The men wore Roman helmets-Morgaine had seen one or two of those preserved in Avalon-and short military tunics and Roman armor, and thick red military cloaks streamed out behind them. As she listened attentively, Nimue, who had been trained to read emotions, realized that beneath Gwenhwyfar's dislike for Morgaine, there was something else: respect, awe, even a kind of tenderness. Even now Sir Cai is there, building a great hall fit for Arthur's Round Table, so that all the Companions and kings may sit at meat together. Yes, she said dully, I do not know what I was saying-call my women, Cormac, and tell them to bring me some wine.
Morgaine! Where are you? Where are you? Damn you, show yourself! But there was only Niniane, lifeless and unmoving at his feet. Alone, I could sleep under a hedge or in the shelter of a wall, wrapped in my cloak. have been your son- would say, my uncle and my lord, that we are living for this day, and not for what history may say of us a thousand years hence. Uriens cried out, a great cry like death.
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