"Gwenhwyfar, Gwenhwyfar! I am not your confessor! I have not accused you!"

"But you would if you could, and I think you are jealous," Gwenhwyfar retorted at white heat, and then cried out in contrition, "Oh, no! No, I do not want to quarrel with you, Morgaine, my sister-oh, no, I came to beg you for your help-" She felt the tears break from her eyes. "I have done no wrong, I have been a good and loyal wife, I have kept my lord's house and strove to bring honor to his court, I have prayed for him and tried to do the will of God, I have failed no whit of my duty, and yet- and yet-for all of my loyalty and duty-I have not even had my part of the bargain. Every whore in the streets, every soldier's camp follower, they go about flaunting their big bellies and their fruitfulness, and I-I have had nothing, nothing-" She was sobbing wildly, her hands over her face.

Morgaine's voice sounded puzzled but tender, and she put out her arms and drew Gwenhwyfar to her. "Don't cry, don't cry-Gwenhwyfar, look at me, is it so much a sorrow to you that you have no child?"

Gwenhwyfar struggled to control her weeping. She said, "I can think of nothing else, day and night-"

After a long time, Morgaine said, "Aye, I can see it is hard for you." It seemed she could actually hear Gwenhwyfar's thoughts:

If I had a child, I would not think night and day of this love which tempts my honor, for all my thoughts would be given to Arthur's son.

"I would that I could help you, sister-but I am unwilling to have doings with charms and magic. We are taught in Avalon that simple folk may need such things, but the wise meddle not with them, but bear the lot the Gods have sent them." And as she spoke she felt herself a hypocrite; she was remembering the morning when she had gone out to find roots and herbs for a potion which would keep her from bearing Arthur's child. That had not been surrendering herself to the will of the Goddess! But in the end she had not done it, either-

And then Morgaine wondered, in sudden weariness: I who did not want a child, and who came near to death in bearing it, I bore my child; Gwenhwyfar, who longs night and day for one, goes with empty womb and empty arms. Is this the goodness of the will of the Gods?

Yet she felt compelled to say, "Gwenhwyfar, I would have you bear this in mind-charms often work as you would not that they would do. What makes you believe the Goddess I serve can send you a son when your God, who is supposed to be greater than all the other Gods, cannot?"

It sounded like blasphemy, and Gwenhwyfar was ashamed of herself. Yet she found herself thinking, and saying aloud in a voice that choked as she spoke, "I think perhaps God cares nothing for women-all his priests are men, and again and again the Scriptures tell us that women are the temptress and evil-it may be that is why he does not hear me. And for this I would go to the Goddess-God does not care-" And then she was weeping stormily again. "Morgaine," she cried, "if you cannot help me, I swear I will go tonight to Dragon Island in the boat, I shall bribe my serving-man to take me there, and when the fires are lighted I too shall entreat the Goddess to give me the gift of a child ... I swear it, Morgaine, that I will do this.. .." And she saw herself in the light of the fires, circling the flames, going apart in the grip of a strange and faceless man, lying in his arms-the thought made her whole body cramp tight with pain and a half-shamed pleasure.

Morgaine listened in growing horror. She would never do it, she would lose her courage at the last moment. .. I was frightened, even I, and I had always known my maidenhead was for the God. But then, hearing the utter despair in her sister-in-law's voice, she thought, Aye, but she might; and if she did, she would hate herself all her life long.

There was no sound in the room but Gwenhwyfar's sobbing. Morgaine waited until it quieted a little, then said, "Sister, I will do for you what I can. Arthur can give you a child, you need not go to the Beltane fire, or seek one elsewhere. You must never say aloud that I have told you this, promise me that, and ask me no questions. But Arthur has indeed sired a ' child."

Gwenhwyfar stared at her. "He told me he had no children-"

"It may be that he does not know. But I have seen the child myself. He is being fostered at Morgause's court."

"Why, then, he has already a son and if I do not bear him one-"

"No!" said Morgaine quickly, and her voice was harsh. "I have told you-you must never speak of this, the child is not such a one as he could acknowledge. If you give him no child, then must the kingdom go to Gawaine. Gwenhwyfar, ask me no more, for I will not tell you more than this-if you do not bear, it is not Arthur's fault."

"I have not even conceived since last harvesttime-and only three times in all these years-" Gwenhwyfar swallowed, wiping her face on her veil. "If I offer myself to the Goddess-she will be merciful to me-"

Morgaine sighed. "It might be so. You must not go to Dragon Island. You can conceive, I know-perhaps a charm could help you to carry a child to birth. But I warn you again, Gwenhwyfar: charms do not their magic as men and women would have it, but by their own laws, and those laws are as strange as the running of time in the fairy country. Do not seek to blame me, Gwenhwyfar, if the charm acts other than you think it should."

"If it gives me even a slight chance of a child by my lord-" "That it should do," Morgaine said, and turned, Gwenhwyfar following after her like a child being led by her mother. What would the charm be, Gwenhwyfar wondered and what would it do, and why did Morgaine look so strange and solemn-as if she were that Great Goddess herself? But, she told herself, taking a deep breath, she would accept whatever came, if it might give her what she desired most.

An hour later, when the trumpets were blown and Morgaine and Gwenhwyfar were sitting side by side at the edge of the field, Elaine leaned over to them and said, "Look! Who is that riding into the field at Gawaine's side?"

"It is Lancelet," said Gwenhwyfar breathlessly. "He has come home." He was handsomer than ever. Somewhere he had gotten a red slash on his cheek, which should have been ugly, but it gave him the fierce beauty of a wild cat. He rode as if he were part of the horse's self, and Gwenhwyfar listened to Elaine's chatter, not really hearing, her eyes fixed on the man. Bitter, bitter, the irony of this. Why now, when I am resolved and pledged to think no more of him but to do my sworn duty by my lord and king ... Round her neck, beneath the golden torque Arthur had given her when they had been wedded a full five years, she could feel the weight of Morgaine's charm, sewn into a little bag between her breasts. She did not know, had not wanted to know, what Morgaine had put into it.

Why now? I had hoped that when he came home for Pentecost, I should be already bearing my lord's child, and he would look no more on me, since it was so clear I was resolved to honor my marriage.

Yet against her will, she remembered Arthur's words: Should you bear me a child, I would not question ... do you know what I am saying to you? Gwenhwyfar had known what he meant all too well. Lancelet's son could be heir to the kingdom. Was this new temptation offered her, now, because she had already fallen into grievous sin by meddling with Morgaine's sorcery, and making wild and unchaste threats, hoping to force Morgaine into helping her ... ?

I do not care, if so be it I can bear my king a son ... if a God would damn me for that, what have I to do with him? She was frightened at her own blasphemy, yet it had been blasphemy, too, to think of going to the lighted Beltane fires ... .

"Look, Gawaine is down, even he could not stand against Lancelet's riding," Elaine said eagerly. "And Cai, too! How could Lancelet strike down a lame man?"