Gwenhwyfar said, "I thank you for your forbearance, lady Morgause -it would not be the first time a fine horse or dog had been led before my lord and king here in his hall, and I know 'tis meant as courtesy, but I have no doubt your horse will be waiting outside quite content-I do not think the hospitality of Camelot means much even to the finest of horses. He would rather dine in his stall! Though Lancelet used to tell us a tale of some Roman who had his horse fed on wine in a golden trough and gave him honors and laurel wreaths-"
The handsome young man at Morgause's side laughed and said, "I remember, Lancelet told that story at my sister's wedding. It was the Emperor Gaius the God, who made his favorite horse one of his senators, and when he died, the next emperor said something like, at least the horse had given no evil counsel and done no murder. But do not the same, my lord Arthur-we have no chairs fit to hold such a Companion, should you see fit to name your stallion as one of them!"
Arthur laughed heartily and took the young man by the hand, saying, "I will not, Lamorak," and with a start, Gwenhwyfar realized who the young man at Morgause's side must be: he was Pellinore's son. Yes, she had heard some rumor of this-that Morgause had taken the young man as her favorite, even before her whole court-how could the woman share her bed with a man young enough to be her son? Why, Lamorak was only five-and-twenty, even now! She looked with fascinated horror and secret envy at Morgause. She looks so young, she is still so beautiful despite all her paint, and she does what she will and cares not if all men criticize her! Her voice was chill as she said, "Will you come and sit beside me, kinswoman, and leave the men to their talk?"
Morgause pressed Gwenhwyfar's hand. "Thank you, cousin. I come so seldom to court, I am happy to sit for once among ladies and gossip about who is married and who has taken a paramour and all the new fashions in gowns and ribbons! I am kept so busy in Lothian with the ruling of the land that I have small time for women's matters, and it is a luxury and a pleasure for me." She patted Lamorak's hand and, when she thought no one noticed, brushed his temple with a surreptitious kiss. "I leave you to the Companions, my dear."
Her ample fragrance, the warm scent of her ribbons and the folds of her gown, almost dizzied Gwenhwyfar as the Queen of Lothian sat beside her on the bench. Gwenhwyfar said, "If you are kept so busy with affairs of state, cousin, why do you not find a wife for Agravaine, and let him rule in his father's place, and give over the ruling of Lothian? Surely the folk there cannot be happy without a king-"
Morgause's laugh was warm and merry. "Why, then I should have to live unwedded, since in that country the queen's husband is king, and my dear, that would not suit me at all! And Lamorak is overyoung to rule as king, though he has other duties, and I find him most satisfactory-"
Gwenhwyfar listened with fascinated distaste; how could a woman Morgause's age make a fool of herself with so young a man? Yet his eyes followed Morgause as if she were the most beautiful and fascinating woman in the world. He hardly looked at Isotta of Cornwall, who was bending before the throne now at the side of her elderly husband, Duke Marcus of Cornwall. Isotta was so beautiful that a little murmur went all down the hall; tall and slender, with hair the color of a new-struck copper coin. But no doubt Marcus had thought more of the Irish gold she wore at her throat and at the clasp of her cloak, and the Irish pearls braided into her hair, than the treasure of her beauty. Isotta was, Gwenhwyfar thought, the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Next to Isotta Morgause looked raddled and overblown, but still Lamorak's eyes followed her.
"Aye, Isotta is very beautiful," Morgause said, "but it is told in the court of Duke Marcus that she has more of an eye for his heir, young Drustan, than for old Marcus himself, and who can blame her? But she is modest and discreet, and if she has sense enough to give the old man a child -though, heaven knows, she might fare better at such craft with the young Drustan, at that." Morgause chuckled. "She looks not like a woman over-happy in her marriage bed. Still, I do not suppose Marcus wants much more of her than a son for Cornwall. Marcus wants only for that, I think, before he declares that Cornwall belongs to him who keeps it, not to Morgaine, who has it from Gorlois-where is my kinswoman Morgaine? I am eager to embrace her!"
"She is there with Uriens," said Gwenhwyfar, looking to where the King of North Wales waited to approach the throne.
"Arthur would have done better to marry Morgaine into Cornwall," Morgause said. "But I think he felt Marcus was too old for her. Though he might well have married her to yonder young Drustan-his mother was kindred to Ban of Less Britain, and he is a distant cousin to Lancelet, and handsome almost as Lancelet himself, is he not, Gwenhwyfar?" She smiled merrily and added, "Ah, but I had forgotten, you are so pious a lady, you look never on the beauty of any man save your own wedded husband. But then, it is easy for you to be virtuous, married to one so young and handsome and gallant as Arthur!"
Gwenhwyfar felt that Morgause's chatter would drive her mad. Did the woman think of nothing else? Morgause said, "I suppose you must speak a word or two of courtesy to Isotta-she is newcome to Britain. I have heard she speaks little of our tongue, only that of her Irish homeland. But I have heard, too, that in her own country she was a notable mistress of herbs and magic, so that when Drustan fought with the Irish knight the Marhaus, she healed him when none thought he could live, and so he is her faithful knight and champion-or at least he said that was his reason," Morgause chattered on, "though she is so beautiful, I would not wonder ... perhaps I should make her known to Morgaine, she too is a great mistress of herb lore and spells of healing. They would have much to speak of, and I think Morgaine knows a little of the Irish tongue. And Morgaine, too, is married to a man old enough to be her father-I think that was ill done of Arthur!"
Gwenhwyfar said stiffly, "Morgaine married Uriens with her own consent. You do not think Arthur would marry away his dear sister without asking her!"
Morgause almost snorted, "Morgaine is full enough of life that I do not think she would be content in an old man's bed," she said, "and if I had a stepson as handsome as yonder Accolon, I know well I would not!"
"Come, ask the lady of Cornwall to sit with us," Gwenhwyfar said, to put an end to Morgause's gossip. "And Morgaine, too, if you will." Morgaine was safely married to Uriens; what was it to Gwenhwyfar if she made a fool of herself or put her immortal soul at hazard by playing the harlot with this man or that?
Uriens, with Morgaine and his two younger sons, had come to greet Arthur, who took the old king by both hands, calling him "Brother-in-law," and kissed Morgaine on either cheek.
"But you have come to offer me a gift, Uriens? I need no gifts from kinsmen, your affection is enough," he said.
"Not only to offer you a gift but to ask a boon of you," said Uriens. "I beg you to make my son Uwaine a knight of your Round Table and receive him as one of your Companions."
Arthur smiled at the slender, dark young man who knelt before him. "How old are you, young Uwaine?"
"Fifteen, my lord and king."
"Well, then, rise, sir Uwaine," said Arthur graciously. "You may watch this night by your arms, and tomorrow one of my Companions shall make you knight."
"By your leave," said Gawaine, "may I be the one to confer this honor on my cousin Uwaine, lord Arthur?"
"Who better than you, my cousin and friend?" Arthur said. "If that is agreeable to you, Uwaine, let it be so. I receive you willingly as my Companion for your own sake, and because you are stepson to my dear sister. Make him a place at table there, you men, and you, Uwaine, may fight in my company tomorrow in the mock battles."