Merlin

THE Enemy was filled with rage when Our Lord descended into Hell and freed Adam and Eve and as many more as He pleased. When the demons realised what had happened they were bewildered, and gathered together and said:

‘Who is this man who has broken into our fastness? Nothing we’ve hidden is safe from him: he does whatever he pleases! We thought any man of woman born would be ours; but this one is defeating and tormenting us! How was he born of woman without any involvement with earthly pleasure? He’s outwitting us as we’ve outwitted other men and women!’

Then one of the demons replied, saying: ‘Our own power has been turned against us. Do you remember how the prophets spoke and said that the son of God would come to Earth to save the sinners Eve and Adam and as many more as he pleased? We seized those who said this and tormented them more than the other sinners, but they seemed to be untroubled by our tortures, and comforted the other sinners, saying that the one who was coming to Earth would save them from the pains of Hell. And what the prophets predicted has now happened! He’s robbed us of all we had – we can keep nothing from him! He’s rescued all who believed in his nativity – though by what power we just don’t know.’

‘Don’t you know, then,’ said another, ‘that he has them baptised in water in his name? They cleanse themselves in water in the name of the Father and of the Mother so that we can no longer take them as ours; it’s infuriating – we used to take them wherever we found them! Now they’re lost to us because of this washing! We have no power over them – until they return to us by their own sinful deeds. Thus our power diminishes while his increases. What’s more, he’s left ministers on Earth to save the people – however much they may have been inclined to our work – if they’ll repent and abandon our ways and do as these ministers command. So we’ve lost them all! Great is the spiritual work of Our Lord, who to save mankind came to Earth and was born of woman and suffered earthly torments. And he came without our knowledge and without any involvement with human pleasure. We tested him with every possible temptation; but after we’d tempted him and found in him none of our works, he was willing to die to save mankind. He loves man dearly, willing as he is to endure such pain to rescue him from our bonds. Now we must strive to win man back! He’s taken from us what should be ours! We must find a way to bring men back to doing our works, to such a degree that they could never repent or even speak to those who might grant them forgiveness.’

‘We’ve lost everything,’ they all cried together, ‘for they can be forgiven even mortal sins! If Our Lord finds them willing to repent and turn to his ways, they’re safe. So we’ve lost them all!’

Then the demons spoke amongst themselves, saying: ‘Those who said so most are the prophets: they are the cause of all our troubles! The more they spoke of him, the more we tormented them, and now it seems he hurried to their aid, to rescue them from the tortures we were inflicting. So, then, how can we find a man who’d speak to others on our behalf and tell them of our total knowledge of all things past? If we had such a man, he could converse with the people on Earth and help us greatly to deceive men and women alike, just as the prophets worked against us when we had them here.’ Then they said: ‘It would be a great deed to create such a man, for they would all believe in him.’

Then one of them said: ‘I can’t make seed or conceive a child in a woman, but there’s one among you who could, and I know a woman who’s somewhat in my power. Let the one who can take the shape of a man do so in utmost secrecy.’

And so the demons plotted to conceive a man who would work to deceive others. They were foolish indeed to think Our Lord would not know of their plan! Then one of the demons said he would devote all his thought and wit to deceiving followers of Christ; you may clearly see the Devil’s folly, if he imagines he can work such deception.

Their gathering broke up with this plan agreed. And the one who claimed to have the power to lie with a woman made no delay, but came straight to her and found her most amenable. She yielded entirely to the Enemy. She was the wife of a wealthy man, who owned great herds and fine estates and other riches, and she had a son and three daughters. The demon did not neglect his task but went into the fields and contemplated how he could deceive the woman. One day he came to her and asked her how he could trick her husband. And she replied that he would be mightily angry ‘if you took our possessions’. So the demon went and slaughtered a great many of the good man’s flocks. When the shepherds saw their sheep dying in the open fields they were amazed and said they would report it to their lord, and they went and told him that his animals were dying in the middle of the fields. He was shocked and enraged, and said: ‘Is this true?’

‘Yes,’ they replied; and he wondered what could be wrong with them to make them die so.

‘Do you know what could be causing their deaths?’ he asked the shepherds; but they said they had no idea. So matters stayed that day. And when the demon saw the worthy man was angered by so little, he realised that if he did him greater harm he would make him enraged indeed, and by so doing, bring him into his power. So he returned to where the livestock was kept and came upon two beautiful horses in the rich man’s stable; and he killed them both in the same night. When the good man saw the ill fortune that had befallen him he was filled with rage, and his fury drove him to a foolish utterance: that he gave everything that remained to him to the Devil.

The demon was delighted to hear of this gift, and began to assail the man mercilessly to cause him further misery, leaving him none of his animals at all. Such were the good man’s grief and wrath that he shunned all human company. Seeing this, the demon knew for certain that the man was in his power. He came to the rich man’s handsome son and strangled him in his bed. In the morning the child was found dead. And when the worthy man knew he had lost his son he gave way to despair and abandoned his faith. Knowing the man had lost his faith filled the demon with delight, and he went to the wife – thanks to whom he had achieved all this – and made her climb on to a box in her cellar and put a rope around her neck and then pushed her off and strangled her: she was found hanging there. When the worthy man realised he had lost his wife as well as his son in such a manner he was overcome with grief so great that he fell ill and died. This is how the Devil works with those he can bring into his power.

Having done all this the demon was elated, and pondered on how he could deceive the three daughters who remained. He knew he could not unless he worked in a way that would please them. There was a young man in the town who was much inclined towards him, so he took him to the girls and had him begin to court one of them. Such were the youth’s deeds and words that she was utterly deceived, to the demon’s delight; and he did not want his conquest kept secret: he wanted it known openly to cause the greater shame. So the demon ensured that word was spread until it was common knowledge. At this time it was the custom that if a woman was taken in adultery, she should either give herself to all men or be put to death. The Devil, ever eager to bring disgrace upon those who come to him, made the matter known to the judges: the young man fled, but the girl was seized and led before them.

When the judges saw her, they felt great pity for her worthy father, and said: ‘It’s amazing that so much ill has befallen him in so little time: only a short while ago he was one of the wealthiest men in the land.’

And they discussed what to do and what sentence to pass, and they all agreed to bury her alive one night; and that is what they did.

Now in that land there was a worthy man who was a good confessor, and hearing of these strange events he came to the other two sisters, the eldest and the youngest, and began to give them comfort, and asked them how this misfortune had befallen them.

‘We don’t know, sir,’ they replied, ‘but we think God must hate us, to let us suffer this torment.’

‘You’re wrong to say so,’ said the good man. ‘God hates no-one; rather, it grieves him deeply when a sinner hates himself. I’m certain your misfortune is the work of a demon. As for your sister, whom you’ve lost in such a shameful way, do you know the truth about what she did?’

‘No, sir,’ they replied.

‘Beware of wicked deeds,’ he said, ‘for they lead sinners to a woeful end.’

The good man gave them fine advice, if they were willing to heed it. The eldest daughter listened well and delighted in the good man’s words. He taught her all about his faith and the powers of Jesus Christ, and she listened diligently.

‘If you believe my words,’ he said, ‘great good will come to you; and you shall be my God-daughter, and whenever a great task or need confronts you, if you ask for my support I’ll give you aid and advice with the help of Our Lord. Never fear,’ he said, ‘for Our Lord will assist you if you’re true to Him; and come to me often, for I shan’t be far from here.’

So the good man gave the girls sound advice and set them on the right path. The elder believed him utterly and loved him for his good advice. This troubled the demon mightily; he feared they might be lost to him. He considered long how he might trick them.

Nearby lived a woman who had done his will and his works many times; the demon took her and led her to the two girls. She came to the younger sister, not daring to speak to the elder because she saw her modest countenance. She drew the younger sister aside and asked her all about her life and condition.

‘How’s your sister?’ she asked. ‘Does she love you and treat you well?’

‘My sister’s very troubled,’ she replied, ‘about the misfortunes that have befallen us, so she gives no kind attention to me or anyone. And a worthy man who speaks to her about God each day has converted her so wholly to his ways that she does only what he tells her.’

And the woman said: ‘Dear girl, what a shame for your lovely body, which will never know joy as long as you’re in your sister’s company. Oh God! My dear friend, if you knew the joy that other women have, you’d count all others as nothing! Oh, we have such pleasure from the company of men! Compared with that, what joy does a woman have? My dear,’ she said, ‘I tell you for your own good, you’ll never know joy or understand the pleasure of being with a man so long as you’re with your sister, and I’ll tell you why. She’s older than you, and will in time have her share of pleasure with men, and won’t allow you to enjoy it before her! And while she’s experiencing that pleasure she’ll have no thought for you! So you’ll lose the joy that your poor, lovely body might have had.’

‘How could I dare to do what you say?’ said the girl. ‘For my other sister’s suffered a shameful death for just such a deed.’

‘Your sister,’ the woman replied, ‘was too foolish, too ill-advised, in the way she went about it! If you’ll trust in me, you’ll never be found out and will enjoy all bodily pleasure.’

‘I don’t know how I’ll do it,’ the girl said, ‘but I’ll say no more now, on account of my sister.’

The demon was overjoyed at hearing this, certain now that he would have her in his power. He led his woman away, and when she was gone the girl thought long about what she had said. When the demon heard and saw how drawn she was towards doing his will, as she talked about it to herself, he fanned the flames with all his power. She said: ‘That good woman told me the truth indeed when she said I’d lost all worldly pleasure.’

And the day finally came when she summoned the woman and said to her: ‘Truly, lady, you were right the other day when you said my sister had no care for me.’

‘I know, dear friend,’ the woman replied, ‘and she’ll care even less if she finds pleasure herself. And we were made for no other purpose than to have pleasure with men!’

‘I would very gladly have it,’ said the girl, ‘were I not afraid it would earn my death!’

‘It would,’ the woman replied, ‘if you acted as foolishly as your other sister. But I’ll teach you how to go about it.’

And the girl said: ‘Tell me!’

‘My dear,’ said the woman, ‘you will give yourself to all men! Leave your sister’s house, saying you can’t bear to be with her any longer. Then do as you like with your body – no accusation will be levelled against you: you’ll be clear of all danger. When you’ve led that life as long as you please, some worthy man will be pleased to have you on account of your inheritance! If you do as I say, you can enjoy all worldly happiness.’

The girl agreed to do as she said, and left her sister’s house and gave her body freely to men just as the woman had advised.

The demon was overjoyed at deceiving the younger sister. And when the elder knew that she had gone she went to the good confessor. Seeing her terrible sorrow he felt great pity for her and said: ‘Dear friend, make the sign of the cross and commend yourself to God, for I can see you’re most perturbed.’

‘I’m right to be,’ she answered, and she told him how her sister had left her and was giving herself freely to men. The good man was aghast and said: ‘My dear girl, the Devil is still about you, and he’ll never rest till he’s deceived you all.’

‘In God’s name, sir,’ she asked him, ‘how can I protect myself? I fear nothing in the world so much as his trickery.’

‘If you’ll trust in my words,’ he said, ‘he’ll not deceive you.’

‘Sir,’ she replied, ‘I’ll believe anything you say.’

Then the good man said to her: ‘Do you believe in the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, and that these three beings are one in God; and that Our Lord came to Earth to save sinners who were willing to believe in baptism, and in the other commandments of Holy Church and of the ministers that He left on Earth to save those who would come in His name and follow the right path?’

‘I do indeed,’ she replied, ‘and always will, and may He guard me from the Devil’s wiles.’

‘If you believe as you say,’ said the good man, ‘no evil being can deceive you. I beg and command you above all things to beware of giving way to excessive wrath, for I tell you truly, the Devil finds his way into men and women possessed by wrath more readily than by any other path. So beware of all misdeeds, and whenever you do become upset, my good dear friend, come to me and tell me so. And admit your wrongs to Our Lord and all the saints and all Christian men. And every time you wake or go to bed, raise your hand and make the sign of the cross on which the precious body of Christ was hung to redeem sinners from the pains of Hell, in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, so that no devil or demon can possess you. If you do as I say,’ the good man said, ‘the Devil cannot deceive you. And make sure there’s always light where you lie down to sleep, for the Devil hates places where light shines.’

Such was the good man’s lesson to the girl who so feared being tricked by the Devil. Then she returned home, full of trust and humility towards God and the good, worthy people of the land. The good men and women came to her and kept saying: ‘Lady, you must be very troubled by the torments that have befallen you, losing your father and mother and sisters and brother in such a terrible way. But take comfort in your good heart now, and consider: you’re a very rich woman with a handsome inheritance, and some worthy man would be delighted to have you as his wife and keep you safe and well.’

And she replied: ‘Our Lord knows my needs and keeps me accordingly.’

In this state the girl remained for a long while. For fully two years or more the demon could conceive no way to trick her or find any wrongdoing in her. It annoyed him greatly, as he realised he could not deceive her or influence her behaviour; and so averse was she to doing his works, which held no appeal for her, that he began to think the only way to make her forget the good man’s advice was through a fit of anger. So the demon went and fetched her sister, and brought her to her one Saturday night to incense her and to see if he could then deceive her. When the good maiden’s sister arrived at her father’s house it was well into the night and she was accompanied by a band of young men. They all came flocking in together, and when her sister saw them she was furious and said: ‘My dear girl, as long as you lead this shameful life you’ve no right to enter this house. I shall be held to blame, which I can well do without!’

Hearing her say that she would cause her shame enraged the younger sister, who said she was more guilty still: she accused her of being sinfully loved by her confessor, and said that if people knew of it she would be burnt at the stake. When she heard this devilish accusation the elder girl was filled with rage, and told her sister to leave the house. The mad sister replied that it was her father’s house as much as hers, and that she would not leave on her account. Hearing this refusal, the elder girl grabbed her by the shoulders and was about to fling her out; but she fought back, and the young men who had come with her seized the sister and beat her grievously until she let her go. When they had had their fill of beating her she ran to her chamber and shut the door behind her. She had only a maid and a manservant to care for her, but they were enough to stop the boys beating her more.

There in her chamber all alone she lay down on her bed fully clothed; she began to weep and lament most terribly, and her heart was filled with the deepest anger. In this woeful state she fell asleep. And the demon, knowing anger had erased all else, was overjoyed that she had forgotten the good man’s lesson, and said: ‘Now I can do whatever I want with her! She’s outside her teacher’s protection and her Lord’s grace. Now we can put our man in her!’

This was the demon who had the power to have relations with women and to lie with them; he made himself ready, came to her chamber, lay with her, and conceived. When it was done, she awoke; and as she did so she remembered her worthy confessor’s words and made the sign of the cross. Then she said: ‘Holy Lady Mary, what’s happened to me? I’m not the maiden I was when I lay down in my bed! Dear glorious mother of Christ, daughter and mother of God, implore your dear son to keep me from peril and protect my soul from the Enemy.’

Then she rose from her bed and began to look for the man who had done this to her, for she imagined she would be able to find him. But when she came to the door of her chamber she found it locked. She searched every corner of the room and found nothing. She knew for certain then that she had been deceived by the Enemy. She began to lament and appeal to Our Lord to have pity and save her from worldly shame.

Night passed and morning came. And as soon as it was light the demon led the younger sister away – she had thoroughly fulfilled his purpose – and when she and the young men were gone, the elder girl came from her chamber, weeping, in great distress, and called her servant and told him to fetch two women. He did so, and when they arrived she set out with them to see her confessor. She made her way there, and as soon as the good man saw her he said: ‘My dear friend, you clearly need help: I can see you’re in a state of fear and shock.’

‘Sir,’ she replied, ‘something has happened to me that never befell a woman before. I’ve come to you for advice in God’s name, for you told me that no matter how great a sin might be, if a person will confess and repent and do as the confessor says, the sin will be forgiven. Sir, I have sinned indeed, and have been deceived by the Enemy.’

And she told him how her sister had come to the house and of their argument, and how she and the young men had beaten her; and how she had gone to her chamber in a rage and shut herself in, and because of the depth of her grief and anger had forgotten to make the sign of the cross.

‘So I forgot all the instructions you gave me. I lay down in my bed fully dressed and fell asleep, still in a state of deep anger. And when I awoke, I found I’d been shamed and was a maiden no more. Sir, I searched my chamber from top to bottom, and the door was locked, but I found no human soul. I didn’t know who’d done this to me: I knew I’d been deceived. I beg you in God’s name, though my body may be in torment, let me not lose my soul.’

The good man had listened to every word she said and was astounded; but he did not believe it at all, for he had never heard of such a wonder, and he said to her: ‘Dear friend, you are possessed by the Devil, and the Devil is speaking through you still. How can I confess you or give you penance when I fear you’re lying? No woman ever lost her virginity without knowing by whom, or without at least seeing the man! Yet you expect me to believe this wonder has befallen you.’

‘May God keep me from torment, sir,’ she replied, ‘as surely as I am telling you the truth!’

‘If you are,’ said the good man, ‘you’ll know it soon enough! You’ve committed a great sin in disobeying my command, and for your disobedience I charge you as a penance that for the rest of your life you eat only once on a Friday; and in payment for your lustful act – about which I do not believe you – I must give you another lifelong penance, if you’re willing to do as I say.’

‘I’ll do anything you command, sir,’ she said, and he replied: ‘May God ensure that you do. Assure me that you’ll submit to the instruction of the ministers of Holy Church and of God, who redeemed us at the dear price of His precious blood and His death; and that you’ll make true confession and humble repentance fully confirmed in heart and body, and act and speak in all ways according to Christ’s commandments.’

‘Sir,’ she replied, ‘I’ll do all in my power to do exactly as you say.’

‘I trust in God,’ he said, ‘that, if you’re telling the truth, you’ll have nothing to fear.’

‘May God guard me from all baseness and reproach, for my words are true.’

‘So you swear to me,’ he said, ‘to do your penance faithfully and to renounce and abandon your sin?’

‘Yes indeed, sir,’ she replied, and he said:

‘Then you have abjured lust. I forbid you to indulge in lustful ways for the rest of your life – except for what befell you while you slept, which no-one could have avoided. Are you willing and able to accept this?’

‘Yes, sir,’ she replied, ‘if you can ensure that I’m not damned for this sin, as God has installed you on Earth at His command.’

She accepted the penance with which the good man charged her, repenting very willingly and with a true heart. The good man blessed her with the sign of the cross, and did all he could to restore her to the faith of Jesus Christ; and he pondered deeply how her story could be true. After much thought he realised she had been deceived by some demon, and he called her to him and made her drink holy water in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, and sprinkled it over her, saying: ‘Be sure that you never forget my commandments. And whenever you need me, come to me and make the sign of the cross and commend yourself to God.’ And he committed her in penitence to do all the good deeds that she could.

And so she made her way home, and proceeded to lead a good and honest life. And when the demon realised he had lost her, and had no knowledge of anything she did or said – she might as well never have existed – he was enraged. She stayed at home and led an excellent life, until the seed she had in her body could hide itself no longer, and she grew fat and round until it was noticed by other women. They looked at her belly and said: ‘Dear friend, are you with child?’

‘Truly, ladies,’ she replied, ‘I am.’

‘God!’ they cried. ‘Who was it made you so? You’re round and full-bellied indeed!’

‘I know I am, truly,’ she said.

‘Who is responsible?’ they asked.

‘May God comfort me,’ she replied, ‘I’ve no idea at all.’

‘Have you had so many men?’ they said.

‘So help me God,’ she answered, ‘no man has ever done anything to me to cause me to be with child.’

‘That’s impossible, my dear!’ they said. ‘But perhaps you have a secret lover who’s done this, and you don’t want to accuse him? Well truly, your body’s at terrible risk, for as soon as the judges know of this you’ll be stoned to death.’

When she heard that she faced certain death she was filled with fear and said: ‘May God protect my soul as surely as I never saw the man responsible!’

With that the women left; they thought her mad, and said how terribly sad it was about her great inheritance and fine estates, for now she would lose everything. She was appalled by this, and returned to her confessor and told him what the women had said. Then the good man saw she was great with child, and he was deeply shocked and asked her if she had done the penance he had laid upon her. And she replied: ‘Yes, sir, unfailingly.’

‘And this sin has befallen you only once?’

‘Yes indeed, sir,’ she said. ‘At no other time, either before or since.’

The good man was perplexed by these events; and he wrote down the night and the hour of the conception according to her story, and said: ‘Be assured that when the child inside you is born, I’ll know whether you’ve told me the truth or lied. And I have utter faith in God that, if your story’s true, you’ll be in no danger of death. You may well fear it, though, for when the judges know of it they’ll seize you to get their hands on your fine properties and land, and will threaten to put you to death. When you’re arrested send me word, and I’ll bring you counsel and comfort if I can, and God will help you if you’re as innocent as you say. But if you’re not, be assured that He’ll not forget you! Go home now,’ he said, ‘and stay calm and lead a good life, for a good life helps bring about a good end.’

So she returned home that night, and proceeded to lead a peaceful, humble life, until such time as the judges came to those parts and heard about the lady who had conceived a child in this strange manner. They sent people to her house to find and fetch her. When she was arrested she sent word to the good man who had been such a faithful counsellor, and as soon as he heard he came with all possible speed. The judges welcomed him, but repeated the lady’s story that she did not know who had made her pregnant, and said: ‘Do you believe that any woman can conceive and become pregnant without male company?’

‘I shan’t tell you all I know,’ the good man replied, ‘but what I will say is this: if you want my advice you’ll not put her to death while she’s with child – it wouldn’t be right, for the child doesn’t deserve to die. He has committed no sin, and wasn’t involved in the sin of his mother. If you put her to death you’ll be guilty of the death of an innocent.’

And the judges said: ‘Sir, we’ll do as you advise.’

‘Then keep her in a tower under close guard, so that she can do nothing foolish. And place two women with her who can help her when the time comes for the delivery, and make sure they can’t slip away. So she’ll be well guarded until she has the child. And then I advise you to let her feed the child until he can feed himself and make his own needs clear. Then do whatever else you feel necessary. But give them whatever they need: you can easily do so by drawing on her own wealth. This is my advice, and you’ll follow it if you trust me – though if you wish to do otherwise I can’t stop you.’

But the judges replied: ‘We think you’re right.’

And they did as the good man advised, locking her in a house of stone with all the ground floor doors walled up. And with her they installed two of the worthiest women they could find for the purpose. They left windows upstairs through which the things they needed could be hauled inside. After arranging this, the good man spoke to her at the window, saying: ‘Once the child is born, have him baptised as soon as you can. And when they bring you out and prepare to pass judgement on you, send for me.’

She was kept in the tower for a long while, and the judges supplied her and her attendants with everything they needed. There she stayed until it pleased Lord God that she had the child. And when he was born, he had the power and the intelligence of the Devil – he was bound to, being conceived by him. But the Enemy had made a foolish mistake, for Our Lord redeemed by His death all who truly repent, and the Enemy had worked upon the child’s mother through sheer trickery while she slept, and as soon as she was aware of the deception she had begged for forgiveness and submitted to the mercy and commandment of Holy Church and of God, and had obeyed all her confessor’s instructions. God had no wish to deprive the Devil of what was rightfully his, and since the Devil wanted the child to inherit his power to know all things said and done in the past, he did indeed acquire that knowledge; but, in view of the mother’s penitence and true confession and repentant heart, and of her unwillingness in the fatal deed, and of the power of her cleansing baptism in the font, Our Lord, who knows all things, did not wish to punish the child for his mother’s sin, but gave him the power to know the future. And so it was that the child inherited knowledge of things past from the Enemy, and, in addition, knowledge of things to come was bequeathed to him by God. It was up to him which way he inclined. If he wished, he could answer the claims both of Our Lord and of the devils; for a demon had made his body, but Our Lord had given him the spirit to hear and understand. Indeed, he had given more to him than to other men because he would certainly be needing it. It remained to be seen which way the child would lean.

And so he was born, and the moment the women received him and set eyes on him they were filled with fear, for he had more and far longer hair than they had ever seen on other children. They showed him to his mother, who crossed herself and said: ‘This child frightens me.’

‘We hardly dare hold him,’ said the women.

‘Take him below,’ the mother said, ‘and give orders that he be baptised.’

‘What name shall he be given?’ they asked; and she replied: ‘The same as my father, whose name was Merlin.’

So the child was baptised and named Merlin after his grandfather. He was given to his mother to be fed, and she fed him until he was nine months old – when he looked at least a year or more. And time passed and he reached eighteen months, and the women said to her: ‘We want to be out of here and go back to our homes – we’ve been here so long!’

‘Truly,’ she replied, ‘I can’t bear to see you go!’

But they said: ‘We can’t stay here any more!’

She began to weep and begged for mercy in God’s name, that they should endure it just a little longer. They went and leaned at a window, and the mother took her child in her arms and sat down and wept, saying: ‘Dear son, I’m going to suffer death on your account, but I haven’t deserved it. But I shall die, because no-one knows the truth about who fathered you and no-one believes a word I say. So die I must.’

And while the mother lamented to her son – and complained to God of her woes, declaring that He should never have let her be born – the child looked at her and said: ‘Mother, have no fear, for you will not die on my account.’

When she heard the child speak her heart quite stopped in dismay; she dropped her arms, and the child bawled as he fell to the ground. And when the women at the window saw this they leapt forward and ran to him, thinking she was about to kill the child. But she said she had no such thought.

‘I dropped him in astonishment at what he said; my heart and arms failed me! That’s why he fell.’

‘What did he say,’ they asked, ‘to give you such a shock?’

‘That I wouldn’t die because of him.’

‘Let’s see if he’ll say more!’ they said, and they took him and watched him with rapt attention, wondering if he would speak again. But he gave no sign at all of doing so; he uttered not a word. After a long while had passed the mother said to the two women: ‘Give him to me and let’s see if he’ll speak.’

And she took him in her arms, desperate that he should speak in the women’s presence. But the women said: ‘What a shame it is for your lovely body, that you’ll be burnt for the sake of this creature. It would have been better if he’d never been born.’

And the child replied: ‘You lie! That’s what my mother would have me tell you!’

When the women heard this they were stricken with fear and said: ‘This is no child but a demon, who knows what we’ve said and done!’

They burst into excited babble, and he said to them: ‘Leave me be! You’re wilder sinners than my mother!’

They could not believe their ears, and said that this marvel could not be kept secret. ‘We must let the whole world know!’

They went to the window and called to the people below and told them what the child had said. The people were astounded and said it was high time the mother was put to death. They sent letters to summon the judges, and her execution was fixed for forty days thence. When the mother heard that the day of her death had been decreed she was filled with fear and sent word to her confessor.

Time went by until there were only eight days left before her stoning, and the thought of that day terrified her. The child toddled around the tower and saw his mother weeping and began to laugh in apparent delight. The women said to him: ‘You’re sharing few of your mother’s thoughts! In this coming week she’s going to die because of you. Cursed be the hour of your birth! God cannot love her, letting her suffer death on your account.’

But the child replied: ‘They’re lying, mother. You’ll never be brought to shame as long as I live, and no-one will dare touch you or determine your death but God.’

Hearing this, the mother and the two women were stricken with awe and said: ‘This child has remarkable powers and will be a great man, if he can make such pronouncements!’

So matters stayed until the day decreed. And when the day came, the women were released from the tower, the mother carrying her child in her arms. The judges had arrived, and they took the women to one side and asked them if it was true that the child had made these utterances. The women reported everything they had heard him say, and the judges were astounded and said: ‘He’ll need a way with words indeed if he’s to save her from death!’

Back they came; and the good man was there to give her counsel. One of the judges said: ‘Young lady, is there anything more you wish to say or do? Prepare yourself now, for you’re about to suffer death.’

‘If you please, sir,’ she replied, ‘I’d like to speak to my confessor there.’

The judge gave her permission and she went into a chamber, leaving her child outside. Many people tried to get him to speak but without success. Meanwhile the mother talked to her confessor, weeping most piteously; and when she had said all she wished the good man asked her: ‘Is it true that your child speaks?’

She heard his question, and replied: ‘Yes, sir.’

Then they left the chamber and found her child crying outside, and she took him in her arms and came straight before the judges. When they saw her they said: ‘Lady, tell us who is the father of this child. Beware of concealing the truth.’

‘My lords,’ she replied, ‘I can see I’m doomed to die. But may God have no pity on my soul if I ever knew or saw the father, or if I ever willingly gave myself in such a way as to be with child.’

But one of the judges said: ‘We don’t believe that can be true. We’ll ask other women if what you’re telling us could possibly happen. No-one has ever heard such a tale before.’

And with that the judges withdrew and asked many women if the mother’s story could be true. One of the judges spoke to the large gathering and said: ‘All you ladies assembled here, has it happened to any of you, or to any woman you’ve ever heard of, that a child has been conceived without the carnal involvement of a man?’

And they replied that no woman could become pregnant and have a child without male company. Hearing this, the judges returned to Merlin’s mother and repeated what the women had said.

‘And now justice must be done, for there appears to be no truth whatever in this woman’s story.’

Then Merlin leapt forward, incensed by their words to his mother, and said: ‘She’ll not be burnt so soon! If all men and women who committed adultery were put to death, more than a couple of the people here would be burnt, for I know the ways of these women as well as they do themselves! If I were to speak of them, I’d make them confess and admit the truth in front of this whole assembly. There are some who’ve done worse than my mother! She’s not guilty of the charges made – and if she is, this good man has taken them upon himself. If you don’t believe me, ask him yourselves.’

The judges summoned the good confessor and asked him if what the child said was true, and he recounted word for word what Merlin’s mother had first told him.

‘And I told her that if her story was true she need have no fear of God or the world, for she would receive fair treatment.’

Then she told them herself how she had been deceived, and of the marvellous conception of the child while she slept, without having any pleasure of a man; she did not know who had fathered him. ‘And I’ve made confession and repented.’

Then Merlin said to the good man: ‘You wrote down the night and the hour when it happened. You can tell whether my mother’s speaking the truth. From your note you can prove part of what she’s said and done.’

‘That’s true!’ the good man said. ‘I don’t know where your wisdom comes from, for you’ve far more sense than any of us!’

Then the women who had been in the tower with Merlin’s mother were summoned. They reported to the judges the time of the child’s birth, and therefore his conception, and compared it with what the good man had written, and found that it was as he said. But one of the judges replied: ‘This doesn’t acquit her on its own: she must tell us who begat you.’

The child was furious and said: ‘I know my father better than you ever knew yours! And your mother knows who fathered you better than mine knows who fathered me!’

The judge was enraged and said: ‘Merlin, if you know something about my mother you’ve a duty to tell me.’

‘I can say for sure,’ Merlin replied, ‘that your mother deserves death more than mine! And if I make her admit it, then acquit my mother, who’s innocent of the charge you’ve laid upon her, for be assured that what she’s said about me is true.’

The judge was incensed by this and said: ‘If you’re right, you’ll have saved your mother from the fire. But I tell you this: if what you’ve said about my mother is false, yours will certainly burn.’

They adjourned for fifteen days, while the judge sent for his own mother and put Merlin and his mother under close guard: indeed, he stayed with the guards himself. The child was often encouraged to speak by his mother and by others, but they could not get a word from him.

The appointed day came and the judge appeared with his mother, and Merlin and his mother were taken from prison and led before the people. Then the judge said to Merlin: ‘Here is my mother, about whom you must speak.’

‘This is not wise,’ Merlin replied. ‘Go, and take her to a house in private and summon your closest counsellors. I shall summon my mother’s – God omnipotent and her confessor.’

Those who heard his words were almost speechless with astonishment, but the judge knew that what he said was wise. And Merlin said to the other judges: ‘If I can deliver my mother from this man, will she be acquitted?’

‘If she escapes his condemnation,’ they replied, ‘nothing more will be asked of her.’

And so they retired to a chamber, the judge taking with him his mother and two of the worthiest friends he could find, while Merlin took his mother’s confessor. When they were all assembled, the judge said: ‘Merlin, now you may say what you wish to my mother, to earn your mother’s acquittal.’

‘I’ve no desire,’ said Merlin, ‘to defend my mother if she’s done wrong, but I wish to protect God’s truth and hers. Be assured she’s not deserved the torment you intend for her, and if you’ll take my advice you’ll acquit my mother and cease to inquire about your own.’

‘You’re not going to wriggle round me like this!’ the judge replied. ‘You’ll have to say more!’

‘You’ve taken my mother,’ said Merlin, ‘and intend to burn her for giving birth to me without knowing who begat me. But I know who fathered me better than you know who fathered you, and your mother could say whose son you are better than my mother could say whose son I am.’

Then the judge said to his mother: ‘Am I not the son of your lawful husband?’

‘Oh God, dear son,’ his mother replied, ‘whose son would you be, if not your good father’s, long dead?’

‘Lady,’ said the child Merlin, ‘you must tell the truth if your son is to acquit my mother and me. I dearly wish he’d do so now, without more being said.’

‘I most certainly will not!’ the judge replied; and the child said: ‘All you’ll achieve by making your mother testify is to find that your father’s still alive.’

Everyone present was astounded by this; and the child turned to the judge’s mother and said: ‘Lady, you must tell your son the truth.’

The lady crossed herself and cried: ‘Devil Satan! Haven’t I done so?’

‘You know very well,’ Merlin replied, ‘that he’s not the son of the man he thinks.’

The lady was appalled, and said: ‘Whose is he, then?’

‘You know,’ replied the child, ‘that he’s your priest’s son. By way of proof, the first time that you conjoined with him, you told him you were afraid of becoming pregnant; and he said you wouldn’t be so on his account, and that he’d make a note of all the times when he lay with you, because he for his part was afraid you’d lie with another man, for at that time you were on bad terms with your husband. And when your son was conceived, you weren’t slow in lamenting your misfortune, being with child by him. If I’m telling the truth, admit it. If you won’t, I’ll reveal more.’

The judge was terribly distressed, and asked his mother: ‘Is this true?’

And his mother, in great alarm, replied: ‘Do you believe this demon?’

‘If you won’t admit it,’ said the child, ‘I’ll tell you something else which you know to be true.’

The lady went quiet, and the child said: ‘There’s no point in hiding it, for everything done is known to me. The truth is that when you knew you were pregnant you sought to make peace with your husband, so that he wouldn’t realise the child was not his. The priest arranged your reconciliation and encouraged you to lie together once more, and so made your worthy husband imagine it was his child – as did everyone else. Your son himself was sure of it. You’ve lived this lie ever since, and do so still. Indeed, the night before you left to come here, you and the priest lay together; and when you set out in the morning he accompanied you a good part of the way, and said: ‘My dear, make sure you do and say all my son wants to hear’ – for he knew he was his son because of the notes he’d kept.’

When the judge’s mother heard these words – which she knew to be entirely true – she sat down, devastated. She knew now that she had to tell the truth; and the judge looked at her and said: ‘Dear mother, whoever your lover may have been, I am still your son, and as such I want you to tell me the truth. Are the child’s words true?’

‘May God have mercy on me, yes,’ she replied. ‘I can’t hide it: it’s all true, every word.’

The judge turned pale, and said: ‘This child is wise indeed, saying he knew his father better than I knew mine. It would be wrong to put his mother to death without doing the same to my own. In the name of God and love,’ he said to Merlin, ‘and so that I may clear myself of blame in the eyes of these people, tell me who is your father.’

And Merlin replied: ‘I will do so, but it may not be to your advantage. I would have you know that I am the son of a devil who deceived my mother. He was one of a kind of demon called Hequibedes, who inhabit the air. And he bequeathed to me the power and intelligence to know everything that has been said and done: that’s how I know all about the life your mother has led. And Our Lord has granted me the knowledge of things to come, as you’ll see by what I’m about to tell you.’

Then Merlin took him aside and said: ‘Your mother will go now to the man who fathered you and tell him everything I’ve said. And when he hears that you know the truth his heart will be overcome by terror. He’ll flee in fear of you, and the Devil – whose ways he’s followed so long – will lead him to a river where he’ll drown himself. You can use this to judge whether I have knowledge of the future.’

‘If it proves to be true,’ the judge replied, ‘I’ll never doubt you.’

With that they left their private talk and returned to the people, and the judge said: ‘Sirs, this child has saved his mother from the stake. All who see him may be sure they’ve never seen one wiser.’

And they answered: ‘God be praised!’

So Merlin’s mother was set free and the judge’s mother known to be guilty.

The judge sent two men after her to see if Merlin’s prediction was true. And as soon as the lady reached home she spoke in private to the priest and told him of the wonders she had heard, and he was terrified. He went away and thought in his heart that the judges would hunt him down and kill him; so he left the town and came to a river, where he said to himself that he would rather drown than be killed by the judge and die a base and shameful death in public. And so the Devil – whose works he had done so long – drove him to leap into the river and drown; and this was witnessed by the two men sent by the judge. The story teaches that this is why a man in distress should beware of being alone, for in solitude a man is more open to the Devil’s wiles than he is in human company.

After witnessing the priest’s remarkable death the men returned to the judge and reported exactly what they had seen. He was astounded by the news, and went and told Merlin, who laughed and said: ‘Now you can see I was telling the truth! I beg you, repeat exactly what I told you to Blaise.’

Blaise was his mother’s confessor, and the judge told him the amazing story of the priest. Then Merlin set off with his mother and Blaise, while the judges went their own ways.

Now this Blaise was a very shrewd, bright man, and when he heard Merlin – no more than two-and-a-half years old – speaking so cleverly, he wondered where such intelligence could come from. He went to great lengths to test Merlin in many different ways, until Merlin said: ‘Blaise, don’t put me to the test, for the more you do, the more dumbfounded you’ll be. Just do as I say, and trust in my advice, and I’ll teach you how to gain the love of Christ and lasting joy.’

‘I heard you say you were the son of a demon,’ Blaise replied, ‘so I fear you may deceive me.’

‘Ill-disposed hearts,’ said Merlin, ‘always pay more attention to bad than to good. You heard me say I was fathered by a demon, but you also heard me say that Our Lord gave me knowledge of the future. If you were wise, this would be a sign to you of which way I would incline. Be assured that from the moment it pleased Our Lord to grant me this knowledge, I was lost to the Devil. But I haven’t lost the demons’ craft and cunning: I’ve inherited from them some useful things, but they won’t be used for their benefit! It wasn’t a wise move on their part to beget me in my mother: they chose a vessel which would never be theirs – my mother’s good life did them great harm! Had they conceived me in my grandmother I’d have had no knowledge of God, for she led a wicked life, and it was because of her that such ills befell my mother – her father’s death, I mean, and all the other things of which she’s told you. But believe what I say about the faith of Jesus Christ, and I’ll tell you something which no-one but God could reveal – and I’d like you to set it down in a book, for many people who hear my words will benefit from them and beware of sin. If you’d do this it would be a great service.’

‘I will gladly make the book,’ Blaise replied. ‘But I beseech you, in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit – which three I truly believe are one being in God – and in the name of the blessed Lady who bore God’s son – her son and father both – and in the name of all the angels and archangels and apostles and all the saints and the prelates of Holy Church, promise me you’ll never deceive me into doing anything displeasing to God.’

‘May all those you have named,’ said Merlin, ‘bring me Christ’s disfavour if I ever make you do anything against His will.’

‘Then tell me what you wish,’ said Blaise. And Merlin said:

‘Fetch ink and plenty of parchment, for I’m going to tell you many things; you’re going to write down what no man but I could tell you.’

Blaise went to find the things he needed, and when he had gathered them together Merlin began to tell him all about the love between Christ and Joseph of Arimathea and everything that had happened to him; and about Alain and his company and his father, and their departure; and how Petrus had set out on his journey and Joseph had bequeathed the vessel at his death; and how, after all this had happened, the demons came together and discussed how they had lost their former power over men, and complained of the harm the prophets had done them, and agreed to create a man of their own.

‘And they made me. And you know from my mother and from others the trickery they employed in my making. But through my mother’s repentance they lost me and everything else they desired.’

And so Merlin told the whole story for Blaise to set down in writing.1 Blaise was often amazed by the wonders Merlin told him, but they always struck him as good and full of beauty, and he listened in delight. As Blaise set about the task of writing, Merlin said to him: ‘This work will cause you suffering, but I shall suffer more.’

Blaise asked him what he meant, and he said: ‘I shall be sent on a journey2 into the West, and those who’ll come in search of me will promise their lord to take him back my blood. But when they see me and hear me speak, they’ll have no wish to do so. I shall go with them, and you will go to the company who keep the vessel called the Grail. For evermore men will tell of your work and your writings, though your book will have no authority, for you are not and cannot be an apostle; and the apostles wrote about Our Lord only what they’d seen and heard themselves, but you’re writing nothing from experience – only what I’ve told you. Just as I am a figure of secrecy, and always shall be to those I do not choose to enlighten, so shall your whole book remain a mystery and few will recognise its wonders. You will take it with you when I leave with those who are to come in search of me; and Joseph and his book will be combined with yours, for when your work is done and you join that other company, your book will be attached to his, and the truth of our work will be revealed. They’ll have pity on us – if it please them – and pray to Our Lord on our behalf. And when the two books are brought together there’ll be one beautiful book, for the two are one entity – though I don’t wish to relate, and it would be wrong to do so, the words that passed in private between Joseph and Jesus Christ.’

3 My lord Robert de Boron, who tells this story, says, like Merlin, that it is in two parts, for he could not know the story of the Grail.

*

Now at the time of these events, Christianity was newly arrived in England and there had as yet been few Christian kings, and of them there is no reason to tell you except where it relates to this story. There was a king in England named Constans, who reigned for a long while and had three sons: one was called Moine, another4 Pendragon, and the third Uther, and they had a seneschal named Vortigern. This Vortigern was very clever and worldly-wise, and as good a knight as any then living. Constans passed from life to death, and when he died the barons wondered who they should declare king. Most agreed it should be their lord’s son Moine, but as soon as he was made king, war broke out. The Saxons were ranged against King Moine, and many from the Roman Empire, too, came to fight against the Christians. And Vortigern, seneschal of the land, turned everything to his own advantage. The child who had been made king was not as wise or strong as he needed to be, and Vortigern made the most of the war and gained the hearts of the people, knowing they thought him good and able. His pride grew ever greater as he saw that no-one could match his abilities, and he declared he would have nothing more to do with the king’s war and withdrew his services. The Saxons gathered and advanced in great numbers, and the king came to Vortigern and said: ‘Help to defend my land, dear friend: we’re all at your command!’

‘Sire,’ Vortigern replied, ‘find help elsewhere. I don’t care to be involved, for there are people in your land who resent my service. They can fight your battle for you: I’m taking no part.’

King Moine and his followers saw there was no love to be found in Vortigern, so they turned to do battle with the Saxons. They were defeated – and said they would not have suffered this great loss if Vortigern had been at the battle. So matters remained: the child-king could not keep his people’s support as well as he should and many began to despise him, and as more time passed King Moine lost all respect and they said they would tolerate him no longer. They came to Vortigern and said: ‘Sir, we’re without a king: the one we have is worthless! We beg you in God’s name to be our king and lord.’

‘I can’t,’ Vortigern replied. ‘It wouldn’t be right, as long as my lord lives. But if he were dead, and you and the others wanted me king, I’d gladly be so. But as long as he lives it’s neither possible nor proper.’

They heard Vortigern’s words and wondered what to do; they took their leave and departed. On their return they summoned their friends and spoke with them, and those who had been to Vortigern told of their conversation with him. Hearing what he had said, the others replied: ‘It would be best if we killed King Moine! Then Vortigern will be king, and he’ll know he had the kingship thanks to us and will do whatever we wish! That way we’ll rule through him!’

And at once they arranged who would do the killing. They elected twelve; and these twelve set off to find King Moine while the others stayed in the town, ready to come to their aid if there was trouble. The twelve tracked the king down, and attacked him with swords and knives and killed him: it was quickly done, for he was very young. After they had killed him, it was a deed of which no-one spoke for a long time. They returned to Vortigern and told him: ‘Vortigern, now you shall be king, for we have killed King Moine!’

Hearing they had murdered his master, Vortigern feigned fury, saying: ‘You’ve committed a great crime, sirs, in killing your lord! I’d flee if I were you, for the good men of this land will kill you if they catch you – I wish you’d never come here!’

So they took to flight. Such was the death of King Moine. And the people of the kingdom assembled and declared Vortigern king, for as I have told you, he had the hearts of most people in the land. They all agreed he should be king and declared their allegiance to him.

At this assembly were two worthy men who were guardians of Pendragon and Uther – Constans’ other two sons, the brothers of the dead King Moine. And when these good men heard that Vortigern was to be king, it was clear to them that he had arranged Moine’s death. They spoke together and said: ‘Vortigern has had Moine murdered, and as soon as he’s king he’ll do the same to our two wards Pendragon and Uther. We loved their father dearly – he was very good to us, and we owe everything we have to him. It would be very wrong to let these children be killed. Vortigern knows the kingdom should be theirs, and will want to kill them before they’re of an age to claim their land.’

They agreed to send the children away to foreign parts in the East, from where their ancestors had come. So they led them away to safety, to make sure Vortigern could not kill them. I shall tell you no more about them until the right point in the story; but this tale clearly shows that it is best to trust in worthy men.

So then, as you have heard, Vortigern was declared king by the people of the land. And after he had been crowned and was lord of that country, King Moine’s killers came to him; but Vortigern behaved as if he had never set eyes on them before. They rushed forward and began to yell at him that it was thanks to them he was king, for they had killed King Moine; but when he heard them say again that they had murdered their lord he ordered that they be seized, and said: ‘You’ve passed sentence on yourselves, sirs, admitting that you killed your former lord! You had no right to do such a thing! You’d do the same to me if you could! But I’m more than able to stop you!’

They were aghast at this, and said to Vortigern: ‘We did it for your benefit! We thought we’d earn your gratitude!’

But Vortigern said: ‘I’ll show you the gratitude that people like you deserve.’

And he had all twelve taken and bound to the tails of twelve horses, and dragged along behind them until little of them remained. But they had many kinsmen who came to Vortigern after the executions and said: ‘You’ve wronged us greatly, putting our relations to such a base and terrible death. Don’t imagine you’ll ever have our service!’

Vortigern was shocked and enraged to hear them threaten him, and said that if they ever spoke of it again he would do the same to them. But they were scornful of his threats, too, and showing little fear they angrily replied: ‘King Vortigern, you can threaten us as much as you like, but we can assure you that for as long as we have the support of our friends you’ll find yourself embroiled in war! We defy you from this time forth, for you are not our lord or the rightful ruler of this land: you hold the kingship against God and justice. We tell you this: you will suffer the same death as you inflicted on our kinsmen.’

They left without another word. Vortigern was furious, but did nothing more for the time being. So began the strife between Vortigern and the barons. They assembled a great force and advanced into Vortigern’s land, laying waste one part of it, but he joined battle with them over and over until he drove them from his kingdom. But he became so cruel to his people that they could stand it no longer and rose against him, and Vortigern feared they would force him from the land. So he sent messengers to the Saxons to sue for peace – much to the Saxons’ joy. One of them, named Hengist, the fiercest of them all, lent Vortigern his service for a long while until they gained the upper hand in the war against the barons; and when the war was finally over Hengist commented how deeply the people hated him.

Hengist did many deeds of which there is no need to tell you, but I can tell you this much: Vortigern took one of his daughters as his wife – and all who hear this tale may like to know that it was she who brought the word wassail to this kingdom. I will not tell you about Hengist and his affairs, but the Christians grieved deeply that Vortigern had married his daughter. They said he had largely abandoned his faith in taking a wife who did not believe in Christ. Vortigern realised he was not loved by his people, and knew that Constans’ exiled sons would return as soon as they could – and that if they did so, they would be seeking his downfall. He decided to build a tower so huge and strong that he would have no fear of anyone, and he summoned all the finest masons in the land and ordered them to start work. But after they had been building for three days it came tumbling down. Four times they began again, and four times it collapsed. Vortigern was distraught at the news, and said he would never rest until he knew why it kept falling. He summoned the worthiest men of the land and told them of the collapsing tower and how nothing could be done to make it stand, and they were amazed. They saw the pile of rubble and said: ‘Only a learned clerk could explain this, sire. Because of the depth of their learning clerks know many things beyond our knowledge: you’ll find the truth only through them. You must speak to them.’

‘In faith, sirs,’ said Vortigern, ‘I think you’re right.’

He immediately summoned all the learned clerks of the land, and when they were assembled he explained to them the mystery of the tower. They said to each other: ‘What an amazing story the king has told us.’

The king asked which of them were the wisest, and then said: ‘Can you explain why my tower falls, no matter what I do? I want you to stay and do all you can to find the reason, for I’ve been told that only you, or other clerks, can tell me.’

Hearing his request, they replied: ‘We don’t know, sire, but there are some clerks here who could explain, for this involves an art called astronomy, of which they happen to have knowledge. You must find out which of them are the most learned in this sphere.’

‘You know the clerks better than I do,’ said the king. ‘Decide amongst yourselves who are the most skilled in this art. They mustn’t hesitate to come forward and boldly declare themselves. I’ll do anything they ask if they can tell me why my tower keeps falling.’

The clerks withdrew and asked each other if they had knowledge of this art. And two of them said: ‘We know a fair amount.’

And the king declared: ‘Go and find like-minded men and come to me.’

‘Gladly,’ they replied, and the two clerks made enquiries and soon there were seven – each of whom thought himself the finest – and they returned to the king who asked them: ‘Can you explain, sirs, why my tower keeps falling?’

And they replied that if anyone could, they could, and he said he would give them whatever they wished if they could find the answer. With that Vortigern left the clerks, and the seven of them set about the task of discovering why the tower collapsed and how it could be made to stand. These seven were very skilled in their art and each on his own set to work diligently; but the harder they laboured, the less they found out. The only thing they did discover seemed to have nothing to do with the tower, and was very disconcerting. The king became impatient, and summoned them and said: ‘Sir clerks, what can you tell me about the tower and why it falls?’

‘You’ve set us a great problem, sire,’ they replied. ‘Give us another eleven days.’

‘I’ll grant you this respite,’ said the king, ‘but if you value your lives, make sure you give me the answer then.’

They swore they would do so without fail, and withdrew together and asked each other: ‘What do you think about this business?’

‘We’ve no idea,’ they all replied. None of them would reveal what he knew, and so the wisest of them all said: ‘Let each of you, one after the other, tell me privately what you’ve discovered so far. I’ll do nothing as a result except with everyone’s agreement.’

So they all spoke to him in private, one at a time, and he asked them what they thought about the tower. And they all said the same: they had no idea how the tower could be made to stand, but they had seen something else, something remarkable. They had seen a seven-year-old child, born of a woman but fathered by no earthly man. All seven clerks told him the same; and when he had listened to them all, he said: ‘Come to me now, all together.’ They did so, and when they had all gathered he said: ‘Sirs, you’ve all told me the same thing, one after the other, but you’ve also kept something back.’

‘Tell us then,’ they replied, ‘what we’ve told you and what we’ve hidden.’

‘You’ve all said you don’t know how the tower can be made to stand, but that you’ve seen a child born without a father, begotten by no earthly man. But there’s something else that you’ve left unsaid, and you must believe me when I tell you this: you’ve all foreseen that you’re going to die because of that child. I’ve seen the same as you, truly. That’s what you hid from me: that you’d foreseen your deaths. We must talk about this urgently – it’s a serious matter!’ Then he – and he was the wisest of them all – said: ‘If you’ll trust in me, I’ll protect you from this fate. You’ll soon know if I’m telling the truth.’

‘Well certainly, you’ve told us rightly what we’d seen,’ they replied, ‘so we beg you in God’s name to advise us how to save our lives.’

‘Only a fool could fail to see the solution!’ he said. ‘Do you know what we’ll do? We’ll all agree to say something else entirely: that his tower will never remain standing unless it’s built with the blood of a child born without being fathered! But if such blood could be found, we’ll say, the tower would stand, good and strong. Let each of us say so separately, so the king doesn’t realise we’ve conferred. This way we can be avenged on the child we’ve seen in our visions. We must make sure the king doesn’t see him or speak to him: whoever finds the child must kill him on the spot, and take his blood back to the king.’

They all agreed to say the same, and returned to Vortigern and said: ‘We’ll not give you our advice all together, but speak to you in private, one by one; then you can decide whose advice is best.’

So the clerks pretended they had not conferred, and each spoke his mind to the king and one of his counsellors, who were astounded – but convinced that it could work, if a child could truly be born without a father. The king was deeply grateful to the clerks, and thought them wise indeed, and said: ‘Sir clerks, each of you separately has told me the same thing!’

‘Tell us what it was,’ they replied, and he repeated what each of them had said and they answered: ‘That’s right!’

‘Sirs,’ the king asked them, ‘can a man truly be born without a father?’

‘Oh yes,’ they replied, ‘and he’s now seven years old.’

‘I’m going to keep you under close guard,’ the king said, ‘and send men to fetch me this child’s blood.’

‘Sire,’ they all replied together, ‘by all means keep us under guard, but make sure you don’t see the child or let him speak to you! Give orders that he be killed and his blood brought back to you, and then your tower will stand.’

The king had all the clerks taken to a chamber and provided with everything they needed. Then he chose twelve messengers and sent them off in pairs, making them swear upon holy relics not to return until they had found the child, and that whoever did so would kill him and bring back his blood.

So, as you have heard, King Vortigern sent men to find this child, his messengers setting off two by two. They scoured many lands in search of Merlin, until two pairs of messengers met and agreed to continue a while together. One day they were passing through a field outside a town where a group of children were playing a game with a stick and ball. Merlin, who knew everything that had been happening, was one of the players. When he saw Vortigern’s messengers, he went up to one of the wealthiest children of the town and struck him across the leg with the stick, knowing he would react angrily. The child began to cry and hurl insults at Merlin, accusing him of being born without a father. The messengers went straight to the weeping child and asked him: ‘Who was it that hit you?’

And he replied: ‘The son of a woman who doesn’t know who sired him: he never had a father!’

Hearing this, Merlin came up to them and said: ‘Sirs, I’m the one you’re looking for, whom you’ve promised to kill so that you can return his blood to Vortigern.’

The messengers were dumbfounded, and said: ‘Who told you this?’

‘I knew it,’ Merlin replied, ‘the moment you made the promise.’

‘Will you come with us,’ they asked, ‘if we take you?’

‘I fear you’d kill me, sirs,’ Merlin answered. He knew they had no desire to do so, but said this to test them further. ‘If you swear I’ve nothing to fear I’ll go with you, and tell you about the collapsing tower and why you intended to kill me.’

The messengers were astounded by his words, and said to one another: ‘This child speaks wonders! It would be a great sin to kill him.’ And each of them said: ‘I’d rather break my oath a hundred times than kill this child.’

Then Merlin said to them: ‘Sirs, will you come and take lodging with me at my mother’s house? For I couldn’t go with you without the leave of my mother and the worthy man who’s with her.’

‘We’ll gladly go,’ they replied, ‘wherever you care to lead us.’

So Merlin took them to lodge with his mother in a nunnery where he had installed her. When he arrived he commanded everyone to make King Vortigern’s messengers welcome. They dismounted, and Merlin took them to Blaise.

‘Sir,’ he said, ‘here are the men I told you would be coming to kill me.’ Then he turned to them and said: ‘Please confirm the truth of my words to this worthy man; and if you lie, you may be sure I’ll know.’

‘We’ll never lie,’ they replied. ‘But make sure you don’t lie to us.’

‘Listen to what we have to say,’ said Merlin to Blaise; then he said to the messengers: ‘Sirs, you serve a king named Vortigern. He wishes to erect a tower, but after three or four days of building it will stand no longer but comes tumbling down. Such is his frustration that he summoned learned clerks, but none of them could explain why the tower wouldn’t stand or how to make it do so. So they turned to a study of the stars, but it gave them no answers about the tower: they still had nothing to say. But they did learn about my birth, and realised I was a great threat to them; and they all agreed to have me killed, telling the king that the tower would never stand without my blood. Vortigern was amazed by this and believed their words; but they insisted that the king should forbid his messengers to take me back to him, but should kill me as soon as they found me and take my blood to mix into the mortar of the tower’s foundations. That way, they said, the tower would stand. At their command Vortigern chose twelve messengers and made them all swear on holy relics that whoever found me would kill me. Then he sent them off, two by two, and four of them met and were crossing a field where children were playing with stick and ball; and I, who knew they were hunting me, struck one of the children on the leg with my stick, knowing he would insult me in the worst possible way by saying I was born without a father. I did this because I wanted these gentlemen to find me. And that, good master Blaise, is how they did so. Now ask them if I’ve told the truth.’

Blaise asked the messengers if the child’s amazing words were true, and they replied: ‘They are indeed, exactly so.’

Blaise crossed himself in wonderment, and said: ‘If this child is allowed to live he’ll grow to be a wise man indeed; it would have been a grievous wrong to kill him.’

‘Sir,’ the messengers replied, ‘we’d rather perjure ourselves for the rest of our lives and have the king seize our estates! And the child himself knows whether we’ve any desire to kill him.’

‘True enough,’ said Blaise, ‘and I’ll ask him – and other things, too – in private.’

So Blaise called Merlin, who had left the chamber so that they could speak together, and said to him: ‘Merlin, they’ve confirmed every word of your story. But they’ve also said I should ask you if they have any desire to kill you.’

‘I know very well they have not,’ he replied.

‘That’s right,’ said the messengers, ‘so will you come with us?’

‘Certainly,’ he replied, ‘if you promise faithfully to take me to King Vortigern and allow no harm to be done to me until I’ve spoken to him – for once I’ve done so I know I’ll have nothing to fear.’

They promised to do exactly as he asked. Then Blaise spoke to Merlin, saying: ‘Merlin, I see now that you mean to leave me. So tell me: what do want me to do with this book you’ve set me to write?’

‘I’ll tell you, truly,’ said Merlin. ‘You can clearly see that Our Lord has given me so much wit and intelligence that the one who sought my downfall has failed. And Our Lord has chosen me to serve Him in a way that I alone could do, for no-one shares my knowledge. You can see, too, that I must go to the land from which these men have been sent to find me, and when I arrive there I’ll do and say such things that no-one on Earth will have been so well believed, except God. And you’ll come there, too, to complete the work you’ve begun. But not yet: first you’ll go in search of a land called Northumberland, a land covered in great forests, a place strange even to its own inhabitants, for there are parts where no man has ever been. There you’ll live, and I’ll often visit you to tell you everything you need to know for the writing of your book. You must devote much effort to it, for5 it will earn you a great reward – do you know what? I’ll tell you: your heart’s fulfilment in this life, and eternal joy hereafter. And your work will be retold and heard with gratitude for as long as this world lasts. And do you know the source of this grace? It comes from the grace bestowed by Our Lord upon Joseph – that Joseph to whom His body was6 given when He was crucified. When you’ve done this great work for Joseph and his ancestors and descendants, and have earned the right to be in their company, I’ll tell you where to find them, and you’ll see the glorious rewards that Joseph enjoys because he was given the body of Christ. And to reassure you, I want you to know that God has given me such wit and intelligence that, in the kingdom to which I’m going now, I’ll make all the worthy men obey me. And know, too, that your book will be much loved, and many worthy people will give it eager attention – but not until the reign of the fourth king from now. The name of that king will be Arthur. So you’ll go to the land I’ve said, and I’ll visit you often to tell you all the things I wish you to put in your book, and when you’ve completed it you’ll take it to the company of good people who enjoy the glorious rewards of which I’ve spoken. And I tell you, the story of no king’s life will ever have been heard so eagerly as that of King Arthur and his court. 7 When you’ve finished your work and told the story of their lives, you’ll have earned a share in the rewards enjoyed by the company of the Grail. And8 when they pass from this world and go to the joyous presence of Jesus Christ – of which I mustn’t speak – and you, too, die and leave this world, then your book, both what you’ve done so far and what you’ve yet to do, will for evermore, so long as the world shall last, be called The Book of the Grail, and will be9 heard most gladly, for every word and deed therein will be good and beneficial.’

So said Merlin to his master Blaise, explaining what he had to do. Merlin called him ‘master’ because he had been such a support and guide to his mother. Blaise felt deeply happy at Merlin’s words, and said: ‘I’ll do whatever you command.’

So Merlin returned to the messengers who had come in search of him, and said: ‘Come with me, sirs; I want you to hear me take leave of my mother.’ And he led them to her and said: ‘Dear mother, these men have come from strange and distant lands to find me. I would like to go now by your leave, for I must do Christ the service for which he has given me the power, and I can do so only if I follow these gentlemen to where they wish to take me. Your master Blaise is leaving, too: you’ll have to suffer on both our accounts.’

‘Dear son,’ she replied, ‘I commend you to God, for I’m not clever enough to keep you here! But please, I dearly want Blaise to stay.’

‘Mother,’ said Merlin, ‘that cannot be.’

So Merlin took his leave of her and set off with the messengers, while Blaise went his separate way to Northumberland as Merlin had directed. Merlin and the messengers rode and journeyed on until they passed through a town one market day; and as they left the town they saw a peasant who had bought a very good pair of shoes, along with spare leather to repair them if the need arose, for he was about to go on a pilgrimage. As he drew near the peasant Merlin laughed, and the messengers asked him why. And he said: ‘Because of that peasant. If you ask him what he intends to do with his leather, he’ll tell you he plans to mend those shoes when they wear out; but I tell you, he’s going to die before he even reaches home.’

The messengers were amazed by this, and said: ‘We’ll find out straight away if this is true!’

So they rode up to the peasant and asked him what he meant to do with the shoes and leather he was carrying, and he said he was about to go on a pilgrimage and wanted to mend his shoes when they wore out. Hearing him say exactly the same as Merlin, the messengers were astonished and said: ‘This man seems in perfect health. Two of us will find out what happens to him, while the others carry on and wait for us where they stop to sleep tonight, for we must know the truth about this wonder.’

So two of the messengers went after the man, and followed him until, after no more than half a league, they saw him collapse in the middle of the road and stretch out, dead, his shoes still in his arms. They had a good, clear look, then turned back and rejoined their companions and reported the amazing sight they had seen. When they heard the news they all declared: ‘The clerks were mad to tell us to kill such a wonderful fortune-teller!’

And they said they would rather suffer harm themselves than cause him to be a victim. All this was said in secret, for they did not want Merlin to hear. But Merlin came straight up to them and thanked them for their words.

‘What have we said to earn your thanks?’ they asked, and Merlin repeated their words exactly. They were astonished, and said: ‘This child knows everything we say and do!’

They rode on day by day until they came to Vortigern’s kingdom. And one day, as they were riding through a town, a child was being carried to his burial, with many mourners following, both men and women. Merlin saw the mourning, and the priest singing, and the diligent carrying of the body to burial, and he stopped in his tracks and burst out laughing. The messengers asked him what there was to laugh about, and he said: ‘I can see something remarkable!’ The messengers begged him to say what it was, and Merlin replied: ‘Do you see the priest singing there at the head of the column? He should be the one grieving, not that gentleman. The dead boy is the son of the one singing! It strikes me as rather remarkable!’

‘How can we prove that?’ asked the messengers; and Merlin said: ‘Go to the woman and ask her why her husband is grieving so, and she’ll tell you it’s for the death of his son. Then say to her: “Lady, you know very well he’s not his son – we know he’s the son of that priest who’s singing! And the priest knows it himself, for he told you he’d calculated the date of the boy’s conception. ‘‘’

They went straight to the woman and told her what Merlin had said. She was aghast, and said: ‘Before God, dear sirs, I know I can’t hide it; you seem to be very worthy men, so I’ll tell you the whole truth. It’s just as you’ve said, but in God’s name, don’t tell my husband, for he’d kill me if he knew.’

Having heard this wonder, they returned to their companions, and all four of them agreed they had never known such a great seer as Merlin.

On they rode, until the day came when they neared Vortigern’s tower. Then they said: ‘Merlin, tell us how to deal with our lord Vortigern, for two of us ought to go and tell him we’ve found you. Advise us what to say. He may well abuse us for having not killed you.’

When he heard them say this, Merlin knew they meant him well, and he said: ‘Sirs, do exactly as I say and you’ll incur no blame.’

‘We’ll do whatever you command,’ they replied, and he said: ‘Go to Vortigern and say you’ve found me, and tell him the truth about what you’ve heard me say, and that I’ll reveal why his tower won’t stand if he’ll promise to deal with the clerks who sought to have me killed exactly as he would have done with me. And tell him how and why the clerks had ordered my death.’

They agreed to this and went straight to Vortigern, who was overjoyed to see them, and told him how they had come together and found Merlin, and how the clerks knew nothing about the tower, and all about Merlin’s exploits.

‘Is he the child who was born without a father?’ asked Vortigern.

‘Yes,’ they replied, and explained how they had left him in the custody of their companions. When Vortigern heard this he said to them: ‘Sirs, if you’ll pledge your lives on Merlin revealing why my tower falls, I will not seek his death.’

‘We will indeed, most certainly,’ they replied, and the king said: ‘Go and fetch him, for I can’t wait to speak to him.’

So the messengers went to get Merlin, and the king himself followed them. And when Merlin saw the messengers he laughed and said: ‘Sirs, you’ve staked your lives on me!’

‘We have indeed,’ they replied. ‘We’d rather be in danger of death ourselves than kill you. And we must do one or the other.’

‘I’ll make sure your pledge is safe,’ he said.

Merlin and the messengers rode together to meet the king; and when Merlin saw him he saluted him and said: ‘Vortigern, come and talk to me in private.’

And he took him to one side, telling the messengers to wait, and said: ‘You sent men to find me because of your tower which won’t stand, and ordered them to kill me and bring you back my blood. This was on the advice of the clerks, but I assure you, my blood10 wouldn’t make the tower stand. But if they’d said it would stand with the aid of my intelligence, they would have been quite right!’

‘I’ll take you to them,’ said Vortigern, and Merlin was led into their presence, where he said: ‘My dear clerks, you took your king for a fool, telling him the blood of a child born without a father would make his tower stand. You had no vision of a way to keep it standing; what your study of the stars revealed was that you’d die because of the child. You all agreed to tell a common story, and told King Vortigern to have me killed.’

When the clerks heard him utter what they thought no man could know, they were aghast and realised they were doomed. And Merlin said to the king: ‘Sire, now you can see how these clerks wanted me killed on account of your tower, because they’d foreseen that I would bring about their deaths. Ask them the truth now, for they won’t be so bold as to lie in my presence.’

And the king said: ‘Tell me if this child’s words are true.’

‘Sire,’ they replied, ‘may God save us from our sins as surely as he has told the truth. But we don’t understand how he got this amazing knowledge. We beg you, in God’s name, let us live long enough to see if he can truly make the tower stand.’

‘Sirs,’ Merlin said to the clerks, ‘you needn’t fear dying till you’ve seen why the tower falls.’ The clerks thanked him deeply, and then Merlin said: ‘Vortigern, do you want to know why your tower won’t stand but keeps falling, and who it is that brings it down? If you’ll do as I say I’ll show you very clearly. Do you know what lies beneath the tower? A great body of water; and beneath it sit two great rocks, and beneath those rocks lie two dragons. One of them is red and the other white. They can see nothing down there but can feel each other, and they’re huge and very strong. When they feel the weight of the water upon them they roll over, and create such a storm in the water that anything built above it is bound to fall. So there you have it: your tower collapses because of two dragons. Keep a close watch, and if you find I’ve lied have me dragged to death behind your horses, but if I’m right let my pledge be fulfilled and these clerks found guilty.’

‘Merlin,’ Vortigern replied, ‘if what you say is true you are the wisest man in the world. So tell me now how I can clear the earth from above the water.’

‘With horses and carts and men with yoked buckets. Have it moved well away.’

At once the king had men set to work to find everything needed for the task. The people of the land thought it a crazy scheme, but hardly dared show it for fear of Vortigern. Merlin commanded that the clerks be held under close guard. Then the labourers set to work. For a long while they toiled to shift the earth, until at last the water was revealed. They sent word to the king that they had uncovered the water, and he came in delight to see this wonder, bringing Merlin with him. The king saw the water and how immense it was, and he called two of his best advisers and said to them: ‘This man is wise indeed, knowing this water to lie beneath the earth. And he said that two dragons lie under it. No matter what the cost I’m going to do as he says, for I want to see the dragons!’

‘Vortigern,’ said Merlin, ‘you won’t know the full truth of my story until you’ve seen them.’

And Vortigern said: ‘Merlin, how can we clear away this water?’

And Merlin replied: ‘We’ll channel it far from here along great ditches.’

Orders were given at once for ditches to be dug to drain away the water. And Merlin said: ‘Vortigern, as soon as the dragons under the water see each other they’ll join in terrible battle. I command you to summon all the worthy men of your land to witness the contest.’

Vortigern willingly agreed, and sent word throughout the land; and when all the worthy men were assembled he told them the amazing things Merlin had said, and how the two dragons were about to do battle. They said to each other: ‘This should be worth seeing!’

They asked the king if Merlin had predicted which dragon would win, the red or the white, but he said he had not revealed that yet. The workmen channelled the water across the fields, and when it had all drained away they saw the rocks that sat at the bottom, beneath which lay the dragons. When Merlin saw them he said to the king: ‘Vortigern, do you see those great stones?’

‘Yes, brother,’ the king replied.

And Merlin said: ‘Beneath those stones are the two dragons.’

‘Merlin,’ said the king, ‘how can they be released?’

‘Very easily,’ Merlin replied. ‘They won’t move until they feel each other, but as soon as they do they’ll join in a battle to the death.’

‘Merlin,’ said Vortigern, ‘will you tell me which of them will be defeated?’

‘Their battle,’ Merlin said, ‘will have great significance. What I can reveal must be in private, in the presence of just three or four of your barons.’

Then Vortigern called four of his most trusted barons and told them what Merlin had said. They encouraged him to ask privately which of the two dragons would be defeated, and Merlin said: ‘Vortigern, are these four men completely trustworthy?’

‘Yes,’ he replied, and Merlin said: ‘So I can safely reveal what you ask in their presence?’

‘You can indeed,’ the king replied.

‘I tell you truly,’ said Merlin, ‘that the white dragon will kill the red, but not without a mighty struggle. And to those who understand, the killing of the red by the white will have great significance. But I’ll tell you nothing more until the battle is done.’

Thereupon the people gathered, and the workmen shifted the rocks away and drew forth the white dragon. When the people beheld it, so fierce and hideous, they were filled with terror and drew back; but the workmen released the other dragon, the sight of which made the people even more aghast, for it was even bigger and more hideous than the white, more terrifying still. Vortigern was certain that the red would defeat the white. Merlin said to him: ‘Vortigern, now my pledge is surely fulfilled.’

‘It is,’ the king replied.

At that moment one of the dragons moved so close to the other that their rumps touched; they swung round and assailed each other with teeth and claws. Never did two creatures fight so savagely: all day and all night the battle raged, and the next day until noon; and all the while everyone thought the red would defeat the white. On they fought until finally the white flung fire from its mouth and nose and consumed the red in flame; and when the red dragon was dead, the white drew back and lay down, and lived only three days more. The people declared it the greatest wonder ever seen; and Merlin said: ‘Now, Vortigern, you can build your tower as tall as you like; however great and strong you care to make it, it will never fall.’

Then Vortigern gave orders for workmen to set about it, and he made it as tall and strong as it could possibly be. Then he asked Merlin to tell him the significance of the two dragons, and how the white had come to defeat the red when the red had so long had the better of it; and Merlin said: ‘Everything that’s happened – and is still to happen – has significance. If I told you the truth about what you ask, and you promised to do no harm to me or to anyone in your kingdom, I’d explain the significance of all these things to you and your closest advisers.’

Vortigern gave him these assurances, and Merlin said: ‘First have the clerks brought to me.’

He did so, and Merlin told them: ‘You were very foolish not to act with due goodness, sense and decency. Through your folly and dishonesty you failed to achieve your aims. By the power of the elemental arts you saw things of which you had no understanding, for you are not worthy to know them; but you saw very clearly that I had been born. And the one who showed you that vision of me gave you to believe that you were to die on my account. He did so because of his anguish at having lost me: for he was my father, and would have rejoiced had you killed me. But I have a Lord who’ll protect me well, if it please Him, from the wiles of my father and his fellow demons. And I’ll ensure that they lied to you, for I’ll do nothing to bring about your deaths if you’ll promise to do as I ask.’

When the clerks heard him offer a reprieve from death, they said: ‘We’ll do whatever you command if it’s in our power, for it’s clear you’re the wisest man alive.’

‘You must swear to me,’ said Merlin, ‘that you’ll never again meddle in this art. For having done so, I command you to make confession and abandon sin, and subject your bodies to penance so that you do not lose your souls. If you promise what I ask, I’ll let you go.’

And they gave their word to do as he commanded. So it was that Merlin set the clerks free; and the people, knowing Merlin had dealt with them so generously, admired him all the more. Then Vortigern and his counsellors came to him and said: ‘Merlin, explain the significance of the two dragons.’

And Merlin replied: ‘The red dragon signifies you, Vortigern, and the white signifies the sons of Constans.’

When Vortigern heard this he was downcast. Merlin saw this clearly and said: ‘I’ll say no more if you prefer. I’ve no wish to upset you.’

But Vortigern replied: ‘Only my closest counsellors are here, and I want you to tell me: spare me nothing.’

And Merlin said: ‘I told you what the red dragon signified; let me explain why. You’re well aware that the sons of Constans were still young when their father died, and if you’d behaved as you should you’d have given them protection and advice and defended them against all men on Earth. You know, too, how you won the hearts of their people so that you could take over their land and their wealth; and when you were certain of the people’s love you withdrew your services so that they’d be desperate for your help, until the people of the land came to you and said that Moine was unworthy to be king and you should take his place. You wickedly replied that you couldn’t be king as long as Moine lived – a cunning answer, for they understood well enough that you wanted him killed, and kill him they did. Afterwards, the two remaining sons of Constans fled in fear of you, so you became king and have their inheritance still. But when Moine’s killers came to you, you had them executed, to give the impression that his death grieved you. But nothing could have been further from the truth; you took their lands and hold them still. You built your tower to protect yourself from your enemies; but the tower can’t save you – and you’ve no real wish to save yourself.’

Vortigern heard every word that Merlin said, and knew it to be true. And he said: ‘Merlin, it’s clear you’re the wisest man in the world. I beg and entreat you to advise me in these matters, and to tell me what death I shall die.’

And Merlin replied: ‘I can’t tell you the significance of the two dragons without revealing how you’ll die.’

Vortigern implored Merlin to tell him, and said how grateful he would be; and Merlin answered: ‘Vortigern, I’d have you know that the red dragon signifies your wicked heart and mind, and his massive size your kingship and power. The other, the white, signifies the rightful inheritance of the children who fled in fear of your justice. The length of the dragons’ combat denotes the long time you’ve held their inheritance. And when you saw the white dragon consume the red in flame, it signified that those children will destroy you with the fire of their power. Don’t imagine that your tower or any other fortress can save you from certain death.’

Vortigern was appalled by Merlin’s words, and asked him: ‘Where are the children?’

‘Crossing the sea,’ he replied, ‘with a great army. They’re coming to their land to bring you to justice, declaring that you prompted their brother’s death. And know this: they’ll land in three months at the port of Winchester.’

Vortigern was deeply dismayed by the news of this advancing army, and he asked Merlin: ‘Can this be avoided?’

‘No,’ was Merlin’s reply. ‘You’re doomed to die by the fire of Constans’ children, just as you saw the white dragon consume the red.’

So it was that Merlin told Vortigern the significance of the two dragons; and Vortigern, knowing that the children were advancing with a great army, called upon his people to muster at the time announced by Merlin, to confront them when they landed – though when they came and assembled, they did not know why their king had summoned them.

Meanwhile Merlin went to Northumberland to tell Blaise of these events, and Blaise wrote them down – and it is by his writings that we have knowledge of them still. Merlin stayed with his master for a long while, until Constans’ sons sent men to find him.

So Vortigern was at the port of Winchester with all his army, and on the very day Merlin had predicted they saw sails on the sea: it was the fleet led by Constans’ sons. As soon as Vortigern saw them he ordered his men to arm and prepare to defend themselves. But as Constans’ children neared the shore, the people on land saw Constans’ royal banner and were amazed; and when the ships drew in and Vortigern’s people realised they were the sons of their lord Constans with a huge army, most of them went over to the children’s side. Seeing his men defecting, Vortigern was terrified; and he fled to one of his castles with those retainers who could not desert him. Pendragon and his brother Uther followed him there and began a mighty siege. They hurled fire into the castle, and it caught and spread and engulfed the place, and in that fire Vortigern died.

*

So it was that Constans’s children reclaimed their land, and their coming was proclaimed throughout the kingdom. The people were overjoyed at the news and acknowledged them as their lords. And so the two brothers returned to their inheritance, and Pendragon was made king. But the Saxons whom Vortigern had installed in the land held on to their castles and waged frequent war on Pendragon, sometimes defeated and sometimes victorious. The time came when Pendragon laid siege to Hengist in his castle. So long was the siege that he frittered away more than half a year, until he summoned his barons to a council of war. Five of them had been present when Merlin told Vortigern about the two dragons and his death, and they called Pendragon and Uther to one side and told them that Merlin was the greatest seer ever known, and that if he wanted he could say whether Hengist’s castle would ever be taken. Hearing this, Pendragon said: ‘Where is this great seer to be found?’

‘We don’t know,’ they replied, ‘but we can assure you, he’ll already know we’re talking about him! He’d come if he wished, and we know he’s in this land.’

‘If he is,’ said Pendragon, ‘I shall find him.’

And he sent men across the land in search of Merlin. And Merlin, knowing Pendragon had done this, set off immediately. After speaking with Blaise he headed for the town that Pendragon’s messengers had reached. He came disguised as a woodcutter – a great axe on his shoulder, big boots laced on, and wearing a tattered jacket – with his hair lank and matted and his beard very long. He came to the house where the messengers were lodging, and when they set eyes on him they gazed at him in amazement and said to each other: ‘What an awful-looking man!’

Merlin stepped forward and said: ‘Sirs, you’re not following your lord Pendragon’s orders very well: he commanded you to find the seer named Merlin.’

Hearing this, they cried: ‘What demons told this old wretch?’ Then they asked him: ‘Have you ever seen the man?’

‘I have indeed,’ Merlin replied, ‘and I know where he lives. He’s well aware you’re looking for him, but you won’t find him unless he wants you to. You’re wasting your time, he’d have you know, because he wouldn’t go with you even if you found him. You can tell the men who told Pendragon that the great seer was in this land that they were right. And when you get back, tell your lord that he’ll never take the castle until Hengist is dead. And know this: there were five of the army who spoke privately about me to Pendragon, but you’ll find only three on your return. Tell Pendragon that if he came to this country and scoured these forests he would find Merlin; but he must come in person: nobody will be able to fetch him and take him back.’

They heard what Merlin said and turned aside, and the moment they did so he was gone. They crossed themselves and said: ‘We’ve been talking to a demon! What shall we do about what he told us?’ They discussed this and decided: ‘We’ll go back and report the wonders we’ve seen and heard to our lord and those who sent us here. And we’ll find out if those two men have died.’

So the messengers set off, and rode day after day until they arrived back at the king’s army. As soon as he saw them he asked: ‘Sirs, have you found the man you went to seek?’

‘Sire,’ they replied, ‘something happened to us that we must report. Summon your counsellors and the men who first told you about the seer.’

The king did so, and when they arrived he took them aside to talk in private. The messengers told them all about their journey and their amazing encounter, and about the predicted deaths of the two men. They asked for news about this, and were told that the two men had indeed died. They were astonished, and said to the king: ‘Sire, we think the man we spoke to was Merlin. And he said he’d never be found unless the king himself went in search of him.’

‘Where was it you found him?’ he asked, and they replied: ‘In Northumberland.’

The king declared he would go in search of him, and he rode at once to Northumberland, where he enquired after Merlin but could find no-one with any information. So the king said he would seek him in the forests, and he and his party rode through the deep woods until one of his knights came upon a great flock of animals tended by an ugly, deformed herdsman. The knight asked him where he came from, and he said he was from Northumberland, so the knight said: ‘Can you tell me anything about a man named Merlin?’

‘No,’ replied the herdsman, ‘but a man passed by who said the king was looking for him here in these forests. Do you know anything about that?’

The knight said it was true that the king was seeking him, and asked: ‘Can you put me on the right track?’

And the herdsman said: ‘There’s something I’d tell the king that I wouldn’t tell you.’

‘Come then,’ said the knight, ‘and I’ll take you to him.’

‘I’d hardly be a good herdsman if I did that – and it doesn’t bother me whether I see him or not! If he comes here to me I’ll tell him how to find Merlin.’

So the knight rode back to the king and told him what had happened, and the king said: ‘Lead me to him!’

He did so, and said: ‘Here! I bring you the king!’

‘Pendragon,’ said the herdsman, ‘you’re looking for Merlin, but you won’t find him until he wants you to. Go to one of your towns nearby, and when he knows you’re waiting for him he’ll come to you.’

‘How do I know you’re telling the truth?’ said the king.

‘If you don’t believe me,’ he replied, ‘ignore me! It’s crazy to trust bad advice!’

‘Are you saying your advice is bad?’ said the king.

‘No, but you are!’ he answered. ‘But I tell you, I know better than you.’

‘I’ll believe you,’ said the king, and he rode to one of his towns, as close as possible to the forest; and there he stayed until there came to his lodging a very smart man, in fine clothes and shoes, who said to one of his knights: ‘Sir, take me to the king.’ And when he came into his presence he said: ‘Sire, Merlin sends me to you with his greetings, and to tell you that he was the man you found in the woods tending the flock, who told you he’d come to you when he wished. That was true, but you don’t need him yet. When you do, he’ll gladly come.’

‘I’m in permanent need of him!’ the king replied. ‘I’ve never been so eager to see anyone!’

‘The moment you said that, he bade me give you some very good news.’

‘What’s that?’ asked the king.

‘Hengist is dead,’ he replied. ‘Your brother Uther killed him.’

The king was astounded and said: ‘Can this be true?’

‘He bids me say nothing more to you,’ he replied, ‘except that you’re mad if you doubt it without checking! Send someone to see if I’ve told you the truth – and if I have, believe it!’

‘Wise words,’ said the king, and he chose a pair of messengers and mounted them on his two finest horses, and commanded them to ride without stopping – there or back – until they brought confirmation of the story of Hengist’s death. The messengers set off and rode with all possible speed for a day and a night, until they met Uther’s own messengers, on their way to tell the king that Hengist was dead. They all exchanged news and rode back to the king, but the man who had brought word from Merlin had gone. The messengers came before the king and told him privately how Uther had killed Hengist; and when he heard the news he forbade them, if they valued his love, to speak of it to anyone. So matters stayed, with the king wondering greatly how Merlin had known about Hengist’s death. He waited to see if Merlin would come to him, and decided that as soon as he saw him he would ask him exactly how Hengist had died. He waited; and one day, as he was coming out of church, a handsome and well-dressed gentleman came up to him – very well presented he was; he seemed a worthy man indeed. He greeted the king and said: ‘Why are you staying in this town?’

‘I’m waiting for Merlin to come,’ the king replied, and the gentleman said: ‘Sire, you don’t know him well enough to recognise him. Call those who ought to know him and ask them if I could be Merlin.’

The king was taken aback. He summoned those who had seen him before and said: ‘Sirs, we’re waiting for Merlin, but I don’t think anyone here knows what he truly looks like. If you do, tell me.’

‘Sire,’ they replied, ‘we’d recognise him, certainly.’

Then the gentleman said: ‘How can a man know another when he doesn’t really know himself?’

‘We don’t know him in all his forms,’ they said, ‘but we’d recognise him in the guise in which we saw him last.’

With that the gentleman turned and led the king into a chamber and told him: ‘Sire, I am the Merlin whom you seek, and I wish to be a friend to you and your brother Uther. I am the Merlin whom you seek: tell me what you wish.’

And the king said: ‘Merlin, if possible, I dearly crave your friendship.’

‘Pendragon,’ Merlin replied, ‘I’ll give you answers to anything you ask – if it’s right to do so.’

‘Then tell me, Merlin,’ said the king, ‘if I’ve spoken to you since I came to these parts to find you.’

‘I am the herdsman you found, sire,’ Merlin replied, ‘tending his flock in the woods. And I am the one who told you Hengist had been killed.’

The king was amazed by this, and said: ‘Merlin, how did you know of Hengist’s death?’

‘I knew of it when you first arrived here,’ said Merlin. ‘Hengist intended to kill your brother, and I went to him and warned him. And – thanks be to God and him – he believed me and took precautions. I told him of Hengist’s strength and amazing resolve – for he planned to come all alone to your brother’s battle lines, right to his own pavilion, to kill him! Your brother, I’m pleased to say, didn’t doubt my words, but stayed up all night on his own – he told no-one – and armed himself in secret. He stayed in his tent all night, until Hengist came in, knife in hand, expecting to find your brother; but he couldn’t see him; so he turned to leave the tent and came face to face with your brother, who attacked him and killed him in a moment, for your brother was armed and Hengist was not – he’d come intending to kill him as he slept in his bed and then to make a quick getaway.’

The king was overwhelmed by Merlin’s extraordinary story, and asked him: ‘Merlin, in what guise did you appear to my brother? I’m amazed that he believed you.’

And Merlin replied: ‘I took the form of an old, white-haired man, and I told him in private that if he didn’t take care he would die that night.’

‘Did you tell him who you were?’ asked the king.

‘Your brother still has no idea who warned him,’ said Merlin. ‘Nor will he, until you tell him. And I beg you, tell no-one else. If our trust is ever broken our friendship will be over.’

‘Merlin,’ said the king, ‘you can trust me in all things.’

Then Merlin said: ‘Of this you may be certain, sire: I shall speak to your brother ten days after you and I have talked.’

So it was that Merlin made himself known to Pendragon; then he took his leave and went to his master Blaise to tell him of these events. Blaise recorded them in his book, thanks to which we have knowledge of them still. And Pendragon rode on day by day until he found Uther, who came to meet him and gave him a joyful welcome. The moment they met, Pendragon took him aside and told him of Hengist’s death just as Merlin had related it, and asked him if it was true.

‘Yes,’ said Uther, ‘but God help me, you’ve told me what I thought no-one but God Himself knew – and an old man who spoke to me in private. I didn’t think anyone could know.’

‘Well I do,’ said Pendragon, ‘as you’ve clearly heard!’

‘In God’s name,’ said Uther, ‘tell me who told you, for I don’t know who the worthy soul was who spoke to me – though he seemed a good and wise man indeed, and I believed him, incredible though what he told me was. It was a bold act by Hengist, to be sure, coming into our own army and my own tent to kill me.’

‘Would you know the man if you saw him again?’ said Pendragon.

‘Very well, I think,’ Uther replied.

‘I promise you,’ Pendragon said, ‘he’ll speak to you within twelve days.’ He specified the day that Merlin had mentioned, and then said: ‘Uther, I beg you to stay by my side all that day, right until the day is over.’

Uther promised this, saying he would be only too glad of his company. And Merlin, aware of all that was happening, told Blaise how the two brothers were talking about him, and how the king was trying to test him.

‘What are you going to do about it?’ Blaise asked him.

‘They’re young men,’ Merlin replied, ‘and full of spirit, and there’s no better way to secure their loyalty than by satisfying some of their whims! I know a lady whom Uther loves: I’ll take him a letter from her. You must write it down as I tell you, and Uther will be wholly convinced! I’m going to let the eleventh day pass without them seeing or recognising me; the next day I’ll reveal myself to the two young men together, and they’ll be more impressed!’

Blaise did as Merlin said. Then Merlin appeared to Uther in the guise of his beloved’s serving-boy and said: ‘Your love sends you greetings – and this letter.’

Uther took it with great delight, never doubting it was from his beloved, and summoned a clerk to read it. The letter implored him to believe everything the boy said – and Merlin told him what he knew Uther would most want to hear. So it was that Uther spent the whole of the eleventh day with his brother, enjoying his company and in excellent spirits because of the good news he had received from his love. But when evening came he was astonished that Merlin had failed to appear. Then, while Uther and Pendragon talked together, Merlin took the form in which he had appeared to Uther to warn him about Hengist, and Uther recognised him at once. Merlin told him to fetch his brother, which he did, and said: ‘Here he is!’

Pendragon asked Uther if this was the man who had saved him from death, and he said it was, without a doubt. ‘But tell me,’ said Uther, ‘do you recognise him, too?’

‘Not at all,’ Pendragon replied.

Then Uther turned to Merlin and said: ‘Sir, I bid you a hearty welcome, and rightly so, for you saved my life; but one thing puzzles me: my brother knew every word you’d said to me.’

‘Then someone must have told him!’ Merlin replied. ‘Bring him back, and ask him who it was!’

So Uther went to fetch the king, telling the guards outside his pavilion to let no-one enter. As soon as Uther left the tent, Merlin took the form of the boy who had brought him the letter, and when Uther returned with Pendragon, expecting to find the old man, there before them stood the boy. Uther was astounded, and said to the king: ‘This is amazing! I left the old man here, and now I find only this boy! Wait here: I’ll ask my guards if they saw him leave or the boy come in.’

So Uther left the tent, and the king began to laugh heartily, realising it was Merlin. Uther asked his guards: ‘Did you see anyone leave or enter while I’d gone to fetch my brother?’

And they replied: ‘The only people who’ve come in or out are you and the king.’

And Uther returned to the boy and said: ‘When did you get here?’

‘I was here while you were talking to the old man.’

The king, knowing it was Merlin, began to laugh and said: ‘Uther my dear brother, I didn’t think you were lying to me, but tell me now, could the one who gave you the warning be this boy?’

‘Impossible!’ said Uther; and the king said: ‘Let’s go out, then come back in and see if he’s returned!’

In high spirits they walked among their army, and the king went up to a knight and said: ‘Go and see who’s in my brother Uther’s tent.’

The knight went and found the old man. He came back and told the king; so he and Uther returned, and Uther was amazed to see the old man and said to the king: ‘This is the one who saved me from being killed by Hengist!’

Then the king whispered to Merlin: ‘Do you want me to tell my brother who you are?’

‘I do indeed, sire,’ Merlin replied, so the king said to Uther: ‘Dear brother, where’s the boy who brought you the letter?’

‘He was here a moment ago,’ Uther said. ‘What do you want with him?’

And Merlin and the king burst into peals of joyous laughter. Then Merlin took the king aside and told him the words he had given Uther from his beloved lady. ‘Go now, and tell Uther!’

So the king went to him and said: ‘Dear brother, you’ve lost the boy who brought you the letter from your love.’

‘Why do you keep talking about that boy?’ said Uther.

‘Because he brought you such good news,’ Pendragon replied. ‘I’ll tell you what I know about it in the presence of the old man.’

Uther agreed, thinking that nobody could know anything except the one who had told him first. But when he heard the king speak he was astounded and said: ‘In God’s name, tell me how you have this amazing knowledge – both of this and of the other matter!’

‘I will tell you,’ said Pendragon, ‘if it please this good old man.’

‘What has it to do with him?’ said Uther.

‘I will not tell you without his leave,’ the king replied; and Uther said: ‘Sir, please tell my brother to say!’

‘Only too happy!’ said Merlin, and when the king heard this he went up to Uther and said: ‘Brother, I’d have you know that this is the wisest man in the world. No other boy than he brought you that letter or spoke the secret words from your love!’

Uther was astonished, and said to the king: ‘How can I know if what you’re telling me is true?’

So the king asked Merlin if he could give a demonstration.

‘Well enough,’ Merlin said. ‘I’ll show him the boy.’

With that he changed shape and became the boy, and Uther was speechless with amazement. The king said to him: ‘You may be sure, Uther, that this is Merlin. Now make sure that he’s your friend.’

Uther was overjoyed and said: ‘If he were willing, I’d gladly have him on our side!’

‘I’d be pleased to stay,’ said Merlin, ‘and to have you get to know my ways. You must understand that I sometimes need to be away from people; but wherever I may be, I shall be more mindful of your affairs than of any other’s, and if you’re in trouble I’ll come to your aid. I beg you, however much you may desire my company, don’t be upset when I leave you; and whenever I return, give me a joyful, public welcome. You may be sure that I’ll never again change shape except privately, in your presence; each time I come I shall appear openly at your house, and those who’ve seen me before will run and tell you of my arrival; as soon as you have word, show your delight! They’ll tell you I’m a great seer; you may ask me about whatever most concerns your people, and I’ll advise you about anything you wish.’

Such was the arrangement Merlin made with Pendragon and his brother Uther, and they agreed he should go and appear to their people in the shape in which they would recognise him. When he arrived before those who had been privy to his meetings with Vortigern they were overjoyed to see him, and they ran to tell the king that Merlin had come. The king showed his delight at the news and went to meet him, and those who loved Merlin told him: ‘Merlin, the king is coming to welcome you!’

The king greeted him joyfully and took him to his own lodging, where his counsellors assembled and said to him: ‘Sire, ask Merlin to tell you how to take this castle, and what will be the outcome of our war with the Saxons. Truly, he could tell us if he wanted!’

The king replied that he would gladly ask. They let the matter rest for the present, for they wanted to pay Merlin all due respect. Then, three days after Merlin’s arrival, all the king’s counsellors assembled, and the king came to Merlin and said: ‘Merlin, I pray you, tell me how I can capture this castle, and if there’s any way of driving the Saxons from the land.’

‘Sire,’ Merlin replied, ‘I can assure you that from the moment they lost Hengist, the Saxons had no other thought than to leave this land. Send your messengers to confirm this, and to seek a truce; they’ll agree to yield the kingdom to you. Have them escorted from the land and provided with ships to carry them away.’

‘Merlin,’ said the king, ‘you’re a wise man indeed. First I’ll seek a truce to see what they say.’

He entrusted his message to King Ulfin – one of his counsellors – and two clerks, and they rode to the castle; and when the Saxons in the castle saw them coming they went to meet them and said: ‘What do you want?’

And Ulfin replied: ‘We seek a truce on behalf of the king.’

‘We’ll discuss it, gladly,’ they answered, and withdrew a while and said: ‘Hengist’s death has severely weakened us. The king is seeking a three months’ truce, but our supplies won’t last that long! Let’s send him word that we’ll surrender this castle, and pay him a yearly tribute of ten knights, ten maidens, ten falcons, ten hounds, ten chargers and a hundred palfreys.’

Such was the decision they reached, and they told the messengers, who returned to the king and Merlin and the other barons. When the king heard their answer he asked Merlin what he should do.

‘Reject it,’ Merlin replied. ‘Order them to leave the castle and the kingdom. Give them ships and boats to sail to other lands – I tell you, they’ll be only too pleased, for they’ll all have been expecting death!’

The king did exactly as Merlin said, sending messengers early next day; and the Saxons in the castle were overjoyed at the chance to escape with their lives, for they knew they were helpless after losing Hengist. The news was sent throughout the land, and the king had the Saxons escorted to the port where he found them vessels to carry them away. So, as you have heard, Merlin knew the Saxons’ thoughts and had them driven from the land, and so it was that he became the king’s chief counsellor.

*

He stayed with him for a long while, and one day he was with the king having just discussed an important matter, when one of the barons became very upset and came to the king and said:

‘Sire, it’s amazing that you trust this man so much, for you know all his knowledge comes from the Devil. Let me test him in such a way as to show that openly.’

‘You have my leave to do so,’ the king replied, ‘but don’t annoy him!’

‘I’ll say nothing offensive,’ the baron said, but he was a cunning and wicked man, and powerful, wealthy and well connected.

One day Merlin arrived at court and the king gave him a joyful welcome. This baron invited Merlin to join their council, at which only five men were present; and he said to the king: ‘Sire, here is one of the wisest men in the world. I’ve heard he predicted Vortigern’s death, saying he would die in your fire, which he did. So I pray him to tell me how I shall die: I’m sure he could if he wanted.’

The king and the others asked Merlin to do so, and Merlin, well aware of the baron’s wicked heart, replied: ‘Know then, sir, that you’ll die by falling from your horse and breaking your neck. That’s how you’ll leave this world.’

When he had heard this, the baron said to the king: ‘Sire, you’ve heard what this man’s said.’ And he took the king aside on his own, and told him: ‘Remember Merlin’s words, sire, and I shall give him another test.’

And with that he went home and donned different clothes; and when he was ready he returned to the king’s city as fast as he could. There he feigned illness, and sent a secret message to the king asking him to bring Merlin to him but not to let him know who he was. The king sent back word that he would gladly come, and would not tell Merlin his identity. So the king went to Merlin and said: ‘Come with me to see a sick man in the town.’

Then he called for those he wished to accompany him and set off to see the invalid, who had prepared his wife to fall at the king’s feet and say: ‘In God’s name, sire, ask your seer if he can cure my husband!’

The king looked deeply sympathetic, then turned to Merlin and asked him, and Merlin replied: ‘You may be sure, sire, that this man is not on his deathbed!’

The sick man struggled to speak, and said to Merlin: ‘In God’s name, sir, how then shall I die?’

‘The day you die,’ Merlin replied, ‘you’ll be found hanging. You will hang the day you die.’

With that Merlin turned away from the sick man and looked very angry; and he left the king there in the house because he wanted the sick man to speak to him. When the invalid knew that Merlin was gone he said to the king: ‘Sire, were you ever so sure of anything as that that man is a crazy liar? He’s predicted two deaths for me, such that neither can be reconciled with the other! And I’ll test him a third time in your presence: tomorrow I’m going to go to an abbey and pretend to be sick; I’ll have the abbot send for you, saying I’m one of his monks and that he’s very distressed and afraid that I may die. The abbot will beg you to come and bring your seer with you. It’s the last time I’ll test him.’

The king promised to go and to take Merlin with him. So the baron went to an abbey and did exactly as he had said. The abbot sent a messenger to the king, who duly set off, taking Merlin with him, and came to the abbey, where on arrival he went to hear mass. The abbot came to him and begged him to come and see the sick monk, and the king asked Merlin if he would accompany him.

‘Willingly,’ Merlin replied, but he wished to speak first to his brother Uther. The king called Uther and Merlin together before an altar, and there Merlin said to them: ‘Sirs, the more I get to know you, the madder I find you. Do you think I don’t know how this fool who’s testing me is going to die? So help me God, I know very well, and I shall predict his death. And you’ll be even more amazed by what I say than you were the two other times he asked me!’

‘But Merlin,’ said the king, ‘is it really possible for any man to die such a death?’

‘If he doesn’t die so,’ Merlin replied, ‘don’t believe anything else I say. But I know the nature of his death – and yours. I can assure your brother Uther that I’ll see him king before I leave his company.’

With that Merlin, the king and his brother Uther went to see the baron; and the abbot said: ‘In God’s name, sire, ask your seer if this man can ever be cured.’

The king did so; and Merlin looked angry, saying to the abbot: ‘Sir, he has no mortal sickness and is quite capable of getting up! He’s wasting his time putting me to the test, for he will die in the two ways I’ve already described to him. But now I’ll tell him the third, more surprising than either; for know this: on the day he dies he’ll break his neck, and hang, and drown. Those who live will see him die this threefold death. Then they’ll know for certain whether I’ve told the truth.’

‘Sire,’ the baron said to the king, ‘you’ve heard this man say that on the day I die I’m going to break my neck and hang and drown! Surely this couldn’t happen to me or anyone!’

‘I won’t be sure,’ said the king, ‘until I’ve seen how you die.’

The baron was furious when he heard that Merlin would not be expelled from court until after his death; and news of the death he had predicted spread throughout the land, and everyone longed to know how Merlin’s words could be true. A little later, the baron who was due to die this death was out riding with a great company of men when he came to a river spanned by a wooden bridge. Suddenly his palfrey stumbled and fell to her knees; he was thrown forward and fell on his neck and broke it; and as his body tumbled into the river his gown snagged on an old, jagged bridge support, so that his legs and buttocks were up in the air and his shoulders and head in the water. So there he was: hanged, drowned, with a broken neck. He was pulled from the river, and the gentlemen who had been riding with him said: ‘Sirs, see if his neck is broken.’

They looked and said it was, for certain. Meanwhile Merlin came to Uther, whom he dearly loved, and told him how the man had died and bade him tell his brother the king. Uther did so, and the king was amazed and said: ‘Ask him when this happened.’

Uther came to Merlin and asked him, and he replied: ‘Yesterday. Those who are to bring the news will arrive in six days. I’m going now: I don’t want to be here when they arrive, for they’ll bother me with all kinds of things I don’t wish to hear, and I shan’t speak in their presence except in riddles.’

So said Merlin to Uther, and then he departed. And Uther came to the king and told him what had happened, and Pendragon was most upset, thinking that Merlin was angry. Meanwhile Merlin returned to Northumberland and related these and other events to Blaise as further material for his book.

So matters stayed for six days, until the riders arrived and told the king the amazing news of the baron’s death. Several people said they would write down everything Merlin said about the future: this was the beginning of the book of Merlin’s prophecies about the kings of England and other matters.

*

A long while passed; and in this time Merlin had commanding influence over11 Pendragon and his brother Uther. When he heard that his predictions were to be written down he told Blaise, and Blaise asked him: ‘Merlin, will their books be similar to the one I’m writing?’

‘Not at all,’ Merlin replied. ‘They will only record what has already happened.’

Then Merlin returned to the court, where they told him the news of the baron’s death as if he knew nothing about it. It was then that Merlin began to make the mystical pronouncements of which the book of his prophecies12 was composed. Then he came to Pendragon and his brother Uther and told them very openly that he loved them dearly and was eager that they should thrive. They were amazed to hear him speak so humbly, and asked him to tell them whatever he would, and to keep nothing secret that concerned them.

‘I’ll tell you nothing I should not,’ Merlin replied, ‘but I shall tell you something that will astound you. Do you remember the Saxons that you drove from the land after the death of Hengist? Well, Hengist was of a great family, and when they heard he was dead and his army driven from the land, they spoke to their followers and said they’d never be happy until they’d avenged Hengist’s death: they’re intent upon conquering your kingdom.’

Pendragon and Uther were taken aback by this and asked him: ‘Have they numbers great enough to match ours?’

And Merlin replied: ‘For every one of your warriors they have two, and unless you act with great intelligence they’ll destroy you and conquer your kingdom.’

‘We’ll do whatever you command, without fail,’ they said; and they asked him: ‘When do you think their army will arrive?’

‘On the ninth day of June,’ Merlin replied. ‘But no-one in the kingdom will know but you. I forbid you to speak of this to anyone; just do as I say. Summon your people and welcome them with all possible celebration – it’s wise to keep up men’s spirits – and ask them and all their followers to assemble at the beginning of June at the gates of Salisbury. There your army will gather. Then let the enemy come and land unhindered, and when they’ve disembarked let one of you take half your army and set yourselves between the enemy and the river, so that they’re forced to make camp away from their ships – even the boldest will be dismayed! I tell you, if you do this, you’ll be victorious.’

Then the two brothers said: ‘In God’s name, Merlin, tell us: will we die in this battle?’

‘Anything that has a beginning also has an end,’ Merlin replied. ‘No-one needs to fear death if he meets it as he should. Everyone must realise he’s going to die, and you must know it, too.’

‘You told me the other day,’ said Pendragon, ‘that you knew how I would die, just as you foresaw the death of the man who tested you. So I beg you, reveal it to me.’

And Merlin replied: ‘I want you to send for the finest, most potent reliquaries and relics you possess. And give me your oath upon them that you’ll do as I command – for your own benefit and honour. Afterwards I’ll tell you with certainty what you want me to reveal.’

They did exactly as Merlin had described, and then said: ‘Merlin, we’ve done as you commanded. Now tell us why you wanted this.’

And Merlin answered: ‘King, you asked me a question about your death, and whether it would be in this battle. I’ll tell you all you need to know and you must ask no more. Are you aware of the oaths you’ve made? If not, I’ll tell you. You’ve sworn to behave as worthy knights in this battle, loyal to each other and to God. And I’ll tell you how to be loyal and merciful and just. I command you to make confession: you’ve greater need to be confessed now than at any other time, for I have to tell you that one of you is about to leave this world. The one who is left must promise to follow my advice in ordering the creation of the richest, most beautiful cemetery possible. I shall ensure that it lasts until the world’s end.’

Time passed and the day came. Their people gathered in great numbers beside the river at Salisbury, and many fine gifts and riches were exchanged and shared between them there. Then word came that a fleet of ships had arrived, and when the king and Uther heard the news they knew that Merlin had been right. The king ordered his prelates and the dignitaries of Holy Church to see that every man in the army made confession and forgave each other for any past ill-will. Meanwhile the enemy had disembarked and were now on land. For eight days they rested there, and on the ninth they took to their horses. Merlin told Pendragon to order his men to mount, and the king asked his advice on how to act. And Merlin replied: ‘Tomorrow send Uther with a great body of men, and when they see that the enemy are well away from the shore, let your brother and his men advance so close that they’re forced to make a fortified camp. Then Uther should draw back, but keep them so hemmed in that they’re pinned down where they’ve camped. They’ll all be desperate to return where they came from! For twelve days let it be so, and on the thirteenth – which will be a fine, clear day – order your men to arm. Then you will see a red dragon flying through the air between earth and heaven. When you see this symbol of your name,13 you may join battle in the certain knowledge that your army will be victorious.’

They did as Merlin said, Uther leading a mighty force to pin the enemy down. They kept them so for twelve days, and on the thirteenth, when they saw all the signs appear, they were ready. Pendragon’s men spurred their horses into a galloping charge against the Saxons, and when Uther saw the king’s force massing he attacked with his men, too, just as fiercely if not more. So now you have heard how the battle of Salisbury began. And Pendragon was killed there, but Uther was victorious – though many died, both rich and poor. So many of the Saxons died that not a man escaped, for all were either killed or drowned. So ended the battle of Salisbury. Pendragon died but Uther survived and was king; and he had all the Christian bodies buried, each man burying his friend. But the bodies of his brother and his retinue were carried from the field, and each placed in a tomb with his name carved upon it; but Pendragon’s was higher than the rest, and Uther said no name should be carved upon his, for only a fool could see that tomb and not recognise it as Pendragon’s. When this was done he rode to London with his army and all the prelates of Holy Church, and there Uther was crowned.

On the fifteenth day after the coronation, Merlin came to court. The king gave him a joyful welcome, and Merlin said: ‘I want you to tell your people what I predicted about the Saxons’ invasion, and you must fulfil the oaths that you and Pendragon made.’

Then Merlin told Uther the significance of the dragon that had flown through the air, saying: ‘The dragon came as a sign of King Pendragon’s death and the accession of Uther.’

It was because of this that he was ever after named Utherpendragon.

So matters stayed for a long while, and Merlin was the closest friend and counsellor to Utherpendragon. A day finally came when Merlin said to the king: ‘What are you going to do about Pendragon, who lies at Salisbury?’

‘Whatever you wish,’ Utherpendragon replied.

‘You promised me you’d have a cemetery made,’ said Merlin, ‘and I vowed to ensure that it would last till the world’s end. Fulfil your promise and I’ll fulfil mine.’

‘What should I do?’ he asked.

‘Undertake the building of something unheard of,’ Merlin replied, ‘and it will be talked of for evermore!’

‘I’m at your command,’ said the king.

‘Listen, then,’ said Merlin. ‘Send men to fetch the great stones that are in Ireland. Send vessels there to bring them back. No matter how huge they may be, I’ll lift them. I’ll go there to show them which to bring.’

So Utherpendragon sent his biggest ships to Ireland with a great host of men. And when they arrived Merlin showed them an array of massive stones and said: ‘Sirs, these are the stones you’re to take back.’

When they saw the stones they thought him infantile, and said that all the people in the world together could not move one.

‘We’ll never put your stones in our ships, please God!’

‘Then you’ve come for nothing,’ said Merlin; and they returned to Utherpendragon and told him of Merlin’s absurd command. And the king replied: ‘Just you wait till Merlin comes.’

And when Merlin came, and the king told him what his people had said, Merlin replied: ‘Since they’ve all let me down, I’ll fulfil my oath by myself.’

Then, by magic, Merlin brought the stones from Ireland to the cemetery at Salisbury,14 and there they are still. And when they arrived, Utherpendragon went to see them, taking with him a great number of his people; and when they beheld them they declared that no-one had ever seen such enormous stones, and did not believe that all the people in the world could have carried even one. They were baffled as to how Merlin could have brought them there, for no-one had witnessed it. Then Merlin said they should stand them up, for they would look better upright than lying down, but Utherpendragon replied: ‘No-one could possibly do that, except God – or you.’

‘Then go now,’ said Merlin, ‘and I shall erect them. Then I’ll have fulfilled my oath to Pendragon – for I shall have made for him something inconceivable.’

And so Merlin erected the stones of the cemetery at Salisbury; and that was the end of the work.

*

Merlin cared deeply for Utherpendragon and served him for a long while, until he knew he had the king’s entire affection. Then Merlin spoke to him privately, saying: ‘I ought to reveal to you some of my deepest secrets, now that this land is fully in your hands. Because of my love for you I shall conceal15 nothing. Didn’t I save you from death at Hengist’s hands? That should have earned me your love in return.’

‘I’ll do all in my power,’ Utherpendragon replied, ‘to obey your every command.’

‘If you do so,’ said Merlin, ‘it will be greatly to your benefit, for I’ll teach you a simple way to win Christ’s love.’

‘Merlin,’ replied the king, ‘speak your mind openly.’

‘You must understand, sire,’ Merlin said, ‘that I have knowledge of all things past, both word and deed, inherited from the Enemy. But Our Lord omnipotent gave me knowledge of things to come. Because of that the Enemy have lost me: I will never work on their behalf. Now you know the source of my power. Sire,’ he said, ‘I’ll tell you what Our Lord wishes you to know; and make sure you use this knowledge to do His will. You must believe, sire, that Our Lord came to Earth to save the world, and sat at the Last Supper and said: “One of you has betrayed me.” And the one who had done this wicked deed was severed from His company. After this, sire, God suffered death for us. There was a soldier who asked for the body from the one who had the power to grant it, and he took Jesus from the cross where He’d been hung. And then, sire, God came back to life. And after Christ’s vengeful return, it happened that this soldier was in a desolate land with part of his family and many more people who were in his company, and a great famine beset them. They implored this knight, as their leader, to ask God why they were suffering such misfortune; and Our Lord bade him make a table in memory of the Last Supper. And on this table the knight placed a vessel which he covered with white cloths so that he alone could see it. This vessel separated the good people from the bad. Anyone who was able to sit at this table found the fulfilment of his heart’s desires. But there was always an empty seat at the table, sire, signifying the place where Judas had sat at the Last Supper when he realised that Our Lord’s words referred to him. This place was left symbolically empty at the knight’s table, until such time as Our Lord should seat another man there to make up the number of the twelve apostles. And so Our Lord fulfilled men’s hearts; and at the second table they called the vessel which bestowed this grace the Grail. If you’ll trust in my advice, you’ll establish a third table in the name of the Trinity, which these three tables will signify. And if you do this, I promise you it will greatly benefit your body and your soul, and such things will happen in your time as will astound you. If you’re willing to do this I will lend you aid, and I assure you it will be a deed of high renown in this world. If you have faith you will do it, and I shall help you.’

So said Merlin to Utherpendragon, who replied: ‘I would not have Our Lord suffer any loss on my account, but you should know I leave all decisions to you.’

‘Consider, sire,’ said Merlin, ‘where you would most like the table to be.’

‘Wherever you wish,’ Utherpendragon replied.

‘Then have it made at Carduel in Wales. Bid the people of your kingdom gather to meet you there at Pentecost. Be prepared to distribute great gifts; and provide me with men who’ll do my bidding. And I’ll decide who are fit to sit there.’

The king sent his decree throughout the land, and Merlin departed and ordered the making of the table. And when Pentecost came, the king set off to Carduel in Wales and asked Merlin how he had fared; and he replied: ‘Very well, sire.’

So the people assembled at Carduel, and the king said: ‘Merlin, who will you choose to sit at this table?’

‘As for that,’ Merlin replied, ‘tomorrow you’ll see something entirely unexpected. I shall choose fifty of the worthiest men of the land; and once they’ve sat at that table they’ll have no desire to return to their homes or ever leave here. Then you’ll see in your table the significance of the other two, and of the empty seat.’

‘By God,’ said the king, ‘I’ll be glad indeed to see it!’

Then Merlin came and made his selection and bade those men be seated. And once they had sat down, Merlin walked around them and showed the king the empty place. Many others saw it, too, but only the king and Merlin knew its significance. Then Merlin asked the king to be seated; but the king said he would not do so until he had seen everyone at the table served, and he ordered that they be served before he would move from where he stood. Only when that was done did the king go and take his place.

The court remained assembled for eight days, and the king bestowed many handsome gifts, and many beautiful jewels to ladies and damsels. Then he asked those who were seated at the table how they felt, and they answered: ‘Sire, we’ve no wish ever to move from here. Rather will we call our wives and children to join us in this city, so that we can live at Our Lord’s pleasure: such is our heart’s desire.’

‘Sirs,’ said the king, ‘do you all share this feeling?’

‘Yes indeed,’ they replied, ‘and we wonder much how this can be, for some of us have never seen each other before, yet now we love one another as sons love their fathers – if not more! It seems as if death alone can part us!’

The king was astonished by their words, as were all who witnessed this. But he was delighted, too, and ordered that they should be as honoured in the city as he was himself.

When everyone had gone, the king came to Merlin and said: ‘You told me the truth indeed. I now believe Our Lord wishes this table to be established. But I’m very puzzled about the empty place, and I beg you to tell me if you know who is to fill it.’

‘I can tell you for certain,’ Merlin replied, ‘that it will not be filled in your time. The one who is destined to do so will be born of Alain li Gros, who is here now in this land. Alain sat at Joseph’s precious table, but he has not yet taken a wife, and does not realise he is destined to father this child. The one who will fill the empty seat needs to have been in the presence of the Grail. The Grail’s guardians have never seen what is due to be fulfilled, and it will not happen in your time but in the life of the king who will follow you. But I pray you, continue to hold your assemblies and great courts here in the city of Carduel, and attend yourself and hold annual feasts here.’ Then Merlin said: ‘I’m leaving now, and I shall not return for a long time.’

‘Merlin,’ said the king, ‘where are you going? Won’t you be here each time I hold court?’

‘No,’ Merlin replied, ‘I can’t be, for I want the people who are with you to believe what they’re going to witness; I don’t want them to say I’ve made it happen.’

So Merlin left Utherpendragon and returned to Blaise in Northumberland, and told him of these events and of the establishment of the table.

*

Some time later Utherpendragon held court, and his barons duly came – including the duke of Tintagel, who brought with him his son and his wife Igerne. As soon as Utherpendragon set eyes on Igerne his heart was filled with love for her – though he did not show it, except that he looked at her with more interest than he showed the other women. She noticed this herself; and when she realised he was paying her more attention than the others she avoided him immediately and was always slow to acknowledge him, for she was as worthy as she was beautiful, and very loyal towards her husband. The king, because of his love for her and to try to gain her attention, sent jewels to all the ladies, and to Igerne he sent the ones he thought she would most adore. She did not dare to refuse them, since the others all accepted; so she took them, but knew in her heart that the king had bestowed these gifts only on her account, and wanted her to have them. She hid her deeper feelings.

So Utherpendragon held court – and he was without a wife. He was so full of love for Igerne that he did not know what on earth to do. Finally the court departed, and the king summoned his barons to return at Pentecost. He said the same to the ladies and damsels, and they promised they would attend most gladly. The king saw the duke and duchess of Tintagel on their way, honouring them greatly; and he whispered to Igerne that she bore his heart away with her, but she pretended not to have heard. He took his leave and Igerne departed, leaving Utherpendragon at Carduel. But wherever he was, his heart was always with Igerne.

And so the king suffered till Pentecost, when the barons and their ladies gathered once again, and he was overjoyed when Igerne arrived. At the feast he distributed many generous gifts to the knights and ladies; and when he sat down to dine he seated the duke and Igerne opposite him. Such were the king’s looks and his countenance that Igerne could not help but know that he loved her. And afterwards, when the feast was done and everyone was about to return home, the king requested them to return when he summoned them, and they promised to do so without fail.

All that year the king was in torment, and confided in two of those closest to him, telling them of the anguish he suffered for Igerne. And they said: ‘Sire, if it’s in our power, we’ll do anything you command.’

‘But what can I do?’ said the king.

‘Summon all your men to Carduel,’ they replied, ‘and command them to bring their wives and to come prepared to stay for fifteen days. That way you’ll be able to have Igerne’s company for a while.’

The king’s decree went out and the court assembled, and again the king bestowed great gifts upon knights and ladies alike; he was a happy man indeed that day. Then he spoke to one of his counsellors, named Ulfin, and asked him what he could do, for his love for Igerne was killing him. And Ulfin replied:

‘What sort of a king would you be if you died of desire to lie with a woman! I’m poor compared with you, but if I loved her as much as you do I wouldn’t be thinking about dying! Who ever heard of a woman being propositioned by a man with the power to bestow great gifts on all sides, who refused to do his will? And you’re worried!’

‘Good advice, Ulfin!’ said the king. ‘You understand how to handle this, so I beg you, help me in every way you can. Take whatever you like from my chamber and give it to all the people around her, and then speak to Igerne in the way you know my plight demands!’

‘I’ll do all I can,’ said Ulfin, and as they ended their private talk he said to the king: ‘Take care to stay on good terms with the duke, and I’ll think about what to say to Igerne.’

So the king made a great fuss of the duke and his company, and gave him and his companions many beautiful gems. Meanwhile Ulfin spoke to Igerne, saying what he thought would please her most and plying her with magnificent jewels; but Igerne resisted, declining them all, and finally drew him aside and said: ‘Ulfin, why do you want to give me these jewels and all these beautiful gifts?’

‘Because of your great beauty and intelligence,’ Ulfin replied, ‘and your lovely face. But what can I give you, when everything the king possesses is at your disposal, to do with as you wish?’

‘What?’ said Igerne.

‘You’ve captured the heart,’ Ulfin replied, ‘of the man to whom this whole city owes obedience. But his heart is now at your command, which is why this whole city is at your mercy!’

‘Whose heart do you mean?’ she asked.

‘The king’s!’ replied Ulfin; and Igerne raised her hand and crossed herself and said: ‘God, how treacherous the king is! He feigns friendship to the duke but means to shame him – and me likewise! Ulfin, make sure you never speak of this, for if you do, so help me God, I’ll tell my husband – and if he ever hears of it you’ll be sure to die. I’ll keep silent this time, but never again, I promise you!’

‘Lady,’ Ulfin replied, ‘it would be an honour to die for my lord! No lady before has ever resisted taking the king as her lover, and he loves you more than any mortal soul. But maybe this is all a tease! In God’s name, lady, have pity on the king! And be sure of this: you cannot resist his wishes.’

‘I will!’ Igerne answered, weeping. ‘I’ll stay forever out of his sight!’

With that Ulfin and Igerne parted. And Ulfin came to the king and told him what Igerne had said, and the king replied that that was how a good lady should answer – ‘but don’t stop asking!’

A day later, the king sat down to dine with the duke beside him. Before him the king had a most beautiful golden cup, and Ulfin advised him to send it to Igerne. The king looked up and said: ‘Sir duke, tell Igerne to take this cup and drink from it out of love for me. I’ll send it to her by one of your knights, filled with fine wine.’

The duke, suspecting nothing untoward, replied: ‘Many thanks, my lord; she will gladly take it.’

And he called to one of his knights, named Bretel, and said: ‘Bretel, take this cup to your lady from the king, and tell her to drink from it out of love for him.’

So Bretel took the cup and came to where Igerne was seated, and said: ‘Lady, the king sends you this cup, and the duke bids you accept the king’s gesture and drink from it out of love for him.’

Hearing this, the lady was filled with shame and flushed red; but she took the cup and drank. She made to send it back, but Bretel said: ‘My lord bids you keep it, lady.’

And he returned to the king and thanked him on Igerne’s behalf, though she had said no such thing.

When they had eaten they rose, and Ulfin went to see what Igerne was doing. He found her deeply troubled, and she said to him: ‘Ulfin, it was a treacherous act by the king to send me that cup of his. By God, I’m going to tell my lord of the shame the two of you mean to deal him!’

‘You’re not that foolish!’ Ulfin replied. ‘Your husband would never believe you!’

But Igerne said: ‘Damn anyone who hides it from him!’

Meanwhile the king took the duke by the hand and said: ‘Let’s go and see the ladies!’

‘Gladly,’ said the duke, and they went to the ladies’ chambers; but the only reason for going was to see Igerne, as she knew full well. So she suffered all day; and that night, when the duke went to his lodging, he found her in her chamber weeping. Seeing this, he took her in his arms and kissed her, for he loved her dearly, and said: ‘Lady, why are you crying?’

‘Sir,’ she said, ‘I’ll not hide it from you: the king says he loves me. The only reason he summons all these ladies to all these courts he holds is because of me! And today he made me take his cup and commanded me to drink from it out of love for him. For that, I wish I were dead!’

When the duke heard his wife’s words he was most distressed, for he loved her very deeply, and he summoned his knights and said to them: ‘Prepare to leave, sirs – and don’t ask why until I choose to tell you.’

They did as the duke commanded; and he mounted with all possible secrecy, and Igerne with him, and back he rode to his own land, taking with him his wife and all his knights.

His departure caused a great stir in the city next morning, and when the king was told that the duke was gone he was much aggrieved and said to his barons: ‘Sirs, tell me what to do about the insult the duke has committed at my court.’

They all replied that he had acted crazily – ‘and we don’t know how he can make amends’. So they said, not knowing the reason for the duke’s departure.

‘If you so advise,’ said the king, ‘I’ll summon him to make amends for the offence he committed in leaving here.’

They all agreed and advised him to do so; and two worthy men set out with his message, and rode on until they reached Tintagel. When they arrived they found the duke and delivered their message precisely; and hearing it, the duke, realising he would have to take his wife, told the messengers he would not return to court.

‘The king has so abused me and mine that I’ve no cause to trust or love him. God will support me in this, for He knows well enough that the king’s behaviour at court was such as to lose my love and trust.’

So the messengers returned from Tintagel to the king, while the duke called for his men and spoke to those he trusted most, and told them why he had left Carduel and how the king had tried to make his wife betray him. When they heard this they said that, God willing, that would never happen, and that the king deserved nothing but ill if he meant such harm to one of his liegemen. Then the duke said: ‘In God’s name, sirs, help me defend my land if the king attacks me.’ They replied that they would do so most willingly.

Meanwhile the messengers returned to Carduel and found the king and delivered the duke’s reply. The king was furious. He implored his barons to help him avenge the duke’s insult, and they said they could not refuse, but asked him as a mark of loyalty to challenge the duke but with forty days’ grace. The king agreed, and asked them then to be gathered at Tintagel ready for war.

‘Willingly, sire,’ they said, and the king sent messengers to challenge the duke with forty days’ grace. The duke made ready to defend himself, and the men who had borne the king’s challenge returned to tell him that the duke was preparing to resist. The king was incensed at the news, and summoned his barons and invaded the duke’s lands with a great army. When word of this reached the duke he was most alarmed. Not daring to await the king’s advance he took refuge in a strong castle and placed his wife in another. The king was advised to lay siege to the duke, and besiege him he did.

And so the king laid siege to the duke’s castle; but he was there for a long while, for he could not take it. And he was tormented by his love for Igerne – so much so that one day, while he was in his pavilion, he began to weep; and all his men, seeing him cry, went out and left him alone. When Ulfin, who had been outside, heard this, he came to him and found him weeping. He was disturbed by this and asked him the reason for his tears.

‘I weep for Igerne,’ the king replied, ‘and I can see it’s going to be my death, for I can find no peace at all. I feel so sorry for myself – it’s killing me!’

‘My lord,’ said Ulfin, ‘you’re being very weak-hearted, thinking you’re going to die for a woman! If Merlin were here he’d give you good advice.’

‘I fear I must have angered him,’ the king replied. ‘He’s come nowhere near me for a long time. Or perhaps he disapproves of me loving the wife of my liegeman. But it’s no good – my heart is lost; and I know he forbade me to send for him.’

‘But I’m sure,’ said Ulfin, ‘that if he’s in good health and cares for you, he’ll come and give you guidance.’

So Ulfin comforted the king, and told him to put a good face to it and be of good cheer and to summon his men and be with them again: that would relieve a good deal of his sorrow. The king told Ulfin he would willingly do so; and so their talk ended. And the king besieged the castle for a great while longer and launched attacks against it, but capture it he could not.

Then one day, while Ulfin was riding amongst the army, he came across a man he did not recognise. And the man said to him: ‘Sir Ulfin, I’d like to speak with you privately, away from here.’

‘Very well,’ Ulfin replied, and they drew away from the army, the man on foot and Ulfin riding. Then Ulfin dismounted to talk to the old man and asked him who he was, and he answered: ‘I’m an old man, as you can see. But when I was young I was held to be wise. Sir Ulfin, I’ve just come from Tintagel, where a worthy man accosted me and told me that your king Utherpendragon is in love with the duke’s wife, and is destroying the duke’s land because he took her away from Carduel. But if you’ll get me a good reward, I know a man who can guide the king in his love for Igerne and arrange for him to meet with her.’

Ulfin was amazed, wondering how the man could say these things, and begged him to direct him to the one who could give the king such help.

‘First,’ said the old man, ‘I want to know how the king will repay him.’

‘When I’ve spoken to the king,’ Ulfin replied, ‘I’ll meet you back here.’

‘You’ll find either me or my messenger,’ the old man said, ‘on this path between here and the army.’

Then Ulfin left him and rode back to the king and told him what he had said. When the king heard his words he laughed, saying: ‘Ulfin, will you know him tomorrow if you see him?’

‘Why yes,’ replied Ulfin, ‘he’s an old man, and he’s going to meet me down there in the morning to find out what reward you’ll give.’

And the king laughed again, guessing that it was Merlin. Next morning he followed Ulfin, and when they had ridden out beyond the army they came upon a crippled man, who cried out as the king rode past him: ‘King! If God will grant your heart’s dearest wish, give me a decent reward!’

The king roared with laughter, and said to Ulfin: ‘Will you do something for me?’

‘If it’s in my power I’ll do anything,’ he said.

‘Then go,’ said the king, ‘and give yourself to this cripple, and tell him I’ve nothing else to offer!’

And Ulfin went at once and sat beside him. Seeing him sit at his side the cripple said: ‘What do you want?’

‘The king has sent me to you,’ Ulfin replied. ‘He wants me to be yours.’

When the cripple heard this he laughed and said: ‘The king has twigged, and knows me better than you! But go to him now, and tell him he’s running a grave risk in the pursuit of his desires; but he’s been very perceptive and will be duly rewarded.’

Ulfin remounted and went to tell the king what the cripple had said. Hearing his words, the king replied: ‘Ulfin, do you realise who the cripple was that I gave you to? He was the man you spoke to yesterday!’

‘My lord,’ said Ulfin, ‘can a man really change shape so?’

‘It’s Merlin playing games with us!’ replied the king. ‘When he wants you to know his identity, he’ll let you know for sure!’

Just then Merlin arrived at the king’s tent in his familiar shape and asked where the king was. A boy ran to tell him that Merlin was asking for him, and the king was speechless with delight. Then he said to Ulfin: ‘Now you’ll see what I meant about Merlin!’

‘I’ll see, my lord,’ replied Ulfin, ‘whether you’ll gain by doing his will, for no-one is more able to help you in your love for Igerne.’

Then the king went to his pavilion and gave Merlin a joyful greeting. And Merlin asked him if he would swear to give him whatever he asked for, and the king replied: ‘I will indeed, gladly.’

Then Merlin asked Ulfin if he would swear likewise, and Ulfin answered: ‘I’m sorry I haven’t already done so!’

Merlin laughed at this and said: ‘When the oaths are made, I’ll tell you how to fulfil your wish.’

Then the king called for holy relics to be brought upon a book, and he and Ulfin made their oaths as Merlin had requested, promising to give him whatever he craved. When the vows were made Merlin came to the king and said: ‘Sire, you’ll have to act very boldly if you’re to get into Igerne’s presence, for she’s a wise lady and very loyal both to God and to her husband. But now you’ll see what power I have to accomplish your desire.’ Then he said: ‘Sire, I’m going to give you the appearance of the duke: she won’t be able to tell you apart. The duke has two knights specially close to him – one named Bretel and the other Jordan. I’m going to give Ulfin the appearance of Jordan and I’ll take the shape of Bretel, and I’ll have the gate of Igerne’s castle opened and you shall lie with her. But you’ll have to leave very early, for the morning will bring chilling news. And make sure you don’t tell anyone where you’re going.’

The king swore he would tell no-one, and Merlin said: ‘Let’s go; I’ll give you your new guises on the way.’

The king prepared to do Merlin’s bidding with all possible speed, and Merlin came to him and said: ‘I’ve done my work – now get ready to do yours.’

They rode on till they neared Tintagel. Then Merlin said to the king: ‘Wait here, sire; Ulfin and I will go on ahead.’ Then he turned to the king with a herb and said: ‘Rub this on your face.’

The king took the herb and did so, and thereupon he looked exactly like the duke. And Merlin took the shape of Bretel and gave Ulfin the appearance of Jordan. Then they rode to Tintagel and called for the gate to be opened, and people rushed to tell the duchess that the duke had arrived.

When the king entered the city Merlin led him into the palace and took him aside, and told him to put on his happiest face. Then all three of them went to Igerne’s chamber. As soon as Igerne heard that the duke had come she had taken to her bed, and when Uther saw her lying there in all her beauty, the blood stirred throughout his body. Merlin and Ulfin removed their lord’s boots as fast as they could, and saw him to bed.

Utherpendragon and Igerne lay together that night. And he begat an heir who was later to be called King Arthur.

In the morning news came that the duke was dead and his castle taken. When Merlin and Ulfin heard this they roused their lord from his bed with all possible speed. The king kissed Igerne at their parting. And when they were outside in the open fields Merlin said: ‘I’ve kept my promise to you, my lord king; now keep yours to me. I want you to know that you’ve conceived an heir – make a written record of the night it happened. And I want to have the child.’

‘I give him to you,’ said the king, ‘for I promised to grant whatever you asked.’

So Ulfin recorded the night of the child’s conception. Then Merlin took the king aside and said: ‘Sire, make sure Igerne never knows you lay with her or fathered the child. That way she is surer to turn to you, and it’ll be easier for me to acquire the child.’

With that Merlin took his leave of the king, and the king returned to his army and Merlin to Blaise in Northumberland. The king asked his men to guide him in resolving the matter in hand, and they said: ‘Sire, we advise you to make peace with the duchess and the duke’s supporters: it will earn you great respect.’

The king commanded them to go to Tintagel and speak to the duchess – ‘and tell her she cannot hold out against me’ – and if her counsellors agreed, he would offer them peace on their terms. With that the barons rode to Tintagel, while the king took Ulfin aside and said: ‘Ulfin, what do you think about this peace? I think it was your idea.’

‘If it was,’ Ulfin replied, ‘you can say whether you like it.’

‘I do,’ said the king.

‘Don’t concern yourself with the business,’ Ulfin said. ‘Just agree to peace and I’ll arrange it.’

The king was very grateful. Meanwhile his messengers arrived at Tintagel and found the duchess and the duke’s supporters, and made it plain that the duke was dead – and through his own misdeeds – and that the king was very sorry and wished to make peace now with the lady and her friends. They realised they had no defence against him, and that the king was offering peace, and they said they would discuss it. So the duke’s men withdrew to a chamber, taking the duchess with them, and advised her to make peace, saying that of two evils it was best to choose the lesser. And the lady replied: ‘I’ll take your advice, sirs, for I trust no-one as much as you.’

They returned from their council, and one of the worthiest spoke to the king’s messengers, saying: ‘Sirs, what reparation will the king make to our lady for the death of her husband?’

‘Dear sir,’ they replied, ‘we don’t know our lord’s own will. But he said he would do as the duchess’s men advised.’

‘We cannot ask for more,’ said her followers, and they agreed to make peace in fifteen days. So the date was set, and the king’s messengers returned and reported what had happened. While the fifteen days passed the king spoke to Ulfin of many things. Then the lady asked safe conduct of the king to come into his army on the day set to make peace. The king assured her of the safest conduct, and sent his barons to escort her. When the lady arrived the king assembled all his barons, and asked her men what reparation she would like for her husband’s death. Her friends replied: ‘Sire, the lady hasn’t come here to plead, but to know what amends you’d like to make.’

Then the king called his barons and said: ‘Sirs, what peace terms should I offer this lady?’

And they replied: ‘You know your own heart better than we do.’

‘Then I’ll tell you what I wish, and swiftly,’ said the king. ‘Sirs, you are all my liegemen and counsellors and I defer in this matter entirely to you. But be careful now in advising your lord, for I’ll do whatever you say.’

‘No-one could ask more of his lord,’ they replied. ‘But it’s a very great responsibility: are you sure you’ll bear us no ill-will?’

‘Sirs!’ said Ulfin. ‘You seem to think your king’s a fool! Don’t you believe a word he says?’

‘We do, Ulfin,’ they replied, ‘we do indeed, but we beg the king to send you to our council, and that you give us your soundest, best advice.’

When the king heard them ask for Ulfin’s guidance he pretended to be angry; but to Ulfin he said: ‘Go, Ulfin, and do your best to steer them to my will!’

And Ulfin answered: ‘Gladly!’

Then they all withdrew and asked him: ‘Ulfin, what do you advise?’

‘I’ll tell you what I think,’ he replied. ‘And what I say here I’d say anywhere. You know very well that the king has brought about the duke’s death by force, and whatever wrong the duke might have done him it wasn’t enough to deserve death. Isn’t that the truth? And know this now: the lady has been left heavy with child, while the king has laid waste her land; and she’s the finest lady in the world, the wisest and most beautiful. And I tell you, the duke’s kin have suffered a great loss by his death, and if the king is to retain their friendship it’s only right that he should compensate them for a large part of that loss. It seems to me he can make amends only by taking her as his wife. Not only will it make amends; it’ll gain the admiration of all in the kingdom who hear the news. And he should marry the duke’s daughter to King Lot of Orkney: then he’ll be deemed a most loyal king. That’s my advice,’ said Ulfin. ‘Now tell me yours, if you disagree with what I’ve said.’

‘You’ve given the noblest advice,’ they replied, ‘that any man could conceive. If the king agrees, we do so heartily!’

‘A brief answer,’ said Ulfin. ‘But if you all fully agree I’ll report your decision to the king. But what of King Lot of Orkney here, on whom I’ve placed part of the peace terms?’

‘Whatever you may have laid upon me,’ said King Lot, ‘I’ll not stand in the way of peace.’

Hearing King Lot’s approval, they all agreed wholeheartedly. They came before Utherpendragon, and Ulfin said: ‘My lord, will you accept these worthy men’s plan for peace?’

‘I will,’ he replied, ‘if the lady and her supporters are in agreement.’

So Ulfin told him of the terms suggested, and the king said: ‘If King Lot of Orkney accepts, then I accept also.’

‘I do indeed,’ said King Lot; so Ulfin came to the lady’s messengers and said: ‘Do you agree to these terms?’

And they replied: ‘Never has a king made such fine reparations to a liegeman! We accept them fully.’

Then both parties exchanged vows of peace. And so it was that the king married Igerne. She had had three daughters by the duke: King Lot of Orkney took one of them as his wife, and from their marriage came Mordred and Sir Gawain and Guirret and Gariet. King Niautre of Garlerot took another of the daughters, whose name was Batarde. And the third daughter’s name was Morgan; and by the advice of her friends she was sent away to study in a nunnery – and study she did, until she knew a good deal about the secret arts, and much about astronomy and physic; and she made use of her knowledge, until people were so amazed by her deeds that they called her Morgan the Fay. The upbringing of the other children was arranged by the king.

And so the king took Igerne as his wife. And at night while he was lying with her he asked her by whom she was with child, for it could not be by him or the duke, as the duke had not lain with her for a good while before his death. Then the queen began to cry, and said:

‘If you promise to do me no harm, I’ll tell you truly.’

And the king said to Igerne: ‘You may tell.’

The queen was relieved to hear him grant her freedom to speak; and she told him how a man had lain with her in the semblance16 of her lord – the story that the king knew so well. And when she had finished the king said: ‘Make sure no-one learns of this, for it would bring you great shame. And since this child is rightly neither yours nor mine, I want you to give it to the person I choose, so that it stays forever secret.’

‘Sir,’ she replied, ‘I and all I possess are at your command.’

Then the king came to Ulfin and told him of his conversation with the queen, and Ulfin said: ‘Now you can see, my lord, what a wise and loyal lady she is, revealing such a great and dark secret. And you’ve arranged Merlin’s business perfectly, for he would otherwise not have had the child!’

So matters stayed for six months, when Merlin had vowed to return. He duly did so, and spoke secretly to Ulfin to ask him the news he sought, and Ulfin told him truly all he knew. After they had spoken together the king sent Ulfin to fetch Merlin, and when all three were together the king told Merlin how he had arranged matters with the queen and married her when they had made peace.

‘My lord,’ Merlin replied, ‘Ulfin is absolved of his sin in arranging the affair between you and the queen. But I’m not yet absolved of my part in helping you with my trickery and in the conception of the child she bears, whose fathering is a mystery to her.’

‘But you’re so clever,’ said the king, ‘that you’ll know how to absolve yourself!’

‘I’ll need you to help me, my lord,’ said Merlin.

The king said he would gladly do so, and Merlin said: ‘Sire, in this town there’s a worthy man with a very worthy wife who’s about to have a son. But he’s not at all wealthy. I want you to make a deal with him: such that he’ll give his child to be nursed by another woman, while a child will be brought to him to be fed with his own wife’s milk.’

‘Very well,’ said the king. Then Merlin went to Blaise in Northumberland, while the king summoned the worthy man, who was a knight, and welcomed him with great joy. The knight could not understand why the king made such a fuss of him. Then the king said: ‘Dear friend, I’ve a secret to share with you, and you must keep it to yourself.’

‘I’ll do whatever you ask, my lord,’ he replied, and the king said: ‘In my sleep I had a marvellous dream in which your wife bore you a son.’

‘That’s true, my lord!’ the knight said.

‘Now,’ said the king, ‘I want you to send the child away and have him raised by any woman you choose, and have your wife nurse another child that will be brought to you. A man will deliver him, and you must give him to your wife to feed.’

‘Very well,’ the knight replied; and he returned home and persuaded his wife to send their son to be nursed elsewhere in the town, though she felt very ashamed.

The time then came for the queen to give birth. The day before the child was due Merlin came to court in secret and spoke to Ulfin, saying: ‘I’m very pleased with the king, Ulfin: he’s done exactly as I asked. Now bid him go to the queen and tell her that she’ll have the child tomorrow after midnight, and to instruct her to give the child to the first man found outside the chamber. I must be gone.’

‘Aren’t you going to speak to the king?’ said Ulfin.

‘Not for now,’ Merlin replied, and Ulfin went to the king and told him what Merlin had said. The king went to tell the queen, saying: ‘Lady, you’ll be delivered of the child tonight. Have one of your women carry him from the chamber, and tell her to give him to the first man she finds.’

‘I will indeed,’ Igerne replied, ‘if God grants me life.’

That was the end of their conversation. And the queen gave birth at the time the king had said, and gave the child to a woman, saying: ‘Take my child and carry him to the door, and give him to the man you find there.’

She did as her lady asked. She came to the door and gave the child to a most handsome man she found, though she did not know him. It was Merlin. And he went to the worthy knight who was to be his guardian, and said: ‘I bring you a child, and I pray you raise him better than you would your own. I’d have you know that I am Merlin, and this is King Utherpendragon’s child, who will in time be likewise king of this land. And you must have him baptised.’

‘I will, sir, gladly,’ said the knight. ‘And what’s to be his name?’

And Merlin replied: ‘His name will be Arthur. I’m going now, for my business here is ended.’

With that they parted. The name of the knight who was to care for the child was Entor; and he came to his wife and said: ‘My lady, this is the child I’ve asked you to take.’

‘Has he been baptised?’ she said.

‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘and his name is Arthur.’

And she began to nurse him.

*

So matters stayed. And Utherpendragon ruled his land for a long time, until he fell very ill. Then the Saxons rose up in many parts of his land; and he summoned his barons, who said he should take revenge if he could. He told them to go and fight as worthy men should for their lord, and they replied: ‘We’ll go!’

And they did, and were routed, and the king lost many of his men. When the king heard the news he was most distressed. The remnants of his army returned, but the Saxons, having won the battle, gathered forces in ever greater numbers. Merlin knew all this, and came to Utherpendragon, who had little time left. The king was overjoyed at his coming, and Merlin said: ‘You seem very afraid, my lord.’

‘And with good cause, Merlin,’ he replied. ‘Those who should be my subjects have destroyed my kingdom and routed and killed my men. Tell me what I can do.’

‘I will,’ said Merlin. ‘Summon your people and have them bear you in a litter and go and do battle with your enemies. And know that you will defeat them. When the battle is won, distribute all your wealth; then you will die.’

‘Merlin,’ the king replied, ‘how is the child who was delivered to you?’

‘I tell you,’ said Merlin, ‘he is fair and tall and well cared for.’

Then the king said: ‘Merlin, will I ever see you again?’

And Merlin answered: ‘Yes, once, but no more.’

With that the king and Merlin parted, and the king summoned his people and declared that he was going to do battle with his enemies. And he went, carried on a litter. And they confronted the Saxons and engaged them and defeated them, inspired by their lord, and killed a huge number. And so it was that he conquered his enemies and peace was restored to the king’s land. He then returned to Logres17 and, remembering what Merlin had said, distributed all his wealth under the guidance of the ministers of Holy Church, until none remained to him: thus he humbled himself before God. Then his illness worsened, and his people assembled at Logres, feeling great sorrow as they realised his death was near. He had become so ill that he was losing the power of speech, and he did not speak for three days. Then Merlin, who knew all that had happened, made his way to the town, and the worthy men led him before the people and said: ‘Merlin, the king whom you loved so dearly is dead.’

But Merlin answered: ‘You’re wrong. No-one will die as good a death as he, but he is not yet gone.’

‘He is,’ they replied. ‘He hasn’t spoken for three days, and he’ll never speak again.’

‘Yes, he will, if it please God,’ said Merlin. ‘Come now, and I’ll make him speak.’

‘That would be the greatest wonder in the world,’ they said, and Merlin replied: ‘Come; I shall make him speak.’

So they went to where the king lay, and opened all the windows. And the king looked at Merlin and turned towards him and seemed to recognise him. And Merlin said: ‘If you wish to hear the king’s words, come forward, and you will hear.’

‘Merlin,’ they said, ‘do you think he can speak?’

‘You’ll see well enough,’ Merlin answered; and he turned to the king and whispered softly in his ear: ‘Utherpendragon, you have made a very good end, if you are inwardly as you outwardly seem. I can tell you that your son Arthur will be lord of this kingdom after you, and will complete the Round Table that you have begun.’

And Utherpendragon replied: ‘Merlin, ask him to pray to Jesus Christ for my sake.’

Then Merlin said: ‘Sirs, you heard the king’s words. But he will never speak again.’

And so it was that the king died that night, and his death was marked with great honour.

But Utherpendragon left the land without an heir, and the next day the barons assembled to declare a new king, but could not reach agreement. ‘Sirs,’ said Merlin, ‘if you’ll trust in me, I’ll give you good advice. You know the feast of Christ’s birth is near; pray to Him that, as surely as He was born of the Virgin Mary, He may give you a sign to let the people know who He would choose to be king. I promise you that if you do this Our Lord will send you a true sign.’

‘No man alive who trusts in God,’ the barons replied, ‘would disagree.’

So they all accepted Merlin’s advice. And he took his leave of Ulfin, who asked him to return at Christmas to see if what he had said was true; but Merlin answered: ‘I won’t be back until after the choosing.’

And with that he returned to Blaise, leaving the others pledged to gather at Logres at Christmas to see Christ’s choosing of the new king: so it was agreed. They waited for Christmas to come.

Meanwhile Entor had raised the child, nursed with no milk but his wife’s, until he was a fine and handsome youth; and Entor did not know which he loved the more, his own son or the king’s. Indeed, he had never called him anything but his son, which the child had no doubt he was. It so happened that at the feast of All Saints before that Christmas Entor had made his own son a knight, and at Christmas he came to Logres along with all the other knights.

On Christmas Eve all the clergy of the kingdom assembled with all the barons of any worth, having arranged matters exactly as Merlin commanded. And when they were all gathered they prepared themselves for prayer, and implored Our Lord to send them a man fit to uphold Christianity. So they held the first mass; and when it was done, some departed but others stayed in the minster; then one of the wisest men of the land stood up and spoke to the people before the next mass was sung, saying: ‘My lords and ladies, pray to Our Lord to send you a king and leader to uphold Holy Church and to guard and save the people. We cannot agree upon the choice of a man – we’re not wise enough – so now we pray to Our Lord to send us a sign by which we might know him today.’

The archbishop sang mass as far as the gospel; and then, just as they had made the offering, and day began to break, a great square block of stone and an anvil appeared, and in the anvil was fixed a sword. Those who beheld this wonder ran to the church to tell the people; and the archbishop came out bearing holy water and precious relics, and he went and saw the stone and sprinkled it with holy water. Then he noticed what was written on the sword: that whoever could draw the sword from the stone would be king by the choice of Jesus Christ. When the archbishop had read these words he announced them to the people; and they set a guard upon the stone and returned to the church singing ‘Te Deum Laudamus.’

Then the worthy man who had spoken earlier said: ‘My lords, God has answered our prayers with a miracle! Now I beg you, let no-one contradict the choice.’

The highest men in the land all declared that they would pull the sword out by force; but the archbishop spoke, saying: ‘My lords, you’re not as wise as I would wish! I assure you that in this matter wealth and nobility are worthless unless combined with the power of God. My faith in Him is such that I believe that, if the right man has not yet been born, the sword will not be drawn until he comes to draw it.’

The worthy men agreed and said he was right and they would abide by his wishes. The archbishop rejoiced to hear this, and said: ‘My lords, I want a hundred of the worthiest men here to try and draw the sword.’

They did so; but for all their efforts, none could draw it. Then he commanded everyone present to try his hand, which they did; but they could not draw it. And when they had all made their attempts they returned to their lodgings to eat, and after eating they went into the fields to hold a tournament. After jousting a while they exchanged shields with their squires and began again, and the combat grew into a great mêlée, and the people of the town came running, fully armed. At the feast of All Saints Entor had made his elder son – whose name was Kay – a knight, and Kay sent his brother Arthur to their lodging to fetch his sword. But when Arthur came there he could not get it, for the chamber where it lay had been locked. But on his way back he passed the church, and took the sword that was fixed in the stone, slipped it under his coat and returned to his brother. And his brother said: ‘Where’s my sword?’

‘I couldn’t get it,’ he replied, ‘but I’ve brought you another.’

‘Where from?’

‘From the stone outside the church.’

And Kay took it, slipped it under his coat, and went to show his father. And his father said: ‘Where did you get this?’

‘From the stone outside the church,’ said Kay.

And Entor said: ‘Don’t lie to me; I’ll know if you are, and I’ll never love you more.’

Then Kay said: ‘Arthur gave it to me when I sent him for my sword. I don’t know where he got it.’

When Entor heard this, he said to him: ‘Give it to me, dear son, for you have no right to it.’

Then he called to Arthur, and said: ‘Dear son, take this sword back where you found it.’

And Arthur took it and fixed it back in the stone. And Entor said to Kay: ‘Go now, and draw it if you can.’

And he went, but he could not draw it. And Entor said to Arthur: ‘What good will it do me, if I make you king?’

And Arthur answered: ‘Such as befits my father.’

Then Entor said: ‘I am not your father; I have only fostered you.’

When Arthur heard this, he wept. And Entor said to him that if he became king he should make Kay his seneschal; and that Kay should not lose that office no matter what wrong he might do.

‘If he’s ever wicked or foolish you must bear with him, for whatever faults he may have came to him only from the woman who nursed him – and it was on your account that his nature was changed.’

Arthur granted this request, making an oath upon holy relics. Then Entor came to the archbishop and said: ‘Sir, here is a son of mine who is not yet a knight, but he has asked me to let him try to draw the sword.’

Then the archbishop and the barons went to the stone, and when they were all assembled Entor said: ‘Arthur, give the sword to the archbishop.’

And Arthur took it and drew it from the stone and gave it to the archbishop. When the archbishop received it he took Arthur in his arms and sang out loud: ‘Te Deum Laudamus’; and they carried Arthur into the church. But the barons who had seen this were deeply vexed, and said that no common boy was going to be their lord; and the archbishop said: ‘My dear sirs, Our Lord knows each man’s true nature better than you!’

But though Entor and his kin and many others sided with Arthur, the common people and the barons of the land were against him. Then the archbishop boldly declared: ‘My lords, even if the whole world opposed this choice and Our Lord alone was for it, it would still stand. And I’ll show you the sign that God has sent to prove it. Go, Arthur, dear brother, and put the sword back where you found it.’

And in view of them all Arthur carried it back and replaced it in the stone. When he had done so the archbishop said: ‘No finer way of choosing was ever seen! Go, my lord barons, wealthy men, and try: see if you can draw the sword.’

But they could not. Then the archbishop said: ‘He is a fool indeed who challenges the will of Jesus Christ.’

‘That’s not our intention,’ they replied, ‘but we can’t accept a common boy as our lord. We pray you, leave the sword in the stone till Candlemas.’

The archbishop granted their request, and the sword remained in the stone. At Candlemas all the people assembled, and everyone who wished to try his hand did so. Then the archbishop came to Arthur and said: ‘Go, my dear son Arthur, and fetch me the sword.’

And Arthur went up and brought it to him. When the people saw this they began to weep. Then the archbishop said: ‘Sirs, is there anyone here who would challenge this choice?’

And the rich men said: ‘We beg you to leave it till Easter. If no-one arrives who can draw the sword, we’ll give obedience to this boy as you command. If you wish it to be otherwise, we’ll do our best to agree.’

‘If I wait until Easter,’ said the archbishop, ‘will you accept him as your lord?’

‘Yes,’ they answered; and the archbishop said to Arthur: ‘Dear brother, put the sword back, for the honour God has promised you will not be denied.’

So Arthur went forward and put the sword back in the stone, where it stayed fixed as fast as ever. Then the archbishop, who had taken the child under his wing, said: ‘Know, Arthur, that you will be king in all certainty. Now turn your thoughts to being a worthy man, and be determined from this time forward to be a good king.’

‘Sir,’ replied Arthur, ‘I’ll do as you advise.’

‘You won’t regret it!’ said the archbishop. ‘Now you must assign people to be your chief officers, and appoint your seneschal and chamberlains.’

‘Sir,’ said Arthur, ‘summon my father Entor.’

And at Arthur’s request Kay was appointed seneschal.

So matters stayed until Easter, when all the barons assembled at Logres. And when they were all gathered on the eve of Easter, the archbishop called them all into his palace to discuss the situation, and said to them: ‘My lords, receive this child as your king.’

But the rich men replied: ‘Sir, we don’t mean to dispute the choice of Jesus Christ, but we’re dismayed by the idea of a common boy as our lord.’

And thereupon the archbishop said: ‘Sirs, you’re not good Christians if you challenge the will of Our Lord!’

‘That’s not our wish,’ they replied, ‘but allow us some concession! Whatever test this child may have passed, we know next to nothing about him! We beg you, before this child is anointed king, let’s find out what sort of man he means to be; for though we know little yet, when we see the way he acts there are some of us who’ll be able to read his mind!’

‘Would you like, then,’ said the archbishop, ‘to postpone his choosing and anointing till Pentecost?’

‘We would indeed, sir,’ they replied, ‘in case he proves to be unfit to be our king.’

So it was left till the next day, when Arthur was led before the stone. And he drew forth the sword as he had done before; and they took him and raised him on high and accepted him as their lord. Then they asked him to put the sword back and speak with them. He replied that he would do so gladly, saying: ‘Sirs, I’ll do whatever you request.’

Then the barons said to him: ‘Sir, it’s clear that Our Lord would have you be our king, and since that is His wish it is our wish also. So we accept you as our lord and will hold our fiefs as your vassals. But we pray you as our lord to delay your anointing till Pentecost – without being any the less lord of us or the kingdom. Please give us your answer now, without debate.’

And Arthur replied: ‘Sirs, what you say about accepting your homage and granting you your fiefs as my vassals, that I cannot and should not do until my kingship is clear. And when you say I should be lord of the kingdom, that cannot be until I am anointed and crowned and receive the true office of kingship. But I’ll willingly grant the delay you request before my coronation. I need the blessing of both God and you.’

After hearing the child’s words the barons said: ‘If this child lives he’ll be a wise man indeed; he has answered admirably. Sir,’ they said, ‘it would be good if you were crowned at Pentecost.’

And Arthur said he would gladly agree if that was their advice. So the day was postponed till Pentecost, and in the meantime they all obeyed Arthur as the archbishop commanded. And they had great riches and their finest jewels brought to him, and all the things a man might covet, to see if his heart might be open to greed. He asked his friends what each thing was worth, and did with it accordingly; for when he had received all these treasures he distributed them, so the book says. To good knights he gave fine horses and other wealth; to happy lovers he gave money and gold and silver; and to wise and worthy men he gave handsome gifts and the benefit of his company. He asked their retainers what it was they liked best, and gave them gifts accordingly. So he distributed all the wealth he was given: they could find no greed in him at all. Then they waited until Pentecost, when all the barons assembled at Logres and all who wished to do so tried to draw the sword. The archbishop had prepared the crown and the sacraments on the eve of Pentecost; and before vespers on the Saturday evening, by the common advice and consent of almost all the barons, the archbishop made Arthur a knight.

That night he kept vigil in the cathedral until day broke next morning, when all the barons assembled there, and the archbishop addressed them, saying: ‘Behold, sirs, a man whom Our Lord has chosen for us; you have all known of the choosing since Christmas; and all who have wished to try their hand at the sword have done so. If any man opposes the choice, let him speak.’

But the barons said: ‘We all agree, and wish before God that he be anointed king.’

‘And does he bear any of you ill-will for having opposed his consecration?’

At that, Arthur wept with pity and knelt before them and declared at the top of his voice: ‘I pardon you all most sincerely, and I pray the Lord who has bestowed this sacred office upon me to pardon you all likewise.’

Then they all rose as one and led Arthur to where the royal vestments were kept, and dressed him. When they had done so the archbishop was ready to sing mass; but first he said to Arthur: ‘My lord, go and fetch the sword, the mark of the justice with which you must defend Holy Church and safeguard Christianity in every way and with all your power.’

They went in procession to the stone, and when they came there the archbishop called to Arthur, saying: ‘If you are willing to swear to God and my lady Holy Mary and my lord Saint Peter and all the saints to uphold Holy Church and keep peace and faith on Earth, and to give counsel to all men and women in need, and to guide the wayward and uphold all right with all your power, then go forward now and take the sword with which Our Lord has marked your choosing.’

When Arthur heard this he began to weep with emotion, and many others for him, and said: ‘May Our Lord, as surely as He rules all living things, grant me the strength and power to do as you have said, which is truly my intention.’

Arthur, kneeling, took the sword in both hands and raised it from the anvil as easily as if nothing held it, and carried it back, held high. They led him to the altar, and he laid the sword upon it. And when he had done so they blessed him and anointed him and performed all the rites necessary for the making of a king. And when Arthur had been crowned and mass had been sung, all the barons left the church. But when they looked they saw no sign of the stone, and did not know what had become of it. And so it was that Arthur was the chosen king; and he ruled the land and kingdom of Logres in peace for a long time.

After his coronation and the singing of mass he returned to his palace along with all the barons who had seen him draw the sword from the stone. And once he had been made king Merlin arrived at court, and the barons who knew him were overjoyed to see him; and Merlin spoke to them, saying: ‘Sirs, listen to me now. I want you to know that Arthur, whom you have accepted as your king, is the son of your liege lord Utherpendragon and Queen Igerne. When he was born the king commanded that he be given to me, and as soon as I received him I took him to Entor, for I knew him to be a worthy man, and he willingly became his guardian for I promised him a great reward. And Entor has now seen my promise fulfilled, for Arthur has made his son Kay his seneschal.’

‘I have indeed,’ said Arthur, ‘and he will never be removed from that office as long as I live.’

This news was greeted with jubilation, and all the barons were delighted – notably Gawain, who was the son of Arthur’s sister and King Lot. After this business the king gave orders for the tables to be set up at once, and throughout the hall they all sat down to dine: they were richly served with whatever they asked for. And when the barons had dined the boys and serving-men cleared the tables; and the barons rose, and those who knew Merlin and had served Utherpendragon came to the king and said:

‘Sire, you must treat Merlin with much honour, for he was a great soothsayer to your father and dearly loved by all your family. He foretold Vortigern’s death, and ordered the making of the Round Table. Be sure he is given all respect, for he will answer anything you ask him.’

‘I will do as you say,’ Arthur replied; and he took Merlin and seated him at his side and gave him a most joyful welcome. And Merlin said to him: ‘Sire, I would like to speak to you privately, with the two barons you trust the most.’

‘Merlin,’ the king replied, ‘I’ll do whatever you advise if it’s for the good.’

To which Merlin answered: ‘I will never give you any advice contrary to Our Lord’s will.’

Then the king summoned Kay the seneschal, whom he had long taken to be his brother, and King Lot of Orkney’s son Sir Gawain, who was his nephew. The four of them gathered in private, and Merlin said to them: ‘Arthur, you are king now, thanks be to God. Your father Uther was a most worthy man, and in his time the Round Table was established, which was made to symbolise the table at which Our Lord sat on the Thursday when He said that Judas would betray Him. It was made, too, as a reference to the table of Joseph of Arimathea, which was established for the Grail, when the good were separated from the wicked. I want you to know this, too: there have been two kings of Britain before you who have been king of France and emperor of Rome; and be assured of this: there will be a third king of Britain who’ll be king and emperor likewise, and he will conquer the Romans by force of arms. And I tell you, as one to whom Our Lord gave the power to know the future, that two hundred years before you were born, your fate was fixed and prophesied. But first you must be sufficiently worthy and valiant to enhance the glory of the Round Table. I assure you that you will not be emperor until such time as the Round Table is exalted in the way I shall now say.

‘Some while ago the Grail was given to Joseph while he was in prison: it was brought to him by Our Lord Himself. And when he was set free Joseph journeyed into the desert with a great many of the people of Judaea. For as long as they held to a good life Our Lord granted them grace, but when they ceased to do so, that grace was denied them. The people asked Joseph if it was through their sin or his that they had fallen from grace, and Joseph grieved deeply and went to his vessel and prayed to Our Lord to send him a sign to guide him. Then the voice of the Holy Spirit came to him and told him to have a table made, which he did, and when it was ready he placed his vessel upon it and ordered his people to be seated there. And the innocent sat at the table, but those who were guilty of sin all left, unable to stay in its presence. Now, at this table was an empty place, which suggested to Joseph that no-one could sit where Our Lord had sat; but a false disciple named Moyse, who had often misled them in many ways, came to Joseph and begged him in God’s name to let him fill the empty seat, saying he felt so full of Our Lord’s grace that he was clearly worthy to sit there. Joseph said to him: ‘Moyse, if you’re not as you seem, I advise you not to put yourself to the test.’ But the disciple replied that God would grant him success in filling the empty place as surely as he was a good man. Then Joseph said that if he was truly so good he should go and sit in the seat. And Moyse sat there, and plunged into an abyss.

‘Know, then, that Our Lord made the first table, and Joseph the second; and I in the time of your father Utherpendragon ordered the making of the third, which in time to come will be greatly exalted, and throughout the world people will speak of the fine chivalry which in your time will assemble there.

‘Know this, too: when he died Joseph, who had been given the Grail, bequeathed it to his brother-in-law Bron. And this Bron has twelve sons, one of whom is named Alain li Gros. And Bron, the Fisher King, commanded Alain to be his brothers’ guardian. By Our Lord’s command Alain has come here from Judaea to these isles in the West, and he and his people have now arrived in these parts; the Fisher King himself lives in the isles of Ireland in one of the most beautiful places in the world. But I tell you, he is in a worse state than any man has ever known, and has fallen gravely ill; but however old or infirm he may be, he cannot die until a knight of the Round Table has performed enough feats of arms and chivalry – in tournaments and by seeking adventures – to become the most renowned knight in all the world. When that knight has attained such heights that he’s worthy to come to the court of the rich Fisher King, and has asked what purpose the Grail served, and serves now, the Fisher King will at once be healed. Then he will tell him the secret words of Our Lord before passing from life to death. And that knight will have the blood of Jesus Christ in his keeping. With that the enchantments of the land of Britain will vanish, and the prophecy will be fulfilled. So know, then, that if you do as I’ve instructed, great good may come to you. But I must go now: I can be in this world no longer, for my Saviour will not grant me leave.’

The king said that if Merlin could stay with him he would have his deepest affection; but Merlin said it was impossible. And with that he left the king and made his way to Northumberland to Blaise, who had been his mother’s confessor, and who had kept a written account of all these events at Merlin’s instruction. Meanwhile Arthur remained with his barons, pondering deeply upon Merlin’s words.

Notes

 1  A miniature has been cut from the Modena manuscript, along with a short section of the text. The missing lines are replaced here by the corresponding passage from the Paris manuscript B. N. fr. 747.

 2  The Modena text resumes.

 3  More lines are lost because of the missing miniature: the Paris manuscript replaces them.

 4  The Modena text resumes.

 5  Another miniature has been cut from the Modena manuscript. The missing lines are again supplied from the Paris manuscript B. N. fr. 747.

 6  The Modena text resumes.

 7  Literally ‘and those who at his time will reign’.

 8  Another fragment is lost from the Modena manuscript because of the missing miniature. Lines from B. N. fr. 747 again replace it.

 9  The Modena text resumes.

10  There is a play on words here, juxtaposing sanc (‘blood’) and sens (‘intelligence’).

11  Literally ‘Merlin was lord of...’.

12  A reference to the work of Geoffrey of Monmouth.

13  i. e. Pendragon.

14  This is, of course, Stonehenge.

15  The manuscript reads ‘tell you nothing’. There appears to be a simple scribal error, writing dire nule cose rather than celer nule cose.

16  The Modena manuscript reads en cambre son segnor (‘in her lord’s chamber’), rather than en samblance son segnor as in other texts. The latter phrase is probably necessary to make full sense of the situation.

17  Logres is here thought of as a city rather than – as is more usual in Arthurian romance – a land.