Read Online THE CURSE OF EXCALIBUR: a gripping Arthurian fantasy (THE MORGAN TRILOGY Book 2) by Lavinia Collins - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lavinia Collins
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that book.
I spent the night before Arthur’s wedding in Morgawse’s bedroom again. I did not think our mother would come back. Like Arthur, she spent her time pretending that Mordred did not exist, and so avoided seeing him at all costs. The day of Arthur’s marriage, Morgawse and I got ready together, as though we were girls again. I sent the serving women to get my jewelled dress from my room, and Morgawse plaited my hair. She still wore hers as my mother did, according to the Cornish fashion, drawn back simply at the front, and loose at the back. I would not have been allowed loose hair in the abbey, and I had grown used to the fashions of Logrys now, so much so that I felt naked when my hair was not neatly plaited away.
I made an excuse not to go down to the wedding in the chapel. I wanted a moment on my own, in my own room, without being afraid that Uriens would come in. I had not actually seen him since I had left in the night. I was sure he would be angry. I waited in Morgawse’s room until I heard the noise in the courtyard fall quiet. I wondered what the Breton princess was like. I thought of the Breton queen that I had failed to save at Rheged. She must be this girl’s mother, but she had talked about her like she was a child, and the princess Arthur had chosen was of roughly his own age. Did mothers always see their daughters as little children? I supposed Morgawse still saw her huge sons as children. My mother still called me little Morgan . Did this princess even know that Arthur had killed her brothers and had her mother executed? Oh, I doubted that anyone would tell her. I wondered if she was afraid. What if she had come over without a word of English to be given into the hands of the man who had killed almost all of her family? If she was like her mother, she would be proud and defiant. I wondered if it was better to be that way, or to be simple and compliant. Simpletons make good wives.
When I got down to my room, I at first thought I was alone, and was relieved. I walked in and shut the door, but as I went to sit in the window seat, Uriens stepped out from behind the bed where the bed curtains had hidden him.
“Been hiding from me, Morgan?” he accused, striding over to me. I ran a few steps back from him.
“Don’t touch me,” I half-shouted.
“Morgan,” he sighed, rubbing his face. “I don’t do anything to you that I... shouldn’t. I have been a good husband to you. I do not beat you. I have not told anyone that you were not a virgin when we married, or tried to shame you. I do not keep other women indiscriminately, or take whores. I have let you have your freedom, to write to whom you please, to move about the castle, to control some of the gold at my disposal, to organise your part of household. I have been good to you. You have to try . Do you think this is what I want? That I find it easy? I haven’t made a secret of the fact that I don’t like your pagan woad, and we do not have any real affection for one another, but I have made efforts in my duty, and you have made none. We would both be a lot happier if you accepted that this is what marriage is . This is what married men and women do.”
I could not even speak. I was too angry. The way he was with me was awful. I could feel his disgust, his stolid duty, and I didn’t want it. I thought we would have both been happier if we agreed instead to live separate lives.
“Uriens, you force me. You put your hand over my mouth. That isn’t kind.” I gave one, desperate attempt to explain to him that what he was doing was not reasonable for a husband to do. I was as much his property as a dog might be, but people still spoke with disapproval of men who kicked their dogs, or beat them. He should not have been violent with me.
“I have to. Do you think I want other people to hear your screaming? It is not my fault that you do not enjoy it.”
“ Yes it is ,” I shouted.
“All of the other women I have had have enjoyed
I spent the night before Arthur’s wedding in Morgawse’s bedroom again. I did not think our mother would come back. Like Arthur, she spent her time pretending that Mordred did not exist, and so avoided seeing him at all costs. The day of Arthur’s marriage, Morgawse and I got ready together, as though we were girls again. I sent the serving women to get my jewelled dress from my room, and Morgawse plaited my hair. She still wore hers as my mother did, according to the Cornish fashion, drawn back simply at the front, and loose at the back. I would not have been allowed loose hair in the abbey, and I had grown used to the fashions of Logrys now, so much so that I felt naked when my hair was not neatly plaited away.
I made an excuse not to go down to the wedding in the chapel. I wanted a moment on my own, in my own room, without being afraid that Uriens would come in. I had not actually seen him since I had left in the night. I was sure he would be angry. I waited in Morgawse’s room until I heard the noise in the courtyard fall quiet. I wondered what the Breton princess was like. I thought of the Breton queen that I had failed to save at Rheged. She must be this girl’s mother, but she had talked about her like she was a child, and the princess Arthur had chosen was of roughly his own age. Did mothers always see their daughters as little children? I supposed Morgawse still saw her huge sons as children. My mother still called me little Morgan . Did this princess even know that Arthur had killed her brothers and had her mother executed? Oh, I doubted that anyone would tell her. I wondered if she was afraid. What if she had come over without a word of English to be given into the hands of the man who had killed almost all of her family? If she was like her mother, she would be proud and defiant. I wondered if it was better to be that way, or to be simple and compliant. Simpletons make good wives.
When I got down to my room, I at first thought I was alone, and was relieved. I walked in and shut the door, but as I went to sit in the window seat, Uriens stepped out from behind the bed where the bed curtains had hidden him.
“Been hiding from me, Morgan?” he accused, striding over to me. I ran a few steps back from him.
“Don’t touch me,” I half-shouted.
“Morgan,” he sighed, rubbing his face. “I don’t do anything to you that I... shouldn’t. I have been a good husband to you. I do not beat you. I have not told anyone that you were not a virgin when we married, or tried to shame you. I do not keep other women indiscriminately, or take whores. I have let you have your freedom, to write to whom you please, to move about the castle, to control some of the gold at my disposal, to organise your part of household. I have been good to you. You have to try . Do you think this is what I want? That I find it easy? I haven’t made a secret of the fact that I don’t like your pagan woad, and we do not have any real affection for one another, but I have made efforts in my duty, and you have made none. We would both be a lot happier if you accepted that this is what marriage is . This is what married men and women do.”
I could not even speak. I was too angry. The way he was with me was awful. I could feel his disgust, his stolid duty, and I didn’t want it. I thought we would have both been happier if we agreed instead to live separate lives.
“Uriens, you force me. You put your hand over my mouth. That isn’t kind.” I gave one, desperate attempt to explain to him that what he was doing was not reasonable for a husband to do. I was as much his property as a dog might be, but people still spoke with disapproval of men who kicked their dogs, or beat them. He should not have been violent with me.
“I have to. Do you think I want other people to hear your screaming? It is not my fault that you do not enjoy it.”
“ Yes it is ,” I shouted.
“All of the other women I have had have enjoyed
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