ry with Lancelet-he played with her hair and held her hand, and she thought there was something she sho He bowed groggily to Arthur and staggered from the hall. Half the seats of the Round Table, it seemed, were filled now with hairy Saxons with their great beards and their rough cloaks, or with young men who seemed hardly old enough to hold weapons. d not weep before her, Gwydion had been heartbroken when Gareth had gone south to King Arthur's court.
When Arthur falls-though his stars say he will live to be old-then the king of Avalon will rise. He would go in quietly. He said, Poor Morgaine, poor girl, and for the first time since Accolon's death had turned me to stone, I felt t have made it a habit, in our very blood and bones, to count things-the fingers of a newborn child, the
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