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slipped it on, knotted the green sash. “Get up, Arlen, put some clothes on,” he ordered. “You must lead the twelve, for a while. Dress yourself, take the spear. Already the white-robes are addled with mead, and as evening comes on they will be the more so. Let Lady Cerilla keep to her place and watch, and you lead the dance. When the frenzy peaks, go to your lady and take her and leave. No one will notice or know the difference until tomorrow, I feel sure of it.”
    â€œYou have done this,” said Arlen again, not moving, and Lonn shook his marvelous head, smiling.
    â€œI? No. Power is in me, but difficult, unschooled; I could never by myself have managed this thing. This is the will of the goddess, serpent power working through me.… Get up, Arl. I will have need of you. If you but smite me a shrewd blow, I will go quickly.”
    He drained the flagon to the bottom, and wordlessly Arlen rose and dressed himself, put on Lonn’s boots, and took up the spear with its head of wicked willow-leaf shape. From somewhere he had drawn courage; he stood in front of Lonn with the spear in hand, straight and stalwart, like a warrior, and they regarded each other. Their hands moved slowly to meet each other, touched. Fiercely they embraced, a warriors’ embrace with no weeping in it. Then they went out together, comrades.
    In a moment the Gwyneda came in to get me. Their faces were whitened with chalk, expressionless and as white as their robes. The sight of them disgusted me.
    â€œGo away,” I told them sharply. “I can dress myself.”
    They glanced at each other and said nothing, only came over to me and pulled the covers out of my clutching hands, turned them back, and examined the bedsheets. Whatever they found there must have satisfied them, for they nodded and took hold of me. I made myself very heavy in their hands.
    â€œGo away!” I shouted at them. “I am not a child; I am capable of getting into a robe by myself.” I twisted away from them and kicked, and they were startled enough that they let me go. “Wait outside,” I commanded imperiously, one fist in the air, and they looked at each other, shrugged, and withdrew.
    I listened at the door, then dressed quickly, secreting all the bread and meat that stood on the hearth in the fold of my robe above the sash. I knew I would not remain indifferent to food forever; nor, I hoped, would Arlen. I tightened the sash to my utmost. That done, I took my time combing and arranging my hair, so that they would think I was a vain young fool, and then I appeared at my door, yawning. They greeted me with frowns and hurried me off to the oak.
    Lonn hung there already, stripped and tied with willow thongs, his wrists bound to the lopped boughs on either side, his ankles to the trunk, and a bond around his waist as well. Before him stood twelve youths and striplings, eleven armed with darts or arrows and Arlen armed with the spear. All of the Gwyneda had chalked their faces, and they bore the scourges, the snakelike whips, their handles carved in the shape of serpents’ heads. The nobles and ladies kept to their great circle, as before. It was as Lonn had said; no one had noticed any difference in the winterking—he was the one who wore the sheen, and that was all that mattered. I was hurried to my place at the fore, and someone shouted and swung a scourge, and it began.
    I closed my eyes to most of what went on, and Lonn was good to me; he did not cry out. Still, there was the lashing of the whips to be listened to, and the brutal shouts, and every so often someone jostled me; they even tried to force a scourge into my hand. I stood stiff and still, letting the rites swirl around me like an incomprehensible storm. Great fires were being kindled to either side of me, fragrant fires of alder and cornel and applewood, for immortality. I could smell the spicy smoke, and when a serpentine dance began, in two loops