"Medraut, I have seen you hunt," Goewin whispered. "Why would you let yourself be so terribly hurt?"

"We were on foot, with spears, and I went against a full-grown stag with my dagger," I answered, knowing that such a response explained nothing. "That she should fondle Lleu’s hands like that, all the while thinking of what she has done to mine! She is so unpredictable, and so cruel—"

"She hasn’t hurt us," Goewin said.

"And so strong," I finished, pushing the wet hair back from my face. "Even after she destroyed my hand I still clutched at her for comfort, just as I did as a child. I went back to her, trembling, every time."

"But why should you be so afraid of her?" Goewin persisted.

"When I resist her she invokes our dark secret, that she is my mother, and I must obey."

"Is it so secret?" Goewin asked. "You call her Godmother."

"No one knows. Only those few who were sworn to silence at the time of my birth, and now you and Lleu. It is why Artos would never make me his heir, even if I were his only child. There is nothing I count more shameful. I could not bear for her other children to know."

"But why, Medraut?" Goewin insisted quietly.

"What do you think?" I replied in equal quiet.

She looked away. She wanted a straight answer, and I would not give her one. "Tell me what you think," I repeated. "You have heard me talking in my sleep, you have seen the scars across my back. Surely you have made a guess."

"All right," she said in grim determination. She still pressed her hand over mine, trusting and intimate and infinitely courageous. "This is what I have guessed, Medraut. I think that you were like all the rest of us, ignorant of your parentage, and that you and Morgause were lovers. And when you found out she is your mother you set out to destroy yourself."

I said nothing. Goewin asked at length, "Is that right?"

"No," I answered bitterly. "You could hardly think worse of me! But you’re wrong. I have always known she is my mother."

Goewin stared at the wall, her jaw set, frowning. We were both drenched through. "She has no power here," Goewin said at last with stubborn certainty, to reassure herself as well as me. "You told her so much yourself. Lleu wasn’t punished. She can do nothing."

"I lack your courage before her," I said. "I have brought down a king of stags with my bare hands and a hunting knife, but she can bring me down with a few words and an idle kiss." Once more I pushed damp hair out of my eyes, and smiled ruefully. "Ah, God, I’m dripping wet.ȁ [ng

Goewin smiled with me. "I too. Come back inside." Calm now, we walked up through the silver and green and gray gardens. The colonnade was empty.

We met you in the hall. The lamps were not yet lit, and in the half-light of rain and evening it was too dark to see your face. "The prince is gone to bed," you told us softly. "You might step in and see that all is well; he is very cold, and Artos had to carry him in because we could not wake him."

"Could not wake him?" Goewin echoed in alarm.

"I would guess hemlock poisoning," you said seriously, "if I did not think better of my brother’s servants."

Goewin said in disgust, "Who would do such a thing? He must have a fever." She pushed past you toward Lleu’s bedroom, but I did not follow immediately. I asked you quietly, in the old routine, "What kind of fever makes one shiver?"

"You need not be afraid," you said. "I think he will recover by morning."

Lleu lay in bed, asleep. Goewin was drawing the tapestries across the windows when I came in, and Artos was lighting the brazier. I knelt by the bed and shook Lleu’s shoulder, saying lightly, "What makes you so tired, little one?" He pushed my hand away halfheartedly and murmured a few unintelligible syllables, but he could not be roused enough to sit up or to say anything coherent. Nevertheless his breath was even, and he was not so very cold after all. Artos came to stand by my side; he asked quietly, "What is it?"

"Nothing, sir," I answered. Hemlock? Perhaps a thimbleful out of a poisoned cup, but not enough to harm him. It could have been accidental.

Then why should you think to suggest it?

I finished, "Nothing, except that he seems unusually tired. I think it will pass by morning."

"He’s had no trouble breathing this year," Artos said, "and he is much stronger than he used to be. Medraut, your skill as a physician is equal to Aquila’s; you’re certain there’s nothing the matter?"

"Nothing sleep won’t cure. Truly, my lord," I answered.

We left it at that. During the next week the harvest began, and on days when I could help there I ate my meals in the open with the field-workers. Then I would return after dark, sunburned and exhausted, to fall into bed without speaking to anyone. Now even the mines frustrated me, for the shaft we were tunneling kept running into solid bedrock; we were unable to approach the vein of malachite that we felt sure was just beyond our reach. At the end of the week I sat at my desk, trying to draw up a plan for working around the bedrock, and I was too tired and too absorbed in my work to look up when Lleu came in.

"What’s wrong with me?" he demanded. "You know. I’m sure you know. Are you drugging me?"

"No!" I turned my head sharply, facing him. I said in anger, "I swore to you! And why should I?"

"You don’t dare lie to me," Lleu said fiercely.

"I’ll dare anything," I told him, hearing my voice as quiet and deadly as I have ever heard yours. "But I don’t lie."

We glared at one another in tense silence for a few moments. Then I sighed gently and propped my head ag [ed ter?inst my hand, leaning on the desk and looking at him. "Am I to understand that you are still so tired?" I asked.

"Ever since the night after our game," he said. "Medraut, I’m sorry; but you know more about medicines and herbs than anyone else here."

Not so.

But he did not know of your skill, then, and I could scarcely believe you would risk your brother’s wrath with such glaring treachery in his own house. I looked down at the dolphins of tile forever chasing one another across the sea-gray floor. "I have been working in the mines and in the fields every day this past fortnight," I said. "When would I find time to poison you? Why would I? God!"

"I’m sorry," he repeated softly, and almost on the verge of tears. "I’m sorry. But I’m afraid, Medraut! What is happening?"

"I can’t say," I said slowly. "Is there anything besides the weariness?"

"Not really. But I just fall asleep! I’m not ill; it’s like being drugged, it’s like drinking poppy, or too much wine."

"Do you feel it now?"

"No," he admitted. "It comes and goes."

"Does anyone else know?" I asked.

"Only if they’ve noticed. I haven’t told anyone but Goewin. Medraut, you have to do something; you can’t just let me be mysteriously poisoned!"

"You do not know that it is poison," I said wearily, "and it may change. But I’ll watch you. If you sense it starting again, come to me at once, or else send Goewin."

So he left, reassured. I thought of the things you had said that first night, and wondered, and wondered.

Goewin came for me just before dark, and early as it was I was already asleep. She shook my shoulder a little; though she rarely touched me at such times, for I slept naked beneath my blankets, and my nightmares disturbed her. And indeed, I was dreaming. Instead of waking, I snarled, "No!" and struck her full across the face.

She stood staring, not really hurt, but too astonished to speak. I sat upright in silence, tranced. "Sir?" she said tentatively, while I stared back at her without seeing her. "Medraut!"

"Princess?" I murmured finally, at last realizing where I was and what I had done. "Goewin?" We gaped at each other. "Forgive me. I—" I swallowed, shivering. "It was a dream, my lady. What do you want?"

She looked at me long and hard. At last she said slowly, "Something is wrong with Lleu. It’s more than weariness; his wrists are chill as ice."

I listened with a still face, then swung out of bed and drew on a loose robe. I lit a candle and quietly searched my shelves for the vials I thought I would need. "Do you know what it is?" Goewin asked.

"I’m not sure," I said. "But if it is poison, it will be hemlock."

She pressed her lips together. "Can you help?"

"I think. Go, light a fire for him. I’ll follow."

Goewin and I sat with Lleu late into the night, in part to comfort him, in part to minister to him, and in pa [im,dth="2ert to discuss together in low tones what was happening. More agitated than languid now, Lleu stirred the coals in the brazier and fidgeted restlessly with books and candlesticks, ornaments and games that lay about the room. He was unable to keep still. In the past two years he had reached his full stature and acquired a kind of wiry strength to match his natural grace; but now his gestures were determined and dogged, as though he had to concentrate and consider every movement he made. At last he sat on the floor next to the bed and for a moment collapsed with his face buried in his hands. Then he looked up and said, "Who is doing this?"

I think Goewin had some idea of the answer to that question, as I did. But neither of us spoke. "Can you guess? Do you know?" Lleu cried softly.

"I can guess," Goewin said with grim confidence.

"You can’t lay blame for such a thing without proof," I said.

"We can tell Father and have him stop it."

"No!" I protested. "It may be accidental." I thought to make light of the threat, and to protect Lleu myself. "Think of the fear and anger that would spread through the estate if we spoke of poison. Lleu is not hurt."

"I am!" he said.

"You’re not," I answered. "You’re made uncomfortable, and you’re frightened. But you aren’t in danger."

Goewin argued in quiet fury, "How can you know? If it may be accidental, it may as easily be malicious, and because of your skill everyone will blame you, Medraut."

"I’ve already blamed you," Lleu put in quietly.

"Ai, Lleu, if you won’t trust me, who will? It would shatter me to have you approach your father with such an accusation! I won’t let any harm come to you."

"Medraut, I have never heard you so irrational!" Goewin cried. "All the food and drink in Camlan seems tainted when it reaches Lleu’s lips."

"Then we’ll get food for him from Elder Field," I said, uncompromising. "Please, Goewin, help me to see this through, help me to keep Camlan from ugly intrigue and suspicion."

I think that Goewin finally agreed because she so wanted me to prove to her that I was to be relied upon, that I would assure all would be well. Reluctantly, the twins did as I planned. Lleu came out to the fields with me and ate his meals there. The first morning at the reaping he bound a square of damp linen across his nose and mouth and said apologetically, "The dust makes it hard for me to breathe." But he worked as diligently as anyone else. Goewin shadowed him when he was at home, methodically and quietly making certain that he ate nothing from the house. Yet we remained on edge, not daring to trust that the matter could be finished.