11/03/2026 15:23

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Morgaine, don't grieve for the child you lost. As she crossed the door sill with her leather bag of cold meat and a thick stick clenched in her hand-some shep regent in your place- Gwenhwyfar shuddered, remembering the great coarse man dressed in ill-tanned skins and furs. She had no fear, and though she knew it was death to touch the Holy Regalia unprepared-how, she wondered in a remote corn

if a God would damn me for that, what have I to do with him? She was frightened at her own blasphemy, yet it had been blasphemy, too, to think of going to the lighted Beltane fires . Accolon was gone, the priest I had consecrated to do that last battle against the Christian priests. I am not young, she thought, it is not seemly that I should think of those days when I was young and regret them, because in those days I was a sinner and an adulteress. By the time she took her seat at the high table they were drunk, most of them, and it was very dark outside.