“God save us!” Sir Clement exclaimed before he could stop himself.
“—own uncle,” Sir Lancelot finished his last sentence. “God did not save yonder hermit,” he added. “Although, in all justice, Mordred may only have struck out in pure anger, and never meant to slay.”
Sir Clement stood a moment stunned. What a weight of guilt and troubled dread had Sir Mordred borne all those months, to lay it all down at last—so far as such things could be laid down—in that hidden hermitage! At last he said, “But Holy Church warns us so carefully against heeding soothsayers.”
could“Be that as ’t may,” said Sir Lancelot, “it likes me better to have Mordred huddling there far away from us, him and his dishonor together. His own dishonor only—let it be called no man else’s!”
But of course it was called the
