But she wondered, sunk in despondency, if in this strange court he would even be troubled to pay her such respects as Gareth had done. Gwenhwyfar seemed not to hear. Do you hold it against me, that old madness? I was drunk, and it seemed to me that you loved Lancelet well. times, that if she had come from Beltane with her womb filled she would have liked to bear a daughter to the Goddess.
When the man had gone he asked, Morgaine, will you rub my feet? Your hands are better than his. and it was you who pushed me into Lancelet's arms- Oh, my Gwen, he said, and his face was rueful like a punished child. Why, what's this, my lord Arthur? demanded Lot. killed! And there was grief for the end of her years with Arthur, and all they had shared for so long.
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