The husk that had been Epicene was in the next cell, which was more brightly lit than the other. Neave opened the door, and the three of us stepped inside. Christian – Galahad – went to the moving form of the fire-sorcerer and tugged at her robes, trying to get her attention. His smile turned to a frown as she ignored him. The husk of my friend was intent on walking south, even when locked in that underground cell. The jailors had strapped several mattresses to the wall to prevent her from hurting herself against the stone. Time after time she walked headfirst into the padding, took a couple of shambling steps backwards, and tried again. I slumped down against the opposite wall, feeling horribly sad that she, who had taught me so much, was reduced to this ungainly figure. Neave went forward and peered at her.
‘Can we do anything?’ I said.
‘Mmm,’ said Neave, ‘Perhaps when I have cleansed the spear and Merlin is destroyed. It is possible that the weapon will return what it has stolen when it pierces the wizard’s flesh.’
‘To Mother as well?’
Neave paused in her examination of Epicene. ‘Yes, Mother’s powers may also be returned to her. Which may be a problem for us both, as I think you know.’ She returned to her examination of Epicene. ‘I felt the thrill in you when you saw the Lady of the Lake reduced to a similar state. I found it... No, I suppose I did not find it distasteful. I felt it was rather just of you.’
Galahad, prompted by the attention his mother had paid to me, crossed the cell to where I sat. ‘M’Uncle,’ he said, and I was struck by how much he resembled Natalie, Nerina’s daughter. He reached out to touch my face.
‘Well met, nephew,’ I said, as his small fingers twisted my lower lip. ‘Well met again, I should say.’
I fully expected Neave to drag her boy away from me – I had seen in Alisander’s mind how she had kept Galahad apart from the others when she was disguised as Norma – but she did not intervene. She simply watched the child toying with my lip.
‘I suppose I should thank you, brother, for what you did for him,’ she said coldly. ‘He may not have drowned in the shipwreck as you feared – though in all honesty I feel that he has very little of our magic – but lost in the waves he might have starved or been consumed.’
I did not quite know how to respond; I think this was the first time a member of my family had ever thanked me for anything, other than for providing the subject of a cruel amusement. The moment passed, and Neave seemed embarrassed by what she had said. ‘No,’ she said, lifting Epicene’s eyelids to examine the fire-sorcerer’s cloudy eyes, ‘there is nothing I can do for her now.’ She stroked Epicene’s bald head. ‘They’ll keep going like this, blank-eyed and hollow: this one and Garnish and Mother. And then their empty bodies will simply give up.’
‘How long have we got to save them?’
Neave shrugged. ‘I do not know. Put it out of your mind. Galahad, come here.’ She reached out to her son and the boy toddled towards her.
‘I’m not going to give up. Epicene saved us all on Avalon; she discovered how to break the spells that made fools of us all. I’ll examine her books; I’ll find a cure.’
Neave lifted Galahad up to her hip and went to the door. ‘If you insist,’ she sighed.
I went to Epicene and kissed the back of her head. I felt nothing from the touch of her skin. There was nothing left inside her.
As we left the cell Neave spoke again. ‘There are things in your mind, brother, things of which you’re ashamed. Your ridiculous quibbles about connecting with others, for instance. How would Mordred have been able to use Garnish of the Mount’s petty betrayals if I had not done what comes naturally to us?’
‘Not that it worked,’ I said. ‘Garnish was wiped before he could deliver his message to Merlin.’
She ignored me. ‘All of these things are in our nature; it is not right for our kind to feel shame. We’re not like them. Are we my darling?’ she said to her boy, rubbing noses with him. Galahad giggled. ‘We’re not like the poor humans at all are we? No we’re not.’ She tickled his belly. ‘No we’re not.’
She was wrong; I knew it. ‘How can you say that, Neave? Why can’t you see the terrible things you’ve done? You raped Sir Lancelot every bit as much as Arthur raped Morgawse. How can you live with yourself?’
She spun on the stairs and slapped me full in the face. I held her withering blue gaze. ‘It’s not a subject worth discussing, brother. Our mother was a god, or as close to one as makes no difference. We are her children.’
‘Her children by human fathers. I feel more human that I do a half a god.’
She shrugged. ‘You would, sprat. You asked what I meant when I said Mordred might be useful, brother. The prophecy Merlin gave to Morgawse is a concern. It is indisputable that it is meant for the one who bears the name Galahad, rather than the boy over whom he spoke the words. There is a battle coming, Drift, the final battle of which King Hermaunce spoke to Epicene. Martha also spoke of it to you.’ She ruffled Galahad’s soft curls. ‘The final battle is the one my son wins many years from now, when he is of age. He is the Galahad of the three deaths. It is as the hermitess Hilda said: Galahad will save us all. It is our responsibility to keep my son safe, to make him strong, so that he can win that final battle and decide the age in our favour. The child of incest may be a good way to take attention away from Galahad until he is of age.’
‘I don’t want to win anything, Neave. I want peace. I want all this to be over. I want my nephew to be safe. I want Epicene back.’
A sly smile appeared on her face. ‘I saw your memories of Avalon, brother. I know what you were willing to do to that island to escape. If you weren’t so weak you could have ended all of this by now. With the power of Avalon you could have done anything you wanted. You could have saved Mother, and then killed her yourself, slowly and very, very painfully. You’d be Lord of the Lake in your own right. You’re more a member of our family than you know: than we knew. Would you believe, Drift, some of the things you’ve thought, some of the things you’ve done, they almost make me proud of you. Those two girls you played against each other, who would have believed you had that in you? Not I; not Mother; not Nerina or Nemone.’
She leant against the wall at the top of the stairs and looked me straight in the eye. ‘Come to the Cave of the Dragon with Galahad and me, if you like,’ she said. ‘With Mother and Nemone gone, and Nerina shut up at the Lake, it behooves us to support each other.’ She saw uncertainty in my eyes. ‘This isn’t a trick, my Neptune.’ Even when she wasn’t trying, she knew how to hurt my feelings; she couldn’t help herself. ‘I will teach you lessons Mother did not. I will make you properly one of us.’
I touched Galahad’s golden curls. ‘I love this child, sister,’ I said, ‘and will do anything I can to protect him.’ I looked her in the eyes. There was a surge of energy in my veins as I thought about my next words. ‘But Mordred and Melwas, Elia, Piers, Palomina and the rest, they’re more my family than you or Nerina or Nemone or Mother ever were. I will do what I can to protect Galahad, and Natalie too, but I will not turn myself into one of you to do so. You’re right that I’ve succumbed to temptation too many times, but I will be better. I will be better than you. I will save Natalie and Galahad, and perhaps you and Mother too, but I will do it standing beside my friends; as one of my friends.’ I had never articulated any of this to myself in words, but what I said felt right and just. My heart pounded as I spoke.
Neave’s face betrayed none of the hurt or guilt I think I hoped to see; rather the opposite: she looked pleased. ‘Oh, brother,’ she said, ‘you have glacier-water in your veins. You’re more of the Lake than you could know.’
* * *
The Orcadians gave their queen her funeral that night. Word of Morgawse’s death had spread quickly, and each island sent their representatives with what scraps of wood they could bring from their treeless lands. They built a pyre on the headland with these scraps, and King Lot set it alight with a flaming torch. They stood around the fire in a huge semicircle, silently at first, but as the flames rose they began to sing a Gaelic lament, which rose to the stars with the smoke.
Agravaine was by his father’s side, his head bowed, his fists clenched. Gaheris flanked his brother to the left, and Bellina was a little behind them. If there was one thing Bellina could not help herself feeling, it was the loss of a mother. The rest of us gathered together in the crowd, though there was no sign of Mordred. Petal wept, perhaps more for Gaheris and Agravaine’s loss than the queen herself, and Aglinda and Alisander tried to comfort her. Brunor looked into the fire, his ill-fitting coat blowing in the wind, remembering his own father’s pyre, I thought. I heard Elia’s voice soaring with the singers of the hymn. Melwas was on her own. I was the last there, and went to stand beside the Gaul. She looked down at me, the pyre reflecting in her pale skin and red curls. Her green eyes conveyed the answer to my unasked question – Mordred was nearby, observing the funeral rites of the mother of whom he had only just learned, but would depart as soon as the business was done. She put her arm around me, and together we watched Queen Morgawse burn away to nothing.
I could not feel any grief for this woman I had barely known, despite the things she had shared with me; my mind was too busy with other things. It is strange how isolated you can feel in a huge crowd when you do not share the emotions of those beside you.
When the pyre was reduced to glowing cinders, King Lot turned to the crowd. He drew his sword and held it above his head.
‘To war!’ he cried.
‘To war!’ the crowd responded, and began to chant the phrase, rising to an almighty crescendo.
There was a break in the crowd, and a young messenger ran to the king. The crowd fell quiet. Those closest to the king strained to hear what was said. Lot nodded and turned to address us.
‘Our allies the Saracens have arrived!’ proclaimed the king in full voice.
‘Hurrah!’ shouted the crowd. ‘Hurrah for the Saracens! Hurrah for our allies! Vengeance for Queen Morgawse!’
* * *
As soon as the funeral was over, the palace and the town below it became a hive of activity, as King Lot’s army made their final preparations to go aboard the fleet. Though it was nighttime, and passage to and from the island would ordinarily have been deemed too dangerous, torch-lit boats ferried men and equipment to the ships moored off the northern coast of Orkney. My friends’ apartments were noisy with the excitement of packing.
All except Epicene’s chamber. Having acquired nothing to pack since my return to Britain, it was there I went. No fire burned in the ornately-paneled room, but by the light of a single candle I was able to go through Epicene’s book-chest, and take from the neat piles of books and papers what I thought might be of use to me in returning the fire-sorcerer to herself. The Magikos was the first book I selected, and after that I took simply those texts that were best-used – those Epicene had marked with underlinings and notes in the margins. They included texts in languages I did not read but thought I might be able to decipher. There was a scroll written entirely in pictures, in a language Epicene had once told me was Egyptian; a long poem in Latin by a poet called Lucretius; and a work written in the language Mark and Matthew had used to write about Lord Jesus – I hoped that my knowledge of those books and their parallel translations might help me decode this one.
I was crouched over Epicene’s books with my back to the door when I heard someone enter the room. I didn’t turn. I felt her before I saw her, and quickly smelled all that was sweetest in the sea air. I felt her arms around my neck, and her lips on the top of my head as she kissed my hair.
‘My love,’ whispered Palomina in my ear. ‘I used my captain’s privilege to come ashore; I could not wait to see you.’
I gently pulled her arms away from me, and turned to face her. Her face registered surprise and hurt that I hadn’t kissed her back.
‘What is it, my love?’ she said, the flame of my candle reflecting in her deep brown eyes. ‘I am sorry I have been so long away, I did not intend it to be so. And I am sorry also that we left things as we did. The longer I have been away from you, the more I came to see that I was in the wrong.’ She took a step forward, and I moved a step back. She offered her hand to me but I did not take it. ‘Drift, I hoped – I thought – I believed that we could simply start again, that nothing could have really changed in the time we have been apart. I did not take into my reckoning how the loneliness of that island must have affected you. Forgive me, but I did not understand. I do now, or more than I did.’
I felt sick, on the cusp of fainting. I sat on the edge of Epicene’s bed, and lowered my face into my hands. There had been no hope in me that she would return thinking like this, not since I woke that morning at the secret valley, and Mordred told me she had left with Melwas to find a boat. There had been only anger, and as far as I was concerned that anger had certainly destroyed what we had together. Bellina – oh God, all I had done with Bellina – that was certainly my way of showing myself that I was unworthy of Palomina’s love.
She came towards me. I felt her gentle hand in my hair. ‘Drift,’ she whispered, ‘this is not like you.’
I looked up into her eyes, and saw myself reflected in them. No, that’s not right: I saw my glamour in them, that handsome, lying boy. I had done enough of that, I did not like what I had become when I appeared as him. I blinked, and when I opened my eyes again I saw myself reflected as I truly was: twisted, unfortunate and guilty. Palomina still looked on me with a love I did not deserve.
‘I-I-I-I-I-I have to t-tell you some things,’ I said.
And so I told her everything that had happened since we parted.