But finally the day came when the queen was delivered of her child, by many of physicians and attendants, all of whom were afterwards put to death because they had seen the royal nether parts uncovered, and the babe was put into the hands of a wet nurse, who would also be disposed of when her job was done, along with her own infant and whichever other children had fed from the milk now being used to nourish a future king.
But Merlin materialized at this moment, just as the nurse had bared her dug, the which to offer to the tiny gasping lips, and he seized the child and saying, “I claim my prize,” he vanished as quickly as he had come.
And the fair Ygraine, and all those present, did wonder at this strange event, but none would question the ways of Merlin, who had made prophecies, most of them dire, for the next fifteen centuries, at the end of which epoch “the star Saturn shall rain malignity upon the earth and destroy all humankind as if with a crooked scythe.”
So was Arthur conceived and born, and so was he taken away by Merlin for his upbringing.
BOOK II
How Uther Pendragon died; and how Arthur took the sword from the stone; and of the challenge to King Arthur by the Irish Ryons.
NOW MERLIN HAD NO FACILITIES for caring for a babe, and therefore he took the infant Arthur to a remote part of Wales, to the abode of Sir Hector, the which was if not mean then modest, for this good knight was an honest man who had not profited by his service to the king except in honor.
And Merlin found Sir Hector at the kennels, where he threw offal from a basin to his slavering hounds.
Nor was Sir Hector amazed to see in such a homely place the white-bearded wizard carrying a naked pink infant, for in that day men of worship did not question the unlikely. “My lord,” said this honest knight, “I am at your service.”
“Sir Hector,” said Merlin, “I believe your wife is in milk currently. I hold here a child which seeketh nourishment and beyond that a good British upbringing for the next fifteen years, after which period has elapsed he will go on from you towards the achievement of a special purpose. Are you willing to provide this without question?”
“On mine honor as Briton and as knight,” Sir Hector did instantly reply.
“You are a worthy knight,” said Merlin. “One day you will know the value of your service and be well rewarded.”
But Sir Hector did frown as he pitched the remainder of what was in the basin to his dogs. “I do nothing for love of pelf,” he said stoutly.
“Or love of self?” asked Merlin with his unique sense of irony, quite foreign to the mortals of that straightforward time, and the question was as obscure to Hector as if it had been put in the language of the Danskers. “Well then,” the magician continued more soberly, “you are the foster-father of this child, and I ask you to raise him as though he were the proper issue of your own loins.”
Now Sir Hector would have taken the babe from Merlin, but his hands were foul from the bloody offal, and being no rude Saxon who would wipe his fingers on his breech he said, “I shall summon my old woman, who will attend to this matter.”
But saying, “’Tis done,” Merlin made the infant to vanish from the kennel yard and to reappear within the cottage, indeed within the very arms of Hector’s wife, a-sucking at her left pap whilst her own infant son, Kay, was feeding from the right, and she did start, so that little Kay was dislodged from the nipple and did mewl. But Hector’s wife, who had only just been delivered of her first-born, was much pleased to have its apparent twin, with hair as fair as Kay’s was dark, and therefore she did not wonder long at its appearance for fear it might be an illusion worked on her by some sprite or fiend of the sort that preyed on Welshwomen and as such be made to vanish as quickly as it had come should she question its reality.
Thus when Hector came in to eat his midday meal she said nothing of this strange event, but in silence served him up his leeks and potatoes.
“A wizard,” said Hector, “appeared to me at the kennels carrying a naked babe, the which he asked me to nourish and to bring up to young manhood. But, saying that, he vanished, himself and child as well. I tell thee, Olwen, I take this as a portent, with the hollow thunder we have lately heard in the mountains and at which the hair on my hounds’ backs doth rise and my horse doth seek to cover his dung like unto a cat, and near the lake is the spoor of a wyvern of a kind hitherto unknown in Wales. Indeed we may be at the advent of a most monstrous epoch, as foretold by Merlin.” He dropped his knife, with a great piece of leek on it, and uttered an uncharacteristically blasphemous oath. “’Swounds! The very wizard who appeared to me was Merlin himself!”
And he plucked up his knife and chewed the leek. “I tell thee, Olwen, this is passing strange.”
That good woman, saying nought, left the room, shortly to return with the new babe in her arms.
“Would this be it?” she asked.
“Or another very like,” said Sir Hector, spearing up a boiled potato.
“’Tis a pretty fool,” said Olwen, rocking the wee infant in her arms. “I expect that if we are to rear it for Merlin, he hath provided or will furnish the means for this, for being an honest knight thou art poor and with now still another mouth to feed.”
“Do not speak of that which is beyond thine understanding, old woman,” said Sir Hector, who himself was seven-and-fifty while his wife was eighteen, but such was the routine style of address in bucolic Wales.
Therefore Arthur was not reared in luxury, but ate good Welsh leeks throughout his childhood, with only the odd sausage and that largely of meal and not meat, and his garb was the coarse stuffs woven by his foster-mother on her loom. Of footgear he had nothing in summer but rawhide soles secured to his ankles with thongs; in the cruel Welsh winters strips of old blanketing were wrapped up to the knee. His bed was a pallet, the straw of which was home to multitudinous bugs in all seasons, and in cold weather he was constrained to share the palliasse with the hounds, who had a great fondness for him whereas they did spurn his foster-brother Kay, who at an early age acquired a disdainful manner that was at odds with his gifts at that time, the which were not of note in any wise, while Arthur was easily excellent at all he essayed. At riding, archery, spear-play, and swordsmanship his proficiency was exceeded only by his modesty and magnanimity, for he would defer to Kay and often would misrepresent the results of their contests in favor of his brother.
As when after shooting their arrows at a mark he would examine the target, saving Kay the displeasure of wading through the mud, and announce that his brother had as usual been more accurate than he (though his own arrow had split the center of the stave while Kay’s had caught in the bark at the periphery: which Kay could see quite clearly, and therefore he did despise Arthur for pretending to be worse when he was better).
And oftentimes at table, when Olwen, who Arthur assumed was his natural mother, gave him a larger portion of food than she served to Kay (which she did regularly if for no other reason than that Arthur ate robustly of whatever was offered, whereas Kay did toy with his plate and curl his lip; and if Sir Hector saw this he would cuff him to the floor, for that good knight lived by manly British principles), Arthur might well try surreptitiously to exchange his greater quantity with the lesser plate of Kay, thus earning his brother’s despite once again, for leeks were an abomination to Kay, who was in that, as in much else, an unusual Briton and more suited by nature to the menus of Rome, of which he had not yet had experience.
And the brothers therefore had no special affinity, Arthur having (though he did believe Hector and Olwen to be his natural parents) an essential sense of his own superiority of mind, heart, and body, not only to Kay but to all others; while Kay thought of Arthur as being all in all a bore, but in no case did he hate him, for Kay himself did not at that time aspire to be a warrior and indeed would never have picked up sword or lance had Hector been capable of envisioning another career for his sons than that of knight.
Now during Arthur’s childhood Merlin did not appear in that pa
rt of Wales though he spent much time at the spring of Alaban, which was not far distant, refining his conception of the Golden Reign to come. On the occasions when a human being came into his vicinity, which were rare, because the spring was deep within an enchanted wood and could never be found except by accident, the magician would take on the guise of some beast or tree so as not to be disturbed by pointless conversation. But if a dragon came there to drink, Merlin would transform it into a timorous scampering little newt.
Now Uther Pendragon fought many wars against the Picts and the Scots and invaders from other countries, the Irish, the Danes, the Frisians, and the Angles and Saxons, and the Romans did attempt from time to time to take back the realm they had relinquished owing to their continental troubles with the Vandals, Huns, Goths, and Visigoths. And soon did Rome itself fall to the barbarians. And when there was no war available on his own ground, Uther went across the British Channel and assaulted the Normans, the Burgundians, the Flemings, and those various savage tribes which lived along the Rhine. He killed many men and took many maidenheads wherever he went and was considered the greatest king of his time.
Yet as the years went by he fell into a melancholy owing to his realization that the time of his reign was inevitably growing shorter, for no man could escape the tyranny of the tides, the phases of the moon, and the relentless seasons. And he came to find a sameness in his battles, for there was a limit to the ways in which he could ride his charger and swing his sword, and he had plunged so many spears into so many bodies and swiped off so many heads, that these experiences, once so gratifying, had become tedious. And so with females, of whom the wise man saith, Turn them upside down, they do look much the same, and the vile crime of sodomy was never to his taste, therefore when a pander once brought him a perfumed dancer from Egypt, and he removed its veils and found it a boy, he sent it away for emasculation and put the procurer to death.
And whenever Uther Pendragon was away from Britain, a conspiracy was formed by his rivals, who were usually related to him by blood (some being his own bastards), to seize power in that land, and because the king would take along with him the greater part of the British fighting men, the traitors must needs ally themselves with the Anglo-Saxon Germans, and soon this alien and felonious people would establish themselves in the southeastern portions of his country, and Uther was constrained to fight for re-entry.
Now having become queen, the fair Ygraine had no further aspirations except to Heaven, and she would closet herself with the archbishop of Canterbury to pursue religious matters such as the social hierarchy of the celestial kingdom and where she should be seated at God’s table on feast days, whether nearer to or farther from Him than the queen of Ireland, whom she considered her principal competitor. But when the old prelate in affixing around her swanlike neck a devotional medal did lower his yellowed claws within her bodice to tweak her proud breasts, the fair Ygraine dismissed him from her presence and subsequently studied in succession many another faith, the doctrines of Zoroaster from a Persian merchant of carpets, Judaism from an armorer (for the Jews had made that profession their own), and the worship of Druids, which is to say, for trees; and many more, as well; but finding them all wanting in some wise, she did settle on the religion of gluttony, in which one eats God in every bite, and she ate so much that her legs could not support her body, and she was carried about the palace on a litter borne by eight large footmen.
So passed fifteen years from the time of Arthur’s birth, which neither the king nor the queen could remember with clarity, as they could scarcely remember the time when either had last seen the other, for when Uther Pendragon was in Britain he stayed mostly in the castle at Winchester, where he kept his dogs and horses in the great hall and himself bedded down on a pallet near them, for he had come to prefer the association with dumb beasts to that of men, while the stout Ygraine remained at London, now seldom leaving her chamber, where on a great bed she lay like unto a mounded white pudding with her eyes small as two currants.
Now by this time few but old Ulfin, who was now ninety-six years of age, dared to approach King Uther, for the king was thought to have gone off in his reason, forsaking his kingly duties to share mutton bones with his dogs and doing himself the mucking out of the stable he had made of the hall, though not often enough, for piles of steaming dung were everywhere and reeking pools where his animals had staled.
And during this time the barbarians increased their inroads into the realm, and soon the cities and villages under British sovereignty were islands in an Anglish sea, except for remote Wales and also Cornwall, in which Gorlois’s successor Mark held sway and took unto himself the new title of king, which you can be sure Uther Pendragon, if his old self, would never have suffered him to do.
When finally the Anglish forces were nearing Winchester itself, old Ulfin holding his nose went unto Uther Pendragon and spake as follows.
“Sire,” said he to the king, who lay upon straw before the disused fireplace large enough to roast three beeves at once for the banquets of yore.
Now the king recognized him with difficulty through reddened eyes and the unkempt beard which, not having been trimmed in many months, all but covered his visage. “Ah, is it thee, old Ulfin? Look thou there, at the sorrel!” He pointed to a snorting stallion that did at the moment lift its forequarters to mount a complaisant mare. “Once such cockstands were routine to me,” said Uther Pendragon, directing Ulfin’s gaze to rest upon the horse’s stout tool, then he fell into a desolation, saying, “Alas, no more. Ulfin, I am ill.”
“Ill, Sire?” asked the aged Ulfin.
“The corruption hath reached my brain, I fear,” said Uther Pendragon. “I can fasten my mind to nought.”
“Alas,” said Ulfin, “the Angles and the Saxons are at our gates with a great host and can not long be withstood by our forces unless the men are inspired.”
And at this Uther Pendragon did attempt to rise, for his British heart had not lost its valor, but his limbs were too feeble to sustain him. Therefore he commanded Sir Ulfin to fetch a litter and bearers for it, and it came and he was placed upon it and he was carried without the walls at the head of his army, where upon the plain before Winchester he did battle with the Saxons and he defeated them soundly. For though himself too weak to swing a sword, from his litter in a voice that was still mighty he urged his host on in such words as these.
“Cut down the shit-eaters and carve their rotten bellies out and wind their stinking guts around their necks and drive staves up their dirty arseholes. Rip off their ballocks and shove them down their muzzles,” and so on in language of the greatest eloquence for its effect on the British warrior. And great carnage was made. But the effort proved to be the last such ever made by Uther Pendragon, for when he was carried into the castle once more he knew he was dying, and he did call old Ulfin to him and say as much.
Said Ulfin, “Shall I fetch the bishop of Winchester, for to perform the last rites so that you will be in the proper state to be received in Heaven?”
Uther Pendragon swore a terrible oath, the which the ancient knight took as evidence that the malady had indeed polluted the royal brain, and the king then roared, “I’d sooner burn in Hell than admit that bloody bugger! Fetch me Merlin.”
But Ulfin did not have to go far, for Merlin appeared in an instant and came to the litter.
“Merlin,” said Uther Pendragon, “thou dost find me dying. Nor can thine arts restore me now. But I seem suddenly, if dimly, to recall that I begat a child upon the then fair Ygraine many years ago, the which thou didst take away at birth. Dost yet have it someplace?”
“Indeed, Sire,” said Merlin. “I know where he is kept.”
“‘He,’” said Uther. “Then ’tis a male, Merlin?”
“Male,” said Merlin, “and hale.”
“Doth he, Merlin, display the attributes of a future king?” asked Uther.
“Those of a very great one,” said the magician.
“Then,” said Uther
Pendragon, “I expect we had better find someone we can trust to establish a regency until this boy comes of age, who must now be five or six years old.”
“He is fifteen, Sire,” said Merlin.
“Damn me!” swore the king. “Can that be true?”
“Time, Sire, hath the speed of a diving falcon,” said Merlin. “Arthur is tall and strong and already could unseat with his lance any knight now in this realm.”
“Arthur’s the name, is it?” asked Uther, still wondering at the age of his son. Then suddenly frowning he asked, “He is not a vile sodomite?”
“Certainly not,” said Merlin. “He hath been reared in hardy Wales, far from the effeminacy of cities.”
And though dying the king roared with coarse laughter. “Then he already doth tup fat ewes, Merlin. I too was reared rustically.”
But Merlin was humorless as to the carnal appetites, being himself a stranger to them. “Assuredly, Sire,” said he, “Arthur is pure in that regard and in all others.”
“Then he’s no son of mine,” said Uther in disgust. “Nor, me-thinks, a suitable king for the robust British.” And he made a feeble effort to rise from the litter. “Perhaps I shall not die now and leave my country a trunk without a head.” But he lacked in the strength for further movement and he fell back groaning most bitterly. “There is no man who doth not lust for something,” said he. “If not for females, then for his own kind. ’Tis the prime function of a man to use his prick, and a king is the quintessence of manliness and a model to the masculine orders beneath him. Swyving one’s own sisters, as do the monarchs of bawdy Egypt, though a most unnatural practice, is not so heinous a crime as having at a boy. O cruel destiny, that a sod should succeed me!”
“Forgive me, Sire,” said Merlin, “but it has been ordained by another Power than yours or mine.” (At which old Ulfin, who stood near by, piously crossed himself.) “And therefore ’tis no shame for you to hear, nor disrespect for me to utter, that yours is a primitive philosophy. Superior to the unrestrained barbarism of the Anglish, and the Picts and the Scots, it is itself savage sub specie aeternitatis.”