Morgaine felt it like a tearing pain in her heart. She reached out to Accolon, and again it seemed that there was the shadow of antlers above his brow, and once again Excalibur was belted about his waist-had it always been there?-and the serpents that had twined about her naked body were only fading blue stains about the man's wrists.
She said steadily, "Look, they are bringing him a sword which is like to Excalibur-the fairy smiths have made it this night. Let him go, if you can. But if you cannot-well, do what you must do, beloved. And the Goddess be with you. I will await you in Camelot when you come thither in triumph." And she kissed him and sent him from her.
Never till this moment had she faced it fully: one of them must die, brother or lover, the child she had held in her arms, the Horned One who had been lover and priest and king-
Whatever comes of this day, she thought, never again, never again shall I know a moment's happiness, since one of those I love must die ... .
Arthur and Accolon had gone where she could not follow; there was still Uriens to be considered, and for a moment she considered abandoning him to the fairy realm. He would wander contentedly in the enchanted halls and woods till he died ....o. There has been enough death, whatever happens, Morgaine thought, and turned her thoughts to watch Uriens, where he lay dreaming. Now he sat up as she approached him, looking happily drunken and befuddled. "The wine here is too strong for me," he said. "Where have you been, my dear, and where is Arthur?"
Even now, she thought, the fairy maiden has brought Arthur the sword so like Excalibur that in enchantment he will believe it so ... ah, Goddess, I should have sent the sword back to Avalon, why must anyone else die for it? But without Excalibur, there was no way Accolon could reign as the new King from Avalon ... . When I am Queen, this land shall be at peace, and the minds of men free, with no priests to tell them what they must do and believe ... .
"Arthur has had to go on ahead of us," she said gently. "Come, my dear husband, we must return to Camelot." Such was the enchantment of the fairy country, she realized, that he never questioned this. Horses were brought to them, and the tall, beautiful people escorted them to a place where one of them said, "You can surely find your way from here."
"How quickly the sunlight has gone," Uriens complained, as a grey fog and rain seemed to condense suddenly and fall about them. "Morgaine, how long were we in the queen's country? I feel as if I had been sick of a fever, or enchanted and wandering in a spell ... ."
She did not answer him. He too, she thought, had had some sport with the fairy maidens, and why not? She cared not how he amused himself, so that he let her alone.
A sharp twinge of sickness reminded her that never once in the fairy country had she thought of the pregnancy which burdened her, and now, when all would be awaiting her word, when Gwydion took the throne and Accolon reigned ... now she would be heavy of foot and sick, grotesque ... certainly she was too old to bear a child without risk. Was it too late to find the herbs that would rid her of that unwanted burden? Yet, if she could bear Accolon a son, at this time when the reign went into his hands, how much more would he value her as his queen? Could she sacrifice that hold over him? A child I could keep, a child I could hold in my own arms, a babe to love ...
She could still remember the sweetness of Arthur as a babe, his little arms around her neck. Gwydion had been taken from her, Uwaine had been nine years old when he learned to call her mother. It was a sharp pain and a sweetness beyond love, tugging at her body, the hunger to hold a child again ... yet reason told her that she could not, at her age, survive the bearing of another child. She rode at Uriens' side as if in a dream. No, she could not survive the bearing of this child, and yet she felt she could not bear to take the irrevocable step that it should die unborn.
My hands will already be stained with the blood of one I love ... . Ah, Goddess, why do you try me thus? And it seemed that the Goddess wavered before her eyes, now like the fairy queen, now like Raven, solemn and compassionate, now like the Great Sow who had torn out Avalloch's life ... and she will devour the child I bear ... . Morgaine knew that she was at the edges of delirium, of madness.
Later, I will decide it later. Now my duty is to get Uriens back to Camelot. She wondered how long she had been in the fairy world. Not, she supposed, more than a moon, or the child would make its presence more felt ... she hoped it had been only a few days. Not too few or Gwenhwyfar would wonder how they had come and gone so swiftly; not too many, or it would be too late to do what she knew she must do: she could not bear this child and live.
They arrived in Camelot at midmorning; the journey was, in truth, not very long. Morgaine was grateful that Gwenhwyfar was nowhere to be seen, and when Cai asked after Arthur, she told him, lying this time without a moment's hesitation, that he had been delayed in Tintagel. If I can kill, lying is no sin so great, she thought, distracted, but somehow she felt contaminated by the lie, she was priestess of Avalon and she valued the truth of her words ... .
She took Uriens to his room; the old man was looking weary now and confused. He is growing too old to reign. Avalloch's death was harder for him than I can know. But he too was reared to the truths of Avalon-what of the King Stag when the young stag is grown?
"Lie down here, my husband, and rest," she said, but he was fractious.
"I should set out for Wales. Accolon is too young to reign alone, the young puppy. My people need me!"
"They can spare you another day," she soothed him, "and you will be stronger."
"I have been too long away already," he fretted. "And why did we not go on to Tintagel? Morgaine, I cannot remember why we came away! Were we truly in a country where the sun shone always ... ?"
She said, "I think you must have dreamed it. Why do you not sleep a little? Shall I send for some food for you? I do not think you have eaten this morning-"
But when the food came, the sight and smell of it turned her queasy again. She turned sharply away, trying to conceal it, but Uriens had seen.
"What is it, Morgaine?"
"Nothing," she said angrily. "Eat, and rest."
But he smiled at her, reaching out his hand to draw her to the bedside. He said, "You forget, I have been married before this-I know a breeding woman when I see one." Clearly, he was delighted. "After all these many years-Morgaine, you are pregnant! But that is wonderful-one son is taken from me, but I have another-shall we call this one Avalloch if it is a son, my darling?"
Morgaine flinched. "You forget how old I am," she said, and her face was like stone. "It is not likely I can carry this child long enough that it would live. Do not hope for a son of your old age."
"But we will take good care of you," said Uriens. "You must consult with one of the Queen's own midwives, and if the ride home would make you likely to miscarry, then you must stay here till the child is born."
She wanted to lash out at him, what makes you think it would be your child, old man? This was Accolon's child, certainly ... but she could not dismiss the sudden fear that this was, indeed, Uriens' child ... an old man's child, weakly, some monster like Kevin ... no, she was surely mad! Kevin was no monster, but had suffered injuries-fire, burns, maiming in childhood, so that his bones had grown awry. But Uriens' child would surely be twisted, deformed, sickly, and Accolon's child would be healthy, strong ... and she, she was old almost past childbearing; would her child be some monster? Sometimes, when women bore babies in their old age, it was so. ... Was she mad, to let these fantasies turn and sicken her brain like this?