The castle was abounding in merriment since preparations were underway for a grand banquet to celebrate Merlin’s appointment as advisor and protector of King Arthur. Morgana knew all too well the libations that would be served and the resulting belly aches that would ensue the next day. So immediately upon unpacking her belongings in her new quarters in the castle, she left the grounds to seek out meadowsweet and slippery elm, which were nearly a half day’s walk toward the Ash trees on the northeast side of the forest.
Just outside the walls of Camelot the fog hugged the Earth, caressing the dirt and coaxing the trees into song. It was the music of the land, of the trees dancing, the wind humming, the crunching of leaves underfoot, and of the sound of lark, wren, and blackbird coalescing into a magical musical masterpiece, as though the Earth herself was celebrating the arrival of Merlin to Camelot.
When the distance from Camelot was great enough, she returned to her regular form, no longer an old man with a bushy white beard, but a woman of grace and beauty with black hair that flowed wildly along her back and skin as creamy white as porcelain. Growing up they called her Snow White, like the girl in the fairy tales she enjoyed hearing as a child. But as she got older, and magic began to fill her very bones and spill out into her daily activities, the other children would call her witch.
It wasn’t until a boy tripped her, causing her to lunge forward into a pile of dung, that her power was known by adults in the village. You see, she burned with an anger toward that boy, so much so, that she caused a fire to swell within the belly of the child and consume his entire flesh. Her family was quick to disavow her as their daughter. Fortunate for Morgana, word of her devilish act exploded across the land, catching the attention of a priestess, who saved her and took her to Avalon where her magic was nurtured. It was during that time she invented Merlin, initially as a game she played with the other girls when learning to glammer — to look and sound like someone else. As a young girl she found humor in being an old man, pretending to scold the girls and dictate orders. She left Avalon when she was a woman and swore that she would do no harm, but help those in need. So when King Arthur was fighting the Saxon’s Morgana introduced Merlin to the Kingdom by using magic to help King Arthur win the battle. It was this very act that brought her to his castle in Camelot.
By the time Morgana made it to the Ash trees the sun broke through, washing away the fog with its warm wands. She barely began picking meadowsweet when she had a vision, of a lady in a dress of red velvet and golden trims and cords seated on a throne beside the King. The Queen’s hand rested on Arthur’s and they smiled and giggled. But her giggle was laced with deceit and her smile painted with blood. Morgana could smell death seeping from the Queen’s breath, though she knew not who she was since her face was hidden by a mask. She was ripped from her vision by the scream of a horse that reared up to keep from trampling her. The rider plunged toward the Earth. Morgana recognized him.
It was King Arthur.
“My Lord. Are you all right?” Morgana said, jumping to her feet and rushing to his aid.
“Quite. I’ve squelched my ego is all. To have found myself in such a situation as this.”
“What would that be sire?”
“Falling off my horse in front of a beautiful lady as yourself,” King Arthur said as he pulled himself back atop his horse.
“You are too kind majesty,” she said looking into his eyes. This is the first time she spoke and looked at King Arthur with her own eyes, and she was immediately enamored. She felt as though his eyes were stroking her cheek. Though she knew it was hardly possible for a King to even look her way.
“What is a lady such as yourself doing out here alone, so far from Camelot?”
“I am Merlin’s assistant and he has asked that I gather meadowsweet and slippery elm for him.”
“It was not brought to my knowledge that he had an assistant.” He paused, looking longingly into her eyes, for no one could escape her beauty. Beauty that she could not see in herself. “We are fortunate to have you and Merlin at the castle. Pray, what is your name?”
“Morgana.”
“Well Morgana, you must come to the ball with Merlin.”
“Of course my Lord,” she said, bowing down, then she watched King Arthur gallop away and felt a surge of heat burning throughout her body as she tried to figure out how she would be Merlin and Morgana at the ball.
Nightfall was sliding across day when Morgana finally drew near Camelot. She was pleased with the amount of herbs she was able to acquire for her ointments but was still distraught at having to be two people at the ball. She began to wonder whether she should have accepted the invitation to move into the castle. But then she remembered her unfinished vision and that she had never been to a ball.
She knew danger was coming to the King by way of a woman, but did not know who. She knew the ball would give her a chance to meet the people of Camelot, and perhaps the woman in her vision. Of course the opportunity to wear a ball gown did not escape her feminine desire, so she began to magically adorn herself with various ensembles to see which she should wear — red and green and blue dresses and matching shoes. She swept up her unruly hair into a bun and lined it with lace.
The door flung open right when she finished applying a purple gown with white beads and lace that swam through the front and back of the dress. Morgana gasped, for she was not expecting anyone to enter her room. Arthur, however, felt as though he would collapse to his knees when he saw Morgana in the dress. Unbeknownst to Morgana, Arthur felt the same rush of familiarity and longing for her as she did him.
“Forgive me for the intrusion. I was in search of Merlin. Do you know where I might find him?”
“No sire. He did, however, inform me that he wanted to roam the grounds of Camelot.”
“When he returns, pray, let him know that I would like to meet with him in my chambers one hour before the ball to discuss matters of security.”
“Of course, your Highness.”
Arthur was walking out the door when he spun toward Morgana and said,“You must dance with me tonight. It seems only fitting, since we are celebrating Merlin, that we celebrate him together in dance after banquet.” His words were like honey to her ears, for a dance with the King is something that normally only a Queen has the pleasure. But Arthur being a young King, has not found himself a wife as of yet. For a moment, she fancied herself Queen.
“It will be my honor, majesty.” But as he walked out the door she remembered her vision and realized that she had a more important part to play in King Arthur’s life than playing Queen.
Merlin entered the King’s chambers. The smell of books infused the air. Tapestries adorned most of the walls. They carried images of battles, images of kings, images of the creatures of the land. A desk of cherry wood stood across the room and books filled the eastern wall. It reminded Morgana of Avalon and her studies. She had many books throughout her years there but she could only take with her what she could carry, so she only took three. Three books that were her only friends when she left Avalon — Alchemy and Wizardry and Herbalism.
Arthur was dipping his quill into the inkwell when he heard Merlin enter the room. He waved Merlin in, continued writing, then stood to greet his new advisor with a handshake.
“Word has come thrice. Three different people. Three different kingdoms. Of King Hargodabran’s interest in acquiring Camelot. But I have heard nothing from the King himself.” The weight of concern pushed Arthur to his seat. “I fear there are more troubling times ahead as King Hargodabran will no doubt make an attempt to take Camelot.”
Here was the King, who to everyone else was of strong mind but in front of Merlin withdrew his vestige of confidence in exchange for that of a fearful apprentice seeking guidance.
“I have not yet informed the knights, in hopes that you might have a solution that would not require my people’s sword.”
Behind the glammer of Merlin, Morgana gulped. She realized Arthur was seeking the wisdom of an old man who had most likely fought in many battles. Not her, though. The battle with the Saxons was her first. Her body grew tense, her ears swollen with heat. She was glad Arthur could not see her true reaction to his request.
What Arthur saw was Merlin with his thumb and pointer finger cupping his upper lip and chin. Looking upwards as if in deep thought. But what was she going to say. What experience did she have? None. How would she know what to tell the King? Then she remembered what the head priestess would say to the girls. The thought of one is but one sun’s wand through which a forest cannot grow, but the thought of many are the many wands that feed the trees and plants and make the forest abundant.
“I am but one advisor, amongst a Kingdom of many who would give their lives to protect Camelot. My guidance is this — call a meeting of the knights to share this news and hearken their words.”
“A meeting with my knights? I am the King. I am supposed to lead them, not ask them to lead me.” Arthur’s voice crumpled, like a newly appointed squire.
Morgana thought for a moment that perhaps her guidance was false. But that soon, faltered when she recalled her time on the Priestess Council. She was not one of the high priestesses but was invited to attend, as were all the other young witches, one at a time. The council of women sat around a round table to discuss the affairs of Avalon. Every priestess contributed. Sometimes one would share words that bloomed into other ideas. Just being there able to share her own words made Morgana feel more connected to Avalon. But she was not allowed to stay. All that the high priestesses told her was that she had a destiny beyond the mists of Avalon.
“Your knights give their lives for you now. Why not allow them to give you their voices? They will not see you as a lesser King, but one with the strength to listen to those in service.”
Arthur sat pondering Merlin’s request. Merlin sat awaiting Arthur’s decision.
“I know thou are of great years compared to mine and trust in thy guidance this night. I shall call a meeting of my knights tomorrow. But tonight we shall celebrate thee.” Morgana cringed, knowing she is not of many years. “In fact, your apprentice and I shall share a dance in your honor.”
“My King. I look forward to this night’s festivities.”