It seemed that time stopped; as if they were again in the fairy country. Why was not Arthur with them, if he had triumphed? But if this was Arthur's dead body, where was the ceremony and pomp on the death of a king? Uriens reached to support her with his arm, but she thrust it away and stood clinging to the wood-framed door. The monk put back his hood and said, "Are you Queen Morgaine of Wales?"
"I am," she said.
"I have then a message for you," he said. "Your brother Arthur lies wounded in Glastonbury, nursed by the sisters there, but he will recover. He sends you this"-he waved his hand at the shrouded figure on the pack horse-"as a present, and he bid me say to you that he has his sword Excalibur, and the scabbard." And as he spoke he twitched away the pall covering the body, and Morgaine, all the strength in her body running out of her like water, saw Accolon's sightless eyes staring at the sky.
Uriens cried out, a great cry like death. Uwaine thrust his way through the crowd around the steps, and as his father fell, stricken, across the body of his son, Uwaine caught and supported him.
"Father, dear Father! Ah, dear God, Accolon," he said with a gasp, and stepped toward the horse where Accolon's body lay. "Gawaine, my friend, give my father your arm-I must see to my mother, she is fainting-"
"No," said Morgaine. "No." She heard her own voice like an echo, not even sure what she wanted to deny. She would have rushed to Accolon, flung herself on his body shrieking in despair and grief, but Uwaine held her tight.
Gwenhwyfar appeared on the stairway; someone explained the situation to her in a whisper, and Gwenhwyfar came down the steps, looking at Accolon. "He died in rebellion against the High King," she said clearly. "Let there be no Christian rites for him! Let his body be flung to the ravens, and his head hung on the wall as a traitor!"
"No! Ah, no," cried out Uriens, wailing. "I beg of you, I beg-Queen Gwenhwyfar, you know me one of your most loyal subjects, and my poor boy has paid for his crimes-I beg you, lady, Jesus too died a common criminal between thieves, and even for the thief on the cross at his side there was mercy ... . Show the mercy he would have shown ... ."
Gwenhwyfar seemed not to hear. "How does my lord Arthur?"
"He is recovering, lady, but he has lost much blood," said the strange monk. "Yet he bade you have no fear. He will recover."
Gwenhwyfar sighed. "King Uriens," she said, "for the sake of our good knight Uwaine, I will do as you wish. Let the body of Accolon be borne to the chapel and there laid in state-"
Morgaine found her voice to protest. "No, Gwenhwyfar! Lay him in earth decently, if you can find it in your heart to do so much, but he was no Christian-do not give him Christian burial. Uriens is so filled with grief he knows not what he says."
"Be still, Mother," said Uwaine, gripping her shoulder hard. "For my sake and my father's, bring no scandal here. If Accolon served not the Christ, then has he all the more need of God's mercy against the traitor's death he should have had!"
Morgaine wanted to protest, but her voice would not obey her. She let Uwaine guide her indoors, but once within the door she threw off his arm and walked alone. She felt frozen and lifeless. Only a few hours gone, it seemed to her, she had lain in Accolon's arms in the fairy country, had belted the sword Excalibur at his waist ... now she stood knee-deep in a relentless tide, watching it all swept away from her again, and the world was filled with the accusing eyes of Uwaine and his father.
"Aye, I know it was you who plotted this treachery," said Uwaine, "but I have no pity for Accolon, who let himself be led astray by a woman! Have decency enough, Mother, not to drag my father any further into your wicked schemes against our king!" He glared at her, then turned to his father, who stood as if dazed, clutching at some piece of furniture. Uwaine put the old man into a chair, knelt and kissed his hand. "Father dear, I am still at your side ... ."
"Oh, my son, my son-" Uriens cried out, despairing.
"Rest here, Father, you must be strong," he said. "But now let me care for my mother. She is ill, too-"
"Your mother, you call her!" Uriens cried out, starting upright and staring at Morgaine with implacable wrath. "Never again let me hear you call that abominable woman Mother! Do you think I know not that by her sorcery she led my good son into rebellion against his king? And now I think by her evil witchcraft she must also have contrived the death of Avalloch -aye, and of that other son she should have borne to me-three sons of mine has she sent down into death! Look out that she does not seduce you and betray you with her witchcraft, into death and destruction-no, she is not your mother!"
"Father! My lord!" Uwaine protested, and held out a hand to Morgaine. "Forgive him, Mother, he does not know what he is saying, you are beside yourselves with grief, both of you-I beg you in God's name to be calm, we have had enough grief this day-"
But Morgaine hardly heard him. This man, this husband she had never wanted, he was all that was left of the wreck of her plans! She should have left him to die in the fairy country, but now he was doddering around in the fullness of his useless old life and Accolon was dead, Accolon who sought to bring back all that his father had pledged and forsworn, all that Arthur had vowed to Avalon and forsaken ... and nothing was left but this ancient dotard ... .
She snatched the sickle knife of Avalon from her girdle and thrust away Uwaine's restraining arms. Rushing forward, she raised the dagger high; she hardly knew what it was she meant to do as it flashed down.
An iron grip caught her wrist, wrenching at the dagger. Uwaine's hand came near to breaking her wrist as she struggled. "No, let it go ... Mother!" he pleaded. "Mother, is the Devil in you? Mother, look, it is only Father ... ah, God, can you not show some pity for his grief? He does not mean to accuse you, he is so miserable he does not know what he is saying, in his right mind he will know that what he says is wild nonsense ... I do not accuse you either ... Mother, Mother, listen to me, give me the dagger, dear Mother ... ."
The repeated cries of "Mother!" and the love and anguish in Uwaine's voice finally reached down through the mist that blurred Morgaine's eyes and mind. She let Uwaine wrench away the little knife, noticing, as if from a thousand leagues away, that there was blood on her fingers where the razor edge of the sickle had cut her as they struggled. His hand was cut too, and he put his finger in his mouth and sucked at it as if he had been ten years old.
"Father dear, forgive her," Uwaine begged, bending over Uriens, who lay white as death. "She is distraught, she loved my brother too-and remember how ill she has been, she should not have left her bed today at all! Mother, let me send for your women to take you back to bed-here, you will want this," he said, pressing the sickle back into her hand. "I know you had it from your own foster-mother, the Lady of Avalon, you told me that when I was just a little boy. Ah, poor little mother," he said, encircling her shoulders with his arms. She could remember when she had been taller than he, when he was a thin little boy with bones as small and green as a bird's, and now he towered over her, holding her gently against him. "Mother dearest, my poor little mother, come now, come, don't cry, I know you loved Accolon just as you loved me-poor Mother-"
Morgaine wished that she could cry indeed, that she could let all this terrible grief and despair rush out of her with tears, as she felt Uwaine's hot tears falling on her own forehead. Uriens too stood weeping, but she stood tearless and cold. The world seemed all grey, crumbling at the edges, and everything she looked on seemed to take on some giant menacing shape and yet to be very small and far away, as if she could pick it up like a toy ... she dared not move lest it should fall to bits at her touch, she hardly knew it when her women came. They took her stiff and unresisting body and lifted her and carried her to bed, they took off the queenly crown and the gown she had put on for her triumph, and distantly she knew that her shift and underlinen were soaked again with blood, but it seemed not to matter. A long time after, she came to herself and knew that she was washed clean and dressed in a clean shift and lying in bed beside Uriens, with one of her women drowsing on a stool at her side. She raised herself a little and looked down at the sleeping man, his face sunken and reddened with weeping, and it was as if she looked on a stranger.