The Once and Future Camelot Page 22

  But what was she supposed to do about it, if anything? What did all this have to do with her?

  Depressed and despairing, Morgan looked once more at the screen. Various talking heads were discussing the situation. Suddenly, to her shock, she recognized her brother. His likeness to Lord Easterbrook was now unmistakeable: that same confident stance and insolent sneer. Pompous prick, she thought. She stared at the screen, repelled yet fascinated as he began to speak.

  “This mindless destruction has got to stop. Taking to the streets isn’t the answer. If there are genuine grievances, then we need to talk because now, more than ever, we must stand united and firm if we want to preserve our way of life, and protect ourselves from those who wish to take over the governance of our realm and impose on us their own traditions, customs, faith and way of life,” he said. “Our own parliament is in disarray and in danger of turning its back on the values for which we have stood and fought for over almost a thousand years, and it’s time for a change. I stand for a United Britain, for the Scots, Welsh and Irish as well as for the English.” He paused to take a sip of water, his knuckles showing white as he gripped the glass.

  “Reckon your brother’s a politician to watch,” Merlin said thoughtfully. “I like his ideas, but he’ll need to say how he plans to implement them before the next election and before I’ll vote for him. At the moment he’s just like every other politician. It’s all rhetoric and spin.”

  Morgan stayed silent. She’d left her family behind. She didn’t want to think about any of them again, nor have anything to do with them. But still she continued to listen to what Arthur had to say.

  “We welcome to our shores anyone from any nation who is in genuine need. And we do not seek to prohibit them from observing their own heritage and religion, so long as they show loyalty to their new home and put Britain first. That means valuing our freedoms, our way of life and our laws that say all are equal and have equal rights, because this is a secular society, bound by secular laws, following a tradition that dates back almost a thousand years.

  “Nor will we cede our country to those nations who would buy their way in, and take it over by stealth. This is what United Britain stands for, and we’ll be looking for your vote at the election next year.”

  In spite of herself, Morgan was impressed. Arthur might look like his father, but he’d spoken with conviction and with passion. And even though it was a blatant bid for re-election, she found herself agreeing with everything he’d said.

  *

  Morgan was still feeling troubled when she went out to the site early the following day. The hatred she’d sensed between the opposing gangs had upset her, but watching Arthur on television, seeing him after all these years, had upset her even more. And, now that she was conscious of him, now that she’d heard him speak of his beliefs, she found that she was also curious to know more. From her internet search she knew he was married, and had a family. In fact, both he and Lance had tried to establish contact with her through the internet. She’d never responded and the messages had finally stopped, somewhat to her regret, although she’d reassured herself that a clean break was for the best. But she hadn’t been able to escape the odd news report, and had rejoiced over her stepfather’s notoriety after he was caught with a prostitute. She hadn’t followed up on the story, and now she wondered if he and Igraine were still together? Was Arthur still their golden boy? She was willing to bet that they would have been proud to see Arthur elected to parliament – but as a Tory, like they were. Had he fallen out of favor as a result of his defection? Or did they also go along with Arthur’s vision?

  Her thoughts were full of Arthur, and her family, as she walked over to inspect the work that had been done to uncap the spring and contain it. She noticed several small channels radiating out from it and frowned. They were not in the plan. Then she realized that although the spring only bubbled up slowly, the water would need to be collected and channeled somewhere, for the surrounding earth was already boggy. Using the water as a backup to irrigate the various segments in the garden was an excellent idea, one she hadn’t considered. And neither had the designers of the original garden apparently, or it would have been included on the plan! She wondered if they’d also come up with a similar solution as she stepped closer to inspect the careful stonework around the newly constructed pool.

  From habit, she looked down into the dark waters, half-fearing and half-hoping to see something. Always before she’d drawn a blank, but now the water rippled into life. Once more she saw the woman whom she thought of as her counterpart. Morgana? Was she part of this mystery, did she have the answers to what was going on in England today?

  Morgan could also hear chanting and shouting, a reprise of what she’d heard last night on the news. The vision of the woman disappeared, her place taken by scenes of the rioting in London, the violent clashes and bloodshed that had marked the terror unleashed on the streets. Horrified, but bewildered, Morgan leaned over the pool, hoping that at last she was going to be shown a reason why she was seeing all this.

  People were screaming and crying for help. Families, some with little children in tow, who’d been caught up in the riots and were now trying to flee, were being cut down in the crush, being shot, or knifed, or kicked onto the ground and trampled on. It seemed that those taking part in this senseless violence had lost all notion of the sanctity of life and a mad bloodlust had taken over. Just when Morgan thought she couldn’t bear it a moment longer, tendrils of mist obscured the pool and everything went quiet. When the mist cleared moments later, she caught a glimpse of a small child.

  Panic gripped Morgan as the pool caught fire, and the little girl disappeared. “But what of the child?” she whispered. “Save her, Morgana! Save us!”

  There seemed no answer to why she was being shown this horror. She rocked back on her heels, trying to get her emotions under control. Who was the child? Was she important in some way? As the fire leapt across the pool, she gazed into the blazing water, fascinated by its unearthly glow. As if looking down from on high, she recognized the River Thames shining like a gold ribbon as it looped past the Houses of Parliament and the Tower of London on one side of the bank and the London Eye on the other. People, small as ants, scurried about their business, going into shops, offices, restaurants and cafes, or wandered around, phones and cameras in hand, seeing the sights. Glass skyscrapers further downriver glittered and shone in the bright light that was more than sunlight: it seemed incandescent and unnatural. Suddenly there was a loud bang, a crack of thunder that seemed to tear the sky in two. In the blink of an eye, buildings and people disappeared as if they had never been. All that was left was the river quietly meandering through empty, uninhabited land towards the sea. But Morgan could hear the screams of those who had once been there. It was an unearthly sound and it went on and on until she couldn’t stand it any longer. Completely unnerved, she fell to her knees beside the pool.

  The water stirred and she heard a voice. “Morgan?” Overwhelmed with relief, Morgan stretched out her hands. “Help me,” she begged. “For God’s sake, save us! Save us all!”

  Through her terror, Morgan heard the woman’s voice. “How? Please talk to me. Tell me what you want me to do.”

  So Morgana had no answers either. Morgan began to cry as the vision faded, leaving her alone and despairing. Merlin was right. The end of days was coming – and she had no idea what she was supposed to do about it.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Marie

  While the king made no effort to bid us farewell before Aline and I left for the priory, he did provide us with an escort. For that, I was grateful. By the time we returned, however, the nuns at the priory were busy laying in supplies and preparing themselves for the icy grip of winter.

  As soon as we were settled, and Aline had gone off to resume her lessons once more, I escaped outside to check the progress on my garden. I found myself alone there; clearly the lay brothers and workers I’d employed had decided that there wa
s no more they could do until spring – or until my return, perhaps. However, much had been accomplished in my absence. The garden was taking shape, with trellised pathways delineating the breaks between the segments, and vines planted that, next summer, would provide hanging bunches of grapes for refreshment, and also shade as well as protection from wind and rain. The vines were still small, stubby stumps, but I knew they would burst into leaf at the first hint of spring. There were a number of dead and dying plants mingled in with those perennials that would resurrect themselves of their own accord next year. I wished I’d left instructions for more cuttings to be taken and seeds gathered, but a closer inspection revealed that some salvage might still be possible. I was conscious also that now was the perfect opportunity to try to fashion my secret way, according to the grimoire that I’d inherited from my mother. Although I was still undecided how best to go about it, or even where it should be sited, I knew I should make the most of this time when there was no one around to see what I was doing. I resolved to go and change into something more suitable for working outdoors, and make a start.

  I waited until I could be sure that Aline was safely out of the way and occupied with her lessons before I changed my clothes. After some thought, I decided to take with me the amethyst from my bag. I knew the wooden tablets had no part in this, but I had already memorized the chants that, supposedly, would help me establish a path through the garden that no one but I would be able to see. Just to be sure, I read through the chants again, and then realized I would have to wait until the full moon before attempting anything at all. Not only that, I needed also to find myself wands of ash and hazel to complete the spell.

  With a sigh, I abandoned my plan but resolved to make a start on weeding and tidying the site. I wanted to make sure that all was in place so that no time was wasted once it was warm enough to start bedding out those plants now growing in the protection of sheds I’d designed especially for this purpose.

  As I entered the garden once more, I noticed there seemed to have been some work done around the spring in the center. I walked towards it. Thorold had done a good job, I thought, as I admired the pretty stonework that surrounded and contained it, while the ground around the pool was now firm and dry. I noted a thin web of channels radiating outwards, and realized that they were to take the runoff from the spring to each segment of the garden. I followed the path of one of them and saw the ingenious device whereby the water could either be piped to an underground container for storage, and or else drained away. I nodded thoughtfully. Keeping water on hand to irrigate the plants was something I hadn’t considered, and I was pleased that Thorold had used his initiative. I would tell him that his next task must be to fashion a small fountain at the center to splash into the pool.

  I looked down into the slowly bubbling water and noted my reflection looking back at me. I became aware of the sound of voices, but the people were conversing too quietly for me to understand what they were saying. Or were they quarrelling? Their forms were only a hazy outline but I thought I could detect upraised arms clutching – what? Weapons of some sort? I closed my eyes, the better to hear what was going on. For so long I’d blocked anything to do with magic out of my mind, but I was beginning to realize that, like it or not, it was all around me. Perhaps I should start paying attention?

  All went quiet, and I opened my eyes once more. My reflection stared back at me, but even as I recognized myself my face dissolved and, with a jolt of alarm, but also happiness, I found myself looking at my mother. “Mamm,” I called, overjoyed that in spite of everything, she had managed to reach me after all.

  “Mamm?”

  I looked more closely and saw that, although this girl resembled my mother, she was much younger. Her hair was cut short and she appeared to be clad only in a shift, for her arms were bare save for thin straps of bright yellow.

  “Who are you?” My heart was thudding so wildly it felt as if it would jump right out of my chest.

  “Morgan. My name is Morgan. Who are you?”

  “My name is Marie.”

  “Why did you call me Mamm?”

  My throat was so dry I had to swallow hard before I could answer. “I thought you were my mother.”

  “I have seen someone else in the pool, Marie. Someone who looks like me. Maybe that was your mother? Maybe you’ll see her some other time?”

  “Please God.” It was a hope to cling on to, seemingly the only hope I had. “You have almost the same name as her,” I said. “Morgan. My mother’s name is Morgana.”

  “Morgana?” The girl stilled. “So I was right,” she said at last, her eyes wide with wonder. She grinned then, the smile lightening the lines of worry on her face. “Where are you, Marie?”

  “I am in Glastonbury, at the priory.”

  “Yes!” Morgan punched the air with her fist. I wondered why.

  “Where are you?” I asked.

  “Also in Glastonbury but obviously not at the same time as you, for the priory was destroyed during the reign of King Henry the Eighth when he ordered the dissolution of the monasteries.”

  “There have been eight King Henrys?” I couldn’t believe it. “For me, the year is 1165. There is a King Henry on the throne, but he is the second Henry to rule England. His wife, the queen, is called Eleanor.”

  The girl’s face reflected her surprise. “So long ago? There’s almost a thousand years between us! In my time it’s the year 2019 and King William is on the throne. His grandmother, Queen Elizabeth the Second, died only recently, so he is new to being a king.”

  I was sure my own expression mirrored the surprise on Morgan’s face.

  “Why am I seeing you?” she asked urgently.

  I thought of Viviane’s words. “I’m supposed to ask you …” But how could I ask Morgan to do anything when I’d vowed not to meddle in affairs that did not concern me? I couldn’t, and so I said instead: “Did you speak to my mother as we are speaking now? Did she give you any reason for the sighting?”

  “No. I saw her a few times, but only very briefly. And her voice was very faint. I could hardly hear her. Why is it so much easier to talk to you?”

  I knew why. My mother had managed to reach Morgan from another world. I, on the other hand, seemed to be in the same world as Morgan, even if there were almost a thousand years separating us. Was it possible my mother had been trying to do what Viviane had asked of me? I hesitated, giving myself time to think how to proceed.

  “My mother was gifted in the magical arts,” I finally admitted. “She …” A blinding flash across the pool of water obliterated Morgan’s face. Horrified, I looked at the scene I remembered only too well: the tall glass buildings that seemed to scrape the sky, the brilliant golden light and frightening blast, followed by that final, awful emptiness that was filled with screams. Thoroughly shaken, I covered my eyes but I could not block out the sound which seemed to go on and on forever.

  Finally, when all was quiet once more, I risked looking into the pool, although I dreaded what I might see there. But the water continued to bubble slowly to the surface, and all I could see was my own face.

  I left the garden then and, I confess, I was too shaken to return for quite some time. Questions plagued me as I stayed in my room to scribe my stories, and tried to sleep at night. I knew that sooner or later I would have to go back to the pool. Would I see Morgan again? It seemed that Aline had the gift; perhaps I should take her with me? But if that golden flash came again, she would be so frightened. I still remembered the first time we’d seen the vision, and how she had screamed. She was only a baby then, and clearly far too young to understand what it was all about. Nevertheless it had upset her greatly; it had taken me a long time to settle her down. I couldn’t bear to put her through that all over again. Nor did I want to see or hear it again myself. Three times was more than enough.

  Had Morgan seen what I had seen? Could the catastrophe be related to her time perhaps? I couldn’t shake Viviane’s words from my memory. Your task is to
persuade her to reconcile with her family before it’s too late. The future depends on it. Was there something she – or perhaps her family – needed to do in order to prevent what I had seen? Was that why my mother had tried to make contact with her, and why Viviane wanted me to do the same thing?

  Who was Morgan? It was surely no coincidence that she and my mother shared the same name. Could she be a descendent of ours, perhaps? Was that the link that bound us all together? Finally, I convinced myself that I should go back to the garden and try to find out.

  But, freed from her lessons, and eager to make the most of the wintry sunshine, Aline wanted to accompany me. Tears threatened when I said no, and finally I relented. We walked there together, while I made a silent vow to keep her from the pool at all costs. But she ran ahead of me, and went straight to it. I watched her bend over and study the water with an intent expression.

  “The lady’s here now,” she called happily.

  I gently set her aside and bent over to have a look. “Morgan.” I wasn’t sure if I was pleased to see her or not.

  “Marie. And who is the young girl?”

  “My daughter, Aline. She’s only eleven years born,” I added quickly.

  “Hello, lady,” Aline said gaily, not seeming the least afraid.

  “Morgan, did you see what happened when I was talking to you?” I hesitated to spell it out, but I needed to know.

  “You vanished. I lost sight of you. And now you’ve returned.”

  “Did you see what I saw? A vision of London …” I didn’t want to say any more in front of Aline, but I needed to know. “Have you seen that too?”

  “Yes, I saw it just after I spoke to your mother. The buildings were there and then they … disappeared.”

  I was grateful that Morgan was sensible enough not to spell out the horror of it all. “Did you understand what was happening?” I asked.