It might have been a trick of the light, but I thought I saw the merest shadow of a smile flicker across Arthur's face as he received Bors' reply. Turning towards Morgaws, he made a gesture with his hands – as much as to say, Well, I tried – and Llenlleawg prodded him aside into line with the butt of his spear.
The Irish champion took hold of Myrddin and dragged him forth. But Morgaws, impatient with Arthur's feeble efforts at persuasion, stepped out from among the enemy warriors. Flame-haired, features ablaze like a torch with hate and triumph and spite all mingled together in her wild expression, she was both terrible and magnificent. The flames of her passion had given her a fearful, feral beauty, like that of a ravening she-wolf leaping to the kill, or lightning striking from a storm-fraught sky. Her smooth white brow fierce, fiery hair streaming from her temples, lips drawn back in a malevolent smile of rage and dominion, she appeared a goddess of destruction – the fearsome Morrighan of the old tales could not have been more appalling in aspect and allure.
'The cup! Give me the cup!' Morgaws cried in a voice swollen with exultation. Long gone was the maid I had found wandering lost in the wood that day; like everything else about her, the mute innocent was a lie, too.
I watched Morgaws now, and remembered our first meeting. I had stepped from among the trees and there she was, sitting on the ground, her carefully gathered mushrooms scattered around her. She had tripped and fallen, spilling her harvest. I helped her retrieve them, as I recall. Peredur and Tallaght were with me, and we had simply stumbled upon her, alone and lost… Ah, no, no, it was not that way at all. It was the song – the song led us to her. She had been singing and we heard it and followed, and that was how it began.
Had I not been so beguiled, I might have stopped long enough to wonder how it was that a maid who could sing yet lacked the power of speech. Alas, I was deceived like all the rest. I hung my head and asked Jesu to forgive my blindness.
As if in answer to my reproachful thoughts, I heard again the song that I had heard that summer day in the wood. Glancing up, I saw Morgaws standing before me, the song still fresh on her lips. She smiled and I knew at once that I had judged her far too harshly.
'Do not think ill of me, Brave Gwalchavad,' she said in a voice both soft and low. She stepped closer. 'I am just like you. I, too, have suffered at Morgian's hands.'
It was true, I thought. Like all the rest of us, she was caught in Wicked Morgian's designs. And like everyone else, she had suffered for it. A pang of genuine regret speared my heart, and I opened my mouth to express my sorrow at her distress.
But Morgaws prevented me. 'Say nothing,' she whispered, placing her fingertips against my mouth. 'It is over, my love. We can forget the pain and hardship, and begin again. We must make a new start, and we can. You do believe me, Gwalchavad. We can show the others, the doubters. We can show them, you and I.'
She smiled again and the last particle of doubt melted away in the bright sun of her smile. She looked at me and I saw nothing but love in her eyes. 'Come with me, Gwalchavad. Come away with me, my love. We can be together, you and I. Together always.'
Oh, I did believe her. And I so wanted the travail to end. In that moment I think I would have done anything she asked. 'Come, bring me the Grail, my love. You do not need to guard it anymore. Bring it to me, and we can begin anew.'
When I hesitated, she urged me on, saying, 'I want you, my love. Is the cup inside?' She glanced at the chapel expectantly. 'Go get it, Gwalchavad. Bring the cup to me. Hurry! Then we can leave this place forever.'
I heard Bors raise a protest behind me, but I could not hear what he said. It did not matter. Morgaws, beautiful and yielding, stood before me, and desire was in her eyes. 'Come to me, my love,' she said, extending her hands to embrace me. I looked at those long, lovely arms – so fine and shapely and inviting – and lust leapt like a flame within me. I looked at her rounded hips and breasts and I wanted her. I ached to hold her in my arms and to take her.
In that instant the watching world disappeared – the enemy host with its rank on rank of baleful-eyed warriors, my friends and comrades, the chapel and surrounding forest – everything vanished in the white heat of my ardour and was instantly forgotten. It was as if a dull, thick fog descended over the world, blotting out everything but Morgaws and my aching need; nothing else existed, nothing else mattered. Only Morgaws and I remained, only we two, a man and a woman. One look at the hunger burning in her eyes, and I knew she wanted me as much as I wanted her.
'Come to me, my love. Take me, lie with me – make love to me. I want you, Gwalchavad. Come to me.'
I stepped nearer, my breath coming in raking gasps, desire making me weak. I could feel the last restraining cords of will dissolving.
Morgaws smiled knowingly. Her lips parted as she put her head back to allow me to kiss her throat. At the same time, she opened her robe so that I could admire her body. I saw the white, white skin and her gently rounded thighs and rose-tipped breasts; I saw the welcome in her eyes and the temptation of those half-parted lips, and wanted so much to taste the sweetness there.
'Gwalchavad,' she said, closing the distance between us with a swaying step. Take me.' Her voice was husky with longing, and she moaned with pleasure as she pressed her body against mine. I felt her hands on mine, pulling me nearer. 'The Grail, my love,' she whispered, her breath hot in my ear. 'Give me the Grail and I am yours…'
Jesu save me, I turned and started towards the chapel, intent on fetching the Grail and yielding it up to her. But as I turned, the gleam of gold caught my eye – Caledvwlch, clutched tight in Bors' fist – and I heard again the Grail Maiden's admonition to cling to the Sword of Salvation. I heard her solemn warning: Lusting after honour, he was bewitched by one who honours only lust and lies. Thus are the mighty undone.
'Bring me the cup,' Morgaws said, subtle insistence rising in her voice. She stepped nearer. 'Give it me, and I will be yours, my love, forever.'
'No,' I said, and the sound of my voice was harsh in my ears. 'I am sworn to guard the cup.'
'The Grail,' Morgaws moaned, rubbing her body against mine. 'I am yours, Gwalchavad. Take me now.'
I felt her touch hot on my skin as she raised my hand to her mouth. 'I want you,' she whispered, bending her head towards my hand. I saw her lips draw away from her fine white teeth as she prepared to bite.
I jerked my hand away, as if from a serpent. This angered her. 'Gwalchavad!' she said sternly. 'You will give me the cup.'
Confusion assaulted me. Morgaws' voice boomed inside my head, urgent and insistent. The Grail! Give me the Grail!
'No,' I said, shaken, confused.
'Maggot!' Morgaws advanced, her presence overpowering. 'I killed all the rest, and I will kill you, too. For the last time, bring me the cup.'
'No,' I said, forcing strength into my voice. 'I will not.'
She turned on her heel and moved to where Llenlleawg stood, spear in hand, watching the proceedings with a hostile eye. 'They have the Grail, my darling,' she said, her voice softly cozening once more. 'Kill them, and it is ours. We can rule forever, you and I.'
Llenlleawg's gaze shifted from me to Morgaws. I saw him glance down the length of her body, and an expression of loathing appeared on his face. 'You said you loved me,' he rasped in a voice so tight he could hardly force out the words.
'The Grail,' she whispered, moving closer. 'They have the cup, my love. Kill them and it will be ours!'