Free The Lady of the Sea by Rosalind Miles

I shall not come back.”
    “You will say farewell to Cornwall?”
    “I must!” Isolde cried. “I have labored for years to do the best I could. But my husband neglects the land for his own concerns. He cares for nothing but his wine, his hunting, and his—”
    She felt a dull flush discolor her neck, and broke off.
    “His mistress, you would say?” Igraine picked up, unperturbed. “Yes, that is known to me, too. But your doubts about Mark run deeper, I suspect.”
    “They do,” said Isolde fervently. “Long ago all the mighty kingdom of Uther Pendragon lay neglected till your son, King Arthur, won back his ancestral land. So will it be with Cornwall very soon.”
    A shadow passed over Igraine’s face. “Tell me all you know.”
    With a careful attention to detail, Isolde complied. “And Mark will not resolve the succession,” she finished heavily, “though his barons have been pressing him to do so for years. But Sir Andred is ready now and poised to strike. And if he seizes the throne against the will of all . . .”
    She broke off. The old Queen knew well enough what would happen then.
    Igraine looked at her in silence. “Thank you for your concern for my poor land,” she said at last. “I am glad you have brought this to me. Mark must learn to care for his country, not for himself. I have told him so many times.”
    Isolde nodded unhappily. She had stood herself beside Mark in Tintagel’s Great Hall and heard the old Queen issue a solemn warning: King Mark, you are my chosen vassal and will remain so, as long as my faith and trust in you endure.
    And that could not be much longer. “Mark has squandered the trust that has been placed in him,” she said with deep feeling.
    Igraine looked at her intently. “Yours above all?”
    Isolde threw back her head. “I can no longer remain with him as his wife. I have left Mark and Castle Dore, never to return.”
    The old Queen glimmered at her. “Never is too long a word to say.”
    Isolde felt a sudden onrush of tears. “When I have no respect for him and no hope of change, I cannot be his Queen.”
    “Then you must put the marriage aside and go your own way. That is the fate of all couples as ill-matched as you. Not all are destined to be mated, body and soul. Those who are so blessed will know what it is to walk the world between the worlds. The rest must remain bound to the face of the earth.”
    “Yes.” Tears of anguish stood in Isolde’s eyes.
    I walked there with Tristan once . . .
    Oh, Tristan—my lost sweetheart—my only love . . .
    “Isolde?”
    She felt the full force of the old Queen’s subtle gaze. “This grief is not for Mark. You have another greater sorrow, I think?”
    “The greatest in the world—” She was gasping with pain. “I have lost my knight.”
    “How so?”
    “I asked him to come to Ireland. He has chosen to stay in Cornwall and follow Mark.”
    Igraine paused gravely. “Mark is his only kinsman and his King.”
    “But he owes his love to me! And now he’s betrayed me, and betrayed our love—”
    “Ah, Isolde . . .” Igraine took a pace away, sighing like the wind off the sea. “Beware of turning against Tristan in your heart. Do not think that he has broken faith with you.”
    “But madam, he—”
    The old Queen held up her hand. “Could you trust a man who broke a prior oath? Who tried to please you by dishonoring a promise he had made before? The man who would do such a thing would betray you, too. Tristan has chosen the harder road and that deserves your love. He swore to serve Mark and his first duty lies there. But it will not be forever. Afterward he will know where his honor and duty lie.”
    Isolde felt the first faint spring of hope. “Afterward . . . ?”
    “There is always an afterward,” Igraine echoed, her large liquid eyes alight. “Take courage, my dear. All things must pass when the Mother turns the wheel. Your knight will ride through this dark night alone. Leave him to his journey