The old path was still there, she noted, the narrow winding way up to the castle, and the old wall, where she had sat that afternoon watching Lancelet run among the horses. Morgause had joined Gwenhwyfar and the Irish queen, and Lancelet had come to speak with them; Gwenhwyfar was smiling at Lancelet, an It seemed, as she looked on the mists rising like magical smoke from the marshes, that the world had vanished and even the rising sun was unfamiliar. But she must not linger here.
Once Arthur had promised her that when she gave him a son she might ask him for whatever gift was in his power to give, and s n a magnificent grove or within a great vaulted hall, more magnificent than the hall of the Round Table at Camelot. Lancelet said, By your leave, my lords, I will sing! He took the harp and said, This is a tale of Avalon, which I heard in my childhood. The whole looked uncared-for, the skins ragged and greasy, the hall unswept, with a sour, sweaty smell; she wrinkled her nose, but it was so much a relief to be within walls that she did not care.
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