Gawaine said gruffly, "Who would be made knight by me when Lancelet would consent to do it?"

Lancelet flung an exuberant arm around each of them. "You do me too much honor, both of you. Well, go, lad," he said, releasing Gareth, "go to your arms, I will come and watch with you after midnight."

Gawaine watched as the boy loped away, with his long awkward stride, and then said, "You should be one of those old Greeks, as it was told in that saga we read when we were boys. How was he called-Achilles- whose true love was the young knight Patroclus, and neither cared anything for all the fine dames of the court of Troy-God knows every lad in this court worships you as their hero. Pity you have no mind to the Greek fashion in love!"

Lancelet's face turned dusky red. "You are my cousin, Gawaine, and can say such things to me-I would not hear such things from any other, even in jest."

Gawaine laughed loudly again. "Aye, a jest-for one who professes devotion only to our most chaste Queen-"

"You dare!" Lancelet began, turning on him, and gripped his arm with strength enough to break his wrist. Gawaine struggled, but Lancelet, though he was the smaller man, bent his arm backward, growling with rage like an angry wolf.

"Here! No brawling in the King's hall!" Cai thrust himself awkwardly between them, and Morgaine said quickly, "Why, Gawaine, what then will you say to all those priests who profess devotion to Mary the Virgin beyond all things on earth? Would you have it they all have a scandalous carnal devotion to their Christ? And indeed, we hear of the Lord Jesus that he never married, and that even among his chosen twelve there was one who leaned on his bosom at supper-"

Gwenhwyfar gave a shocked cry. "Morgaine, hush! Such a blasphemous jest!" Lancelet let go of Gawaine's arm; Gawaine stood rubbing the bruise, and Arthur turned and frowned at them.

"You are like children, cousins, squabbling and bickering-shall I send you to be beaten by Cai in the kitchens? Come now, be friends again! I heard not the jest, but whatever it was, Lance, it cannot have been so serious as all that!"

Gawaine laughed roughly and said, "I jested, Lance-all too many women pursue you, I know, for what I said to have anything at all of truth," and Lancelet shrugged and smiled, like a bird with ruffled feathers.

Cai chuckled. "Every man at court envies you your handsome face, Lance." He rubbed the scar that pulled his mouth up tight into a sneer, and said, "But it may not be all that much of a blessing, eh, cousin?"

It dissolved into good-natured laughter, but later Morgaine, crossing the court, saw Lancelet still pacing, troubled, feathers still ruffled.

"What is it, kinsman, what ails you?"

He sighed. "I would that I might leave this court."

"But my lady will not let you go."

"Even to you, Morgaine, I will not talk of the Queen," he said stiffly, and it was Morgaine's turn to sigh.

"I am not the keeper of your conscience, Lancelet. If Arthur does not chide you, who am I to speak a word of reproach?"

"You don't understand!" he said fiercely. "She was given to Arthur like something bought at market, part of a purchase in horses because her father would have kinship with the High King as part of the price! Yet she is too loyal to murmur-"

"I spoke no word against her, Lancelet," Morgaine reminded him. "You hear accusations from yourself, not from my lips."

She thought, I could make him desire me, but the knowledge was like a mouthful of dust. Once she had played that game, and beneath the desire he had feared her, as he feared Viviane herself; feared her to the edge of hatred because of that desire. If his king commanded he would have her, but would soon come to hate.

He managed to look directly at her. "You cursed me, and-and believe me, I am cursed."

And suddenly the old anger and contempt melted. He was as he was. She clasped his hand between her own. "Cousin, don't trouble yourself about that. It was many, many years ago, and I don't think there is any God or Goddess who would listen to the words of an angry young girl who thought herself scorned. And I was no more than that."

He drew a long breath and began to pace again. At last he said, "I could have killed Gawaine tonight. I am glad you stopped us, even with that blasphemous jesting. I-I have had to deal with that, all my life. When I was a boy at Ban's court, I was prettier than Gareth is now, and in the court of Less Britain, and like enough in other places, such a boy must guard himself more carefully than any maiden. But no man sees or believes any such thing unless it touches him, and thinks it only a slightly vulgar joke made about other people. There was a time when I thought it so too, and then a time when I thought I could never be otherwise ... ."

There was a long silence, while he stared grimly at the flagstones of the courtyard.

"And so I flung myself into experiment with women, any woman- God help me, even with you who were my own mother's fosterling and pledged maiden to the Goddess-but there were few women who could rouse me even a little, till I saw-her." Morgaine was glad he did not speak Gwenhwyfar's name. "And since that moment there has been no other. With her, I know myself all man."

Morgaine said, "But she is Arthur's wife-"

"God! God!" Lancelet turned and struck his hand against the wall. "Do you think that does not torment me? He is my friend; if Gwenhwyfar were wedded to any other man who dwells this earth, I would have had her away with me and to my own place-" Morgaine saw the muscles of his throat move as he tried to swallow. "I do not know what will become of us. And Arthur must have an heir to his kingdom. The fate of all Britain is more important than our love. I love them both-and I am tormented, Morgaine, tormented!"

His eyes were wild; for a moment it seemed to Morgaine that she saw some hint of madness. Ever after, she wondered, Was there anything, anything I could have said or done that night?

"Tomorrow," Lancelet said, "I shall beg Arthur to send me out on some difficult quests-to go and make an end forever of Pellinore's dragon, to conquer the wild Northmen beyond the Roman wall-I care not what, Morgaine, anything, anything to take me away from here-" and for a moment, hearing in his voice a sadness beyond tears, Morgaine wanted to hold him in her arms and rock him at her breast like a babe.

I think I came near to killing Gawaine tonight, had you not stopped us," Lancelet said. "Yet he was only jesting, he would have died with horror if he knew-" Lancelet turned his eyes away and at last said in a whisper, "I know not if what he said is true. I should take Gwenhwyfar and be gone from here, before it becomes a scandal to all the courts of the world, that I love the wife of my king, and yet ... yet it is Arthur I cannot leave ... I know not but what I love her only because I come close, thus, to him."

Morgaine put out her hand to stop him. There were things she could not bear to know. But Lancelet did not even see.

"No, no, I must tell someone or I shall die of it-Morgaine, know you how first I came to lie with the Queen? I had loved her long, since first I saw her on Avalon, but I thought I would live and die with that passion unspent-Arthur was my friend and I would not betray him," he said. "And she, she-you must never think that she tempted me! But-but it was Arthur's will," he said. "It came about at Beltane-" and then he told her, while Morgaine stood frozen, thinking only, So this is how the charm worked ... I would that the Goddess had stricken me with leprosy before ever I gave it to Gwenhwyfar!

"But you do not know all," he whispered. "As we lay together- never, never had anything so-so-" He swallowed and fumbled to put into words what Morgaine could not bear to hear. "I-I touched Arthur -I touched him. I love her, oh, God, I love her, mistake me not, but had she not been Arthur's wife, had it not been for-I doubt even she-" He choked and could not finish his sentence, while Morgaine stood utterly still, appalled beyond speech. Was this then the revenge of the Goddess-that she who loved this man without hope, should become the confidante of both him and the woman he loved, that she should be the repository of all the secret fears he could speak to no one else, the incomprehensible passions within his soul?