even Christ withered like the Fisher King when he died the death of the cross and returns again with Easter, ever new . She pondered what Accolon had told them. For a moment Morgaine was startled almost to protest; then, with a glance at the paling sky in the east, she went. ? I am, after all, her kinswoman, Morgaine said gently.
Neither spoke, but Morgaine felt the world trembling in a strange and sacramental rhythm around them, in no And as she spoke she felt herself a hypocrite; she was remembering the morning when she had gone out to find roots and herbs for a potion which would keep her from bearing Arthur's child. One of her women greeted her as she stepped inside the door. Morgaine narrowed her eyes, thinking of the red sun setting over the ring stones on the Tor, of the priestesses walking in train behind the red torchlight, spilling it into the shadows.
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