattooed brow. “But what you don’t know is what happened after you left.” Her eyes filled with tears, and her voice quavered. “Merlin turned on me, and I feared he would do me harm, so I picked up a stone and swung it at him to deter him. I caught him on the head.”
“But he was not found on the Tor, and that does not account for the way his arms were pinioned or his cut throat,” I reminded her.
She turned her malice on me. “Ah, the queen speaks. Tell me, am I being tried in Avalon’s or Camelot’s court?”
“Both.” The steel in my voice surprised even me. “You will answer us.”
Nimue laughed, a strange, unhinged sound. “And if I don’t? You will kill me anyway. Why not let Merlin’s death remain a mystery? It is more exciting this way.”
One of the Druids approached Nimue. She raised her arms, and thunder and lightning filled the sky. The Druid jumped back, much to Nimue’s delight.
She cackled madly. “Do you see? I have his power within me! All that he was, I am now!”
Viviane stopped the show in the heavens with a wave. “You know nothing more than that which I taught you, which any woman here can do. You are not as powerful as you think.”
“No? I breathed in his last breath, and have consumed his blood. I can do all he could and more!” Nimue was crazed now, eyes wide, practically foaming at the mouth as she struggled against her bonds.
“So that is why you killed him,” Myrdin said. “In that case, I think we can safely assume you pinioned his arms to keep him still while you slit his throat, a quick but intimate death.”
“As you say.” Nimue rocked back and forth, consumed by what she saw as her own genius.
“And as to your attempt to poison me?” Viviane asked.
“I tried to wait, but you wouldn’t die. Why wouldn’t you just die?” Tears sprang to Nimue’s eyes and rolled down her cheeks. “Then we could have been together, and I wouldn’t have had to do this.”
Myrdin cleared his throat. “You have confessed to crimes against the Archdruid and Lady of the Lake. Now you must face the consequences.”
Viviane spoke. “Your actions are an affront to the Goddess and God and a betrayal of your vows. As such, you shall suffer the threefold death, never to rejoin our community. Do you understand?”
Nimue did not reply but held Viviane’s gaze. Two priestesses helped Nimue to her feet and stripped her of her blue robes until she stood shivering in only her shift.
Viviane slowly approached the fire and withdrew an iron poker tipped with a small flat square. She carried it to over to Nimue, hands shaking.
“I would not do this for anything in the world,” she said with a ragged breath. “But you have dishonored this holy mark and no longer deserve to bear it. Do you understand?”
Two Druids stepped forward, each bracing one of Nimue’s arms. She held herself defiantly tall and proud, glaring at Viviane. “Do what you must,” she answered, voice devoid of all emotion.
“So be it then,” Viviane said quietly, raising the brand.
