"No, Your Majesty, she doesn't know what she's saying-there, there, dear, you just lie still and try to sleep, we've got hot bricks on your feet and you'll be warm in a minute-"

Soothed, Morgaine floated away into dream. Now it seemed to her that she was a child again in Avalon, in the House of Maidens, and that Viviane was speaking to her, telling her something she could not quite remember, something of how the Goddess spun the lives of men, and she handed Morgaine a spindle and bade her spin, but the thread would not come smooth, but tangled and knotted and at last Viviane, angry with her, said, "Here, give it to me ... " and she handed over the broken threads and the spindle; only it was not Viviane, either, but the face of the Goddess, threatening, and she was very small, very small ... spinning and spinning with fingers too small to hold the distaff, and the Goddess bore the face of Igraine ... .

She came to awareness a day or two later, cool-headed, but with a vast and empty ache in her body. She laid her hands over the soreness, and thought, grimly, / might have saved myself some pain; I should have known that I was ready to miscarry anyway. Well, done is done, and now I must ready myself to hear that Arthur is dead, I must think what I will do when Accolon returns -Gwenhwyfar shall go into a nunnery, or if she wishes to go beyond the seas to Less Britain with Lancelet, I will not stop them ... . She rose and dressed herself, made herself beautiful.

"You should keep your bed, Morgaine, you are still so pale," said Uriens.

"No. There are strange tidings coming, my husband, and we must be ready for them," she said, and went on braiding her hair with scarlet ribbons and gems. Uriens stood at the window and said, "Look, the Companions are practicing their military games-Uwaine, I think, is the best rider. Come, my dear, does he not ride as well as Gawaine? And that is Galahad at his side. Morgaine, don't grieve for the child you lost. Uwaine will always think of you as his mother. I told you when we were wedded, I would never reproach you for barrenness. I would have welcomed another child, but since it was not to be, well, we have nothing to grieve for. And," he said shyly, taking her hand, "perhaps it is better so-I did not realize how near I had come to losing you."

She stood at the window, his arm about her waist, feeling at one and the same time a feeling of revulsion and a gratitude for his kindness. He need never know, she thought, that it had been Accolon's son. Let him take pride that in his old age he could father a child.

"Look," said Uriens, craning his neck to see further, "what is that, coming through the gate?"

A rider, together with a monk in dark habit on a mule, and a horse bearing a body-"Come," she said, pulling at his hand, "we must go down now." Pale and silent, she moved at his side into the courtyard, feeling herself tall and commanding as befitted a queen.

It seemed that time stopped; as if they were again in the fairy country. Why was not Arthur with them, if he had triumphed? But if this was Arthur's dead body, where was the ceremony and pomp on the death of a king? Uriens reached to support her with his arm, but she thrust it away and stood clinging to the wood-framed door. The monk put back his hood and said, "Are you Queen Morgaine of Wales?"

"I am," she said.

"I have then a message for you," he said. "Your brother Arthur lies wounded in Glastonbury, nursed by the sisters there, but he will recover. He sends you this"-he waved his hand at the shrouded figure on the pack horse-"as a present, and he bid me say to you that he has his sword Excalibur, and the scabbard." And as he spoke he twitched away the pall covering the body, and Morgaine, all the strength in her body running out of her like water, saw Accolon's sightless eyes staring at the sky.

Uriens cried out, a great cry like death. Uwaine thrust his way through the crowd around the steps, and as his father fell, stricken, across the body of his son, Uwaine caught and supported him.

"Father, dear Father! Ah, dear God, Accolon," he said with a gasp, and stepped toward the horse where Accolon's body lay. "Gawaine, my friend, give my father your arm-I must see to my mother, she is fainting-"

"No," said Morgaine. "No." She heard her own voice like an echo, not even sure what she wanted to deny. She would have rushed to Accolon, flung herself on his body shrieking in despair and grief, but Uwaine held her tight.

Gwenhwyfar appeared on the stairway; someone explained the situation to her in a whisper, and Gwenhwyfar came down the steps, looking at Accolon. "He died in rebellion against the High King," she said clearly. "Let there be no Christian rites for him! Let his body be flung to the ravens, and his head hung on the wall as a traitor!"

"No! Ah, no," cried out Uriens, wailing. "I beg of you, I beg-Queen Gwenhwyfar, you know me one of your most loyal subjects, and my poor boy has paid for his crimes-I beg you, lady, Jesus too died a common criminal between thieves, and even for the thief on the cross at his side there was mercy ... . Show the mercy he would have shown ... ."

Gwenhwyfar seemed not to hear. "How does my lord Arthur?"

"He is recovering, lady, but he has lost much blood," said the strange monk. "Yet he bade you have no fear. He will recover."

Gwenhwyfar sighed. "King Uriens," she said, "for the sake of our good knight Uwaine, I will do as you wish. Let the body of Accolon be borne to the chapel and there laid in state-"

Morgaine found her voice to protest. "No, Gwenhwyfar! Lay him in earth decently, if you can find it in your heart to do so much, but he was no Christian-do not give him Christian burial. Uriens is so filled with grief he knows not what he says."

"Be still, Mother," said Uwaine, gripping her shoulder hard. "For my sake and my father's, bring no scandal here. If Accolon served not the Christ, then has he all the more need of God's mercy against the traitor's death he should have had!"

Morgaine wanted to protest, but her voice would not obey her. She let Uwaine guide her indoors, but once within the door she threw off his arm and walked alone. She felt frozen and lifeless. Only a few hours gone, it seemed to her, she had lain in Accolon's arms in the fairy country, had belted the sword Excalibur at his waist ... now she stood knee-deep in a relentless tide, watching it all swept away from her again, and the world was filled with the accusing eyes of Uwaine and his father.

"Aye, I know it was you who plotted this treachery," said Uwaine, "but I have no pity for Accolon, who let himself be led astray by a woman! Have decency enough, Mother, not to drag my father any further into your wicked schemes against our king!" He glared at her, then turned to his father, who stood as if dazed, clutching at some piece of furniture. Uwaine put the old man into a chair, knelt and kissed his hand. "Father dear, I am still at your side ... ."

"Oh, my son, my son-" Uriens cried out, despairing.

"Rest here, Father, you must be strong," he said. "But now let me care for my mother. She is ill, too-"

"Your mother, you call her!" Uriens cried out, starting upright and staring at Morgaine with implacable wrath. "Never again let me hear you call that abominable woman Mother! Do you think I know not that by her sorcery she led my good son into rebellion against his king? And now I think by her evil witchcraft she must also have contrived the death of Avalloch -aye, and of that other son she should have borne to me-three sons of mine has she sent down into death! Look out that she does not seduce you and betray you with her witchcraft, into death and destruction-no, she is not your mother!"

"Father! My lord!" Uwaine protested, and held out a hand to Morgaine. "Forgive him, Mother, he does not know what he is saying, you are beside yourselves with grief, both of you-I beg you in God's name to be calm, we have had enough grief this day-"