All through the long ceremonies in the church, she watched intently as Uther was sworn and anointed by their bishop. For once the psalms were not doleful hymns of God's wrath and punishment, but joyful songs, praising and offering thanks, and the bells sounded joyous instead of wrathful. Afterward in the house which had been Ambrosius' headquarters, there were delicacies and wine and much ceremony, as one by one, Ambrosius' war chiefs swore allegiance to Uther.
Long before it was over, Igraine grew weary. But at last it was done, and while the chiefs and their ladies congregated around the wine and the food, she moved a little away, watching the bright gathering. And there, at last, as she had been half aware that he would, Uther found her.
"My lady of Cornwall."
She made a deep curtsey. "My lord Pendragon, my king."
He said roughly, "There is no need for such formalities between us now, lady," and caught her shoulders, so much as he had done in her dream that she stared, half expecting that she would see on his arms the golden serpent torques.
But he only said, "You are not now wearing the moonstone. It was so strange, that stone. When first I saw you wearing it, it was like to a dream I had. ... I had fever, last spring, and the Merlin attended me, and I had a strange dream, and I know now it was in that dream I first beheld you, long before ever I laid eyes on your face. I must have stared like a country lout, Lady Igraine, for I found myself struggling again and again to remember my dream, and what part you played in that dream, and the moonstone at your throat."
She said, "I have been told that one of the virtues of the jewel, moonstone, is to awaken the true memories of the soul. I too have dreamed ... ."
He laid a light hand on her arm. "I cannot remember. Why is it that I seem to see you wearing something gold about your wrists, Igraine? Have you a golden bracelet in the form of-of a dragon, perhaps?"
She shook her head. "Not now," she said, paralyzed at the awareness that he had, somehow and without her full knowledge, shared that strange memory and dream.
"You will be thinking me a boor and beyond all courtesy, my lady of Cornwall. May I offer you some wine?"
Silently she shook her head. She knew that if she tried to take a cup in her hand she would shake and spill it all over herself.
"I do not know what is happening to me," Uther said violently. "All that has happened in these days-the death of my father and king, the strife of all these kings, their choosing me for High King-it seems unreal, and you, Igraine, are the most unreal of all! Have you been to the West, where the great ring of stones stands on the plain? They say that in olden time it was a Druid temple, but the Merlin says not, it was built long before the Druids came to these lands. Have you been there?"
"Not in this life, my lord."
"I wish I could show it to you, for I dreamed once I was there with you-oh, don't think me a madman, Igraine, chattering always of dreams and prophecy," he said with that sudden, boyish smile. "Let us talk very sedately of ordinary things. I am a poor Northern chief who has suddenly Wakened to find himself High King of Britain, and perhaps I am a little mad with the strain!"
"I shall be sedate and ordinary." Igraine agreed with a smile. "And if you were a wedded man I would ask you how your wife did and if your oldest son had trouble with-oh, what is the most ordinary thing I could ask you-whether he was done teething before the hot weather, or if he had a skin rash from his swaddling clothes!"
He chuckled. "You will be thinking I am old not to be a married man," he said. "I've had women enough, God knows. I should not say that, perhaps, to the wife of my most Christian of chiefs; Father Jerome would say I had had all too many women for the health of my soul! But I never saw one I cared for, when we rose from bedding, and I always feared that if I wedded some woman before we bedded, I would tire of her in such manner. It seemed to me always that there should be some tie stronger than that between man and women, though the Christians seem to think that is enough-what is it they say, it is better to marry than to burn? Well, I did not burn, for I slaked the fire, and when I had spent it, the fire went out, and yet I feel that there could be a burning which would not spend itself so quickly, and it should be such a one I could marry." Abruptly he asked her, "Do you love Gorlois?"
Viviane had asked her this, and she had said that it did not matter. She had not known what she was saying. Now she said quietly, "No. I was given to him when I was too young to care what man I married."
Uther turned away and paced angrily, saying at last, "And I can see you are no wench to tumble, and why in the name of all the Gods I must be bewitched by a woman who is wedded to one of my most loyal partisans-"
So the Merlin had worked his meddlesome magic on Uther too. But now Igraine did not resent it. It was their destiny, and what would come, must come. But she could not believe it was her destiny to betray Gorlois crudely, here like this. It was like a part of her dream of the great plain, so that she could almost see the shadow of the great ring of stones, when he laid his hand on her shoulder. But she was confused, No, that was another world, and another life. It seemed that her whole soul and body cried out within her for the reality of that kiss in their dream. She put her hands over her face and wept. He stared at her, dismayed and helpless, backing away a little.
"Igraine," he whispered. "What can we do?"
"I don't know," she said, sobbing, "I don't know." Her certainty had become a miserable confusion. Had the dream been sent only to bewitch her, by magic, into a betrayal of Gorlois and her own honor and sworn word?
A hand fell on her shoulder, heavy and disapproving. Gorlois looked angry and suspicious.
"What is this unseemly matter, my lady? What have you been saying, my king, that my wife looks so wretched? I know you a man of lewd manners and little piety, but even so, sire, common decency should restrain you from approaching a vassal's wife at your crowning!"
Igraine raised her face to him in anger. "Gorlois, I have not deserved this of you! What have I ever done that you should cast such an accusation at me in a public place?" For indeed heads were turning now, hearing angry words spoken.
"Then why, lady, do you weep, if he has said nothing unseemly to you?" His hand, gripping her wrist, felt as if he would crush it.
"As for that," Uther said, "you must ask the lady why she weeps, for I do not know. But loose her arm, or I will make you. Husband or no, no one shall handle any woman roughly in my house."
Gorlois let go of Igraine's arm. She could see the marks of his fingers already reddening into dark bruises; she rubbed the marks, tears streaming down her face. Before the many faces surrounding them she was appalled, as if she had been taken and shamed; she covered her face with her veil and wept harder than ever. Gorlois pushed her before him. She did not hear what he said to Uther; only when they were outside in the street did she stare at him, amazed.
He said in a rage, "I will not accuse you before all men, Igraine, but God is my witness I should be justified in doing so. Uther looked at you just now as a man looks at a woman he has known as no Christian man has a right to know any other man's wife!"
Igraine, feeling her heart pounding in her breast, knew it was true, and felt confusion and despair. In spite of the fact that she had seen Uther only four times, and dreamed twice of him, she knew that they had looked at each other and spoken to each other as if they had been lovers for many years, knowing all and more than all about each other, body and mind and heart. She recalled her dream, where it seemed that they had been bound for many years by a tie which, if it was not marriage, might as well have been so. Lovers, partners, priest to priestess-whatever it was called. How could she tell Gorlois that she had known Uther only in a dream, but that she had begun to think of him as the man she had loved so long ago that Igraine herself was not yet born, was a shadow; that the essence within her was one and the same with that woman who had loved that strange man who bore the serpents on his arms in gold ... . How could she say this to Gorlois, who knew, and wished to know, nothing of the Mysteries?