Mists of Avalon - Marion Zimmer Bradley [315]
Gawaine looked awkwardly from one to the other of them, and Morgaine saw Gareth bite his lip—only now, perhaps, did he understand that this might be seen as an offense to his brother, and that the King had done him the honor of offering to make him a knight—an honor he had refused. What a child he was, despite his great strength and height and precocious skill at arms!
Gawaine said gruffly, “Who would be made knight by me when Lancelet would consent to do it?”
Lancelet flung an exuberant arm around each of them. “You do me too much honor, both of you. Well, go, lad,” he said, releasing Gareth, “go to your arms, I will come and watch with you after midnight.”
Gawaine watched as the boy loped away, with his long awkward stride, and then said, “You should be one of those old Greeks, as it was told in that saga we read when we were boys. How was he called—Achilles—whose true love was the young knight Patroclus, and neither cared anything for all the fine dames of the court of Troy—God knows every lad in this court worships you as their hero. Pity you have no mind to the Greek fashion in love!”
Lancelet’s face turned dusky red. “You are my cousin, Gawaine, and can say such things to me—I would not hear such things from any other, even in jest.”
Gawaine laughed loudly again. “Aye, a jest—for one who professes devotion only to our most chaste Queen—”
“You dare!” Lancelet began, turning on him, and gripped his arm with strength enough to break his wrist. Gawaine struggled, but Lancelet, though he was the smaller man, bent his arm backward, growling with rage like an angry wolf.
“Here! No brawling in the King’s hall!” Cai thrust himself awkwardly between them, and Morgaine said quickly, “Why, Gawaine, what then will you say to all those priests who profess devotion to Mary the Virgin beyond all things on earth? Would you have it they all have a scandalous carnal devotion to their Christ? And indeed, we hear of the Lord Jesus that he never married, and that even among his chosen twelve there was one who leaned on his bosom at supper—”
Gwenhwyfar gave a shocked cry. “Morgaine, hush! Such a blasphemous jest!” Lancelet let go of Gawaine’s arm; Gawaine stood rubbing the bruise, and Arthur turned and frowned at them.
“You are like children, cousins, squabbling and bickering—shall I send you to be beaten by Cai in the kitchens? Come now, be friends again! I heard not the jest, but whatever it was, Lance, it cannot have been so serious as all that!”
Gawaine laughed roughly and said, “I jested, Lance—all too many women pursue you, I know, for what I said to have anything at all of truth,” and Lancelet shrugged and smiled, like a bird with ruffled feathers.
Cai chuckled. “Every man at court envies you your handsome face, Lance.” He rubbed the scar that pulled his mouth up tight into a sneer, and said, “But it may not be all that much of a blessing, eh, cousin?”
It dissolved into good-natured laughter, but later Morgaine, crossing the court, saw Lancelet still pacing, troubled, feathers still ruffled.
“What is it, kinsman, what ails you?”
He sighed. “I would that I might leave this court.”
“But my lady will not let you go.”
“Even to you, Morgaine, I will not talk of the Queen,” he said stiffly, and it was Morgaine’s turn to sigh.
“I am not the keeper of your conscience, Lancelet. If Arthur does not chide you, who am I to speak a word of reproach?”
“You don’t understand!” he said fiercely. “She was given to Arthur like something bought at market, part of a purchase in horses because her father would have kinship with the High King as part of the price! Yet she is too loyal to murmur—”
“I spoke no word against her, Lancelet,” Morgaine reminded him. “You hear accusations from yourself, not from my lips.”
She thought, I could make him desire me, but the knowledge was like a mouthful of dust. Once she had played that