The Dark Chronicles Ch. 09

Part 09 - A Coil of Snakes

I was there.

When Elayne the hand-maiden was made queen for a night, I was there.

As always, there's a long and circuitous set of excitements before any event I tell. One of these days I'll learn to tell a story quick, and make it flow fast like clear water in a stream. But where's the fun in that, all over before it begins and nothing to guess, nothing to remember, nothing to forget? Catch me quick, hoolah, hoolay! I'd rather take all day.

It was simple, this: Lilith first queen of the land more true, by Artur's side as his spy, his hide, her slaughter more bloody than poor Miryamme could ever know. She, poor girl, with her eyes of innocent blue and the straw doll by her side, she could not match the fierce love Lilith gave her father, but stayed sweet innocence, his virgin queen.

Artur still needed his little queen though, and after battle 'twas always the same. He would go to Miryamme's chamber, and whisper sweet words in her ear, and the poor creature would sleep so deep, her little back curled against the king's belly, her skin so smooth it glowed under the silver moon. I could unknot a string, and Emmy and Elayne sleep too, not chasing the poor lamb with her frightened bleat every night.

"Her innocence reminds me, Maer, why I fight the scum from the east." Sworn to De Grance, more like.

Lancilet the prince was accommodated for his care of the queen, for Rednock would take the king's big red horse and Lilith's grey, and break up a sweat huge and hot and his muscles all bulging, curry them down with a brush. Young Lancilet would creep by with a pail and a cloth, and wash the big man down like his own beast, and service the groom with his mouth or his ass, depending on the groom's inclination and how far the horses had run.

The queen didn't always dally and watch, but Emmelyne and Elayne did regularly look. "You said to keep an eye on the prince, Maer, and report all proper and full." Emmy winked, and lifted up her skirts.

"I did, Em," I replied; and found my own need to check the carpenter's work remained solid and straight in the loft. It did, straight and solid into Emmy's helpful wet cunt, while she made sure the balustrade held firm, holding on. That carpenter fellow must have been careless, his work so often needing a check.

In truth, one of my best designs, that stable. Very good sight lines, even if I say so myself.

And Lilith, what she? She would regularly to my chamber come. "Tell me of Nym Nymue, Maer, and Morgayne my mother." She'd look at me with her father's eyes, and insist I tell her destinies and histories, so she could see how the land's women circled around her father and held him safe and made him king. "He's my father, Maer, no woman loves him more."

Truth tell, I believed her. But her birth caul all hidden: I always remembered her tiny baby body covered in it, which Emmy washed away, and I wondered what it meant. I knew Nym Nymue couldn't see Lilith when she turned away, which struck me odd. Surely a portent or two, a spark from a fire or guts from a stoat, something at least, to tell Lilith's truth? She'd look at me with her deep, clear eyes, and tell me where the waters ran.

So the court was made, and prospered a little, and the land settled into a winter. Artur heard tell from merchants and captains that his last message, the six young men sent back in their ship, had impressed the heathen king and made him pause. My ears, better at skulking between the lines, heard tell that they really feared what dragen women would do; and by all accounts, once the whispering was finished, Lilith the new queen was as tall as ten men, grown naked from the rock.

"Their stupid imaginations do you no harm, rumours of giants walking the land. Gogmagog and his bride." I grinned at the king, my friend. "I never knew you were so tall, sire. You hide your height well. You look no taller to me than an average man."

"Seems true, Maer, a useful ploy." Artur looked across at Lilith his daughter who sat making arrows. "But they'll be back, those boatmen. There'll be more blood to wash from our hands, it's not over for us yet."

"There are always deep rivers, father, to cleanse ourselves of blood," said Lilith. "We need to prepare ourselves, train more men, be not afraid."

"I'm not afraid, Lilith, just wary. Weary too, but I hide it."

Ah me, the look in Lilith's eye when he said it.

Lilith made bring an inkster with his woad all black and blue, and made him tattoo a curling twine of a snake on her naked body and that of her father, and it was cleverly made, that encirclement. For when they held themselves just so, and pressed tight hard against each other with their naked arms all around, the body of the snake was one continuous coil around them, made as of one joined creature. And so Artur and his daughter made it clear, and peril to those who doubted, that these two were king and queen for the land, joined in blood and lust and fury, coiled snakes on a dark path.

And Lilith made sweet with Miryamme her father's bride, and kept the simple queen, if not a friend, more like an injured bird that cannot fly. I walked the palisade with Artur by my side and looked down on the meadow by the river, and saw the two women like a mother and a child, Lilith caring for the little queen as if she were her own child, calling to her, "Come, my mother, come dance with me, dancing, dancing, we'll ride a fine horse."

Artur looked upon them both and said to me, "The girl takes my curse and weakens it, Maer. See how she laughs and smiles with the queen."

"It's a natural love, sire, a protective thing."

Artur glanced at me. "Seems like it's many do care for my queen, my helpless creature. I thank them for their kindness."

"She's a sweet thing, sire, but not practical for the land's queen. Your own blood daughter, Lilith, she will bleed for this land, this kingdom. You died tomorrow, sire, she could wear your crown. Men would follow her."

Artur held my gaze, long and hard. "She the first born, Maer, you swear it?"

"By these hands, sire, these very hands you see in front of you." I held my hands out for him to see. "Emmelyne is my witness, she swaddled the girl babe whilst I birthed the whelp."

"The whelp? My son, Maer, and marked king." Artur pointed out the fact of it, as if it was the weather, a dull day.

"I tell it true, lord, I warm not to Mordant your son; nor him me." It was rare I looked Artur straight, but this time I did. "Nym Nymue sees treachery in him, sire, when she trances. She cannot pierce the veil, but his shade blackens her backwards sight."

"And you say she cannot see Lilith, even in clear light?"

"She can see the one but not the other streaming back, that's true. Nymue is afraid of it, not seeing Lilith. Her eyes can't see your daughter straight."

Artur looked down at his arms and the twisted ink upon them, slowly turning his hands over. He looked at me, a stillness in his eyes. "I trust her with my life, Maer."

"I think she take it in both hands, sire."

"Like your hands, Maer, when she was born? A life?"

"Yeay. Her life is powerful born, any fool can see that."

Artur laughed. "You see it, Maer?"

"Not I, sire. I'm blind."

"As a bat, my friend?"

"Three bats, a mole, and an earthworm or two. In a dark cave, and my eyes all closed."

"Go from me, Maerlyn. Your words make no sense, yet still I listen."

"I'm gone, sire, as you bid it."

* * * *

"Do you forbid it, Mother?"

"I do, Mordant. You are not their king, and you shall not command. The garrison are my men, and answer only to me." Morgayne's voice was calm and low. "If you want troops to command, you go north to your father. Prove yourself there."

She was unforgiving, but knew her son was weak inside, cruel but unformed. She watched him react to her words, saw his hurt pride, but she refused to coddle the prince.

"He loves Lilith more, Mother, he doesn't love me."

"Lilith loves her father, Mordant. You only love yourself, and oft times that I doubt. Even a mother finds you hard, without grace. Find grace, my son, and be seen by your father. He sees what you are, not what you think you are."

"Do you love me, Mother?"

"Don't test me, boy."

"You're cruel, Mother."

"I know it, my son. It is my way, I won't change it, just because you hurt. You must mend your own wounds, Mordant. I cannot do it for you."

Morgayne rubbed her own belly where the thin red scar of her children's birth still itched, and smiled at the memory of the mad magickian, who had held his hands so very, very close to her heart.

"Do you mock me, Mother, with your smile?"

She turned her slow eyes towards him, gazing through her son, seeing so far past his eyes that Mordant turned to see who was behind him. Morgayne turned her eyes away as if she couldn't bear his presence any more.

"No, I do not, my son. You mock yourself enough, you don't need another to do it." She smiled at him with a sadness in her eyes. "Take the best horse, and three of the men, and my banner. Ride north for the Red Morgayne. I give you that."

As Mordant turned to leave her chamber, she stretched out a slow hand through the air in his direction. "Remember your blood, my son. You have the blood of kings in your veins. Give fealty as prince, and love your father better, however hard that be. Remember your blood."

Mordant feared blood. He feared the shedding of it, and the pain that went with cuts and falls, so he was timid, even as he was cruel to those around him. He carried the blood bruise on his face and was marked, and couldn't hide it.

He couldn't compare. The men at Tyntangel knew Artur and his firm command, yet mocked the son whenever he turned away, which was often. And when word drifted south of Lilith, how she rode by the king's side and bled in battle with her father, the brother and son were scorned.

So Mordant rode north with three reluctant men.

* * * *

Oh my, the king's son, that odious boy, that embarrassment for his mother; Mordant has crept to Camlann expecting fealty. The king's son wanting allegiance, just because he was born? Not here, not now, not this court.

His sister Lilith rode forth to meet him, tall and proud on her horse, and Mordant crept in beside her. Could two children of the king be more unalike? Morgayne surely carried them nine moons in separate pods, and my own hands fooled as I held them first.

"Oh brother," I heard Lilith say, "do you come here to fight? Artur your father needs men to fight, can you do it?" And I heard the scorn in her voice, even her own brother despised.

"Leave him be, Lilith," said her father, and held his arms out for his only son, the prince. "Welcome to your father's place, Mordant my son. Come, we eat, and strategy share."

I looked at the king, and marvelled how he said it, refusing his son his pretences; yet I saw his stoic eye and remembered earlier words.

"It must be done, Maer. The boy is so unformed, yet thinks himself king without a crown. I not like his cowardly ways, made all cruel to compensate, but I have to try. He's blood."

"He needs to spill blood, father, break heathen heads from bodies." Lilith turned her head towards Artur, her pale blue eyes steady and straight, and she said it true. "He should be cunning and cruel, the way he tortured animals when he was small; but I can't see it."

"I fear you're right, Lilith, he will find some excuse not to ride." Artur got slowly to his feet, and made his way to see Mordant in his chamber at the end of the keep. Later, I saw him return to his own sleeping chamber, and Lilith went to him there.

I should not worry at it, like a tooth, but I do.

* * * *

Artur was right. His coward son complained of loose guts before the next ride, some slimed shit in the river, which luckily washed away quick.

The king and a troop, Lilith in the middle of it, went east to follow a rumour.

I went down to the village where dogs were better company than the cur Mordant; but even there I saw him skulking, down by the forge where Rednock beat out shoes for the horses.

Lancilet was in the blacksmith's place, and had found a new skill, joining a hundred tiny loops of beaten metal into an armoured shirt, full flexible it was, and proof against arrows. I watched Mordant slide up to his cousin and drop the rings to the ground, a stupid snear on his face just because he did it. Lancilet bent to pick the metal loops up, not even saying a word. I saw Mordant studying his cousin, and thought nothing good would come of it.

Mordant turned away and left the stable, but stumbled his toe on an anvil, crying out loud in pain.

"He cannot make an exit, let alone an entrance proper," Rednock commented, his voice as dry as the hay he fed his horses; so even the loyal servant saw the stained prince for a fool.

The filth in Mordant's eyes as he limped away, and the red flush on his face, brighter than the king's mark on his cheek, flagged a warning to me. I made true to myself to be wary, and hastened to Emmelyne to aid my watch.

"He will skulk, Em, and want mischief against the king and his, I'm sure of it."

Sure true, the next days I saw Mordant charm the poor silly queen, his cowardice finding the easiest place to corrupt.

"We cannot warn her, Em, she won't understand. See how he hides his face from her eyes not to fright her? At least the scum from their boats carry swords and are honest in their treachery. Watch close, and warn me."

I spoke to Rednock too, and suggested he not joy the prince Lancilet, for fear what Mordant would say against him and the sweet dark boy if he found them, skulking and digging and twisting his malice in like a knife.

A week on, and the king still away, the filth found it: Miryamme the queen and her dalliance with Lancilet in the night and in the lady's anterior chamber.

Elayne told Emmelyne what the young couple did, how the queen protected her curious virginity while the king was away, and how one night she spied Mordant spying too.

"Mordant knows it, Maer, that the queen's cunt lies empty and unused and she has no need of it, her proof the king's daughter on her horse, and now the king's son in the court."

"He will use this knowledge quick against the king, I have no doubt of it. We must plan against Mordant, or he'll spill secrets that the king wants not spilled, and the queen's innocence corrupted too."

I pondered on it, and scuffed my boots in the dirt and tied five knots, thinking of a better skulk. But I could not do it, I could not think what to do. Being a fool in a hat with a bell, jingle jingle, I can plot against fools, but I cannot plot against malice. Malice runs quieter and makes no noise, so I cannot hear it coming; and it's upon me even before it starts.

* * * *

"She wants it, Lancilet, I know she wants it. A man's fuck in her quim, proper and deep. She craves it, longs for it every night. She'll beg. She'd beg me, but cannot, because Artur the king is my father, which makes her almost my mother."

Mordant sidled along beside Lancilet his cousin, whispering in the older youth's ear, whispering lies and deceit. "Her little cunt, Lancilet, she wants it filled. I know you plunder her tighter place, but her empty cunt! You must fill it, full." He stretched the lie. "The king can't do it, he's old and his cock is feeble, but she begs it. Fill it, fuck it, fill her wanting puss."

Mordant slithered on with his message, pulling Lancilet's mind away from the gentle truth of his love for Miryamme the lonely queen, until the cousin believed he could make children where the king could not. Mordant smiled behind his own hand and pressed home the lie.

"She wants a proper fucking, Lancilet, by a man with a cock full hard. The king is all a soft, feeble man, he can't rise. He's weak and limp, and has called me up to Camlann to make me king in his stead. He's told me, Mordant, his full trusted son - I'm dying, he's said. You'll inherit my crown, he's said. Mordant king, in my right place on the throne.

"But first, his queen. Go to her, Lancilet, she loves you, she'll let you do it." Mordant watched Lancilet closely as he spoke, and saw a flicker of suspicion in his eyes. "She's told me so herself." He pressed home the deceit. "She tells me, Lancilet, because I'm the king's son, full trusted with the truth. Artur wants you, for the queen's fuck."

Mordant was so tied up in his plot for Lancilet to deflower the queen, that he was careless where he plotted. Elayne the queen's maid overhead Mordant snivelling his lies to Lancilet, and heard the plan. She spoke to Emmelyne, who in turn went to Maerlyn and they pondered a trap to expose Mordant's intent and reveal his treachery to the king and the innocent queen.

"But how not to damage Lancilet? For he is a good man and has the queen's heart, and is a better son in truth to the king than his own son."

"I know it, Em, and am thinking of ways." Maerlyn sat pondering, weaving threads in his mind, how to set another's plan in train and continue it better suited to his own path.

Maerlyn knew that a man's seed, when conjured with, was meant to be; and he knew from Nymue's trances that Mordant's way must run. He could dabble with it, but never fully stop a fate. A man be born from a fuck, or a woman, and dread him who try to stop it.

Maerlyn turned to Emmelyne. "Elayne, how tall she be, standing next to the queen?" His voice sunk to a whisper. "She know the queen's voice, could she take it?"

Emmelyne knew the power of words once spoken, and knotted her kerchief, five knots. She listened close to Maerlyn's words and learned his plan, and learned of another love-child born many years before, and Nymue's magick then. "Maer, you can guide the man, but how the woman's magick make? Nym Nymue made it with you then, but who now can change a face so quick?"

"You have to talk to Lilith, Em, sister to sister. She loves the king and would protect the maiden queen, yet does not love her brother. She has her mother's magick and would surely do it."

The importance of Maerlyn's words fell full force on Emmelyne. "Is this the price of Lilith's shroud, Maer, that only you and I know?"

"It is a part of it, I think, but only a little one. Know it, Emmy, but don't reveal it when you speak." Maerlyn sat still, his eyes distant. "This family's not done yet, I feel it in my bones and my body aches. There's a thunder coming, Em, a storm."

"And Elayne, what her?"

"She's a good girl, Em, and loves the queen. She'll not mind the prince inside her belly, either. Is she ripe, her moon high?"

"Like cows for milk, she regular be. Three nights to thread the needle, if the land wants another squalling babe."

"It seems Em, whenever I get involved, she wants it."

"Keep away from my quim then, Maer," said Emmelyne with a wink. "When this is done, my bottom's tight, all ready."

* * * *

The rain started slowly, squalling showers breaking over the valleys, veils of rain shifting quick against the light. The villagers and the fort's garrison hustled animals and children in under cover, and the first runnels of water trickled down paths and over stone. Dust settled, and the horses, returned from Artur's eastern troop, ran loose in meadows by the river, until Rednock and his men brought them home.

Artur called Maerlyn, and told him of more scouting boats from across the northern sea. Scared men had been captured on the shore and bound in ropes, and left with Lilith until they talked then willingly died, rewarded with her smile and her parted thighs. She cleansed herself in the deepest river, and washed their blood away.

Mordant sat in the king's parly and listened, but held his tongue. He did not see his sister, but she watched him and saw his sideways look.

The next night the rain had settled in, clouds low and grey, dulling a dull moon, and paths ran with mud. Maerlyn and the king met in long strategy, maps were drawn and loyal horses counted. The kingdom prepared for war.