Copyright
Copyright © 2011 by Persia Woolley
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Originally published in 1990 by Poseidon Press.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Woolley, Persia.
Queen of the summer stars / by Persia Woolley.
p. cm.—(The Guinevere trilogy ; bk. 2)
1. Guenevere, Queen (Legendary character)—Fiction. 2. Arthurian romances—Adaptations. 3. Queens—Great Britain—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3573.O68Q44 2011
813’.54—dc22
2011002337
Contents
Front Cover
Title Page
Copyright
King Arthur's Britain
Cast of Characters
Preface
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII
Chapter XIX
Chapter XX
Chapter XXI
Chapter XXII
Chapter XXIII
Chapter XXIV
Chapter XXV
Chapter XXVI
Chapter XXVII
Chapter XXVIII
Chapter XXIX
Chapter XXX
Chapter XXXI
Chapter XXXII
Chapter XXXIII
Chapter XXXIV
Chapter XXXV
Chapter XXXVI
Chapter XXXVII
Chapter XXXVIII
About the Author
Back Cover
To all my mothers—natural, god, in-law, and grand.
And especially to Irene Higman, from whom I learned how important stepmothering can be.
Cast of Characters
House of Pendragon
Uther—High King of Britain, father of Arthur
Igraine—wife of Uther, mother of Arthur
Arthur—King of Logres, High King of Britain
Guinevere—wife of Arthur
House of Orkney
Lot—King of Lothian and the Orkney Isles
Morgause—daughter of Igraine, half-sister of Arthur, widow of King Lot
Gawain—son of Morgause
Gaheris—son of Morgause
Agravain—son of Morgause
Gareth—son of Morgause
Mordred—son of Morgause
House of Northumbria
Urien—King of Northumbria, husband of Morgan
Morgan le Fey—daughter of Igraine, half-sister to Arthur. High Priestess and Lady of the Lake
Uwain—son of Morgan and Urien
House of Cornwall
Mark—King of Cornwall
Isolde—Mark’s child-bride from Ireland
Tristan—nephew to Mark
Dinadan—Tristan’s best friend
Round Table Fellowship
Accolon of Gaul—Morgan le Fey’s lover
Agricola—Roman King of Demetia, mentor to Geraint
Bedivere—Arthur’s foster-brother and lieutenant
Bors—cousin of Lancelot
Cador—Duke of Cornwall
Cei—Arthur’s foster-brother and Seneschal of the Realm
Geraint—King of Devon
Lancelot of the Lake—a Prince of Brittany
Palomides—slave-born Arab
Pelleas—lover of Ettard
Pellam—wounded King of Carbonek
Pellinore—warlord of the Wrekin
Lamorak—Pellinore’s eldest son
Perceval—Pellinore’s youngest son
Ulfin—Chamberlain to Uther, warrior for Arthur
Griflet—son of Ulfin, Master of the Kennels
Women of Camelot
Augusta—gossipy lady-in-waiting
Brigit—Irish foster-sister to Guinevere
Brisane—governess to Elaine of Carbonek
Elaine of Astolat—slow-witted lady-in-waiting
Elaine of Carbonek—beautiful daughter of Pellam, very much infatuated with Lancelot
Enid—sharp-tongued lady-in-waiting
Ettard—young companion to Igraine
Lynette—daughter of grounds keeper in London
Vinnie—Roman matron in charge of ladies-in-waiting
Various Heads of State
Vortigern—earlier tyrant, married to Rowena
Rowena—daughter of invading Saxon, Hengist
Cerdic—son of Vortigern and Rowena
Anastasius—Emperor in Constantinople
Clovis—King of the Franks
Other Characters
Beaumains—mysterious student of Lancelot’s
Cathbad—druid who was Guinevere’s childhood teacher
Dagonet—Arthur’s Court Jester
Frieda—Saxon milkmaid, lover of Griflet
Gwyn of Neath—horsebreeder and builder of the Hall on Glastonbury’s Tor
Illtud—Prince/warrior who became a monk
Gildas—student of Illtud
Paul Aurelian—student of Illtud
Samson—student of Illtud
Kevin—Guinevere’s childhood love
Lucan—Arthur’s gate keeper
Maelgwn—Guinevere’s cousin, King of Gwynedd
Merlin—Arthur’s tutor and mentor, the Mage of Britain
Nimue—priestess and lover of Merlin
Ragnell—leader of nomadic Ancient Ones
Riderich—Arthur’s bard
Taliesin—peasant boy who wants to become a bard
Wehha the Swede—leader of East Anglian Federates
Wihtgar—Saxon Federate settler
Assorted courtiers, pages, musicians, visiting dignitaries, and sprites, according to the reader’s imagination
Preface
During the last half of the twentieth century, the authors of novels based on the stories of King Arthu
r were more or less divided into three categories: those who cast the stories as fantasy, those who see them as “women’s romance,” and those who give them a realistic treatment.
As readers of my first volume, Child of the Northern Spring, know, I belong to the last group. Although the characters I’m writing about are superstitious, there are no dragons, no magic swords, no whooshing away of islands with a flick of the wrist. There is a place for that kind of sword and sorcery, but it is not in my books.
Nor have I chosen to focus exclusively on the love stories of the famous legend. Like Malory, I prefer to treat them as an integral part of the different characters’ development rather than as the main point of the story.
If Arthur and Guinevere lived (and scholars make cases both for and against their actual existence), it would have been during the period following the fall of the Roman Empire—roughly between 450 and 550 A.D. This was a time of tremendous change and upheaval throughout Europe, and nowhere was that more evident than in Britain.
Archaeologically we see a gradual dying out of Roman culture among the Britons—they would eventually be conquered by the vigorous, often brutal Anglo-Saxon settlers. But the struggle for supremacy went back and forth between these two factions for well over a century, during which time there was a brief but major Celtic revival reflected in grave goods, art, and religion. And in the midst of that there seems to have been a noticeable peace that lasted for several decades prior to the final Saxon incursions.
It is precisely against this turbulent background that I have set the adventures of the Round Table characters, for legend says that King Arthur led the British forces to victory over the Saxons at the battle of Mt. Badon, after which he reigned for twenty years of peace and prosperity.
While it is with history that I’ve set the stage, it is from the literature that I’ve taken the characters, remaining as true to the legends as a realistic approach allows.
The Round Table cast is a fascinating study in human types. Some of the characters have remained pretty much the same over the centuries, such as Tristan, the big young warrior who falls in love with his king’s wife, or Palomides, the Arab knight who is accepted for his honor and bravery but always holds himself slightly apart.
Others are more complex and have changed over the centuries as the stories have developed. Gawain, for instance, is the knight of greatest courtesy and honor in the earliest stories. But after the medieval romances introduced the Frenchman Lancelot (he was really a Breton), Gawain’s character began to change. Certainly the French versions show him as loutish and hot-tempered, and a decided rake where the women are concerned. I’ve incorporated both aspects and made them part of Gawain’s own growth.
I have also incorporated actual historical figures—Agricola, Geraint, Mark, and Tristan are all considered by scholars to have been real people. And occasionally I’ve played with archaeological finds, such as the Anastasius Bowl, which was part of the treasure retrieved from the Sutton Hoo ship burial. Although the grave itself dates from the seventh century, it contained a silver bowl clearly marked by a smith during the reign of the Byzantine Emperor Anastasius (491 to 518 A.D.). More than one archaeologist has puzzled over how that elegant bowl came into the possession of the barbaric Swedes who had settled on the edge of East Anglia—and I couldn’t resist working backward through the genealogies in order to have Arthur give it to the first king of that East Anglian dynasty.
The historical novelist always faces the problem of anachronism and must make the choice between contemporary readability and historical accuracy. In my case I’ve opted for readability, or occasionally for tradition. Therefore all the invading Germanic tribes are referred to as Saxons, though the northern settlers were predominantly Angles, and those in the south included Jutes and Franks as well. Since the Britons themselves called them all Saxons, I note it here strictly for academic accuracy. And while the game of chess probably had not reached Britain by 500 A.D., the tradition of Guinevere playing chess with her abductor is so strong, I chose that game rather than the more prosaic draughts, in part because there is so much symbolism connected to the royal pieces of the chess set.
One of the great aspects of the Matter of Britain (as the Round Table stories as a whole are called) lies in the fact that it is a living, viable myth that continues to grow. Each new teller of the tale is indebted in some ways to past versions, and I wish to acknowledge my own debt to Mary Stewart, whose Merlin books continue to be my standard of excellence. Not only have I consciously looked to her for style and approach, but I have also built on her concept of Merlin and Nimue in lifting their relationship out of the typical “gold digger” dynamic it had lingered in so long.
My specific thanks go also to Geoffrey Ashe, whose help and guidance through both the literary and physical landscape verged on the miraculous; to Marion Zimmer Bradley for insights into Morgan le Fey; and to Parke Godwin, who not only allowed me to use the Prydn—a people he created in Firelord—but also helped me develop the character of Ragnell.
In the area of research I am particularly grateful to Barbara Childs, who put me in touch with Xenophon’s work on horses; Linda Farley of Crossroads Counseling Center for taking the time to educate me in the dynamics of stress following rape; Ted Johanson, who answered my questions on Roman law; and the librarians of the Auburn-Placer County Library for their patience and help in locating odd bits of information on Britain’s flora and fauna. Since she served as overall godmother to the project, I’d like to thank Marian Jordan.
To all fans who wrote to ask when this second book would be coming out, to the friends and family who have listened patiently to more about Dark Age Britain than they really wanted to know, and particularly to Pete, who keeps telling me it will all be worth it, goes a great big “I couldn’t have done it without you!” I certainly hope you enjoy it.
Persia Woolley
Auburn, California
1986–1989
Chapter I
The Summons
I, Guinevere, wife of King Arthur and High Queen of Britain, dashed around the corner of the chicken coop, arms flying, war whoop filling my throat. The children of the Court were ranged behind me, shouting gleefully as a half-grown piglet skittered across the inner courtyard of the Mansion. The paving stones were slippery from a morning shower and the squealing shoat skidded into the kitchen doorstep before careening off toward the garden.
“Not again!” I howled, throwing myself on the creature just as a stranger stepped through the door.
With a flurry of bunched muscles and flailing trotters the porker squirted out of my grasp, leaving me red-faced and breathless. Brushing my hair out of my eyes, I looked up to find a small, mud-spattered priest staring down at me in astonishment.
“Your Highness?”
I grinned at the tentative greeting and scrambled back to my feet. Heaven knows what he expected of his High King’s wife, but I was what he got.
“What can I do for you, Father?” Beyond us the shoat had wiggled through a hole in the fence, followed by the jubilant youngsters who raced across the vegetable patch. I winced as an entire section of cabbages was demolished.
“I’ve come from the convent, M’lady…where the Queen Mother lies ill…”
Watching the mayhem in the garden, I was only half listening until I realized his message concerned Igraine. Turning to look at the holy man more closely, I saw for the first time the seriousness of his demeanor. “How ill?” I asked with alarm.
The man’s voice was husky. “She’s been bedridden for weeks, but it wasn’t until yesterday she agreed to notify you.”
It was so like Igraine not to make a fuss. Already frail and weak when Arthur and I had married, she’d gracefully declined my suggestion that she stay with us, preferring to return to the convent where she’d retired after Uther’s death. She promised to send word if she needed anything, but this was the first time s
uch a message had arrived.
Wiping the mud from my hands, I squinted toward the gate. “Arthur’s off fighting the Irish in Wales. It’ll take days—maybe weeks—to get the news to him.”
“She didn’t ask for her son, M’lady. She asked for you.”
I paused at that, wondering if the whole world knew that Arthur and his mother avoided each other. If so, the people made no mention of it, for they loved Igraine in her own right and would say nothing to cause her embarrassment. It was part of the unspoken magic that surrounded her.
The priest pursed his lips and studied his hands primly. “There is something she wants to tell you and she refuses to confide it to anyone else. So the sooner you can come…”
“Of course,” I promised, untying my apron and wadding it into a ball. “I’ll leave immediately. Do you wish to stay here in Silchester, or come with me?”
“I’ve been on the Road for a day and a half, so the rest would be most welcome.”
I nodded and thrust the apron into his hands before heading for the stables.
Ulfin was the old warrior who had been left in charge of the houseguard during Arthur’s absence, and he chewed thoughtfully on his lower lip when I told him the news.
“I’ll see to everything,” he assured me, so I changed into traveling breeches and arranged for Brigit to run the household in my absence while Ulfin gathered a guard of four young men and readied Featherfoot for the journey.
“The lads I’ve picked are sharp and well trained, M’lady.” He frowned fiercely at the buckle as he secured my things behind the saddle. “But I should like to come with you—’twixt Saxon and Irish prowling the woods, there’s plenty who would be happy to take the High King’s wife hostage while he’s away.” He made the sign against evil before turning to face me. “I was Chamberlain to King Uther and have known Her Highness from the days before she and Uther were married, so I’d like to be there—in case there’s any final service I could provide.”
The catch in his voice brought home the realization my mother-in-law might be dying. My eyes brimmed with sudden tears and I turned to Uther’s Chamberlain in panic.
Ulfin put his arm around my shoulder and steadied me with a fatherly embrace.
“I feel so helpless.” The words squeezed around the lump in my throat. “If only Morgan were here—she’s the one versed in healing. Why, I can’t be of any use if…if…”