Chapter Fifteen

Spring 496

I remained in an unresponsive state for the better part of a week, alternately restless in my dreams—as Lyonesse chose to call them—or sleeping so still and silently that several times they thought me dead from fever. They had even called in Father Joseph to give me the final blessing.

“That’s when the real fun began.” Isolde smiled slyly at the memory as she sat at my bedside one cold, sunny morning. “Father Joseph examined you and declared you very much alive, though gravely ill. That was when I gave you the diluted drop of wolfsbane.” Her tone held the slightest hint of remorse. “I know it was dangerous, but you were already more among the dead than the living . . .”

I gently placed my hand on top of hers. “Isolde, you did very well. It was probably that tiny drop that brought me out of my illness. Viviane used to tell us that wolfsbane was one of the few herbs that could draw a soul back through the veil and release it from the grip of death.” As if on cue, a rumbling cough welled up in my chest, leaving me breathless.

Isolde looked away, embarrassed, and continued with her story. “Anyway, Lyonesse had received word that morning that what you were seeing about Lot and the high king really was true. The letter even confirmed Arthur’s bitterness at Uriens’ betrayal—”

A shock raced through me. My eyes widened. “What did you say?”

Isolde cocked her head to the side and scrunched up her forehead in confusion. “That Arthur is upset Uriens sided with Lot.” She continued without letting me respond. “The letter also said that when it was over, Arthur took away Uriens’ right to rule the town of Carlisle. They say it will be Arthur’s new capital.”

I wasn’t listening. As she prattled on about Arthur using the town to keep a close watch on the aged ruler of Rheged, I went through our earlier conversation in my head. I had told her about Lot’s revolt and the anguish I’d felt at seeing the king threaten Aggrivane’s life, but as for Uriens’ involvement . . . I was still trying to figure out why he was there.

“I never told you that,” I interrupted Isolde mid-sentence.

“What?”

“When I recounted my visions to you, I never told you Uriens was there.” An accusatory edge crept into my voice unbidden.

Confusion clouded her face, but then just as quickly cleared into another sunny smile. “No, silly, not then. You told me that while the sight was upon you. You practically narrated everything you were seeing.”

I was stunned silent. I saw the visions as clear as day, but as though I was out of my body. I had no connection to it, no way to make it work, which was why I could not scream.

I shook my head. “That is not possible. I tried several times to speak before I knew what was happening. I tried to call out to Arthur, to Aggrivane, to react to what I saw.”

Isolde’s eyes were bright with wonder as she tried to reconcile what she had experienced with what I was telling her. “But you did, Guinevere. You screamed like you were being murdered. That must have been when you saw Aggrivane,” she whispered, almost to herself.

“But how could I have been telling you what I saw?”

“You answered every question I asked you, responded to my voice . . . did you not hear me?”

“You were questioning me? I heard nothing but the sound of my visions. I would have remembered your voice. I am sure it would have brought me back to you.” As soon as I spoke, I heard the affection in my own voice. I was truly growing to love Isolde.

She caught the inflection and blushed in response. “It was the same with Islene,” she said quietly.

“Who?”

She looked uncomfortable now. “Islene, my sister. She has the sight. Growing up, I used to coach her through each one of her visions, asking her what she saw, drawing more description out of her. It became so ingrained in me that when I realized you were not merely dreaming like Lyonesse thought, I automatically began asking you questions. And you responded just like Islene used to.” Her words rushed out, pensive and hushed as they always were when she was thinking aloud, a frequent habit. “But your gift is different than hers. Islene can see the future. You seem to be able to see things that are happening in the moment, but far away. It’s almost like you can be in two places at once.” Her voice wavered with emotion.

I leaned forward hoping she would go on.

“Islene told my mother not to send me here, not to sign the treaty. But no one listened to her—no one ever did.” Her eyes brimmed with tears.

I patted her shoulder gently, intending to comfort her, but she winced, distracting me from my intended question about Islene’s visions. “What is wrong?”

She wiped her eyes with her hand and looked down. “Nothing. I have gotten away from my point. We were talking about Lyonesse and Father Joseph.”

Isolde was forcing herself to be cheery, that much was clear, but her grimace hadn’t escaped my notice. I yanked back the neck of her gown, ignoring her feeble attempt to pull away. A pattern of swollen, red flesh crisscrossed down her back.

She batted my hand away, as angry now as the patchwork of scars that marred her flesh. “It is no struggle to guess at whose hand I received these. I caught her at an inopportune moment, and she called me a witch for trying to heal you. That is all you need know.” Her eyes flashed a warning that made it clear I was not to ask any more.

I opened my mouth to respond.

“Father Joseph gave you a general blessing,” she said, cutting me off as she turned back to the original point of our conversation. “He was nearly out the door when Lyonesse stopped him. Since it seemed you were going to live, at least for a little while, she told him about your strange dreams and said she thought you were possessed by a demon. She demanded that he perform an exorcism on you. Naturally, Father Joseph refused. He emphatically stated that your body was ill, not your spirit, and what you needed was healing and love, not fear and paranoia. He told her she would have to find another priest if she wanted that ritual performed. This, of course, infuriated Lyonesse. She commanded him to baptize you instead.” Isolde leaned toward me, her previous irritation forgotten.

I could tell she was enjoying spinning this yarn. She had a gift of being able to recount things in a way that made me feel that rather than being an unconscious presence in the room, I had actually witnessed them. I could understand why Elaine was so enraptured by her.

“I have never seen a Christian priest come so close to assaulting a woman before. In a split second, Father Joseph went from a patient servant of God to an impassioned defender of the faith.”

She deepened her voice in imitation of the normally mild-mannered priest. “‘My lady, I care not what title you claim upon this earth; no one can command another who has reached adulthood to be baptized. That most holy of sacraments must be conferred by free will and a genuine desire to embrace our faith.’

“He gritted his teeth and laid into Lyonesse like no one had ever dared, advancing on her without fear. ‘This woman has obviously made her choice.’ He gestured to the mark of priestesshood on your sweaty brow. ‘Our Lord is much more gracious and understanding than you could ever comprehend. She will be saved by her own faith, should He call her home, so you need have no concern for her soul. I advise you to pay as much attention to the state of your own spirit and leave hers to her conscience. I bid you good day!’ And with that he strode out of the room.”

Another coughing fit shook my body, but after a few minutes, I managed to clear my lungs enough to speak. “I am sorry I missed that.”

Isolde picked up a small vial from a nearby table and shifted her weight so she was sitting fully on the bed now, facing me. She uncorked the bottle and began rubbing the pungent oil on my chest. The woody, heavy scent threatened to overwhelm me, but I immediately felt a little relief. Pine oil. Whoever taught her the healing arts had trained her well.

“Oh, but it gets better. Lyonesse tried to baptize you herself after that.”

“She did?” My mouth dropped open, eyebrows knit in disbelief.

She laughed. “Yes. And you screamed at the exact moment she tried to bless you with the holy water.” She was laughing so hard now she was almost in tears. “Guinevere, you could not have planned it better. You scared the wits out of her. She has not been back to visit you since.”