I do not remember moving into the golden city of Camelot. I was not quite two years old. In fact, I don't have a first memory; instead I have a first feeling. Fear. Fear of my new father, the King. He loved Arthur from the moment he was presented as his son. Holding the young Arthur in his arms, my mother, Igraine presented her daughters. Elaine, 5 years old and Morgause, 4 were told to introduce themselves and curtsy prettily in front of the King who, in turn, smiled down at them. As little more than a child, my mother walked forward, holding my hand. At the sight of me, The King's breath caught in his throat. My mother knowing I bore a striking resemblance to my father had intended for this effect. She wanted the King always to see her murdered husband, and with me she was able to remind the King everyday of the man he had killed. The King's smile fell from his face, and was replaced by a look that even a child recognizes as loathing. Waving his hand in dismissal, he turned his back on us. My mother smiling slightly, led us from the hall.
The next few years were spent with nursemaids and tutors. I excelled at my studies, and further more I enjoyed them. I had inherited the best parts of both my mother and father. I had my mother's grace and tended to think quietly rather than speak out loud which translated to my tutors as a definite sign that I would be a demure and quiet woman. I sought to impress the King with my mannerisms. I desperately wanted the attention that was given to my sisters and brother. Instead if I was not invisible to the King, I was pushed aside and if I did not move fast enough, a smack of his hand would ensure that I moved faster. If I cried, he would snarl in disgust and call for the nursemaid to take me away. It didn't take long for a hatred of the King to burn in my breast. While Arthur received the best food and drink followed by my older sisters, I was left with simple scraps from the table, little more than the King fed to his dogs. My clothing was always too tight or too big, receiving only hand-me-downs from my sisters or nothing at all. I watched as jewels and bolts of cloth were presented to my sisters, and they twirled around in beautiful new dresses. I did receive my own tutors, although I see now that the reason was to alienate me from my sisters and brother, rather than as a courtesy to my abilities.
Taking pity on me, my sisters would dress me up in their finest clothes and jewels. They would brush my hair out and do their best to pin it into place. I felt so beautiful staring in the mirror. As I was looking at myself in Morgause' newest dress of red brocade trimmed in gold, King Uther walked in. Seeing me dressed in my sister's clothes, he quickly crossed the room and struck me hard across the face.
"Stealing your sister's clothes and jewels I see," he sneered. As I struggled to answer through the numbness of my jaw, Morgause quickly intervened, trying to explain how it was a game.
"Silence!" he roared, causing Morgause to shrink away. "I'll teach to you to steal from your sisters, although I expected nothing better from you" he said as he moved towards me. Pulling off his belt, he grabbed me by my hair as I struggled to run away, and flipping me over his knee, pulled my dress up and whipped the backs of my legs and bottom until I bled. Out of breath, he stood up staring at me where he'd thrown me to the floor. I refused to cry, not a single tear. I struggled to my feet, looking at the King. I then curtsied as prettily as my swollen legs would allow. The King's eyes widened, and he turned on his heel and left the room. Later as my mother laid cool pieces of cloth across the welts on my legs, she whispered that she had a surprise for me. When my wounds had healed enough for me to be able to walk without tears springing to my eyes, my mother took me deep into the castle. She made me memorize the complicated twists and turns to a secret door hidden in the wall. In this room, my mother taught me herbal medicines, chants and spells passed on to her by her mother.
"There has always been an enchantress in our family for as far back as we have existed," she explained. "In every family there is only one, and always a daughter. I have watched you and your sisters, trying to see who the magic would choose, and I am sure that it has chosen you."
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Sorceress
FantasyThe story of Morgana Le Fay, Arthur's hated sorceress half-sister is finally told. Forced into a nunnery at a young age, and to live under the tyrant rule of the man who killed her father, Morgana's tale rivals the stories of the great King Arthur...
