She had sought this, she had worked for it. Arthur had forsaken the Goddess, and the Goddess had scattered his fellowship with a wind blowing from her holy place. And the final irony was this: that her holiest of visions should inspire the most passionate legend of Christian worship. Morgaine said at last, reaching out her hand to him, "Sometimes I believe, Lancelet, that it does not matter what we do. The Gods move us as they will, whatever it is that we think that we are doing. We are no more than their pawns."
"If I believed that," said Lancelet, "I should go mad once and for all."
Morgaine smiled sadly and said, "And if I did not believe it, I should perhaps go mad. I must believe that I had no power to do other than I have done."
... must believe that I never had a choice ... a choice to refuse the king-making, a choice to destroy Mordred unborn, a choice to refuse when Arthur gave me to Uriens, a choice to hold back my hand from the death of Avalloch, a choice to keep Accolon at my side ... a choice to spare Kevin Harper a traitor's death, and Nimue ...
Lancelet said, "And I must believe that man has the power to know the right, to choose between good and evil and know that his choice has made a difference ... "
"Oh, aye," Morgaine said, "if he knows what good is. But does it not seem to you, cousin, that ever, in this world, evil wears the face of good? Sometimes I feel it is the Goddess who makes the wrong appear the right, and the only thing we can do-"
"Why then, the Goddess would be just such a fiend as the priests say she is," said Lancelet.
"Lancelet," she said, leaning forward to plead with him, "never blame yourself. You did what you must! Believe only that it was your fate and ordained-"
"No, or I should slay myself at once, so that the Goddess could not make use of me to bring about more evil," said Lancelet vehemently. "Morgaine, you have the Sight, and I cannot-I cannot believe it is God's will that Arthur and his court shall fall into Mordred's hands! I told you I came hither because my mind played tricks on me. Without thinking, I called the Avalon barge to me and came here, but now, I think, perhaps I wrought better than I knew. You, who have the Sight, can look within the mirror and see for me where Galahad has gone! I will even brave his anger and demand that he leave this quest and return to Camelot-"
The ground seemed to quiver beneath Morgaine's feet. Once she had stepped unwary into a patch of quicksand and had felt the mud shiver and slip sidewise; it was like that, as if she must throw herself at once to safe ground... she heard herself say, as if very far away, "You will indeed return to Camelot with your son, Lancelet-" and wondered why the cold seemed to suck at her very vitals. "I will look into the mirror for you, kinsman. But I know Galahad not, I may not see anything which is of use to you."
"Yet tell me you will do what you can," Lancelet pleaded, and she said, "I have told you I will look into the mirror. But it will be with us as the Goddess wills. Come."
The sun was high now, and as they walked down the hill toward the Sacred Well, a raven croaked once overhead. Lancelet crossed himself against the evil omen, but Morgaine looked up and said, "What did you say, sister?"
Raven's voice said in her mind, Be not afraid. Mordred will not kill Galahad. And Arthur will kill Mordred.
She said aloud, "Arthur will be King Stag still ... ."
Lancelet turned and stared at her. "What did you say, Morgaine?"
Raven said in her mind, Not to the Holy Well, but to the chapel, and now. It is the time ordained.
Lancelet asked, "Where are we going? Have I forgotten the way to the Holy Well?" and Morgaine, raising her head, realized that her steps had brought them, not to the Well, but to the little chapel where the ancient Christian brotherhood held their services. They said it had been built by the brotherhood when the ancient Joseph had thrust his staff into the ground on the hill called Wearyall. She put out her hand and took a sprig of the Holy Thorn; it pricked her finger to the bone, and hardly knowing what she did, she put out her hand and marked Lancelet's forehead with the streak of blood.
He looked at her, startled. She could hear the priests singing softly, Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison. She went in quietly and knelt down to her own surprise. The chapel was filled with mist, and it seemed to Morgaine that through the mist she could see that other chapel, the one on Ynis Witrin, and hear both sets of voices singing ... Kyrie eleison ... and there were women's voices too; yes, this must be on Ynis Witrin, for in the chapel on Avalon there were no women, these must be the nuns in the convent there. It seemed for a moment that Igraine knelt beside her and she heard her voice, clear and soft, singing Christe eleison. The priest was at the altar, and then it seemed to her as if Nimue was there, her golden hair hanging down her back, fair and lovely as Gwenhywfar had been when she was a young maiden in the convent. But instead of the old jealous fury, Morgaine looked on her with the purest love for her beauty ... the mists thickened; she could hardly see Lancelet kneeling at her side, but before her, kneeling at the altar in the other chapel, she could see Galahad with his face raised, shining, and on it was the reflected brightness ... and she knew that he, too, saw through the mists, into the chapel here on Avalon, where the Grail stood ... .
She heard from the other chapel a ring of tiny bells, and heard ... she never knew which of the priests, the one here in Avalon, or the one on Ynis Witrin ... but in her mind it was the gentle voice of Taliesin ... murmuring, "For in that night in which the Christ was betrayed, our Master took the cup and blessed it, and said, All of you drink of this, for this is my blood which will be shed for you. So often as ye drink of this cup, do it ever in remembrance of me."
She could see the shadow of the priest who lifted the cup of communion, yet it was the damsel of the Grail, Nimue ... or was it she herself who set the cup to his lips? Lancelet rushed forward, crying out, "Ah-the light, the light-!" and dropped to his knees, his hands shielding his eyes, then slipped further forward and lay prone on the ground.
Under the touch of the Grail, the shadowed face of the young man became clear, solid, real, and the mists were gone; Galahad knelt and drank of the cup.
"For as the wine of many grapes was crushed to make a single wine, so as we unite in this bloodless and perfect sacrifice, then shall we all become One in the Great Light which is Infinite ... ."
And even as the rapture glowed through his face, the light shining there, he drew a great breath of absolute joy, and looked full into the light. He reached out to grasp the cup in his hands. .. and fell forward, slithered to the floor of the chapel, and he too lay there without moving.
It is death to touch the holy things unprepared ... .
Morgaine saw Nimue-or was it she herself?-cover Galahad's face with a white veil. And then Nimue was gone, and the cup was standing on the altar, only the gold cup of the Mysteries, without any trace of the unearthly light ... she was not sure it was there ... it was surrounded by mist. And Galahad lay dead on the floor of the chapel in Avalon, cold and still beside Lancelet.
IT WAS a long time before Lancelet stirred, and as he raised his head, Morgaine saw that his face was shadowed with tragedy. He whispered, "And I was not worthy to follow him."
"You must take him back to Camelot," Morgaine said gently. "He has won the quest of the Grail-but it was his final quest. He could not bear that light."