Gawaine said, "I know well you are my mother's friend, Morgaine. I know too Gwenhwyfar does not like her. Gwenhwyfar-" He glanced at Lancelet, shrugged, and held his peace. Gareth said, "Gwenhwyfar is so pious, and no woman has ever had anything to complain about at Arthur's court-perhaps Gwenhwyfar finds it hard to understand that a woman may have cause for wanting more of life than her marriage gives her. As for me, I am fortunate that Lionors chose me of her own free will, and she is always so busy breeding, or lying-in, or suckling our youngest, that she has no leisure to look at any other man even if she would. Which," he added, smiling, "I hope she has no desire to do, for if she wished for it I think I could deny her nothing."
Lancelet's face lost its grimness. He said, "I cannot imagine that a dame married to you, Gareth, would wish to look elsewhere."
"But you must look elsewhere, cousin," said Gawaine, "for there is the Queen looking for you, and you should go and pay your respects as her champion."
And indeed at that moment one of Gwenhwyfar's little maidens came and said in her childish voice, "You are sir Lancelet, are you not? The Queen has asked that you will come and speak with her," and Lancelet bowed to Morgaine, said, "We will speak later, Gawaine, Gareth," and went away. Gareth watched him, frowning, and muttered, "Ever he runs when she stretches out her hand."
"Did you expect anything else, brother?" Gawaine said in his easygoing way. "He has been her champion since she was wedded to Arthur, and if it were otherwise-well, so Morgaine said: such things are considered manly in a king, why should we criticize them in a queen? Nay, 'tis all the fashion now-or have you not heard the tales about yonder Irish queen, married to old Duke Marcus, and how Drustan makes songs for her and follows her about ... he is a harper, they say, as fine as Kevin! Have you yet heard him play, Morgaine?"
She shook her head. She said, "You should not call Isotta Queen of Cornwall-there is no queen in Cornwall but I. Marcus reigns there only as my castellan, and if he does not know it, it is time he found it out."
"I do not think Isotta cares what Marcus may call himself," said Gawaine, turning to look at the long table where the ladies sat. Morgause had joined Gwenhwyfar and the Irish queen, and Lancelet had come to speak with them; Gwenhwyfar was smiling at Lancelet, and Morgause making some jest which made them laugh, but Isotta of Cornwall was staring at nothing, her exquisite face pale and drawn. "I never saw any lady who looked so unhappy as yonder Irish queen."
Morgaine said, "If I were married to old Duke Marcus, I doubt I should be happy," and Gawaine gave her a rough hug.
"Arthur did not well when he married you to that grandsire old Uriens, either, Morgaine-are you unhappy too?"
Morgaine felt her throat tighten, as if Gawaine's kindness would make her weep. "Perhaps there is not much happiness for women in marriage after all ... ."
"I would not say that," Gareth said. "Lionors seems happy enough."
"Ah, but Lionors is married to you," Morgaine said, laughing. "And I could not have that good fortune, I am only your old cousin."
"Still," said Gawaine, "I criticize not my mother. She was good to Lot all his life long, and while he lived she never flaunted her lovers in his face. I begrudge her nothing, and Lamorak is a good man and a good knight. As for Gwenhwyfar-" He grimaced. "It's God's pity that Lancelet did not take her away from this kingdom while there was still time for Arthur to find him another wife-still, I suppose young Galahad will be a good king in his day. Lancelet is of the old royal line of Avalon, and royal, too, in his blood from Ban of Less Britain."
"Still," said Gareth, "I think your son closer to the throne than his, Morgaine," and she remembered that he had been old enough to remember Gwydion's birth. "And the Tribes would give allegiance to Arthur's sister -in the old days, the sister's son was the natural heir, in the days when rule passed through the blood of the woman." He frowned and thought for a moment, then asked, "Morgaine, is he Lancelet's son?"
She supposed the question was natural enough-they had been friends from childhood. But she shook her head, trying to make a jest instead of showing the irritation she felt. "No, Gareth, if it had been so I would have told you. It would have pleased you so, anything to do with Lancelet. Forgive me, cousins, I should go and speak with your mother-she was always good to me." She turned away, making her way slowly toward the dais where the ladies sat; the room was growing more and more crowded as everyone greeted old friends and little knots of people collected.
She had always disliked crowded places, and she had lately spent so much time on the green Welsh hills that she was no longer used to the smell of bodies crowded together and the smoke from the hearth fire. Moving to one side, she collided with a man who staggered under her light weight and caught at the wall to steady himself, and she found herself face to face with the Merlin.
She had not spoken with Kevin since the day of Viviane's death. She looked him coldly in the face and turned away.
"Morgaine-"
She ignored him. Kevin said, in a voice as cold as her glance, "Will a daughter of Avalon turn her face away when the Merlin speaks?"
Morgaine drew a long breath and said, "If you bid me hear you in the name of Avalon, I am here to listen. But that suits you not, you who gave Viviane's body to Christian rule. That I call a traitor's deed."
"And who are you to speak of traitor's deeds, lady, who sits as queen in Wales when Viviane's high seat is empty in Avalon?"
She flared, "I sought once to speak in Avalon's name and you bade me hold my peace," and bowed her head, not waiting for his reply. No, he is right. How dare I speak of treachery when I fled from Avalon, too young and too foolish to know what Viviane planned? Only now do I begin to know that she gave me a hold on the King's conscience: And I cast it aside unused and let Gwenhwyfar lead him into the hands of the priests. "Speak, Merlin. Avalon's daughter listens."
For a moment he said nothing, but only looked at her, and she remembered, sorrowfully, the years when he had been her only friend and ally at this court. At last he said, "Your beauty, like Viviane's, ripens with the years, Morgaine. Next to you every woman at this court, including that Irishwoman they call so beautiful, is a painted doll."
She smiled faintly and said, "You did not stop me in my tracks with the thunders of Avalon to make me pretty compliments, Kevin."
"Did I not? I spoke ill, Morgaine-you are needed in Avalon. She who sits there now is-" He broke off, troubled. "Are you so much in love with your elderly husband that you cannot tear yourself away?"
"No," she said, "but I do the work of the Goddess there too."
"This much I know," he said, "and so I have told Niniane. And if Accolon can succeed his father, the worship of the Goddess will grow there ... but Accolon is not his father's heir, and the older son is a priest-ridden fool."
"Accolon is not king, but Druid," Morgaine said, "and Avalloch's death would avail nothing-they follow Roman ways in Wales now, and Avalloch has a son." Conn, she thought, who sat in my lap and called me Granny.
And Kevin said, as if he had heard her unspoken words: "The lives of children are uncertain, Morgaine. Many come not to manhood."
"I will do no murder," she said, "even for Avalon, and you may tell them so for me."
"Tell them yourself," said Kevin. "Niniane said to me that you would be coming there after Pentecost." And now Morgaine felt the empty, cold sickness strike at her stomach and was glad she had eaten but little of the rich food of the feast.