"I have found the way to do that," Viviane said, "and at the new moon it shall be done. I have a sword for him, a sword out of legend, never before wielded by a living hero." She paused a moment, then said slowly, "And for that sword, I shall exact from him a pledge. I shall swear him to be true to Avalon, despite whatever the Christians may do. Then perhaps the tide will turn, and Avalon will return from the mists, and it is the monks and their dead God who will go into the shadows and the mists, while Avalon shines again in the light of the outer world."

"An ambitious plan," said Kevin, "but if in truth the High King of Britain were sworn to Avalon-"

"This has been planned since before he was born."

Taliesin said slowly, "The boy has been fostered a Christian. Will he take such an oath?"

"How real is the talk of Gods to a boy, compared to a legendary sword with which to lead his people, and the fame of great deeds?" Viviane shrugged. "Whatever may come of it, we have gone too far to stop now; we are all committed. In three days the moon will be new again, and at that auspicious time he shall have the sword."

THERE WAS LITTLE MORE to say. Morgaine sat quietly listening, both excited and appalled. She had been in Avalon too long, she thought, too long concealed among the priestesses with her mind on holy things and the secret wisdom. She had forgotten that there was a world outside. Somehow it had never really come home to her that Uther Pendragon, her mother's husband, was High King of all Britain, and that her brother would be so some day. Even, she thought with a twist of that new cynicism, with the stain of doubt on his birth. Perhaps the rival kings would even welcome a candidate who had no loyalty to any of their parties and factions, a son of the Pendragon, handsome and modest, who could serve as a symbol round whom they all rallied. A candidate, for High King moreover, who had already been accepted by the Tribes, and by the Pict folk, and by Avalon ... and then Morgaine flinched, remembering the part she had had in that. This brought her anger back, so that when Taliesin and Kevin rose to go, she remembered why she had wanted, ten days ago, when it was fresh in her mind, to confront Viviane with her rage.

Kevin's harp in its ornamented leather bag was difficult to carry, being so much larger than other harps, and when he was burdened with its weight he looked awkward, one knee stiff and a foot dragging. Ugly, she thought, an ugly grotesque man; but when he plays, who would think so? There is more to this man than any of us knows. And then she remembered what Taliesin had said; she knew that she looked on the next Merlin of Britain, as Viviane had called her next Lady of the Lake. The pronouncement brought no elation, although if Viviane had said it before that journey which had changed her life, she would have been proud and excited. Now it seemed shadowed by the thing which had happened to her.

With my brother, my brother. It did not matter when we were priest and priestess, God and Goddess joining under the power of ritual. But in the morning, when we wakened and were man and woman together ... that was real, that was in.

Viviane was standing at the door, watching them move away. "For a man with such injuries, he moves well. It is fortunate for the world that he survived them and that he was not set as a beggar in the street, or to weaving rush mats in the market. Such skill as that one has should not be hidden in obscurity, or even in the court of a king. A voice and hands like that belong to the Gods."

"He is gifted, certainly," Morgaine said, "but I wonder-is he wise? The Merlin of Britain must be not only learned and gifted but wise as well. And-virtuous."

"I leave that to Taliesin," Viviane said. "What shall be, must be; it is not mine to order."

And suddenly Morgaine's wrath overflowed. "Are you truly acknowledging that there is anything on the face of this earth which you feel is not yours to order, Lady? I thought you believed that your will was the will of the Goddess, and all of us puppets to serve you!"

"You must not talk this way, my child," Viviane said, looking at her in astonishment. "You can hardly mean to be so insolent to me."

If Viviane had responded to her words with arrogance, it would have hardened Morgaine's anger into explosion; the gentleness baffled her. She said, "Viviane, why?" and felt, shamefully, that tears would rise again to choke her.

Now Viviane's voice was cold. "Did I leave you for too long among the Christians, after all, with their talk of sin?" she said. "Think, child. You are of the royal line of Avalon; so too is he. Could I have given you to a commoner? Or, could the High King to come be so given?"

"And I believed you when you said-I believed it was the doing of the Goddess-"

"Why, so it was," said Viviane gently, not understanding, "but even so, I could not give you to anyone unworthy of you, my Morgaine." Her voice was tender. "He was so young when you parted-I thought he would never have recognized you. I regret that you recognized him, but after all, you would have had to know sooner or later. And he need not know for a long time."

Morgaine said, tightening her body against rage, "He knows already. He knows. And he was more horrified, I think, than I was."

Viviane sighed. "Well, there is nothing we can do about that now," she said. "Done is done. And at this moment the hope of Britain is more important than your feelings."

Morgaine turned away and did not wait to hear more.

17

The moon was dark in the sky; at this time, so the young priestesses were told in the House of Maidens, the Goddess veils her face from mankind, taking counsel of the heavens themselves and the Gods which lie behind the Gods we know. Viviane too kept seclusion at moon-dark, her privacy guarded by two young priestesses.

Most of that day she kept her bed, lying with closed eyes, and wondering if she was, after all, what Morgaine thought her-drunk with power, believing that all things were at her command to play with as she thought good.

What I have done, she thought, I have done to save this land and its people from rapine and destruction, a reversion to barbarism, a sacking greater than Rome suffered from of the Goths.

She longed to send for Morgaine, hungering for their old closeness. If indeed the girl came to hate her, it would be the heaviest price she would ever pay for anything she had done. Morgaine was the one human being she had ever wholly loved. She is the daughter I owed the Goddess. But, done is done and cannot be called back. The royal line of Avalon must not be contaminated by commoner blood. She thought of Morgaine with a sorrowful hope that one day the young woman would understand; but whether or no, Viviane knew she had done what she must, no more.

She slept little that night, sliding off into chaotic dreams and visions, thinking of the sons she had distanced from her, of the world outside into which the young Arthur had ridden at Merlin's side; had he come in time to his dying father? For six weeks Uther Pendragon had lain ill in Caerleon, sinking, then rallying; but it seemed unlikely that he could live much longer.

As the dawn neared, she rose and dressed herself, so silently that neither of her attendant priestesses stirred. Did Morgaine sleep in the House of Maidens, or did she too lie awake with heavy heart, or weep? Morgaine had never wept before her, until that day when Kevin's harp had stirred their hearts, and even then she had concealed her tears.

Done is done! I cannot spare her. But with all my heart I wish there had been some other way ... .

She went out silently into the garden behind her dwelling. Birds were waking; apple blossoms, soft and sweet-scented, drifted from the trees which had given Avalon its name.