"No, no, Raven," Morgaine protested. "Not you!" Raven had never set foot off Avalon, not in fifty years ... surely she could not survive the journey! But nothing she could say shook Raven's determination; shivering with terror, she was adamant: she had seen her destiny and must go with Morgaine at any cost.

"But I am not going as Niniane would travel, in the pomp of priestess garb, in the litter of Avalon, riding in state to Camelot," she argued. "I am going in disguise as an old peasant woman, as Viviane travelled so often in the old days." But Raven shook her head and said, "Any road you can travel, Morgaine, I too can travel."

Morgaine still felt a deadly fear-not for herself, but for Raven. But she said, "Be it so," and they made ready to ride. And later that day they took their secret ways out of Avalon, Nimue travelling in state as the kinswoman of the Queen, riding on the main roads, and Morgaine and Raven, wrapped in the somber rags of beggar women, out of Avalon by the back ways and side roads, making their way on foot toward Camelot.

Raven was stronger than Morgaine had believed; as they made their way, day by day, slow-paced and afoot, at times it seemed that she was the stronger. They begged broken meats at farm doors, they stole a bit of bread left for a dog at the back of a farmstead, they slept once in a deserted villa and one night beneath a haystack. And on that last night, for the first time on their silent journey, Raven spoke.

"Morgaine," she said, when they were lying side by side, wrapped in their cloaks, under the shadow of the hay, "tomorrow is Easter at Camelot, and we must be there at dawn."

Morgaine would have asked why, but she knew Raven could give her no answer but this-that she had seen it as their fate. And so she answered, "Then we shall leave here before dawn. It is no more than an hour's walk from here-we might have kept walking and slept in the shadow of Camelot, if you had told me this before, Raven."

"I could not," Raven whispered. "I was afraid." And Morgaine knew that the other woman was weeping in the darkness. "I am so frightened, Morgaine, so frightened!"

Morgaine said brusquely, "I told you that you should have remained in Avalon!"

"But I had the work of the Goddess to do," whispered Raven. "In all these years I have dwelt in the shelter of Avalon, and now it is Ceridwen, our Mother, who demands my all in return for all the shelter and safety I have had from her ... but I am afraid, so afraid. Morgaine, hold me, hold me, I am so frightened-"

Morgaine clasped her close and kissed her, rocking her like a child. Then, as if they entered together into a great silence, she held Raven against her, touching her, caressing her, their bodies clinging together in something like frenzy. Neither spoke, but Morgaine felt the world trembling in a strange and sacramental rhythm around them, in no light but the darkness of the dark side of the moon-woman to woman, affirming life in the shadow of death. As maiden and man in the light of the spring moon and the Beltane fires affirmed life in the running of spring and the rutting which would bring death in the field to him and death in childbearing to her; so in the shadow and darkness of the sacrificed god, in the dark moon, the priestesses of Avalon together called on the life of the Goddess and in the silence she answered them ... . They lay at last quiet in each other's arms, and Raven's weeping was stilled at last. She lay like death, and Morgaine, feeling her heart slowing to stillness, thought, I must let her go even into the shadow of death if that is the will of the Goddess ... . And she could not even weep.

NO ONE took the slightest notice of two peasant women, no longer young, in the turmoil and tumult about the gates of Camelot this morning. Morgaine was used to this; Raven, who had lived so long in seclusion even on quiet Avalon, turned white as bone and tried to hide herself under her ragged shawl. Morgaine also kept her own shawl about her-there were some who would recognize the lady Morgaine, even with her hair streaked with white and in the garb of a peasant woman.

A drover striding through the yard with a calf ran into Raven and came near to knocking her down, and he cursed her when she only stared at him in dismay. Morgaine said quickly, "My sister is deaf and dumb," and his face changed.

"Ah, poor thing-look, go up by there, they're giving everybody a good dinner at the lower end of the King's hall. You two can creep in at that door and watch them when they come in-the King's got some big thing planned with one of the priests in the hall today. You'll be from upcountry and not know his ways? Well, everyone in this countryside knows that he makes it a custom-he never sits down to his great feasts unless there's some great marvel arranged, and we heard today that there is to be something truly marvelous."

I doubt it not, Morgaine thought disdainfully, but she only thanked the man in the rough country dialect she had used before and drew Raven along with her toward the lower hall, which was filling rapidly-King Arthur's generosity on feast days was well known, and this would be the best dinner many people had all year. There was a smell of roasting meat in the air, and most of the people jostling round her commented greedily on it. As for Morgaine, it only made her feel sick, and after one look at Raven's white terrified face, she decided to withdraw.

She should not have come. It was I who failed to see the danger to the Holy Regalia; it was I who failed to see that the Merlin was traitor. And when I have done what I must do, how will I manage to flee to Avalon with Raven in this condition?

She found a corner where they would be disregarded, but where they could see reasonably well what was happening. At the higher end of the room was the great mead-hall table, the Round Table which was already almost legendary in the countryside, with the great dais for the King and Queen, and the painted names of Arthur's Companions over their customary places. On the walls hung brilliant banners. And after years spent in the austerity of Avalon, this all seemed gaudy and garish to Morgaine.

After a long time there was a stir, and then the sound of trumpets somewhere, and a whisper ran through the jostling crowd. Morgaine thought, It will be strange to see the court from outside, after being a part of it for so long! Cai was opening the great doors to the upper end of the hall, and Morgaine shrank-Cai would know her, whatever garb she wore! But why should he even look in her direction?

How many years had she spent quietly drifting in Avalon? She had no idea. But Arthur seemed even taller, more majestic, his hair so fair that no one could have told whether or no there were silver strands among the carefully combed curls. Gwenhwyfar, too, although her breasts sagged under the elaborate gown, bore herself upright and seemed slim as ever.

"Look how young the Queen looks," muttered one of Morgaine's neighbors, "yet Arthur married her the year I had my first son, and look at me." Morgaine glanced at the speaker, bent and toothless, stooped like a bent bow. "I heard that witch sister of the King, Morgaine of the Fairies, gave them both spells to keep their youth ... ."

"Spells or no," mumbled another toothless crone tartly, "if Queen Gwenhwyfar had to muck out a byre night and morning, and bear a babe every year and suckle it in good times and bad, there'd be none of that beauty left, bless her! Things are as they are, but I wish some priest'ud tell me why she gets all the good in life and I get all the misery?"

"Stop grumbling," said the first speaker. "You'll have your belly full today, and get to see all the lords and ladies, and you know what the old Druids used to say about why things are what they are. Queen Gwenhwyfar up there gets fine gowns and jewels and a queen's business because she did good in her last lives, and the likes of you and me are poor and ugly because we were ignorant, and someday, if we mind what we do in this life, there's a better fortune for us too."