Romance / The Pendragon Bastards: Part 2: Merlin
Part 2: Merlin
Morgause ran up the steps, paying no attention to the guards that admitted her. She ignored Igraine as she ran down the halls to her father’s chamber. She pushed the guards aside and entered--no one crossed Morgause when she had “the look” on her face.
Merlin stood next to Uther’s bed. Morgause put her hand on Uther’s forehead, and then jerked it away. She was not prepared for how high his fever was. “What have you done for him?” she demanded, rather than asked, Merlin.
“Exactly what his physicians would have done, my lady. Given him the willow bark brew, and I have tried to draw the fever out of him.” He leaned on his staff, feeling Morgause’s anger at her father’s illness and the fact that she had not been called until now.
“You should have called me. I do not think he will die this time, but I smell Igraine’s little hand in this.” She looked up at Merlin, “Have the men fetch buckets of water from the coldest of the streams. We must soak the sheets and wrap him in them. If we can lower the fever we can save him. Lots of water, Merlin, lots of sheets. Keep the room warm, but we have to cool him down.”
“I was thinking that, I merely needed to hear you say it too. I will send the men out. to find the coldest waters in the kindom.” He turned as he left the room, “You surprise me sometimes. I had not expected you to be a healer. Your mother had other things on her mind.” He left the room, laughing.
The servants placed a chair for her at Uther’s bedside. She bathed his forehead over and over again, trying to keep it cool. “Don’t die, Uther,” she whispered, “Don’t die.”
"Arthur,” he said suddenly, and her hand stopped in midair. Arthur? Who was Arthur? Damn, Uther was too sick to press and she did not trust Merlin.
At that moment little Morgan came running in. Morgause took her half sister on her lap, inhaling her fresh baby smell. She loved Morgan as if she were her own. She was the one person in Camlann who loved her. Igraine hated her, Uther whored her out to learn information. Merlin thought she was a fool, but the more fool him.
After Morgan was born, Igraine had said that Uther didn’t need to pretend Morgause was his daughter anymore, now that he had a legitimate one. Uther had seen the anger on her face and had told her unexpectedly that he would like to dine with her the next night.
Entertaining the king was no small matter, but Uther sent over delicacies that he liked, as well as a tender beef roast. A cask of the finest wine was included with this, along with draperies, a chair for the king, and even a canopy for Morgan.
The meal had been delicious and both father and daughter had helped themselves liberally to the wine. They had laughed and joked, comfortable when they were alone, without the disapproving glances of Igraine.
“Lot of Orkney wishes to marry you. Tell me Morgause, would you like to be my eyes in the North Kingdom?”
Morgause had half expected this. Each time Lot had come to Camelot he had tried to see her. Each time his efforts had been rebuffed. Lot was a fool and his kingdom was isolated, but Orkney was important. If the Norsemen invaded, Orkney could be their first landing. They would need to be repulsed, and word sent to Camelot. Even more important, she could manage Lot, and manipulate him. And little Morgan had made her realize that she wanted children of her own.
“Perhaps, my Lord. The match could be better, but it could be worse. Perhaps I can use this marriage to be of some service to you.”
“That is what I had in mind.” Uther gestured for more wine. He was growing more loquacious with each glass. “If I tell you something, daughter, will you keep it between the two of us?”
“I swear by the blood of the bull that I will tell no one.”
“Well,” Uther was fond of dramatic pauses, “I wanted you to know that you are not the only Pendragon bastard.” Morgause’s look of surprise delighted him. “It’s true. My father Ambrosius was not inclined to women, but he met the daughter of one of his knights and became infatuated with her. I never saw her, but I hear that she was lovely like a beautiful boy, with a boy’s willful ways. Ambrosius spent more and more time with her, then one day her father sent her home to Wales, and he never saw her again. Nine months later she gave birth to a boy—my half brother. Merlin, to be specific.
“Your half brother?” Oh, that fact was so delicious it was almost as sweet as mead. “Well, we Pendragon bastards certainly seem to do well for ourselves.”
“Pendragon bastards.” Uther had roared with laughter and kissed her on the lips. A page appeared with a small chest, and Uther opened it and removed a ruby necklace. He fastened it clumsily around Morgause’s neck.
“For a delightful night. And Morgause, I care no more for Merlin than you do.”
“Are you going to make him well?” Morgause was shaken out of her reverie by Morgan’s question. “Will you use magic?”
“Be careful, sweetness; never mention the word ‘magic’ unless we two are alone. Your mother wants to pretend that your father is a Christian, even if he still goes to the Mithras temple to worship. If I have to use magic, I will, but I think I can make him well without it this time.” That is if Merlin hurries up with what I need, she thought
.
Morgan leaned over to touch her father, and Morgause held her so she could touch his face. Morgause set her down. “Go see your mama, she’s very worried. I’m going to stay at the palace until your daddy is well, so I’ll come after everyone is asleep and make the stars dance on your ceiling.”
Morgan ran off, clapping her hands. Merlin watched her pass him as he came back to the room. “You watch what you tell her,” he warned.
“Too late,” Morgause taunted, “She loves me better than anyone, plus she’s a natural. I didn’t even start magic that young. I wonder which sorcerer impregnated a Pendragon woman, or which Pendragon was seduced by a witch—it certainly seems to run in our line. That includes you, don’t try to pretend it doesn’t, Uther told me.”
“The one thing Uther lacks in abundance is discretion. How long have you known?” Merlin was trying to appear indifferent, with some success.
“After Morgan was born. Igraine was taunting me, as usual. He told me to placate me. It worked; I think it’s highly amusing that you’re my uncle.”
“There’s something else. I think Uther has another bastard we don’t know about. He said a name, ‘Arthur’, while he was delirious. It would not surprise me at all if Igraine was the mother. I’ve heard bits of gossip here and there about Uther sending her husband into a particularly vicious battle where he and most of his men were killed. The rumor was that Uther was besotted with her. It didn’t do him much good; she hid herself away in a convent for ages before finally letting him seduce her. Funny how she condemns me as a whore—I’ve betrayed no husband.”
“Morgause, does it occur to you that knowing too much could work against you in a royal court?” Merlin was not amused now; the look on his face was more one of worry.
“You can’t know too much at court. When Igraine had me banished from the palace, it was a blessing, but I still make sure I know everything that goes on. You, for instance, must know that the priests would like to get rid of you and replace you with one of their own as Uther’s advisor. They liked it when I left, but found to their dismay I didn’t go very far. You can’t slip a priest into someone’s bed, after all. ‘Uther’s whore’, they call me, but they fear me. I, too, have the ear of the king, and they resent me for it.”
“We both have to be careful,” Merlin looked at the still body of the king lying on his bed, Uther made the pretense of converting to placate Igraine, and the growing number of Christians in this Kingdom. We’ll be heroes if we save the life of the king, or we may be condemned for using witchcraft to save him. You should marry and leave Camelot, Morgause. I say this out of concern. You can’t stay safe here forever if you follow the old ways.
“I’m going to marry, just not yet. And I plan to get as far away from priests as I can. I know Uther will protect me, whether Igraine objects or no. But it’s time for me to make my own life.
The men arrived at last with the snow water. Merlin and Morgause worked through the night, wrapping Uther in sheets soaked in icy waters. Morgause chanted spells and lit candles as they worked, until at last Uther’s fever broke at dawn.
They looked at each other, both exhausted, but pleased that the king would now recover. One small victory—that was what Uther would often say. He was a man of little patience, but his skills on the battlefield had been honed by learning when to move slowly and when to charge.
“One small victory”, Morgause said, and then fainted from from exhaustion. Merlin signaled a servant to take her to her old room.
Then, when Merlin was left alone with Uther in his chamber, he uttered one work: “Arthur”.
You need to log in to urbis or create an urbis account to review this writing.
Reviews
Sort Reviews by Newest | Oldest | Highest Quality | Lowest Quality | Newest Comments |
Nice opening! I love a good historical! Your writing is vivid with good dialogue and strong verbs on the first page.
The story flows and we are immediately immersed in this world you’ve created for us. I see that this is a Part 2, so there must be a Part 1. (Which I’d very much like to read!). Even though I haven’t read Part 1, I had no problem following the story or the characters.
*Your characterization sparkles! You dialogue is amazing! Its not stilted (like some historical attempts), naturally flows, and is appropriate for the time period. Awesome!
The ending is very well done and makes you want to move to the next chapter!
This is very publishable work! I would read more of this on Urbis—but more importantly, I would buy this book!
I honestly could go on and on, but there’s nothing else to say except: It is fabulous! Keep writing! This is a very worthy book!
Here’s just the couple of typo-thingies I caught:
Page 1:
typo? kindom/kingdom – just a small thing, but I thought you’d want to know. (I am plagued by missing words, which spell check doesn’t catch)
Page 2, 3:
One more typo (maybe?), at the end: he uttered one work/word, “Arthur”
- add/view comments (0)
Showing 1 - 1 of 1
Review item
Add to faves
GENERAL
REVIEW QUEUE
Ratings & Rankings
| Version 3 | Version 2 (Deleted) | Version 1 (Deleted) |