Arthur

To see evil and call it good, mocks God. Worse, it makes goodness meaningless. A word without meaning is an abomination, for when the word passes beyond understanding the very thing the word stands for passes out of the world and cannot be recalled.

I have seen a land shining with goodness, where each man protects his brother's dignity as readily as his own, where war and want have ceased and all races live under the same law of love and honour. I have seen a land bright with truth, where a man's word is his pledge and falsehood is banished, where children sleep safe in their mother's arms and never know fear or pain. I have seen a land where kings extend their hands in justice rather than reach for the sword; where mercy, kindness, and compassion flow like deep water over the land, and men revere virtue, revere truth, revere beauty, above comfort, pleasure or selfish gain. A land where peace reigns in the hill, and love like a fire from every hearth; where the True God is worshipped and his ways acclaimed by all.

The Queen of Air and Darkness tilted back her head and laughed. A more ghastly sound I hope never to hear. ‘Do you think I care about these trifles?’ ‘Murder is no trifle, woman,’ Arthur said. ‘No? How many men have you killed, Great King? How many have you slain without cause? How many did you cut down that you might have spared? How many died because you in your battle-rage would not heed their pleas for mercy?’ The High King opened his mouth to speak, but could make no answer.

Arthur is no fit king. Uther's bastard, Merlin's pawn, he is lowborn and a fool. He is wanton and petty and cruel. A glutton and a drunkard, he lacks all civilized graces. In short, he is a sullen, ignorant brute. All these things and more men say of Arthur. Let them. When all the words are spoken and the arguements fall exhausted into silence, this single fact remains: we would follow Arthur to the very gates of Hell and beyond if he asked it. And that is the solitary truth. Show me another who can claim such loyalty.

Do not borrow tomorrow's troubles today

Yet, there was once a king worthy of that name. That king was Arthur. It is paramount disgrace of this evil generation that the name of that great king is no longer spoken aloud except in derision. Arthur! He was the fairest flower of our race, Cymry's most noble son, Lord of the Summer Realm, Pendragon of Britain. He wore God's favour like a purple robe. Hear then, if you will, the tale of a true king.

That Arthur has not always existed seems odd to me. Like the wind on the moors and the wild winter stars, surely he has always lived . . . and always will.

Arthur’s fingers tighten on the silver-braided hilt: see how naturally it fits his hand! He pulls. The Sword of Britain slides from its stone sheath. The ease with which this is accomplished shines in the wonder in Arthur’s eyes. He truly cannot believe what he has done. Nor can he comprehend what it means.

Arthur, with his keen blue eyes and hair of burnished gold, his ready smile and guileless countenance. Wide and heavy of shoulder, long of limb, he towers above other men and, though he does not yet know the power of his stature, he is aware that smaller men become uneasy near him. He is handsomely knit in all; fair to look upon.

To behold Queen Gwenhwyvar and the Lady of the Lake together was to peer too long into the sun's brilliant dazzle, to feel the heart lurch in the breast for yearning, to have the words stolen from the tongue before the lips could speak them.

The Emrys! The Emrys is here!' Merlin shook his head in astonishment. 'Has it come to this?' he wondered. 'Even small children know me by sight.

Great Light, the Enemy's power is so fragile! The devils can use only what we ourselves will give them. Do you see? Give them nothing and their power fails; it falls like a spent arrow, like a blade broken and blunted.

It was Arthur's welcome alone, I believe, which turned the tide of misery for Merlin.

He sighed and shook his head slowly. 'And there will be no bringing back the light once it has gone.

All he had, in fact, was Merlin's shining promise.

We would follow Arthur to the very gates of Hell and beyond if he asked it. And that is the solitary truth.

Stop, Morgian. Your wiles cannot avail you now.’ He turned to the High King and said, ‘The hurt this woman has done me, I readily forgive. It is for the harm that she has caused others that she is to be judged.

I took him by the arm to steady him. He opened his eyes slowly, the bright golden gleam now darkened with pain and sorrow. "Morgian!' he uttered, his voice strangled with grief. "It was Morgian. . .

Arthur!' I cried, but my voice was lost in the battle roar. The seething waters of the enemy host closed over the place where he had been.

And the Wise Emrys said that Arthur would yet come again to lead his own.

Arthur was simply there in their midst, the sword in his hand.

I searched until I panted for breath, but could not find it. The solid stone structure was nowhere to be seen. The house was gone - and Merlin with it.

I raised my spear to heaven. 'For God and Britain!' I cried, and my cry was answered in kind. And then I was racing down the hillside, my cloak rippling out behind me, the wind singing from my dark-glinting spearhead.

He holds the sword!' shouted Merlin. 'And that has not changed. Whoever would be king must first take the sword from Arthur's hand. For I tell you truly, none among you will be king without it!

And then, just as I begin to raise my sword to cleave a path to Arthur's side, there comes a sound like a tempest wind - the blast of a mighty sea gale. Men fall back, suddenly afraid. They cover their heads with their arms and peer into the darkness above. What is it? Is the roof falling? The sky? The strange sound subsides and they glance at one another in fear and awe. Merlin is there. The Emrys is standing calmly beside Arthur. His hands are empty and upraised, his face stern in the unnatural silence he has created . . .

I could not see the unholy creature, but I could feel the bone-aching chill of its presence, and I heard the howl of its mindless hate. I quailed to think of the power that had called it into being and loosed it on the world.

The spell is Morgians

Your faith is admirable, Pelleas. But I know nothing of sorcery. As it is, I have not been able to discover how the spell may be broken or how Merlin may be released from it.

All that winter's day and far into the night the kings twisted and squirmed, but Merlin held them in his iron grasp and would not let go. He became first a rock, and then a mountain in Arthur's defence. Arthur stood equally unmoved. No power on earth could have prevailed against them . . .

In truth I had forgotten all about Arthur and our reason for coming to Benowyc in the first place.