Pendragon

'Why?' I asked, my heart breaking. 'Have I changed so much?'

'I tell you the truth,' he replied, 'if you had not spoken my name just now I would not have known you.'

He pointed to the instrument lying against the standing stone. 'That is Hafgan's harp,' he said. 'Why is it sitting there?'

Embarrassed to have left it untended, I retrieved the harp and cradled it to my shoulder. And though I stroked and strummed, I could but conjure a meaningless tangle of noise from the instrument. I opened my mouth to sing, and could produce only a strangled, halfhearted sound.

'Stop!' he cried. 'If you can play no better than that, cast the thing aside. It is useless as a rotten stick in your hands.'

He then led me to the crown of the hill and pointed to the blue-green sea stretching below us like some vast swathe of billowy silk. He bade me look and tell him what I saw.

'I see Mighty Manawyddan's realm,' I replied, 'deep as it is wide, dividing the island nations one from another.'

'And what see you there?' He indicated the long sweep of the strand along the coast.

'I see the waves, ceaseless in motion, white-crested servants of the Lord of the Wave-Tossed Sea.'

Taliesin's hand dropped to his side. 'They are not waves,' he said. 'Look again, Ignorant One, and look closely this time. Tell me what you see.'

Still, I saw the waves, and only the waves, washing back and forth upon the shore. Taliesin was not pleased with this answer. 'How is it possible that you look and do not see? Has the light of discernment abandoned you?'

He raised his hand level to the horizon and spread his fingers wide. 'They are not waves,' he said again. 'They are the boats of the people fleeing their homeland. The Britons are leaving, Myrddin, in such haste and in such numbers as to agitate the ocean.'

As he spoke those words, the waves turned into boats – the white crests became sails and the rolling motion the wake flung back from each and every prow – and there were hundreds upon hundreds, and thousands upon thousands of them, all fleeing the shores of Ynys Prydein in great waves of homeleaving.

'Where are they going?' I asked, aware that I was witnessing a disaster unknown in the Island of the Mighty from the days of its creation.

'They are fleeing to realms much inferior to the land of their birth,' Taliesin answered sadly, 'where they will live brutish lives under rulers unworthy of them.'

'Why?' I asked. 'Why do they abandon their lands and king?'

'They leave because they are afraid,' Taliesin explained simply. 'They are afraid because their hope has failed and the light which sustained it is extinguished.'

'But Arthur is their hope and his life is their light," I objected. 'They are surely wrong to leave, for the High King is yet alive in Britain.'

'Yes,' agreed Taliesin, 'Arthur lives, but how are they to know? There is no one to sing his deeds, no one to uphold him in song, no one to extol him with high-sounding praise and so fire the souls of men.' He turned accusing eyes on me. 'Where are the bards to sing Arthur's valour and kindle courage in men's hearts?'

'I am here, Father,' I said.

'You? You, Myrddin?'

'Since I am Chief Bard of Britain,' I said proudly, 'it is my duty and my right. I sing Arthur's praise.'

'How so?' he demanded. 'You cannot read what is written on the stone; you cannot coax music from the heart of the oak; you cannot drink from the exalted cup. Chief Bard of Ants and Insects you may be, but you are no True Bard of Britain.'

His words stung me. I hung my head, cheeks burning with shame. He spoke the truth and I could make no reply.

'Hear me, Son of Mine,' Taliesin said. And, oh, his voice was the wild wind-force trembling the hilltop with its righteous contempt. 'Once you might have sung the shape of the world and the elements would have obeyed you. But now your voice has grown weak through speech unworthy of a bard. You have squandered all that has been given you, and you were given much indeed.'

I could not stand under this stern rebuke. 'Please, Father,' I cried, falling to my knees, 'help me. Tell me, is there nothing I can do to turn back the waves?'

'Who can turn back the tide? Who can recall the arrow in flight?' Taliesin said. 'No man can replace the apple on the bough once it has fallen. Even so, though the homeleaving cannot be halted, the Island of the Mighty may yet be saved.'

I took heart at these words. 'I pray you, lord, tell me what I am to do, and it shall be done,' I vowed. 'Though it take my last breath and all my strength, I will do it.'

'Myrddin, beloved son,' Taliesin said, 'that is the least part of what it will cost. Still, if you would know what is to be done, know this: you must go back the way you came.'

Before I could ask what he meant, Taliesin raised his hands in the bardic way – one above his head, the other shoulder high, both palms outward. Facing the standing stone, he opened his mouth and began to sing.

Oh, the sound of his voice filled me with such longing I feared I would swoon. To hear the sound of that bold, enchanted voice was to know the power of the True Word. I heard and inwardly trembled with the knowledge of what I had once held in my grasp, and somehow let slip away.

Taliesin sang. He raised his head and poured forth his song; the cords stood out on his neck, and his hands clenched with the effort. Wonder of wonders, the standing stone, cold lifeless thing, began to change: the slender pillar of stone rounded itself and swelled, stretching, thickening, growing taller. Stubs of limbs appeared at the top – these lengthened and split, becoming many-fingered branches which swept out and up into the handsome crown of a great forest oak. Leaves appeared in glossy profusion, deep green and silver-backed like birch.

This tree spread its leafy branches wide over the hilltop in response to Taliesin's glorious song. My heart swelled to bursting at the splendour of the tree and the song that shaped and sustained it – a song matchless in its melody: extravagant, spontaneous, rapturous, yet reckless enough to steal the breath away. Then, as I stood marvelling, the tree kindled into bright flame and began to burn. Red tongues of flame sprouted like dancing flowers among the branches. I feared for the destruction of the beautiful tree, and made to cry out in alarm. But even as I stretched my hands towards the blaze, I saw that the shimmering flames halved the tree, dividing it top to bottom: one half stood shimmering, dancing, alive, red-gold against a blue night sky; the other half remained full-leaved and green in the bright light of day.

Behold! In the time-between-times, the tree burned but was not consumed.

Taliesin stopped singing and turned to me. Gazing with the sharp scrutiny of a master challenging his wayward pupil, he asked, 'Now tell me. What do you see?'

'I see a living tree where once was a stone,' I replied. 'I see this tree half in flames and half green-leaved and alive. The half that burns is not consumed, and the half that resists the flame puts forth leaves of silver.'

My father smiled; I felt his approval and my heart quickened. 'Perhaps you are my son after all,' he said proudly.

Lifting his hand to the tree, he spread his fingers and the flames leaped higher, sparks flew up into the night sky and became stars. Birds flocked to the green half of the living tree and took refuge in its branches. Small golden apples appeared among the leaves; the birds ate the apples and were nourished and sustained.

'This,' he said, turning to me, 'this is the way by which you must go, son of mine. See and remember.' He gripped my shoulder tightly. 'Now, you must leave.'

'Let me stay but a little,' I pleaded. 'There is- so much I would ask you.'

'I am ever with you, my son,' he said gently. 'Fare well, Myrddin, until we meet again.'

The next I knew I stood alone on the hilltop before the half-flaming, half-living tree. There I remained for a time – whether short or long, I do not know – puzzling over the meaning of this conundrum, repeating the words: this is the way by which you must go. But I came no nearer to an answer. The weather changed; a sharp wind gusted around me, raw and cold. Hard rain began to fall, stinging where it touched my skin, driving me away.