"I thought you had heard how Arthur betrayed Avalon," Viviane said. "Kevin has spoken to him in my name, but without avail. So I have come to stand here before his throne and demand justice. In Arthur's name the lesser kings are forbidding the old worship, sacred groves have been despoiled, even on the land where Arthur's queen rules by inheritance, and Arthur has done nothing-"

"Gwenhwyfar is overpious," Morgaine murmured, and felt her lip cruel in disdain; so pious, yet taking her husband's cousin and champion to her bed, with the sanction of that too-pious King! But a priestess of Avalon did not babble the secrets of the bedchamber if they came into her keeping. It seemed that Viviane read her thoughts, for she said, "Nay, Morgaine, but a time might come when some secret knowledge might give me a weapon to force Arthur to his sworn duty. One hold, indeed, I have over him, though for your sake, child, I would not use it before his court. Tell me-" She glanced around. "No, not here. Take me where we may talk together in secret, and let me refresh myself and make myself seemly to stand before Arthur at his great feast."

Morgaine took her to the room she shared with Gwenhwyfar's ladies, who were all at the games; the servants were gone too, so she herself fetched Viviane water for washing, and wine to drink, and helped her to change her dusty, travel-worn clothing.

"I met with your son in Lothian," Viviane said. "Kevin told me." The old pain clutched at her heart-so Viviane had gotten what she wanted of her, after all: a son of the doubled royal lines, for Avalon. "Will you make him a Druid, then, for Avalon?"

"It is too soon to know what stuff he has in him," said Viviane. "Too long, I fear, was he left in Morgause's keeping. But whether or no, he must be reared in Avalon, and loyal to the old Gods, so that if Arthur is false to his oath, we may remind him that there is a son of the Pendragon's blood to take his place-we will have no king turned apostate and tyrant, forcing that god of slaves and sin and shame down the throats of our people! We set him on Uther's throne, we can bring him down if we must, and all the more readily if there is one of the old royal line of Avalon, a son of the Goddess, to take his place. Arthur is a good king, I would be reluctant to make such threats; but if I must, I will-the Goddess orders my actions." Morgaine shuddered; would her child be the instrument of his father's death? She turned her face resolutely from the Sight. "I do not think Arthur will be this false to Avalon."

"The Goddess grant he may not," Viviane said, "but even so, the Christians would not accept a son gotten in that rite. We must keep a place near the throne for Gwydion, so that he may be his father's heir, and one day we will have a king born of Avalon again. The Christians, mark you, Morgaine, would think your son born out of sin; but before the Goddess he is of the purest royalty of all, mother and father born of her lineage- sacred, not evil. And he must come to think himself so, not be contaminated by priests who would tell him his begetting and birth were shameful." She looked Morgaine straight in the eye. "You still think it shameful?"

Morgaine lowered her head. "Always you could read my heart, kinswoman."

"Igraine's is the fault," said Viviane, "and mine, that I left you at Uther's court seven years. The day I knew you priestess-born, I should have had you from there. You are priestess of Avalon, darling child, why came you never back?" She turned, the comb in her hand, her long faded hair falling along her face.

Morgaine whispered, tears forcing themselves through the barrier of her tight eyes, "I cannot. I cannot, Viviane. I tried-I could not find the way." And all the humiliation and shame of that washed over her, and she wept.

Viviane put down the comb and caught Morgaine to her breast, holding her, rocking and soothing her like a child. "Darling, my own darling girl, do not cry, do not cry ... if I had known, child, I would have come to you. Don't cry now-I shall myself take you back, we will go together when I have given Arthur my message. I will take you with me and go, before he gets it into his head to marry you off to some braying Christian ass ... yes, yes, child, you shall come back to Avalon ... we will go together ... ." She wiped Morgaine's wet face on her own veil. "Come, now, help me to dress myself to stand before my kinsman the High King-"

Morgaine drew a deep breath. "Yes, let me braid your hair, Mother." She tried to laugh. "This morning I did the Queen's hair."

Viviane held her away and said, in great anger, "Has Arthur put you, priestess of Avalon and princess in your own right, to waiting hand and foot on his queen?"

"No, no," said Morgaine quickly, "I am honored as high as the Queen herself-I dressed Gwenhwyfar's hair this day out of friendship; she is as likely to do mine, or to lace my gown, as sisters do."

Viviane sighed with relief. "I would not have you dishonored. You are the mother of Arthur's son. He must learn to honor you as such, and so must the daughter of Leodegranz-"

"No!" Morgaine cried. "No, I beg of you-Arthur must not know, not before the whole court-listen to me, Mother," she pleaded, "all these folk are Christian. Would you have me shamed before them all?"

Viviane said implacably, "They must learn not to think shame of holy things!"

"But the Christians have power over all this land," Morgaine said, "and you cannot change their thinking with a few words-" And in her heart she wondered, had advancing age driven Viviane out of her wits? There was no way simply to proclaim that the old laws of Avalon should be set up again and two hundred years of Christianity be overthrown. The priests would drive her out of the court as a madwoman and go on as before. Viviane must know enough of practical ruling to know this! And indeed, Viviane nodded and said, "You are right, we must work slowly. But Arthur at least must be reminded of his promise to protect Avalon, and I will speak to him in secret, one day, about the child. We cannot proclaim it aloud among the ignorant."

Then Morgaine helped Viviane to arrange her hair and to dress herself in the stately robes of a priestess of Avalon, dressed for high ceremonial. And it was not long before they heard sounds telling them that the mock games were over. No doubt the prizes would be given indoors this time, at the feast; she wondered if Lancelet had won them all again in honor of his king. Or, she thought sourly, his queen? And could one call that honor?

They turned to leave the chamber, and as they left the room, Viviane touched her hand gently. "You will return to Avalon with me, will you not, dear child?"

"If Arthur will let me go ... "

"Morgaine, you are a priestess of Avalon, and you need not ask leave, even of the High King, to come and go as it pleases you. A High King is a leader in battle-he does not own the lives of his subjects, or even of his subject kings, as if he were one of those Eastern tyrants who thinks the world is his and the life of every man and woman in it. I will tell him I have need of you in Avalon and we will see what he answers to that."

Morgaine felt herself choking with unshed tears. Oh, to return to Avalon, to go home ... but even as she held Viviane's hand she could not believe she was truly to go there after this day. Later she was to say, I knew, I knew, and recognize the despair and foreboding that struck her at the words, but at the moment she was certain it was only her own fear, the sense that she was not worthy of what she had cast away.

Then they went down into Arthur's great hall for the Pentecost feasting.

It was Camelot, Morgaine thought, as she had never seen it before, and perhaps would never see it again. The great Round Table, Leodegranz's wedding gift, was now set in a hall worthy of its majesty; the halls had been hung with silks and banners, and a trick of the arrangement made it so that all eyes were drawn to where Arthur sat, at the high seat at the far end of the hall. For this day he had brought Gareth to sit beside him and his queen, and all the knights and Companions were ringed together, the Companions in fine clothing, their weapons gleaming, the ladies garbed brightly as flowers. One after another, the petty kings came, knelt before Arthur and brought him gifts; Morgaine watched Arthur's face, grave, solemn, gentle. She looked sidewise at Viviane-surely she must see that Arthur had grown into a good king, not one to be lightly judged, even by Avalon or the Druids. But who was she to weigh causes between Arthur and Avalon? She felt the old tremor of disquiet, as in the old days at Avalon when she was being taught to open her mind to the Sight that would use her as its instrument, and found herself wishing, without understanding why, Would that Viviane were a hundred leagues from here!