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"Arthur Pendragon," whispered Morgawse, without moving. Her eyes were fixed on something infinitely far away. I shivered, for I knew that the hate she had borne for Uther had been conferred in double measure on Uther's son. "Artorius, Insularis Draco, Augustus, Imperator Britanniarum. That is his Roman title, man. Arthur, Pendragon, High King of Britain. Arthur..." Morgawse dropped her hands, glared at Connall and beyond him. Her face was twisted with a fury and hatred beyond human comprehension. Hate was a black fire in her eyes, deep as the inner black ocean which I knew had swallowed her. "Arthur!" she screamed, "Arthur! Oh, this battle is yours, brother, but the war is not over, I swear, I, Morgawse, rightful and legitimate daughter of a high king! Death, death upon you, death upon your seed, that it will rise against you, for all your new gods and empire and sorceries. Death and eternal agony! Be secure now in your new power and glory, you whom Uther loved, but my curse will find you out and give you to damnation forever. I swear the oath of my people, and may the earth swallow me, may the sky fall on me, may the sea overwhelm me if you do not die by your son's hand!"

Page 61 from original printing hardcover edition

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