From the Chronicles of Avalon
THE DRUIDS’ COUNCIL
The news of what had happened in Tintagel didn’t take long to spread throughout the kingdom, sprinkling all the regions of Britain either with foul rumors about the horror of the new queen, or with legends concerning the birth of a prince with magical powers.
Avalon was not the place where the unfolding of the events was followed with the least interest. The Druids’ Council spent years studying the news that arrived from the ancient fortress, once the residence of the unfortunate Duke of Cornwall and now transformed into the Royal Court of Pendragon. Although many of the rumors that came from beyond the mists were damning and bore unsettling portents for the future of Britain, the Council had its own network of informants who provided reliable reports, based on what was really happening inside the old walls of the castle. Wise masters carefully analyzed each bit of information and discussed every news item to determine the moment Avalon should intervene. On several occasions the majority of the Council thought the moment to act had arrived and each time the decision to act was postponed due to the strong will of the Supreme Teacher.
Aware that the mediation of the learned assembly would create new wounds in her sister’s already broken spirit, the leader of the druids kept putting off the decision. Of course there were those who saw in Vivian’s delay strategy a certain fear of confronting Merlin, but as the wise one never appeared to put her interests or preferences over Avalon’s and Britain’s needs, they didn’t express their doubts and while they waited for the pronouncement, they prepared to face the inevitable break.
Just a few weeks before Arthur’s seventh birthday, Vivian herself informed the Council of the urgent need to act. The assembly gathered in the oak grove on the island and listened in silence to the latest news that had been provided by spies and informants. It was believed that Merlin, who until then had only visited the court of Uther with a certain amount of regularity, would take advantage of the festival that was to be celebrated in honor of the little prince, to demand that Pendragon assign Arthur’s care to him. It was a secret known by few in Britain, but which people in Avalon were aware of, because in exchange for his help in deceiving Lady Igrayne, the cagey wizard had gotten the king to promise to give up the child conceived during that union whenever he chose. Skilled strategist, experienced warrior and one of the least nefarious of the kings that Britain had had in recent decades, Uther was, in the long run, a man who was guided more by his appetites than by his feelings. Seduced by the beauty of Lady Igrayne and desirous of possessing the greatest treasure of his enemy throughout many years, he was thinking only of the exquisite body of the Lady of Tintagel, without ever stopping to ask whether some day, when he was old, he might miss her son. Thus he had promised, and now Merlin was going to hold him to that promise.
It was the moment Avalon had feared, the one that would force the group of druids to give up its terrain of non-engagement, devoted to study and acquiring knowledge, to take a stand on the matter and line up in that combat in which the future of Britain would be decided. For decades they’d been aware of the unavoidable confrontation and the events of recent years had only confirmed the certainty that the ultimate war was drawing near and would take place not only on the battlefield. Merlin had taken bold steps. It was time to stave off his ambitions or at least place their activities on an equal footing. With broken heart, noble Vivian urged the assembly to overcome its fear and reluctance and begin the fight in defense of the spirit of Avalon. She herself would take the first steps with which the Company of Druids would reveal its intentions to the world. The price would be enormous but the price of passivity would be greater; it wasn’t only Britain but rather its whole vision of the world that was at stake. Even so, the druid warned, once their goal became public, it would be impossible to go back. Thus the assembly had to ponder its decision well. If the new regime triumphed, Avalon could be tolerated as an unequal entity, a bearable anomaly, as long as it remained outside the battle.
“We can die as we now live, ending our days on this beloved island, forever devoted to knowledge,” explained the wise one. “But if we participate in the struggle, if we openly defend our beliefs and then lose, we will be destroyed.”
The Council was quick and unanimous in its response. Avalon was only the nectar that nourished a larger project. They hadn’t chosen that life out of their desire for knowledge or their personal curiosity. They hadn’t become druids to calm their desire for learning. Either the world would need to change following the path drawn up in Avalon or it wasn’t worth living. That was how definitive the sentence of the assembly was. Their faces, usually friendly, had jaws clenched with a determined expression, and their eyes, normally characterized by an air of calm, glowed, burning and angry.
There was nothing to add. Vivian left for Tintagel while the crowd of healers and astronomers, alchemists, mathematicians and philosophers, went back with renewed vigor to their tasks of broadening and spreading their wisdom, also focused now on carefully analyzing events. The sages and teachers of highest rank and dignity deliberated in councils and conferences as to the best way to sketch out their strategy, while disciples and apprentices applied themselves to translating the documents that contained the philosophy of Avalon into simple, common language. These were then carefully copied for distribution in all Britain.
The head druid’s journey to her sister’s dwelling was full of anxiety and uncertainty. Accustomed to doubting everything as a way of achieving knowledge, Vivian’s decisions were not free of questioning and scruples. She was certain her position was correct and that the proposals Avalon put forth were well meant, but the wise woman was not one to avoid thinking about the great harm they were about to cause and that would begin precisely with the persons she loved most. Her younger sister, Igrayne, transformed into a broken toy by Merlin’s trickery, would also be the first victim of Avalon’s strategy. Then she thought about Arthur and Morgana, unable to find a way to save them from the pain that was about to be inflicted on them. She feared for herself as well. For years she had tried to avoid a confrontation with Merlin. She hadn’t seen him since the wizard had left Avalon. Yet, as hard as she had tried to get rid of the pleasant memories from the days when they’d enjoyed the same concerns, the memory of the wise man’s gray eyes still throbbed warmly in a remote part of her soul. The same day she saw him disappear into the mists that blanketed the island, Vivian knew their next meeting would be fatal. Her conviction that the dire omen would come true shad only grown in recent years, as people informed her of the travels and doings of the one who had been her loyal friend and beloved companion.
All these thoughts and the fears they caused accompanied the leader of Avalon until the stones of the courtyard at Tintagel clattered beneath her horse’s hooves. Her presence along the way was noticed by sentinels and guards, so her arrival at the castle was not unexpected. The whole royal family came out to greet such an illustrious visitor at the castle entry, while servants and pages dressed in formal attire came forth to attend the Lady and take care of her steed. Vivian had traveled alone – even in those times of unrest the colors of Avalon were still a symbol of authority that nobody dared offend. Also, the presence in a house of a member of the Druids’ Council was a cause for celebration for its inhabitants. Thus, the great teacher was received not only because of the deference owed her because she was the sister of the queen, but also with the pomp and circumstance due to the highest ranking authorities.
All of that pomp was ignored by the wise woman. Her perceptive eyes searched for a sign of expression in the almost stiff face of her sister, focused for a moment on the intelligent gaze of little Morgana, passed quickly over the arrogant face of Pendragon, abruptly noticed the tenacious expression of little Arthur, until she discovered the gray, penetrating light in Merlin’s gaze. The enemy had arrived ahead of her. Vivian couldn’t waste any time. She had to know how much of an advantage he had on her.
“My dear sister-in-law! What an honor and what joy to welcome you to this house!”
Uther came forward to receive her at the foot of the great stairway. Just like anyone who saw the king on rare occasions, Vivian was always surprised by how agile the movements of such a heavy person could be. She replied politely to the monarch’s greeting and, struggling with the goose bumps that she felt on her skin at knowing Merlin’s gaze was on her, she quickly went up the steps to hug Igrayne.
“Sister!” She clutched her forcefully against her body, until the queen let out a weak sob. “Courage, sister!” she whispered. “Your suffering will not be in vain.”
She rubbed little Arthur’s hair affectionately and firmly clasped the little hand the girl Morgana put in hers. She stubbornly avoided Merlin’s eyes, only giving him a cold greeting with a toss of her chin.
The castle hall was also decorated, not only to receive Vivian but also because preparations had begun for the celebration of the young prince’s seventh birthday. It was a clear, cool day, and light filtered in through the narrow windows, casting whimsical, fleeting shapes on the floor that competed with the ones created by the flames from the two fireplaces.
“Naturally the great teacher of Avalon will need to freshen up and rest after such a long journey.” Merlin spoke, and king Uther immediately gestured to the servants to get ready to accompany the guest to her quarters.
“Naturally the teacher of Avalon has brought her own tongue.” Vivian didn’t want to give Merlin another opportunity to be alone with Uther and Igrayne and increase the advantage he must surely have had. “And besides, I’m in the house of my family, so I don’t need anybody from outside to act like a steward or master of ceremonies.”
The druid employed a special irony by underlining Merlin’s role as a person who was not one of the family. She knew that blood ties would matter little when it came to Uther’s willingness to keep his word, but she still clung to the hope of reaching her sister’s sleeping heart.
