"How does my dear lady?" Lancelet bowed before her, smiling, and she held him out her hand to kiss. "Once again we return home and find you only more beautiful than ever. You are the only lady whose beauty never fades. I begin to think God has ordered it so, that when all other women age and grow old and thick and worn, you shall be ever beautiful."

She smiled at him and felt comforted. Perhaps it was just as well that she was not pregnant and ugly ... she saw that he looked on Meleas with a faint scornful smile, and she felt that she could not bear to be ugly before Lancelet. Even Arthur looked shabby, as if he had slept in the same crumpled tunic all through the campaign, and wrapped himself, in mud and rain and weather, in his fine, much-worn cloak; but Lancelet looked as crisp and new, his cloak and tunic as well brushed, as if he had dressed himself for an Easter feast-his hair trimmed and combed smooth, his leather belt polished, and even the eagle feathers in his cap standing up dry and unwilted. He looked, Gwenhwyfar thought, more like a king than Arthur himself did.

As the serving-maidens carried round platters of meat and bread, Arthur drew Gwenhwyfar to his side.

"Come sit here between Lancelet and me, Gwen, and we will talk- it seems long since I heard a voice that was not rough and male, or smelled the scent of a woman's gown." He passed his hand over her braid. "Come you too, Morgaine, and sit by me-I am weary of campaigning, I want to hear small gossip, not the talk of the camp!" He bit into a chunk of bread with eager hunger. "And it is good to eat new-baked bread; I am tired of hard-baked army bread, and meat gone bad by keeping!"

Lancelet had turned to smile at Morgaine.

"And you, how is it with you, kinswoman? I suppose there is no news from the Summer Country, or from Avalon? There is another here who is eager to hear it, if there is-my brother Balan rode with us."

"I have no news from Avalon," said Morgaine, feeling Gwenhwyfar watching her-or was she looking at Lancelet? "But I have not seen Balan for many years-I suppose he would have later news than mine?"

"He is there," Lancelet said, gesturing toward the men in the hall. "Arthur bid him to dine here as my kinsman, and it would be a kindness in you, Morgaine, to take him a cup of wine from the high table. Like all men, he too is eager for a welcome from some woman, even if it be a kinswoman and not a sweetheart."

Morgaine took one of the drinking cups, horn bound with wood, that sat on the high table, and beckoned a servant to pour wine into it; then she raised it between her hands and went around the table among the knights. She was pleasantly conscious of their regard, even though she knew they would look like this at any well-bred, finely dressed woman after so many months of campaign; it was not a particular compliment to her beauty. At least Balan, who was a cousin, almost a brother, would not eye her so hungrily.

"I greet you, kinsman. Lancelet, your brother, sent you some wine from the King's table."

"I beg you to sip it first, lady," he said, then blinked. "Morgaine, is it you? I hardly knew you, you have grown so fine. I think of you always in the dress of Avalon, but you are like to my mother, indeed. How does the Lady?"

Morgaine set the cup to her lips-mere courtesy at this court, but perhaps stemming from a time when gifts from the King were tasted before a guest, when the poisoning of rival kings was not unknown. She handed it to him, and Balan drank a long draught before looking up at her again.

"I had hoped to have news of Viviane from you, kinsman-I have not returned to Avalon for many years," she said.

"Aye, I knew that you were in Lot's court," he said. "Did you quarrel with Morgause? I hear that is easy done by any woman ... ."

Morgaine shook her head. "No; but I wished to be far enough away to stay out of Lot's bed, and that is not easy done. The distance between Orkney and Caerleon is hardly far enough."

"And so you came to Arthur's court to be waiting-woman to his queen," said Balan. "It is a more seemly court than that of Morgause, I dare say. Gwenhwyfar guards her maidens well, and makes good marriages for them, too-I see Griflet's lady is already big with her first. Has she not found you a husband, kinswoman?"

Morgaine forced herself to say gaily, "Are you making an offer for me, sir Balan?"

He chuckled. "You are all too close kin to me, Morgaine, or I should accept your offer. But I heard some gossip that Arthur had intended you for Cai, and that seemed a good match to me, since you have left Avalon after all."

"Cai had no more mind to me than I to him," said Morgaine sharply, "and I have never said I would not return to Avalon, but only on that day when Viviane sends for me to come thither."

"When I was but a lad," Balan said-and for a moment, his dark eyes resting on Morgaine, she thought that indeed she could see the resemblance to Lancelet even in this great coarse man-"I thought ill of the Lady-of Viviane, that she did not love me as it was fit for a mother to do. But I think better of it now. As a priestess, she could not have had leisure to rear a son. And so she gave me into the hands of one who had no other work than that, and she gave me my foster-brother Balin ... . Oh, yes, as a lad I felt guilty about that too, that I cared more for Balin than for our Lancelet, who is of my own flesh and blood. But now I know Balin is truly my own heart's brother, and Lancelet, though I admire him for the fine knight he is, will always be a stranger to me. And too," Balan said seriously, "when Viviane gave me up to Dame Priscilla for fostering, she put me into a household where I would come to know the true God apd Christ. It seems to me strange, that if I had dwelt in Avalon with my own kin, I should be a heathen, even as Lancelet is ... ."

Morgaine smiled a little. "Well," she said, "there I cannot share your gratitude, for I think it ill done of the Lady that her own son should abandon her Gods. But even Viviane has often said to me that men should have such manner of religious and spiritual counsel as liked them best, that which she could give, or other. Had I been truly pious and Christian at heart, no doubt, she would have let me live by the faith which was strong in my heart. Yet, though I was reared till I was eleven by Igraine, who was as good a Christian as any, I think perhaps it was ordained that I should see the things of the spirit as they come to us from the Goddess."

"Balin would be able to argue that with you better than I," said Balan, 'for he is more pious than I and a better Christian. I should probably say to you what no doubt the priests have said, that there is only one true faith in which man and woman may trust. But you are my kinswoman, and I know my mother to be a good woman, and I have faith that even Christ will take her goodness into account on the last day. As for the rest, I am no priest and I see not why I should not leave all those matters to the priests who are schooled in them. I love Balin well, but he should have been a priest, not a warrior, if he is so tender of faith and conscience." He looked toward the high table and said, "Tell me, foster-sister, you know him better than I-what lies so heavy on our brother Lancelet's heart?"

Morgaine bent her head and said, "If I knew, Balan, it is not my secret to tell."

"You are right to bid me mind my own affairs," said Balan, "but I hate seeing him miserable, and miserable he is. I thought ill of our mother, as I said, because she sent me so young from home, but she gave me a loving foster-mother, and a brother of my own age, reared at my side and as one with me in all things, and a home. She did less well by Lancelet. He was never at home-neither in Avalon nor yet at the court of Ban of Ben-wick, where he was dragged up as just another of the king's unregarded bastards ... . Viviane did ill by him indeed, and I wish Arthur would give him a wife, so he might have a home at last."