“Come,” Viviane said, and leading the way—The Lady of Avalon,
in her own place, preceded even a king—she passed from the house and along
the shores of the Lake and into the building where the priests were housed.
Arthur walked quietly at Morgaine’s side, and for an instant she half
expected him to reach out his hand as he had done when he was very little, clinging
to hers…but now that little hand she had held was a warrior’s hand,
bigger than her own, hardened with long practice at sword play and with other
weapons. Behind Arthur and Morgaine came the Merlin, and at his side Kevin.
Down a narrow flight of steps they went, and the dank smell of underground surrounded
them. Morgaine did not see anyone strike a light, but suddenly there was a tiny
glow in the darkness and a plae light flared around them. Viviane stopped, so
abruptly that they jostled into her, and for an instant Morgaine was surprised
that she felt simply soft and small, an ordinary woman’s body, not a remote
image of the Goddess. The Lady reached out and took Arthur’s wrist in
her small dark hand; it did not come near to reaching around his.
“Arthur, son of Igraine of Avalon and of Pendragon, rightful King of all
Britain,” she said, “behold the most sacred things in all your land.”
The light flared on gold and jewels in cup and platter, the long spear, the
crimson and gold and silver threads of the scabbard. And from the scabbard,
Viviane drew forth the long, dark blade. Dimly, stones glinted in its hilt.
“The sword of the Sacred Regalia of the Druids,” she said quietly.
“Swear now to me, Arthur Pendragon, King of Britain, that when you come
to your crown, you will deal fairly with Druid as with Christian, and that you
will be guided by the sacred magic of those who have set you on this throne.”
Arthur reached for the sword, his eyes wide; Morgaine could see it in his eyes—that
he knew what manner of sword this was. Viviane made a quick gesture, preventing
him.
“It is death to touch the holy things unprepared,” she said. “Arthur,
swear. With this sword in your hand, there is no chieftain or king, pagan or
Christian, who will stand against you. But this is no sword for a king who is
bound to hear only the Christian priests. If you will not swear, you may depart
now, bearing such weapons as you can get from your Christian followers, and
the folk who look to Avalon for their rule shall follow you only when we bid
them to do so. Or will you swear, and have their allegiance through the sacred
weapons of Avalon? Choose, Arthur.”
He stared at her, frowning a little, the pale light glinting on his hair, which
looked almost white. He said, “There can be only one ruler in this land;
I must not be ruled from Avalon.”
“Nor must you be ruled by the priests who would make you a pawn of their
dead God,” said Viviane quietly. “But we will not urge you. Choose
whether or no you will take this sword, or refuse it and rule in your own name,
despising the help of the Old Gods.”
Morgaine saw that strike home—the day when he had run among the deer and
the Old Gods had given him victory, so that he was acclaimed king among these
people, the first to acclaim him. He said quickly, “God forbid I should
despise—“ and stopped, swallowing hard. “What must I swear,
Lady?”
“Only this: to deal fairlyly with all men, whether or no they follow the
God of the Christians, and always to reverence the Gods of Avalon. For whatever
the Christians say, Arthur Pendragon, and whatever they may call their God,
all the Gods are as one God, and all the Goddesses but one Goddess. Swear only
to be true to that truth, and not to cling to one and despise another.”
“You have seen, said the Merlin, his voice deep and resonant in the silence,
“that I do truly reverence the Christ and that I have knelt at the altar
and shared their sacred meal.”
Arthur said, troubled, “Why that’s true, my lord Merlin. And you,
I think, are the councilor I shall trust more than any other. Do you bid me
swear, then?”
“My lord and king,” said the Merlin, “you are young for this
rule and perhaps your priests and bishops would presume to keep the conscience
even of a king. But I am not a priest; I am a Druid. And I say only that wisdom
and truth are not the special property of any priest. Ask your own conscience,
Arthur, if it would be wrong to swear to deal fairly with all men and whatever
Gods they worship, instead of swearing allegiance to one only.”
Arthur said quietly, “Well then, I will swear, and take the sword.”
“Kneel, then,” Viviane said, “in token that a king is but
a man, and a priestess, even a high priestess, no more than a woman, but that
the Gods are over us all.”