A magical glimpse into the legendary age of Arthurian chivalry. Meet a daring damosel from the Golden Age, a brave, fearless woman of whom stories were told and legends woven. Vivian is the fifteen year old grand-niece of the Lady Morgan le Fay, whose tale is inextricably linked with that of Sir Gawain le Jeune, the nephew of that great Gawain, one of King Arthur’s most stalwart Knights... Knightly chivalry is beset by Dark Age barbarity in this richly woven tapestry of heroes and heroines, monsters and saints, temptresses and magicians.
The Green Knight Global Author: Vera Chapman Age Group: 12-18 Description A magical glimpse into the legendary age of Arthurian chivalry. Meet a daring damosel from the Golden Age, a brave, fearless woman of whom stories were told and legends woven. Vivian is the fifteen year old grand-niece of the Lady Morgan le Fay, whose tale is inextricably linked with that of Sir Gawain le Jeune, the nephew of that great Gawain, one of King Arthur’s most stalwart Knights... Knightly chivalry is beset by Dark Age barbarity in this richly woven tapestry of heroes and heroines, monsters and saints, temptresses and magicians. Excerpt We turned our horses and rode into that terrible dark wood — the Lady Morgan le Fay, myself, her fifteen-year-old niece, and the four silent serving-men that followed us. I had never been in so dark a wood before. Indeed, I had never been in any wood before — since up to an hour back, I had lived, as far as I could remember, in the quiet, safe, sunny retreat of the convent at Amesbury; and now I was going into this . . . The horses’ hoofs made no sound on the soft pine-needles. It was so dark that at fi rst I could see nothing at all; then as my sight cleared, the fi rst thing I saw was a little thin yellow snake, hanging head downwards from a branch, right on a level with my eyes — and its head and face were that of a tiny little woman. I cried out and crossed myself. ‘Don’t do that,’ came my aunt’s voice, low, level and severe. She pointed a fi nger at the woman-headed snake and it coiled itself up like a spring above us, and we left it. But the whole wood was full of things, all rustling and stirring and peering with bright eyes — little birds were everywhere, but not only birds — squirrels and stoats, and what else? The wood was all of fi rs or pines, with no lighter trees or undergrowth — only the endless brown trunks, and the webs of spindly dead twigs that fringe the lower parts of fi r-trees where nobody comes. Presently I saw that some of the small animals were not animals but tiny brown men, scuttling among the dead branches. Some were part men and part animals, squirrels with little human heads and arms, or birds with odd beaky human faces. They frightened me, but now I dared not cross myself. ‘Why do you concern yourself with those things?’ my aunt said, without looking round. ‘They are quite normal and natural here — they are even vulgar. If you want marvels I will show you better ones presently.’ She was really my great-aunt, my only living relative as far as I knew. I am Vivian, the daughter of Blaisine, who was the daughter of Vivian called Nimue. This Vivian- Nimue had been the youngest of the three witchy daughters of the beautiful Ygraine of Cornwall — Morgause, the Queen of Orkney, and Morgan le Fay being the other two. But Ygraine was also the mother of King Arthur by Uther Pendragon, so I am some sort of kin to King Arthur. Also I suppose there is witch blood in me, though I thought by the time it came to me it must have run rather thin. But I did not know then who my grandfather was. My mother had died when I was born, and my father had died fi ghting for King Arthur, so as far back as I could remember my home had been with the kind nuns at Amesbury. A peaceful place, and still is; our poor Guinevere has found peace there at last, after all she has been through — but this isn’t Guinevere’s story, thank God, but mine. No one ever came to see me there but the Lady Morgan le Fay, and she was an exciting though rather disturbing relative to have. And then one day — the very day before this story opens — she had descended upon us, and told the Lady Abbess that she had come to take me home with her. She did not say where, nor yet why.
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