One of the Queen's ladies came up to them. "Lady Morgaine, is sir Mordred your son? I never knew you had a son-"
Morgaine said steadily, "I was very young when he was born, and Morgause fostered him. I had come near to forgetting it myself."
"How proud you must be of him! And isn't he handsome? As good-looking as Lancelet himself," the woman said, and her eyes glistened.
"He is, isn't he," agreed Morgaine, her tone so courteous that only Morgause, who knew her well, knew that she was angry. "It has been an embarrassment to them both, I dare say. But Lancelet and I are first cousins, and when I was a little girl, I was more like him than like my own brother. Our mother was tall and red-haired like Queen Morgause here, but Lady Viviane was of the old folk of Avalon."
"Who is his father, then?" asked the woman, and Morgause saw Morgaine's hands clench at her sides. But she said with a pleasant smile, "He is a Beltane child, and the God claims all children gotten in the groves. No doubt you remember that as a young girl I was one of the damsels of the Lady of the Lake."
Trying to be polite, the woman murmured, "I had forgotten-they still kept the old rites there, then?"
"As they do now," said Morgaine quietly. "And the Goddess grant they shall do so till the world end."
As she had intended, that silenced the woman, and Morgaine turned away, saying to Morgause, "Are you ready, kinswoman? Let us go down to the hall." As they left the room she drew a long breath of mingled exasperation and relief.
"Chattering fools-listen to them! Have they nothing better to do than gossip?"
"Probably not," said Morgause. "Their most Christian husbands and fathers make sure they shall have nothing else to occupy their minds."
The doors to the great chamber of the Round Table where the Pentecost feast would be held were shut, so that they might all enter at once.
"Arthur every year gives us more pageantry," said Morgause. "Now a grand procession and entrance, I suppose?"
"What do you expect?" Morgaine asked. "Now there are no wars, he must touch the imagination of his people somehow, and he is clever enough to do it by making great display for them-I have heard it was the Merlin who counselled him so. The common folk-yes, and the nobles too-like a fine show, and the Druids have known that since they lit the first Beltane fires. Gwenhwyfar has spent many years making this the greatest holiday anywhere in any Christian land." She gave the first real smile Morgause had seen on her face this day. "Even Arthur knows he cannot hold his people with a mass and a feast alone-if there is no great marvel to see, I doubt not Arthur and the Merlin will somehow arrange one! What a pity they could not arrange to hold the eclipse today!"
"Did you watch the eclipse in Wales? My folk were frightened," Morgause said, "and no doubt, those fools of Gwenhwyfar's ladies shrieked and shouted as if the world were coming to an end!"
"Gwenhwyfar has a passion for fools among her ladies," Morgaine said. "Yet she herself is not really a fool, though she likes to seem so. I wonder how she can tolerate it?"
"You should show more patience with them," Morgause warned, and Morgaine shrugged.
"I care not what fools think of me."
"I cannot imagine how you have dwelt in Uriens' kingdom as his queen so long, and not learned more of queencraft," said Morgause. "Whatever she is thought by men, a woman must depend on the goodwill of other women-what else did you learn at Avalon?"
Morgaine said, her voice hard, "The women in Avalon are not such fools." But Morgause knew her well enough to know that her angry tone concealed loneliness and suffering.
"Morgaine, why do you not return to Avalon?"
Morgaine bent her head, knowing that if Morgause spoke kindly again to her she would break and weep. "My time has not yet come. I have been ordered to stay with Uriens-"
"And Accolon?"
"Oh, aye, with Accolon," said Morgaine. "I might have known you would reproach me with that-"
"I am the last to speak," said Morgause. "But Uriens will not live long-"
Morgaine said, her face as frozen as her voice, "So I believed on that day years ago when we were wedded. He is like to live as long as Taliesin himself, and Taliesin was past ninety when he died."
Arthur and Gwenhwyfar had arrived and were slowly making their way to the head of the line-Arthur resplendently clad in white robes, Gwenhwyfar beside him, exquisite in white silk and jewels. The great doors were flung open, and they passed within, then Morgaine as the King's sister with her husband and his sons, Accolon and Uwaine; then Morgause with her household, as the King's aunt; then Lancelet and his household, and then the other knights one by one, proceeding around the Round Table to take their seats. A few years back, some craftsman had wrought in gold paint and crimson the name of every Companion over his customary chair. Now, as they entered, Morgause noticed that the seat nearest the King, reserved all these years for his heir, had been painted with the name Galahad. But she saw it only in a flicker of her eye. For at the great thrones where Arthur and Gwenhwyfar were to sit, two white banners, like the garish banners with which the battles of the clowns had been fought, had been draped, and across them were scrawled paintings, ugly caricatures-on one throne was a banner portraying a knight standing on the heads of two crowned figures, bearing a devilish likeness to Arthur and Gwenhwyfar; and across the other was a lewd painting which made even Morgause, who was by no means prudish, blush, for it depicted a small, dark-haired woman, stark naked, in the embrace of a huge horned devil, and all about her, accepting certain strange and disgusting sexual ministrations, were scrawled a group of naked men.
Gwenhwyfar cried out in a shrill scream, "God and Mary defend us!"
Arthur, stopped dead, turned on the servants in a voice of thunder. "How came this-this-" Words failed him and he waved his hand at the drawings. "-this here?"
"Sir-" the chamberlain stammered, "it was not here when we finished decking the hall-all was orderly, even to the flowers before the Queen's seat-"
"Who was last in this hall?" Arthur demanded.
Cai limped forward. "My lord and my brother, it was 1.1 came to be certain all was in good order, and I swear as God sees us all, everything was ready at that time to honor my king and his lady. And if ever I find the foul dog who sneaked in to put this thing here, I will have his head like this!" And he gestured as if he were wringing a chicken's neck.
"Look to your lady!" said Arthur sharply. The women were twittering and chattering as Gwenhwyfar began to sink down in a faint. Morgaine held her up, saying in a sharp, low voice, "Gwen, don't give them this satisfaction! You are a queen-what do you care what some fool scrawls on a banner? Control yourself!"
Gwenhwyfar was crying. "How can they-how could they-how could anyone hate me so?"
"There is no one alive who can live without offending some idiot or other," said Morgaine, and helped her toward her seat. But the more crudely sexual of the banners was still draped over it, and Gwenhwyfar shrank back as if she touched something filthy. Morgaine threw it on the floor. There were wine cups set; Morgaine gestured to one of Gwenhwyfar's waiting-women to fill one and give it to the Queen.
"Don't let it trouble you, Gwen-I imagine that one is meant for me," she said. "It is whispered indeed that I take devils to my bed, and what do I care?"
Arthur said, "Get this foulness out of here and burn it, and bring scented woods and incense to take away the stink of evil." Lackeys scurried to obey him, and Cai said, "We will find out who did this. No doubt it is some servant I dismissed, coming back to embarrass me because I had shown some pride in the decorations of the hall this year. Men, bring the wine round, and the ale, and we will have our first round of drinking shame and confusion to that stinking louse who tried to spoil our feast. Will we let him? Come! Drink to King Arthur and his lady!"