Pity you have no mind to the Greek fashion in love! Lancelet's face turned dusky red. She stared at the fainting old man so that she need not look back at that horrible red-stained pool on the floor, soaking through robes and hair and long cloak. Lancelet spoke to one of his marshals, who came to take his place as master of the lists. She turned over in her hand the little sickle knife which Morgaine had abandoned when she fled from Avalon, then put it aside and raised her face to look at Taliesin's daughter.
When he had gone from her, Morgaine sat thinking of the night to come. She was pregnant before Mount Badon, and she carried this child a full five months-she might well have brought it to birth. Before ever the Romans had come to these hills seeking for tin and lead, the hazel grove had been a sacred place. Tomorrow? Why not today? Gwenhwyfar asked, then stopped- no, that would be insulting haste indeed.
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