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But you do not know what I shall be weaving today, child.
Maline sat down and picked up the distaff. She paused for a moment, pressing her hands to her back.
"Are you not well, daughter-in-law?"
Maline said, "It is nothing-my courses are four days late. I am afraid I have gotten with child again, and I had hoped I could nurse the baby another year-" She sighed. "Avalloch has women enough in the village, but I think he never loses hope I will give him another son to take Co
Morgaine smiled, putting the shuttle to the threads. She said, "Father Eian will not like it, if you ask me for charms. He would tell you to pray to the Virgin Mother for a son."
"Well, her son was a miracle, and I am begi
"I will make you some tea for that," said Morgaine. "If you are truly with child, I swear it will not disturb you, but if it is only delay from a chill, it will bring on your courses."
"Is this one of your magical spells from Avalon, Mother?"
Morgaine shook her head. "It is herb lore, no more," she said, went to the kitchen and made up the brew over the fire. She brought it to Maline and said, "Drink it as hot as you can, and wrap up in your shawl while you spin, try to keep warm."
Maline drank up the brew, emptying the little pottery cup, and grimaced at the taste. "Ugh, foul!"
Morgaine said, smiling, "I should have put honey in it, as I do with the brews I make for the children when they have fever."
Maline sighed, taking up the spindle and distaff again. She said, "Gwyneth is old enough to spin-I could spin when I was five years old."
"So could I," said Morgaine, "but I beg you, defer the lesson another day, for if I am to weave in here I do not want noise and confusion."
"Well then, I will tell the nurse to keep all the children out in the gallery," said Maline, and Morgaine dismissed her from her mind, begi
The shuttle slid through the cloth: green, brown, green, brown, picking up the other shuttle every tenth row, changing the color. She had taught Maline to dye this green color, which she had learned in Avalon ... green of the new leaves coming into the spring, brown of the earth and of the fallen leaves where the boar rooted in the forest for acorns... shuttle sliding through the cloth, the comb to tighten each row of threads, her hands moving automatically, in and out and across, slide down the bar, pick up the shuttle from the other side ... would that Avalloch's horse would slip and fall and he would break his neck and save me from what I must do ... . She felt cold and shivered, and willed herself to ignore it, concentrating on the shuttle sliding in and out of the threads, in and out, letting images rise and go at will, seeing Accolon in Uriens' chamber playing with his father at draughts, Uwaine asleep, tossing and turning with the pain in his cheek wound even through his slumber, but now it would heal cleanly ... would that a wild boar would fight back and Avalloch's huntsman be too slow to come to his aid ... .
I said to Niniane that I would not kill. Never name that well from which you will not drink... an image rose in her mind of the Holy Well of Avalon, the water rising from the spring, flooding into the fountain. The shuttle flickered in and out, green and brown, green and brown, like the sunlight falling through the green leaves onto the brown earth, where the spring tides rising within the forest ran with life, sap ru
Years ago she had been the Virgin Huntress, blessing the Horned One and sending him forth to run with the deer and to conquer or die as the Goddess might decree. He had come back to her ....ow she was no longer that Virgin, holding all the power of the Huntress. As the Mother, with all the power of fertility, she had woven spells to bring Lancelet to Elaine's bed. But motherhood for her had ended in the blood of Gwydion's birth. Now she sat here with her shuttle in her hand and wove death, like the shadow of the Old Death-crone. All men are in your hands to live or die, Mother ... .
The shuttle flickered, flashed in and out of her sight, green, brown, green like leaves and forest intertwined, where they ran, the beasts ... the wild boar snuffling and grunting and rooting with his long tusks, the sow with the piglets bounding behind her, in and out of a copse ... the shuttle raced in her hands and she saw nothing, only the snorting snuffle of the swine in the forest.
Ceridwen, Goddess, Mother, Death-crone, Great Raven ... Lady of death and life ... Great Sow, eater of your young ... I call you, I summon you ... if this is truly what you have decreed, it is for you to accomplish it ... time slid and shifted around her, she lay in the glade with the sun burning her back while she ran with the King Stag, she moved through the forest, softly, snuffling ... she sensed the life, the hunters trampling and shouting ... . Mother! Great Sow ...
Morgaine knew in a random corner of her mind that her hands continued to move, steadily, green and brown, brown and green, but beneath her lowered eyelids she saw nothing of the room or the threads, but only the new green springing beneath the trees, the mud and dead leaves brown from the winter, trampling, it was as if she rooted on all fours in the fragrant mud ... life of the Mother there beneath the trees ... behind her the little gruntings and squealings of the piglets, tusks tearing up the ground for hidden roots and acorns ... brown and green, green and brown ...
Like a shock to her nerves, as if it ripped through her body, she felt the sound of the trampling in the forest, the distant cries ... her body sat motionless before the loom, weaving brown threads and changing for green, shuttle after shuttle, only her fingers alive, but with the starting thrill of terror and rush of rage, she charged, letting the life of the swine rush through her ...
Goddess! Let not the i