Lady of Avalon (35 page)

The marsh men were chattering in horror, but Aedfrid looked at her in appeal. “It was not a shameful death. Do you understand?”

Throat closing, she nodded.
Could you not wait a little longer?
her heart cried.
Could you not stay to say goodbye to me?

“I will take him and give him a hero’s burial-” said the warrior, but Dierna shook her head.

“Carausius was chosen by our Goddess to be King. In this life or another, he is bound to this land. And through him,” she added as new knowledge came to her, “through him, your people also are bound to Britannia, and will belong to her one day. Wrap him in my mantle and lay him in the barge, and we will make a tomb for him in Avalon.”

Throughout that day, the longest of the year, the Lady of Avalon sat in the sacred grove above the well, watching beside the body of her Emperor. As the wind shifted, she could hear snatches of singing from the Druids on the Tor. Ildeg was taking the part of the High Priestess. Dierna had been trained to suppress her emotions when there was work to be done, but she had learned also that there came a time when even training could not overcome the cry of the heart. An adept bore the responsibility of knowing when that time had come and stepping aside, lest the magic go awry.

And surely if I were in the circle today, I would destroy it,
thought Dierna, looking at Carausius’ still features.
I am still in my fertile years, but I feel all the Death Crone now…

They had washed Carausius in the water of the holy well and bound up his dreadful wounds. Even now a grave was being prepared for him beside that of Gawen, son of Elian, who according to some tales had been partly Roman too. She would bury him like a king of Britannia, but that was a cold bed for the man with whom she had lain down in joy.

If I dared, I would cast myself into the grave with him, and celebrate the Great Rite as they did in ancient days, when the Queen followed her lord into the Otherworld…
But she was not his wife, and that grief weighed on her even more than her loss, and she cursed the pride that had blinded her to the voice of her own heart. For all this was her doing, she saw now-the decisions that had forced Carausius and Teleri into a loveless union and led to Allectus’ treachery had been her own. If she had never meddled, Carausius would still have been sailing his beloved sea, and Teleri would have been happy as a priestess of Avalon. Dierna rocked, hugging her breasts, and wept for them all.

It was much later, when the sounds of revelry had faded and the long dusk of Midsummer was veiling the land, that the grief that had gripped her itself grew weary and Dierna sat up, blinking and looking about her. She felt emptied, as if her tears had washed all other feeling away. But one thought remained. Though she might weep, there were other women who would lie tonight in their husbands’ arms, their children sleeping peacefully nearby, because Carausius had defended Britannia.

A drumbeat, slow as the beating of her own heart, throbbed in the air. Dierna rose to her feet as the procession of white-robed Druids wound down from the Tor. She stepped aside to let them lift the bier, and took her place behind it as they began to move once more. Down to the edge of the lake they passed, where the black-draped barge was waiting to bear the sea lord on his final voyage.

The grave had been dug on the Watch Hill, the farthest island that remained within the mists, the Gateway to Avalon. To those who could not pass them, it bore nothing of interest but a poor village of marsh folk huddled at its foot, just as there was nothing but a few Christian hermitages at the foot of the Tor. But long ago, another Defender of Avalon had been buried there, that his spirit might continue to protect the Vale. The Druids had hailed Carausius by those titles when he came here before. It was fitting that his body should lie beside that of the man for whom that song had been made.

By the time they reached the Watch Hill, darkness had fallen. Torches circled the gravesite; their light cast an illusory warmth across the features of the man who lay beside it, and glowed on the pale robes of the Druids and the priestesses in their blue. But Dierna was swathed in black, and though the firelight sparked and glittered like falling stars from the bits of gold sewn into her black veil, no light could penetrate its shadow, for tonight she was the Lady of Darkness.

“The sun has left us…,” the priestess said softly when the singing ceased. “This day it reigned supreme, but now the night has fallen. From this moment onward, the power of light will lessen, until the cold of midwinter overwhelms the world.” As she spoke, even the light of the torches seemed to weaken. The teachings of the Mysteries placed great importance on the cyclical movements of Nature; now she understood them in the depths of her soul.

“The spirit of this man has left us…” Her voice scarcely shook as she went on. “Like the sun he reigned in splendor, and like the sun has been cast down. Where does the sun go when it leaves us? We are told that it walks in the southern lands. Just so, this spirit journeys now to the Summerland. We mourn his loss. But we know that in the heart of midwinter’s darkness the light shall be reborn. And so we give this body back to the earth from which it was made, in hopes that his radiant spirit will once again take flesh and walk among us in the hour of Britannia’s need.”

As they laid the body in the grave and began to fill it in, Dierna could hear someone weeping, but her own eyes were dry. Her words had not given her hope-she was beyond that. But Carausius had not given up the battle when his fate turned against him, and she knew now that she would not do so either.

“Carausius has his victory. But it is in the world of the spirit. In this world, his murderer still lives and boasts of his deed. It is Allectus who has done this-Allectus, whom he loved-Allectus, who must pay for his treachery! At this moment, when the tides of power begin to turn toward disintegration and decline, I will set my curse upon him.”

Dierna took a deep breath and raised her arms to heaven. “Powers of Night, I call you by no mean magic but by the ancient laws of Necessity, to fall upon the murderer. May no day seem bright to him, no fire warm to him, no love true to him, until he has atoned for his crime!”

She turned, gesturing toward the lake that lapped below.

“Powers of the Sea, womb from which we are all born, mighty ocean on whose currents we are all carried, may all courses he may choose go awry! Rise up to engulf the murderer, O Sea, and drown him in your dark tides!”

She knelt beside the grave and buried her fingers in the loose soil.

“Powers of Earth, to whom we now release his body, may the man who killed him find no peace upon your surface! May he doubt every step he takes, and every man on whom he depends, and every woman he loves, until the chasm yawns beneath him and he falls.”

Dierna got to her feet again, smiling grimly at the shocked faces around her. “I am the Lady, and I set upon Allectus, son of Cerialis, the curse of Avalon. Thus I have spoken, and thus it shall be!”

The year-wheel rolled toward harvest, but though the weather held fair, a summer storm of rumor racked the land. The Emperor had disappeared. Some said he was dead, murdered by Allectus. But others denied it, for where was the body? He was in hiding from his foes, they believed. Still others whispered that he had fled over the sea to make submission to Rome. Certain it was that Allectus had proclaimed himself High King, and was sending his riders up and down Britannia to summon chieftains and commanders to a great oath-taking in Londinium.

The people of Londinium were cheering. Teleri flinched at the sound, and drew the leather curtains of the carriage closed. It was stuffy inside, but she could not bear the noise, or perhaps it was the pressure of so many eyes, so many minds, all focused on her. It had not been like this when she was here before, with Carausius. But by the time she joined him here, he had already been accepted as Emperor. The difference, she supposed, was that this time she was part of the ceremony. She ought to have been proud and excited. Why, she wondered, did she feel like a captive being paraded in the triumph of some Roman conqueror?

It was better once they reached the basilica, though here also there were too many people. Tables had been set up for feasting. The princes and magistrates who sat there eyed her with less curiosity and more calculation. Teleri tried to hold her head high, but she clung to her father’s arm.

“What are you afraid of?” asked the Prince. “You are an empress already. If I had guessed, when you were a gawky girl, that I was raising the Lady of Britannia, I would have bought you a Greek tutor.”

She gave him a quick look and saw the glint in his eye, and tried to smile.

A blaze of color at the end of the long aisle resolved itself into figures. She saw Allectus, arrayed in a purple mantle over a crimson tunic, dwarfed by the bigger men beside him. His eyes brightened as he saw her.

“Prince Eiddin Mynoc-be welcome,” he said formally. “You have brought your daughter. I ask now if you will give her to me as a wife.”

“Lord, it is for that we have come…”

Teleri looked from one man to the other. Was no one going to ask
her?
But perhaps, she told herself, her consent had been given that night in Durnovaria, and the rest-the killing of Carausius and all that had ensued-was only its sequel.

She stepped forward, and Allectus took her hand.

The feast that followed seemed endless. Teleri picked at the food, listening halfheartedly to the conversation. There was some discussion of the gift which Allectus had given to the soldiers upon his proclamation. It was traditional for an emperor at his accession, especially when he was a usurper, but Allectus’ contribution had been generous even by those standards. The merchants, on the other hand, seemed to be hoping for more favors. Only the chieftains of the old Celtic blood paid her any attention, and she realized that her father had been right, and it was partly because of her that they had come.

By the time bride and groom were put to bed, Allectus had drunk a great deal. Teleri, bracing herself as he staggered against her, realized that she had never seen him in less than full command of himself. Her first husband’s embrace had been something to endure. As she helped Allectus out of his clothes, she began to wonder if her second man would be able to do a husband’s duty at all.

Teleri got Allectus into the great bed and lay down beside him. Now that they were alone, there were things she must ask him-not least of them how Carausius had died. She had not been surprised to feel guilt when she learned of his murder; from the moment when she accepted Allectus’ love, she had understood, at some level, what he meant to do. She had not expected the pain.

But when she turned to him, he was already snoring. In the dark hours of the night Allectus woke, crying out that Constantius was coming with a great army of men with bloody spears. Sobbing, he clung to her, and Teleri soothed him as if he were a child. He had been happier when he still served Carausius. And she, if not happy, had at least retained her honor. On which of the three of them could she blame this tragedy? Perhaps it was Dierna she should blame, she thought bitterly.

After a time Allectus began to kiss her, his embrace becoming more frantic until he took her with a desperate urgency. Eventually he slept once more, but Teleri lay for a long time wakeful in the darkness. She, who had dreamed of freedom, had chosen this cage. But it was done now, and must be endured.

As Teleri at last fell into a fitful slumber, she found herself praying to the Goddess as she had not since she was a girl, dreaming of escape from her father’s hall.

In Avalon, Dierna endured as well. Her curse had gone out against Allectus; its fulfillment must be left to greater powers. But for a time, it seemed that those powers did not care. The anniversary of Carausius’ death went by, and the world rolled on unheeding. The priestess waited, but for what she could not say.

Another year passed. If Britannia was not happy with Allectus’ rule, no one dared speak too loudly against him. But he continued his payments to the barbarians, and the Saxon shore stayed peaceful. As for Constantius, though his fleet had overcome that of Carausius, it had taken a beating, and as the latter himself had predicted, it would take time and money to build enough transports and the galleys to guard them to invade the island.

The moon rode high in the heavens. Though it was beginning to wane, it still was bright enough to dim the summer stars. The thatching on the House of Maidens glistened, and the pillars of the Processional Way glowed. Dierna took a deep breath of the cool night air. Around her all was silent. The restlessness that had kept her from sleep must be a thing of the spirit. Something was changing, and its reverberations resounded on the inner planes.

Another year had come and gone since Britannia rejected the lord that Avalon had chosen, and in that time the High Priestess had not left her isle, but from time to time rumors reached them. Constantius had launched his invasion at last. Some said he had landed near Londinium, and the High King’s forces were fighting him there. Other reports spoke of a force that had landed at Clausentum and was marching on Calleva. If Carausius had lived, she would have been using all the magic of Avalon to aid him. But never again would she interfere in the affairs of the outside world.

Dierna was about to return to her bed when she glimpsed someone running up the hill. It was Lina, who as a part of her training had been assigned to keep vigil beside the holy well. Frowning, the High Priestess hurried toward her.