“Curse you! Had you pity on the woman?”
“Sire, sire!”
Thunder rolled overhead, and the girdles of the sky were loosed. A torrent of rain beat upon the man’s streaming face; he tottered on his knees, and still held his hands to the heavens.
“I lied,” he said. “God witness, I lied.”
“Ah—!”
“The woman lives—is at Tintagel.”
“Man—”
“Give me life, sire, give me life; you shall have her.”
Uther looked at him and heaved up his sword. Gorlois saw the King’s face, gave a great cry, and cowered behind his hands. It was all ended in a moment. The rain washed his gilded harness as he lay with his blood soaking into the heather.