Part 14 (1/2)
The King looked at him sharply. ”What do you mean by that?”
Mordred said dryly: ”When she sent for me before, she was alone in a cold room with no comforts. I saw them through the door, hastily stacked in the next room.”
Arthur's frown deepened. ”So you suspect trickery here? Still? But how? What could she do?”
Mordred s.h.i.+fted his shoulders as if he felt cold. ”Who knows? As she reminded me, more than once, she is a witch. Keep away from her, sir. Or - let me go and see for myself if this tale of mortal sickness is true.”
”You are not afraid of her witchcraft?”
”She has asked to see her sons,” said Mordred, ”and I am the only one here in Amesbury.” He did not add that though his spirit, fed with fear by Morgause herself, shrank from her, he knew himself to be safe.
He was to be - he could still hear the angry spitting voice - his father's bane. To that end she would preserve him, as she had done through those early years.
He said: ”If you send now, sir, to say you will see her in the morning, that is when -if this is indeed a trick - she will make her preparations. I myself will go now, tonight.”
After a little more discussion the King agreed, and, returning gratefully to his guests, sent one of his Companions to inform Queen Morgause that he would see her on the morrow.
As before, he sent Lamorak.
There was a horse tied up outside the orchard wall. Here the coping was low, and a bough of an old apple tree had forced the bricks outwards until they bulged, then broke and fell, making a place that could, with agility and the help of a horse's saddle, be climbed.
The night was moonless, but the sky glistened with stars as thick and numerous as daisies on a lawn.
Mordred paused to look at the horse. Something about its white blaze and the stocking on its near fore was familiar. He looked closer, and saw on the breastband the silver boar of Orkney, and recognized Gaheris's roan. He ran a hand over its shoulder. It was damp and hot.
He stood for a moment, thinking. If the news of Morgause's illness had sped, as such news will, on the wings of gossip, to garrison headquarters, Gaheris must have ridden out immediately to visit the queen.
Or he might, having been refused permission to accompany Arthur with Mordred to Amesbury, have ridden out secretly, determined to see his mother. In either case the visit was surrept.i.tious, or he would have gone to the gate.
Mordred thought, with a touch of amus.e.m.e.nt, that in any case Morgause had not expected the visit, so would probably not yet, on this chilly night, have stripped herself of her comforts. Gaheris, whatever his loyalties, would have to share witness to his mother's health and circ.u.mstances when Mordred reported on them to Arthur.
He walked soft-footed round to the convent gate, was inspected under the lamp by the guards, showed the King's pa.s.s, and was admitted.
Within the convent walls no guards were appointed, and all was silent and deserted. Morgause now had one wing of the convent - the buildings between the orchard and the women's arcade - to herself and her attendants. Mordred walked quietly past the chapel and let himself into the arcade. Here a nun nodded beside a brazier in a little lodge. Again he showed the King's pa.s.s, was recognized and allowed through.
The arches of the arcade showed black and empty. The gra.s.s in the center of the court was grey in the starlight, its own starred daisies shut for the night, invisible. An owl flew silently across the roof tops and into the orchard boughs. The only light was the glow from the brazier in the lodge.
Mordred paused, undecided. It was late, but not yet midnight. Morgause, like most witches, was a night-time creature; surely one of her windows should be showing a light? And certainly, if the deathbed story were true, her women would be wakeful, watching by her bedside. Perhaps a lover? He had heard that she took her pleasures still. But if Gaheris was here... Gaheris? Gaheris?
Mordred swore aloud, sickened at himself for the thought, and then again for the knowledge that the suspicion was justified.
He tried the door under the arcade, found it unlocked, then let himself into the building and went swiftly up the well-remembered corridor. Here was the door to the queen's apartments. After a moment's hesitation, he pushed it open and went in without knocking.
This room was not as he remembered it, but as he would have seen it had Morgause not stripped it of its furnis.h.i.+ngs. Starlight fell softly through the window to light the hangings, the waxed surfaces of furniture, the gleam of gold and silver vessels. Thick rugs m.u.f.fled his tread. He crossed the room to the inner door, which gave on the antechamber to the queen's bedroom. Here he paused. Her women, or surely one of them, would be awake? He bent his head and knocked softly on the panel.
There was a sound from inside the room, a hurried movement, followed by stillness, as if his knock had startled someone who did not want to be found there. Mordred hesitated again, then set his mouth and reached for the latch, but before he could lay hand on it the door was pulled open, and Gaheris stood there, sword in hand.
The antechamber was lit by a single candle. Even in its faint, diffused light it could be seen that Gaheris was as white as a ghost. When he saw Mordred he went, if possible, whiter still. His mouth slowly opened to a black 0, and he said, on a gasping breath: ”You?” ”You?”
”Whom did you expect?” Mordred spoke very softly, his eye going beyond Gaheris to the door of the queen's bedchamber. This was shut, and a heavy curtain was drawn across it to keep out the chill draughts of night. Two women were there, on couches to either side of the queen's door. One was Morgause's own waiting-woman, the other a nun, presumably excused the night offices, and set to share the watch on behalf of the convent. Both slept soundly, the nun, indeed, snoring in a slumber that seemed rather too heavy. On a table by the wall stood two cups, and the room smelled of spiced wine.
Gaheris's sword moved, but indecisively, then he saw that Mordred was not even looking at him, and lowered it again. Mordred said, on a whisper that was the merest thread of sound: ”Put that up, you fool.
I came on the King's orders, why do you think?”
”At this time of night? To do what?”
”Not to harm her, or would I have knocked on her door, or come naked as I am?”
The word, between soldiers, meant ”unarmed,” and to a knight was as good as a s.h.i.+eld. He spread his empty hands wide. Gaheris, slowly, began to slide his blade back into its housing.
”Then what-” he was beginning, when Mordred, with a swift gesture commanding silence, stepped past him into the room, and, crossing to the table, picked up one of the cups and sniffed at it. ”And the woman in the lodge could hardly keep awake long enough to see me through.”
He met Gaheris's stare, and smiled, setting the cup down again. ”The King sent me because a message came that she was ill, and failing. He would have come himself tomorrow. But now I think he need not.”
He lifted a hand quickly. ”No, have no fear. It cannot be true. These women have been drugged, and it is easy to guess-”
”Drugged?” Gaheris seemed to take it in slowly, then his head moved, his eyes searching the dark corners of the room like an animal scenting an enemy, and his hand flew back to his hilt. He said, hoa.r.s.ely: ”Then it is is danger!” danger!”
”No. No. No. ” Mordred moved quickly, to take his half-brother lightly by the arm, turning him away from the queen's door. ”The drug is one of the queen's potions. I know that smell. So put your fears at rest, and come away. It's certain that she is neither ill nor in any other kind of danger. The King need not come in the morning, but no doubt you will be permitted to see her then. He has sent for the others already, in case the story is true.” ” Mordred moved quickly, to take his half-brother lightly by the arm, turning him away from the queen's door. ”The drug is one of the queen's potions. I know that smell. So put your fears at rest, and come away. It's certain that she is neither ill nor in any other kind of danger. The King need not come in the morning, but no doubt you will be permitted to see her then. He has sent for the others already, in case the story is true.”
”But how do you know-?”
”And keep your voice down. Come, we'll go. I want to show you some beautiful tapestries in the outer room.” He smiled, shaking the other's unresponsive arm. ”Oh, for the G.o.ds' sake, man, can't you see?
She's got a lover with her, that's all! So neither you nor I can visit her tonight!”
Gaheris stood for a moment, rigid against Mordred's hand, then with a wild gesture he shook himself free and leaped for the bedchamber door. He ripped the curtain aside and flung the door back with a crash against the wall.
4.
IN THE ENDLESS, STUPEFIEDmoment before anyone moved, they saw it all.
Lamorak naked, mounted, light slipping over the sweating muscles of his back. Morgause beneath him, hidden by shadows, except for the restless, eager hands, and the long hair spread across the pillows. Her night robe lay in a huddle on the floor, beside Lamorak's discarded clothing. His sword belt, with sword and dagger sheathed, was carefully laid across a stool at the other side of the room.
Gaheris made a sound hardly recognizable as human, and jerked wildly at his sword.
Mordred, two paces behind him, shouted a warning ”Lamorak!” and grabbed again at his half-brother's arm.
Morgause screamed. Lamorak gasped, turned his head, saw, flung himself off the woman's body and ran for his sword. The move left her exposed to the merciless starlight: the sprawled flesh, the marks of love, the gaping mouth, the hands still weaving in air over the s.p.a.ce where her lover's body had been.
The hands dropped. She recognized Gaheris in the doorway, with Mordred struggling to hold him, and the scream checked in a gasp as she hurriedly pushed herself up from the pillows and grabbed for the tumbled coverlet.
Gaheris, cursing, jerked the dagger from his belt and cut down at Mordred's restraining hand. The blade bit, and Mordred's grip loosened. Gaheris wrenched himself free.
Lamorak had reached the stool and s.n.a.t.c.hed up his sword belt. Clumsily, still perhaps numb with shock, he wrenched at the hilt in the half-darkness, but the loose belt wrapped itself round his arm, and the hilt jammed. Wrenching at it, naked as he was, he turned to face the other sword.