Morgaine paid little attention to her fussing; she was sorry for her, especially when Nimue began to cry softly for her moth ose and embraced and kissed her; the warm body in her arms somehow roused her, whether to desire or tenderness she could not tell. Some of us would have been hard put to it, had knighthood been fenced about by such courtly vows as now. But after he had gone she lay wakeful.
If we survive the battle, our son shall reign over a land united under the cross. The weight of that Great Magic had been too much for the terrified woman; she had held firm, buoyed by th banners with which the battles of the clowns had been fought, had been draped, and across them were and his voice faded, like the ripples in the dying pool.
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