Queen of the Summer Stars by Persia Woolley

went storming off in search of Brigit.
    “Why?” I demanded, finding her folding the comforter at the foot of our bed. “I can’t understand why you turned him down.”
    Startled, my friend turned on me with a look of disbelief. “You can’t understand? You, who wanted to run away rather than accept a groom you hadn’t chosen? How can you not understand?”
    The force of her indignation shocked me into silence.
    “Gwen, do you think you are the only one with dreams that went unanswered? The only woman who had to put aside her own desires to meet more important needs? Left to myself, I would have stayed in Ireland and gone to live in a convent when my family moved to Rheged…I told you that the first day we met. ’Tis the Christ I’ll be sworn to, not mortal man, and until the day comes when I can join a house of God, I’ll not be encouraging anyone’s hopes for marriage, no matter how dear he is!”
    She began to sob and bit her lip to hold back the tears. I wrapped my arms around her and held her much as she had held me when I had needed to cry in times past.
    “He’s a good man,” she sighed when the tears abated. “One of the best in the whole world. And I’d give anything to have had him fall in love with someone else. But it matters not whether he’s Pagan or Christian, whole or half-crippled…I do not want to marry, and it would be unfair to pretend otherwise. I’d be no kind of wife for him or anyone else. Can you understand that?” The look in her eyes was pained and pleading at the same time.
    “Shush now…of course I understand,” I whispered, trying to find words to comfort her. “I just didn’t realize how important that dream was to you. I mean…Brigit, are you sure you want a convent? I don’t remember your talking about it much, and think of all you’d be giving up! Never to have a child, never to hold an infant close, never to be a mother? I cannot imagine such a life.”
    “Aye, see now.” Brigit straightened her shoulders and gave me a small smile. “There’s dreams of your own that lie hidden, unspoken as it were. I can’t recall you mentioning a longing for children, either, yet there it is, strong and sure, waiting for the day it is fulfilled. And just as you accept your moira to be Queen and wife and mother, so I have accepted mine to be a Bride of Christ. Pray God give us both the patience to await the unfolding of our fates.”
    I nodded slowly, beginning to realize that she’d put into words the feelings I had yet to phrase within myself. In the past I’d not thought much about becoming a mother, simply assuming it would follow once I was wed. Now that it wasn’t happening, it was a subject that came more often to my mind. I did not, however, mention it to others.
    So I conceded Brigit had a point and left off scolding her about Bedivere, though my heart continued to ache for the gentle lieutenant.
    ***
     
    It was later, when the storms of March were lashing the land, that I came out of the kitchen and all but tripped over Taliesin. Seated on a stool outside the door, he was plucking out such a mournful tune that I paused to look at him more closely.
    “Whatever is the matter, child?” I asked, trying to remember where I’d left my scarf.
    The boy gulped and looked up shyly. “It’s Sir Tristan, M’lady. His king has sent for him to return to Cornwall, and soon I’ll have no teacher.”
    “Oh, come now, there’s still Riderich.”
    “Aye.” Taliesin sighed. “And he’s good for learning history and stories that are just spoken. But I want to make songs that are special to the Gods, and for that I need a special teacher.”
    The boy’s discouragement was almost tangible, so I said I’d see what could be arranged and turned my attention to the spice cupboard, wondering why Mark wanted Tristan to come home.
    “It seems that after all these years of searching, the King of Cornwall has found a royal family who will give him a