Pendragon

'Hail, Arthur!' shouted the warrior host in reply, their voices resounding in the twilight. 'Hail, Protector and Pendragon of Britain!'

I thought that the bishop would place the tore of kingship on Arthur's throat then, but he gave it to me instead. I felt the cool, solid heaviness of the golden ornament between my hands as I stepped once more to the stony seat. Arthur's touch, light but steady, directed me to the mark. I spread the ends of the tore and slipped it around his neck, feeling the warm pulse of blood flutter beneath my touch.

Then, pressing the soft yellow metal carefully, I closed the circle once more and stepped away, leaving Arthur to glory in the loud acclaim of lords and men. The long dusk had given way to a clear bright twilight, and the glad cries shook the very hills, as Arthur took up his long-denied sovereignty in the Region of the Summer Stars.

TWO

If they had been jubilant before, the warrior host became ecstatic. They embraced their new king with such zeal and enthusiasm, I began to think he would not survive their adulation. They seized him and up! up! they raised him, high upon their shoulders. Down from the rock they carried him, and through the glen, singing all the way. Upon returning to Caer Edyn, Arthur bestowed gifts on his lords and men – gold and silver rings and brooches; he gave knives and swords, cups, bowls, armbands, and precious stones.

'I would honour my crowntaking with gifts,' he explained to Dyfrig, 'but I think you would not esteem gold rings or silver cups. I am thinking a strong roof over those ruins of yours would please you more.'

'God bless you, Arthur,' replied the bishop. 'Gold rings are little use to a monk – especially when wind blows and rain falls.'

'Therefore, I return to you all that the Picti and Saecsen have taken. And I entreat you to take from the battle spoils as much as you require to rebuild your abbey – and not only Mailros, but Abercurnig church as well. For I am persuaded that winds blow and rains fall at Abercurnig ever as much as anywhere else.'

'In Christ's name, I do accept your gift, Arthur,' replied Dyfrig, well pleased.

'Then I would ask a gift of you in return,' the new-made king continued.

'Ask, lord,' Dyfrig said expansively, 'and if it is in my power to grant, be assured I will give it.'

'I would ask you to take as much more from the spoils to cause a chapel to be built at Baedun.'

'A chapel?' wondered the bishop. 'But we have an entire abbey nearby. What do you want with a chapel?'

'I would have the monks of Mailros employed there to sing the Psalms and offer prayers for our brothers who now sleep on Baedun's slopes. I would have good prayers made for Britain perpetually.'

This request delighted the bishop. 'It shall be done, lord,' replied Dyfrig. 'Let there be Psalms and prayers day and night, perpetually, until the Lord Christ returns to claim his own.'

Nor was Arthur content to allow his honour to rest there. Early the next morning, he rode out to the settlements surrounding Caer Edyn to offer gifts to the widows – wives of men killed defending their homes, or fallen to the Sea Wolves in battle. He gave gold and silver from his battle chest, and also sheep and cattle so they should not suffer want in addition to their grief.

Only then did Arthur return to Caer Edyn to celebrate his kingmaking. I let him enjoy himself for a time, and when I judged the moment most propitious, I gathered my cloak around me and took up my rowan staff and tapped my way to the centre of the hall. In the manner of a druid bard, I approached the place where he sat at table with Cai and Bedwyr, Bors and Cador, and the Cymbrogi.

'Pendragon of Britain!' I called aloud.

Some of those looking on thought I meant to offer a song. 'The Emrys is going to sing!' they said to one another and hushed their talk to hear me. Quickly, the hall fell silent.

It was not a song I intended, however, but a challenge.

'May your glory outlast your name, which will last forever! It is right to enjoy the fruit of your labour, God knows. But you would find me a lax and stupid counsellor if I did not warn you that away in the south part of this island there are men who have not yet heard of Baedun and know nothing of your kingmaking.'

Arthur received this with puzzled amusement. 'Peace, Myrddin.' He laughed. 'I have only just received my tore. Word will reach them soon enough.'

I was prepared for this reply. 'Blind I may be, but I was not always so, and I am persuaded that men believe their eyes more readily than their ears.' This observation met with general approval.

'True! True! Hear him, Bear,' Bedwyr said; Cai and Cador and others slapped the board with their hands.

'So it is said,' agreed Arthur, growing slightly suspicious. 'What is your meaning?'

I held out my hand to those gathered in the hall. 'Fortunate are the men of the north,' I told him, 'for they have ridden beside you in battle and they know your glory full well. But it is in my mind that the men of the south will not be won with such news as conies to them in time.'

'There is little I can do about that,' Arthur observed. 'A man may be made king but once.'

'That is where you are wrong, O King,' I told him flatly. 'You are Pendragon of Britain now-it is for you to order what will be.'

'But I have already taken the crown here,' he said. 'What need have I of another kingmaking?'

I answered: 'What need have you of two eyes if one sees clearly enough? What need have you of two hands if one grips the sword tightly enough? What need have you of two ears -’

‘Enough!' cried Arthur. 'I understand.’

‘But it is not enough,' I replied. 'That is what I am telling you.'

'Then also tell me what must be done to quiet you, and you may be certain that I will do it at once.'

'Well said, Bear!' cheered Cai, and many laughed with him. 'Hear your Wise Bard,' Bedwyr called. 'Myrddin speaks the simple truth.'

'Very well,' Arthur said. 'What would you have me do?’

‘Send the Dragon Flight to summon the lords of the south to attend you in Londinium, where they shall witness your crowntaking. Only then will they believe and follow you gladly.'

Arthur liked this. 'As ever, your words are wise, Myrddin,' he exclaimed. 'For I will be king of all, or king of none. Let us go to Caer Londinium and take the crown. North and south have been divided far too long. In me, they shall be united.'

Truly, the south had ever given Arthur trouble. Those proud princelings could not imagine anything of import happening beyond the cramped borders of their narrow horizons. The nobles of the western realms, men like Meurig and Tewdrig, knew differently, of course; they understood the value of the north, as well as its vital strategic significance. But, from the times of the Romans, most southern lords held the north in lowest esteem and deemed the people there beneath their regard. That is why, if Arthur was to be High King in more than title only, he must make good his claim in the south.

As laudable and necessary as his kingmaking at Caer Edyn, more so was his crowntaking at Londinium. This was where his father took the crown. This was the kingmaking I wanted for him: the same ceremony Aurelius enjoyed.

For men had become confused. Many did not even remember Aurelius anymore – alas, his reign was too short! Most remembered Uther, and imagined Arthur was Uther's bastard boy. Therefore, I was keen to proclaim Arthur's true lineage, and demonstrate his true nobility.

I mean Uther no disrespect. God love him, he was all the king we needed at the time, and better than we deserved. Still, he was but half the man his brother was. For this reason, I was eager to establish Arthur firmly in his father's light – especially where the lords of the south were concerned. Arthur had amply demonstrated his uncle's courage and cunning; if he could achieve his- father's skill at kingcraft, Britain might yet elude the darkness even now engulfing the world.