The death of her chilly classical archaeologist dad leaves Lydian Wentworth free to pursue her own geis--Arthurian lore and the poems of Lord Tennyson haunt her. When Charles Ransome, the recluse painter, genius, and aficionado of all things Celt, invites her down to his little place in the country she takes one look at him--beautiful and hopelessly crippled--and it's got to be love. He reminds her of the Fisher King in the Grail myth, and in fact he is searching for the Grail himself, in the basement of Glastonbury Abbey next door. They marry at once, but alas, Charles has not warned Lydian that he cannot. . . . She overcomes her wedding-night disappointment by writing a book on Celtic women, but finds herself increasingly drawn to her husband's young assistant, Lawrence Stearns. Is she doomed to re-enact the Arthurian cycle--Arthur, Guinevere, Lancelot//Charles, Lydian, Lawrence? These recurrent nightmares of battles to the death on the Tintagel cliffs--are they vision, precognition, or memory? And who is trying to kill Lydian--is there a Mordred lurking in the wings? Yes, yes, yes to all these questions and more. Enough myths, archetypes, and literary baggage to sink a lesser plot, but this one--unlike the last, Wychwood--grapples through to a cliff-hanging finale.