Gwenhwyfar nodded courteously to them. She thought: Can this big, coarse Balan truly be Lancelot's brother? It is as if a bull should call himself brother to the finest of southern stallions! Balin, his foster-brother, was short and red-faced, with hair as yellow as a Saxon's, and bearded like a Saxon too. She said, "Lancelet, if it is your will to be with my lord and king-"

"I think you ought to go to him, Lancelet," said Balan with a laugh. "Like all men about to wed, Arthur is mad with nervousness. Our lord may fight like Pendragon himself on the field of battle, but this morning when he is being readied for his bride, he seems no more than the boy he is!"

Poor Arthur, thought Gwenhwyfar, this marriage is more of an ordeal for him than for me-at least I have nothing to do but obey the will of my father and king! A ripple of amusement went over her, quickly stifled; poor Arthur, he would have had to take her for the good of his kingdom, even if she really had been old or ugly or pockmarked. It was just another of his painful duties, like leading his men into battle against the Saxons. At least he knew what he could expect of the Saxons! She said gently, "My lord Lancelet, would you rather be at my lord Arthur's side?"

His eyes told her clearly that he did not want to leave her; she had become, in only a day or two, adept at reading those messages unspoken. She had never exchanged with Lancelet one word that could not have been shouted aloud in the presence of Igraine and her father and all the bishops of Britain assembled. But for the first time he seemed torn by conflicting desires.

"The last thing I wish is to leave your side, madam, but Arthur is my friend and my cousin-"

"God forbid that I should ever come between you kinsman," she said, and held out her small hand to him to kiss. "By this marriage you are my loyal kinsman too, and my cousin. Go to my lord the king and tell him-" She hesitated, startled at her own boldness; would it be seemly to say this? God help them all, within the hour she would be Arthur's wife, what did it matter if it sounded overbold, when what she spoke were words of proper concern for her own lord? "Tell him I gladly return to him his most loyal captain, and that I await him with love and obedience, sir."

Lancelet smiled. It seemed that smile stretched a string somewhere deep inside her, that she felt her own mouth moving with it. How could she feel so much a part of him? Her whole life seemed to have filtered down into the touch of his lips on her fingers. She swallowed, and suddenly she knew what it was she felt. In spite of her dutiful messages of love and obedience to Arthur, it seemed that she would sell her soul if time would only turn back and she could tell her father that she would marry no man but Lancelet. That was something as real as the sun around her and the grass under her feet, as real-she swallowed again-as real as Arthur, now being readied for the wedding, for which she must go to Holy Mass to prepare herself. Is it one of God's cruel jokes that I did not know this was what I felt until it was too late? Or is this some wicked trick of the fend, to seduce me from my duty to my father and to my husband? She did not hear what Lancelet said; she was only conscious that his hand had released hers and that he had turned his back and was walking away. She hardly heard the polite words of those two foster-brothers, Balin and Balan-which of them was the son of the priestess of the Lake, then? Balan; Lancelet's brother, but no more like him than a raven is like a great eagle.

She became aware that Igraine was speaking to her. "I leave you to the Companions, my dear. I wish to speak with the Merlin before the mass."

Belatedly, it occurred to Gwenhwyfar that Igraine was awaiting her permission to go. Already her rank as High Queen was a reality. She hardly heard her own words to Igraine as the older woman withdrew.

Igraine crossed the courtyard, murmuring excuses to the people she jostled, trying to reach Taliesin through the crowd. Everyone was clad in bright festival clothing, but he wore his usual somber grey robes. "Father-"

"Igraine, child." Taliesin looked down at her, and Igraine found it obscurely comforting that the old Druid spoke to her as he would have spoken to her when she was fourteen. "I had thought you would be in attendance upon our bride. How beautiful she is! Arthur has found himself a treasure. I have heard that she is clever, too, and learned, and also that she is pious, which will please the bishop."

"Father," Igraine appealed, lowering her voice so that no one in the crowd would hear, "I must ask you this-is there any honorable way for Arthur to avoid this marriage?"

Taliesin blinked in consternation. "No, I do not think so. Not when all is readied to join them together after the mass. God help us, have we all been deceived, is she barren, or unchaste, or-" The Merlin shook his head in dismay. "Unless she were secretly a leper, or actually with child by another man, there could be no way at all to stop it; and even then, no way without scandal or offense, or making an enemy of Leodegranz. Why do you ask, Igraine?"

"I believe her virtuous. But I have seen the way she looks at Lancelet and he at her. Can anything come of it but misery, when the bride is besotted with another, and that other the groom's dearest friend?"

The Merlin looked at her sharply; his old eyes were as seeing as ever. "Oh, it is like that, is it? I have always thought our Lancelet had too much good looks and charm for his own welfare. Yet he is an honorable lad, after all; it may be nothing but youthful fancies, and when the bridal pair are wedded and bedded, they will forget it, or think of it only with a little sadness, as something that might have been."

"In nine cases out of ten, I would say you were right," Igraine said, "but you have not seen them, and I have."

The Merlin sighed again. "Igraine, Igraine, I do not say you are wrong, but when all's done, what can we do about it? Leodegranz would find it such an insult that he would go to war against Arthur, and Arthur has already enough to challenge his kingship-or have you not heard of yonder northern king who sent word to Arthur that he had skinned the beards of eleven kings to make himself a cloak, and Arthur should send him tribute or he would come and take Arthur's beard too?"

"What did Arthur do?"

The Merlin said, "Why, he sent the older king word that as for his beard, it was scarce grown yet, and it would do him no good for his cloak; but that if he wanted it, he could come and try to take it, if he could find his way through the bodies of dead Saxons. And he sent him the head of one of the Saxons-he had just come back from a raiding party-and said its beard was better for lining a cloak than the beard of a friend at whose side he would rather be fighting. And finally he said he would send a fellow king a present, but he exacted no tribute from his friends, and paid none. So that all came to nothing; but as you can see, Arthur cannot afford more enemies, and Leodegranz would be a bad one. He'd better marry the girl, and I think I would say the same even if he'd found her in bed with Lancelet -which he hasn't and isn't likely to."

Igraine discovered that she was twisting her hands together. "What shall we do?"

The Merlin touched her cheek, very lightly. "We will do what we have always done, Igraine-what we must, what the Gods order. We will do the best we can. We are none of us embarked on this course for our own happiness, my child. You, who were reared in Avalon, you know that. Whatever we may do to try and shape our destiny, the end is with the Gods -or, as the bishop would no doubt prefer me to say, with God. The older I grow, the more I become certain that it makes no difference what words we use to tell the same truths."

"The Lady would not be pleased to hear you speak such words," said a dark, thin-faced man behind him, in dark robes which could have been those of a priest or a Druid. Taliesin turned half round and smiled.