Morgause caught her breath. Morgaine sat as if she had been turned to stone. But from where the Saxons sat there was a burst of cheering. "Crafty counsel indeed! Clever, clever-how can they refuse you now, lad, when you have stood up well to combat with their own champion!"

Lancelet glanced at Arthur. The King sat paralyzed, seeming frozen, but after a moment, he nodded. Lancelet gestured to his squire, who brought a sword. Lancelot took it and belted it around Gwydion's waist. "Bear this always in the service of your king, and of the righteous cause," said the old knight. He was deadly serious now. All the mockery and defiance had gone from Gwydion's face; he looked grave and sweet, his eyes raised to Lancelet, and Morgause saw that his lips were trembling.

Sudden sympathy for him rose in Morgause-bastard, not even an acknowledged one, he was even more of an outsider than Lancelet had been. Who could blame Gwydion for the ruse by which he had forced his kinsmen to notice him? She thought, We should have taken him long since to Arthur's court, had him privately acknowledged even if Arthur could not do so publicly. A king's son should not have to do this.

Lancelet laid his hands on Gwydion's brow. "I confer on you the honor of a Companion of the Round Table, by permission of our king. Serve him always, and since you have won this honor by craft rather than brute strength-though indeed you have shown that too, well enough-I name you among this company, not Gwydion, but Mordred. Rise, sir Mordred, and take your place among the Companions of Arthur."

Gwydion-no, Mordred, Morgause remembered; for the naming of a Companion was a rite not much less serious than baptism-rose and heartily returned Lancelet's embrace. He seemed deeply moved, almost unhearing the cheers and applause. His voice broke as he said, "Now I have won the prize of the day, whoever is judged winner in these games, my lord Lancelet."

"No," Morgaine said quietly at Morgause's side, "I do not understand him. That is the last thing I would have expected."

THERE WAS a long pause before the Companions ranged themselves for the final mock battle. Some went to drink water or swallow a hasty bite of bread; some gathered in little knots, arguing about which side they should take in the final games; others went to see to their horses. Morgause went down to the field where a few of the young men lingered, Gareth among them-he towered over the others by half a head, making him easy to pick out. She thought he was talking to Lancelet, but when she came closer she discovered her sight had deceived her; he was facing Gwydion, and his voice sounded angry. She caught only the last few words.

"-what harm has he ever done you? To make a fool of him before the whole field-"

Gwydion laughed and said, "If our cousin needs protection before a whole field of his friends, God help Lancelet when he falls among the Saxons or the Northmen! Come, foster-brother, I doubt not he can protect his own reputation! Is that all you have to say to me after all these years, brother, to chide me that I have distressed someone you love so well?"

Gareth laughed and caught Gwydion into a great hug. He said, "Same reckless young one, you are-what put it into your head to do that? Arthur would have made you knight, if you had asked him!"

Morgause remembered: Gareth did not know all the truth about Gwydion's parentage; no doubt, he meant only, because you are his sister's son.

Gwydion said, "I am sure of it- he is always kind to his kinsmen. He would have made you knight, Gareth, for Gawaine's sake, but you took not that road either, foster-brother." He chuckled. "And I think Lancelet owes me something for all those years I have walked about wearing his face!"

Gareth shrugged ruefully. "Well, it seems he bears you no grudge, so I suppose I too must forgive you. Now you, too, have seen how greathearted he is."

"Aye," said Gwydion softly, "he is so-" then raised his head and saw Morgause. "Mother, what do you here? How may I serve you?"

"I came only to greet Gareth, who has not spoken with me this day," said Morgause, and the big man bent to kiss his mother's hand. She asked him, "How will you fight in the mock battle?"

"As always," said Gareth, "I fight at Gawaine's side, in the King's men. You have a horse for fighting, do you not, Gwydion? Will you fight with the King's side, then? We can make a place for you."

Gwydion said, with his dark enigmatic smile, "Since Lancelet made me knight, I suppose I should fight with the army of sir Lancelet of the Lake, and at Accolon's side, for Avalon. But I will not take the field at all today, Gareth."

"Why not?" Gareth asked and laid his hand on the younger man's shoulder, looking down at him as he had always done-Morgause thought of a younger Gareth, smiling down at his little brother. "It is expected of those who have been made knight-Galahad will fight among us, you know."

"And which side will he take?" Gwydion asked. "His father Lancelet's, or that of the King who has made him heir to his kingdom? Is that not a cruel test of his loyalties?"

Gareth looked exasperated. "How then would you divide the armies for the mock battle, save by the two greatest knights among us? Do you think either Lancelet or Arthur believes it a test of loyalties? Arthur will not take the field himself, just so that no man will have to make the choice whether to strike at his king, but Gawaine has been his champion since he was crowned! Are you going to rake up old scandal? You?"

Gwydion shrugged. "Since I am not intending to join either force-"

"But what will they think of you? That you are cowardly, that you shrink from combat-"

"I have fought enough in Arthur's armies that I care not what they say," said Gwydion, "but if you wish, you may tell them that my horse is gone lame and I have no wish to risk more injury to him-that is an honorable excuse."

"I would lend you a horse of Gawaine," Gareth said, puzzled, "but if you wish for an honorable excuse, do what you will. But why, Gwydion? Or must I now call you Mordred?"

"You shall call me always what you will, foster-brother."

"But will you not tell me why you shirk the fight, Gwydion?"

"None other but you could speak that word unchallenged," said Gwydion, "but since you ask me, I will tell you. It is for your sake, brother."

Gareth scowled at him. "What, in God's name, do you mean?"

"I know little of God, or care to," said Gwydion, and stared down at his feet. "Since you will know, brother-you know from old-I have the Sight-"

"Aye, and what of it?" asked Gareth impatiently. "Have you had some ill dream that I will fall before your lance?"

"No, make not a jest of it," said Gwydion, and Morgause felt ice go through her veins as he turned up his face to Gareth. "It seemed to me-" He swallowed, as if his throat closed against the words he would speak. "It seemed to me that you lay dying-and I knelt at your side, and you would not speak to me-and I knew it was my doing you lay without the spark of life."

Gareth pursed his lips and whistled soundlessly. But then he clapped his foster-brother on the shoulder. "Nay, but I put small faith in dreams and visions, youngster. And fate, no man can escape. Did they not teach you that in Avalon?"

"Aye," Gwydion said softly. "And if you fell, even at my hand, in battle, fate then it would be ... but I will not tempt that fate in play, my brother. Some ill chance might guide my hand to strike amiss ... . Let it be, Gareth. I will not take the field this day, let them say what they will."

Gareth still looked distressed. "Well, do as you will, lad. Stay beside our mother, then, since Lamorak will take the field beside Lancelet." He bent to kiss his mother's hand, and went; Morgause, frowning, started to ask Gwydion what he had seen; but he was scowling, staring at the ground, and she forbore, saying only, "Well, if I am to have a young courtier to sit beside me, will you bring me a dipper of water before I go to my seat again?"