No, be fair, said Gwydion. He turned his head away. Wish me fortune, Morgaine, for I must bring ill news to my king, and you know the doom meted of old to him who brought the king news he had no mind to hear! Arthur is not that sort, said Morgaine. And this foster-son of hers had, she suspected, something of that power, too.
! Sister, speak to our father for me! She pulled away her hand from his repeated effort to seize it. Leodegranz of the Summer Country has just died, and his young wife and her last child with her, Gwenhwyfar Will you fetch me my shoes and robe, so that I may dine in hall like a king, and not an old dodderer in bedgown and slippers? To be sure, said Morgaine, but I cannot lift you now. med of her foster-son Gwydion; and she was not at all surprised when one of her servant folk told her that a rider was on the road.
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