One night when their shrunken company was at dinner, Arthur said, "Until Lancelet comes back to us, nephew, I would have you take his post and be my captain of horse."

Gwydion chuckled. "Light enough will that duty be, my uncle and my lord-there are few horses in that stable now. The finest horses in your stables went with your knights and Companions, and who knows, indeed, whether or no some horse will be the one to find that Grail they seek!"

"Oh, hush," Gwenhwyfar said. "You must not make fun of their quest."

"Why not, Aunt? Again and again the priests tell us that we are the sheep of our Lord's pasture, and if a sheep may seek a spiritual presence, why, I have always thought a horse a nobler beast than any sheep. So who's to say whether or no the nobler beast may achieve the quest? Even some scarred old war horse may come at last to seek spiritual repose, as they say the lion shall one day lie down beside the lamb and never think it dinner-time."

Arthur laughed uneasily. "Will we need our horses again for war? Since Mount Badon, God be praised, we have had peace in the land-"

"Save for Lucius," Gwydion said, "and if I have learned one thing in my life, it is that peace is something which cannot last. Wild Northmen in dragon ships are landing on the coast, and when men cry out for Arthur's legions to defend them, the answer comes only that Arthur's Companions have ridden away to seek their souls' peace. And so they seek for help from the Saxon kings in the South. But no doubt when this quest is done, they will look once more to Arthur and to Camelot-and it seems to me that war horses might be in short supply when that day comes. Lancelet is so busy with the Grail and his other deeds that he has had little time to see to the King's stables."

"Well, I have told you I wished you to fill that place," said Arthur, and it struck Gwenhwyfar that his tone sounded peevish, and old, without the strength it once held. "As captain of horse you have authority to send for horses in my name. Lancelet used to deal with traders from somewhere to the south, beyond Brittany-"

"As I shall do also, then," said Gwydion. "There were no horses like the horses from Spain, but now, my uncle and my lord, the best horses come from further still. The Spaniards themselves buy horses from Africa, from a desert country there. Now these Saracens are beginning to overrun Spain itself-this I heard from yonder Saracen knight Palomides, who journeyed here and was guested for a time, then rode away to see what adventure there might be among the Saxons. He is not a Christian, and it seemed strange to him that all these knights should ride away after the Grail when there was war in the land."

"I spoke to Palomides," said Arthur. "He had a sword from that southern country of Spanish steel-I would gladly have had one like to it, though I think it is no finer than Excahbur. No sword in our country will hold such an edge, like a razor. I am glad I never had to face such a sword in the lists. The Northmen have great axes and clubs, but their weapons are not so good even as the Saxon weapons."

"They are fiercer fighters, though," said Gwydion. "They go into a madness of fighting, as sometimes the Tribesmen of Lothian used to do, casting away their shields in battle.... No, my king, we may have had peace for a goodly time, but even as the Saracens are beginning to overrun Spain, so the wild Northmen are on our coasts, and the wild Irishmen. In the end, no doubt, the Saracens will be good for Spain even as the Saxons have been good for this land-"

"Good for this land?" Arthur looked at the younger man in astonishment. "What do I hear you say, nephew?"

"When the Romans left us, my lord Arthur, we were isolated at the end of the world, alone with the half-savage Tribes. The war with the Saxons forced us to reach beyond ourselves," he said. "We had trade with Less Britain and with Spain and the countries to the south, we had to barter for weapons and horses, we built new cities-why, here's your own Camelot, sir, to show that. I do not even speak of the movement of the priests, who now have come among the Saxons and made them no longer wild Tribesmen with hair on their faces, worshipping their own barbarian Gods, but civilized men with cities and trade of their own, and their own civilized kings who are subject to you. For what else has this whole land been waiting? Now, even, they have monasteries and learned men writing books, and much more ... without the wars against the Saxons, my lord Arthur, Uther's old kingdom would have been forgotten like that of Maximus."

Arthur said with a glimmer of amusement, "Then, no doubt, you think these twenty years and more of peace have endangered Camelot, and we need more wars and fighting to bring us into the world again? It is easy to see you are not a warrior, young man. I have no such romantic view of war as that!"

Gwydion smiled back. "What makes you think I am not a warrior, my lord? I fought among your men against Lucius who would have been emperor, and I had ample time to make up my own mind about wars and their worth. Without wars, you would be more forgotten than the least of those kings in Wales and in Eire-who now can call the roll of the kings of Tara?"

"And you think one day it may be so with Camelot, my boy?"

"Ah, my uncle and my king, would you have the wisdom of a Druid or the flattery of a courtier?"

Arthur said, laughing, "Let us have the crafty counsel of a Mordred."

"The courtier would say, my lord, that the reign of Arthur will live forever and his memory be forever green in the world. And the Druid would say that all men perish, and one day they will be, with all of their wisdom and their glories, like unto Atlantis, sunken beneath the waves. The Gods alone endure."

"And what would my nephew and my friend say, then?"

"Your nephew"-he put just enough emphasis on the word that Gwenhwyfar could hear that it should have been your son-"would say, my uncle and my lord, that we are living for this day, and not for what history may say of us a thousand years hence. And so your nephew would advise that your stables should once again reflect the noble days when Arthur's horses and his fighting men were known and fearful to all. No man should be able to say, the King grows old and with all his knights on quest, cares nothing to keep his men and horses in fighting trim."

Arthur gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder. "So let it be, dear boy. I trust your judgment. Send to Spain, or to Africa if you will, for horses such as best suit the reputation of Arthur's legion, and see to their training."

"I shall have to find Saxons for that," said Gwydion, "and the Saxons know little of our secrets of fighting a-horse-you have always said they should not. Is it your will that since the Saxons are our allies now, they should be trained in our fighting skills?"

Arthur looked troubled. "I fear I must leave that, too, in your hands."

"I shall try to do my best for you," Gwydion said, "and now, my lord, we have sat overlong in this talk, and wearied the ladies-forgive me, madam," he added, inclining his head to Gwenhwyfar with that winning smile. "Shall we have music? The lady Niniane, I am certain, would be happy to bring her harp and sing to you, my lord and my king."

"I am always happy to hear my kinswoman's music," said Arthur gravely, "if it is pleasing to my lady."

Gwenhwyfar nodded to Niniane, who fetched her harp and sat before them, singing, and Gwenhwyfar listened with pleasure to the music- Niniane played beautifully, and her voice was sweet, though not so pure or strong as Morgaine's. But as she watched Gwydion, his eyes on Taliesin's daughter, she thought, Why is it that we, a Christian court, must always have here one of those damsels of the Lady of the Lake? It worried her, although Gwydion seemed as good a Christian as anyone else at court, coming always to mass on Sunday, as did Niniane herself. For that matter she could not remember how Niniane had come to be one of her ladies, save that Gwydion had brought her to court and asked the Queen to extend her hospitality as a kinswoman of Arthur and as Taliesin's daughter. Gwenhwyfar had only the kindest memories of Taliesin, and had been pleased to welcome his daughter, but somehow it seemed now that, without ever putting herself forward, Niniane had assumed the place of the first among her ladies. Arthur always treated her with favor and often called to her to sing, and there were times when Gwenhwyfar, watching them, wondered if he looked on her as more than kinswoman.