Do they know all, then? Do they watch, judging me, as I betray my old and trusting husband with Accolon? She thought of Elaine, trembling and shamed in the light of the torches that had caught her naked in Lancelet's arms. Do they know even what I plan before I am certain of it myself? But she had done only what the Goddess gave her to do.
"What is it that you came to tell me, Merlin?"
"Only that your place in Avalon is empty still, and Niniane knows it as well as 1.1 love you well, Morgaine, and I am no traitor-it pains me that you think me so, when you have given me so much." He held out his twisted hands. "Peace, then, Morgaine, between us?"
She said, "In the Lady's name, peace, then," and kissed his scarred mouth.
For him too the Goddess wears my face ... and pain struck through her. The Goddess is the giver of life and manhood... and of death. As her lips touched his, the Merlin recoiled, and on his face was naked fear.
"Do you recoil from me, Kevin? I swear it on my life, I will do no murder. You have nothing to fear-" she said, but he put out his twisted fingers to stop the words.
"Make no oath, Morgaine, lest you pay the penalty of the forsworn ... none of us knows what the Goddess may demand of us. I too have made the Great Marriage, and my life was forfeit on that day. I live only at the will of the Goddess, and my life is not so sweet that I would begrudge to lay it down," he said. Years later Morgaine would remember these words and feel them sweeten the bitterest task of her life. He bent to her, in the salute given only to the Lady of Avalon or to the High Druid, and then, swiftly, turned away. Morgaine stood trembling, watching him go. Why had he done that? And why did he fear her?
She moved on through the crowds; when she reached the dais, Gwenhwyfar gave her a chilly smile, but Morgause rose and took her into an ample, warm embrace.
"Dearest child, you look tired-I know you have little love for crowds!" She held a silver cup to Morgaine's lips, and Morgaine sipped the wine, then shook her head. She said, "You seem to grow ever younger, Aunt!"
Morgause laughed gaily and said, "Young company does that for me, my dear-saw you Lamorak? While he thinks me beautiful, I think myself so, and so I am ... it is the only sorcery I need!" She traced with her smooth finger a little line beneath Morgaine's eye, and said, "I recommend it to you, my dear, or you will grow old and cross ... are there no handsome young men at Uriens' court with an eye for their queen?"
Over her shoulder Morgaine saw Gwenhwyfar's frown of distaste, even though she certainly believed Morgause was joking. At least the tale of my behavior with Accolon is not common gossip here. Then she thought angrily, In the Lady's name, I am not ashamed of what I do, I am not Gwenhwyfar!
Lancelet was talking with Isotta of Cornwall. Yes, he would always have an eye for the most beautiful woman in the room, and Morgaine could tell Gwenhwyfar liked it not; Gwenhwyfar said now, with nervous haste, "Lady Isotta, know you my husband's sister, Morgaine?"
The Irish beauty raised her eyes listlessly to Morgaine, and smiled. She was very pale, her chiselled features white as new cream, her eyes that blue that is almost green. Morgaine saw that although she was tall, her bones were so small that she looked like a child hung with jewels and pearls and golden chains which seemed too heavy for her. Morgaine had sudden pity for the girl and withheld the first words that came into her mind, which were, So they call you queen in Cornwall now? I must have words with Duke Marcus! She said only, "My kinsman told me you are skilled in herbs and medicines, lady. Some day, if we have leisure before I return to Wales, I would like to speak of them with you."
"It would be a pleasure," said Isotta courteously. Lancelet looked up and said, "I have told her also that you are a musician, Morgaine. Are we to hear you play this day?"
"With Kevin here? My music is nothing to his," said Morgaine, but Gwenhwyfar shuddered, and interrupted.
"I wish Arthur would listen to me and send that man from his court. I like it not, to have wizards and sorcerers here, and such an evil face must portend evil within! I know not how you can bear to touch him, Morgaine
-I should think any fastidious woman would be ill if he touched her, yet you embraced and kissed him as if he were a kinsman-"
"Clearly," said Morgaine, "I am altogether lacking in proper feelings-and I rejoice at it."
Isotta of Cornwall said in her soft, sweet voice, "If what is without is like to that which is within, then the music Kevin makes must be a sign to us, lady Gwenhwyfar, that the soul within him is indeed that of the highest angels. For no evil man could play as he plays."
Arthur had come to join them, and had heard the last few words. He said, "Yet I will not affront my queen with the presence of one distasteful to her-nor will I have the insolence to command the music of such an artist as Kevin for one who cannot receive him with grace." He sounded displeased. "Morgaine, will you play for us, then?"
"My harp is in Wales," she said. "Perhaps, if someone can lend me a harp, at another time. The hall is so crowded and noisy, the music would be lost ... . Lancelet is as much a musician as I."
Lancelot, standing behind him, shook his head. "Oh, no, cousin. I know one string from another, because I was reared in Avalon and my mother set a harp in my hand for a plaything as soon as I could hold one. But I have not the gift of music as Morgaine has, nor the nephew of Marcus-have you heard Drustan play, Morgaine?"
She shook her head, and Isotta said, "I will ask him to come and play for us."
She sent a page for him, and Drustan came, a slight young man, dark-eyed and dark-haired; he was indeed, Morgaine thought, not unlike Lancelet. Isotta asked him to play, and he called for his harp and sat on the steps of the dais, playing some Breton tunes. They were plaintive and sad, in a very old scale, and they made Morgaine think of the ancient land of Lyonnesse, far away and sunk past the coastline of Tintagel. He had, indeed, a gift beyond Lancelet's; even, she thought, beyond her own. Though he was not Kevin, nor near to it, he was the finest player, otherwise, that she had heard. His voice, too, was sweet and musical.
Under cover of the music Arthur said softly to Morgaine, "How is it with you, sister? It is long since you came to Camelot-we have missed you."
"Oh, indeed?" said Morgaine. "I thought that was why you married me away into North Wales-that my lady"-an ironic bow to Gwenhwyfar-"might not be affronted with the sight of anything distasteful to her, neither Kevin nor me."
"Why, how can you say that?" demanded Arthur. "I love you well, you know that, and Uriens is a good man, and he seems to dote on you -certainly he hangs on your every word! I sought to find you a kind husband, Morgaine, one who had sons and would not reproach you should you not give him children. And it was my pleasure this day to make your fine young stepson one of my Companions. What could you ask more than this, my sister?"
"What, indeed?" said Morgaine. "What more could a woman desire than a good husband old enough to be her grandsire, and a kingdom to rule at the far end of the world-I should bow down and thank you on my knees, my brother!"
Arthur sought to take her hand. "Indeed I did what I thought would please you, sister. Uriens is too old for you, but he will not live forever. Truly, I thought it would make you happy."
No doubt, thought Morgaine, he was telling the exact truth as he saw it. How could he be so good and wise a king, and have so little imagination? Or was this the secret of his kingship, that he held to simple truths and sought for no more? Was this why the Christian faith had lured him, that it was so simple, with a few simple laws?
"I like that everybody be happy," Arthur said, and she knew that this was really the key to his nature; he did indeed seek to see everyone happy, down to the least of his subjects. He had allowed what went on between Gwenhwyfar and Lancelet because he knew it would make his queen unhappy if he parted them, nor would he hurt Gwenhwyfar by taking another wife or a mistress to give him the son she could not.