"Ah! Gwyneth, Morag-Mother, are you ill? Ah, heavens, she will weave, and always it brings these fits upon her-Uwaine! Accolon! Come, Mother has fallen at her loom-"

She felt the woman restlessly chafing her hands, calling her name, heard Accolon's voice, felt him lift and carry her. She did not, could not, move or speak-she let them lay her on her bed, bring wine to revive her, felt it trickle down her neck, and wanted to say, I am all right, let be, but she heard herself make a frightened little grunting sound and was still, agony ripping her, knowing that in death the Great Sow would release her, but first she must suffer the death throes ... and even as she lay there, blind, tranced, agonized, she heard the hunting horn sound and knew that they were bringing Avalloch home, dead on his horse, slain by the sow which had attacked him within moments after he had killed the boar ... and he in turn had slain the sow ... death and blood and rebirth and the flow of life in and out of the forest, like the winding in and out of the shuttle ... .

IT WAS hours later. She still could not move a muscle without griping, terrifying pain; almost she welcomed it. I should not go wholly free of this death, but Accolon's hands are clean ... . She looked up into his eyes. He was bending over her with concern and dread, and they were alone for a moment.

"Are you able to speak now, my love?" he whispered. "What happened?"

She shook her head and could not speak. But his hands on her were tender, welcome. Do you know what I have done for you, dear love?

He bent and kissed her. He would never know how close they had come to being exposed and defeated.

"I must go back to Father," he said gently, troubled. "He weeps and says, if I had gone, my brother would not have died-he will blame me always." His dark eyes rested on her, a shadow of disquiet in them. "It was you who commanded me not to go," he said. "Did you know this with your magic, beloved?"

She found a shred of voice through the soreness in her throat. "It was the will of the Goddess," she said, "that Avalloch should not destroy what we have done here." She managed, with great pain, to move her finger, tracing out the line of the tattooed serpent on the hand that touched her face.

His expression changed, grew suddenly fearful. "Morgaine! Had you any part in this?"

Ah, I should have known how he would look at me if he knew ...

"Can you ask?" she whispered. "I was weaving in the hall all this day in clear sight of Maline and the servants and the children ... it was her will and her doing, not mine."

"But you knew, you knew?"

Slowly, her eyes filling with tears, she nodded, and he bent and kissed her lips.

"Be it so. It was the will of the Goddess," he said, and he went away.

3

There was a place in the woods where a rushing stream broadened out between rocks into a deep pool; Morgaine sat there on a flat rock overlooking the water and made Accolon sit beside her. They would be unseen here, except by the little ancient folk, and they would never betray their queen.

"My dear, all these years we have worked together-tell me, Accolon, what is it you think we are doing?"

"Lady, I have been content to know you had a purpose," he said, "and not to ask questions of you. If you had sought only for a lover"-he raised his eyes to her and reached for her hand-"there would have been others than I for that, better suited to such games. ... I love you well, Morgaine, and I have been-glad and honored-that you turned to me, even for companionship and the touch of tenderness, but it was not that which called me to you, priest to priestess." He hesitated, and sat stirring the sand at his feet with a booted foot. Finally he said, "It has come to me, too, that there was more of purpose in this than the wish of a priestess to restore the rites in this country, or your need to draw down upon us the moon tides-glad I have been to aid you in this and share the worship with you, lady. Lady of this land you have been indeed, especially to the ancient folk who see in you the face of the Goddess. For a time I thought it was only that we had been called to restore the old worship here. But now it comes to me, I know not why"-he touched the serpents which twined about his wrists -"that by these, I am bound to this land, to suffer and perhaps to die if need be."

I have used him, Morgaine thought, as ruthlessly as ever Viviane did me. ...

He said, "I know it well-not once in a hundred years, now, is that old sacrifice exacted. Yet when these"- again he touched, with a brown fingertip, the serpents encircling his wrist-"were set here, it came to me that perhaps I should indeed be the one called by the Lady for that ancient sacrifice. In the years between, I had come to think of this as no more than a green boy's fancy. But if I am to die ... " and his voice faded, like the ripples in the dying pool. It was very still; they could hear some insect making a small dry noise in the grass. Morgaine spoke no word, though she could feel his fear. He must pass the barriers of fear unaided, even as had she ... or Arthur, or the Merlin, or any other facing that last testing. And if he was to face the final test he must go to it consenting.

At last he asked, "Is it exacted of me, then, lady, that I must die? I had thought-if blood sacrifice is demanded-then, when Avalloch fell prey to her . .." and she saw the muscles in his face move; he tightened his jaw and swallowed hard. Still she said nothing, though her heart ached in pity. For some reason she heard Viviane's voice in her mind, a time will come when you will hate me as much as you love me now ... and felt again the surge of love and pain. Still she hardened her heart; Accolon was older than Arthur had been when he faced his kingmaking. And while Avalloch had indeed been blood sacrifice, spilled to the Goddess, still another's blood could not redeem any other, nor could Avalloch's death free his brother of the obligation to face his own.

At last his breath went out in a harsh sigh. "So be it-I have faced death in battle often enough. I swore unto her, even to death, and I shall not be forsworn. Tell me her will, lady."

Then at last she stretched out her hand and clasped his. "I do not think it is death that will be demanded of you, and certainly not the altar of sacrifice. Still, testing is needed; and death lies always near to the doors of such testing. Would it reassure you to know that I too have faced death this way? Yet I am here at your side. Tell me: are you sworn, man to man, to Arthur?"

"I am not one of his Companions," Accolon said. "Uwaine you have seen sworn to him, but not I, though I have fought willingly enough among his men."

Morgaine was glad, though she knew that she would even have used the oath of a Companion against Arthur now. "Listen to me, my dear," she said. "Arthur has twice betrayed Avalon; and only from Avalon can a king reign over all this land. I have sought, again and again, to call to Arthur's mind that oath he gave. But he will not hear me, and he holds still, in his pride, the holy sword Excalibur, the sword of the Sacred Regalia, and with it the magical scabbard I fashioned for him."

She saw his face turn pale. "You mean it truly-that you will bring Arthur down?"

"Not so, not unless he refuses still to bring his oath to completion," Morgaine said. "I shall give him, still, every opportunity to become what he has sworn to be. And Arthur's son is not yet ripe to the challenge. You are no boy, Accolon, and you are trained to kingcraft, not Druid-craft, in spite of these-" and she laid a slender fingertip on the serpents encircling his wrist. "Say then, Accolon of Wales, if all other shifts fail, will you be champion of Avalon, and challenge the betrayer for that sword he holds by betrayal?"