'Casting off his amazement, Mab Righ strode to the nearest loaf and picked it up with one hand, raised it, and held it over the giant's head. "I have another loaf for you," the lord of the isle said. "As you are a greedy giant, I shall give it to you. Add this to the one you clasp upon your chest."
'The giant saw the bread poised over his head and cried, "Please, lord, I yield. Do not hurt me further, for though you may not know it, I am weakened even unto death by the very loaf I clutch."
'Suspecting a trick, Mab Righ said, "How can I believe you, who have stolen the life from the mouths of my people?"
'The giant wept and cried that the loaf was crushing him. "Lord, I cannot endure the weight any longer," he said. "Unless you free me, I am dead. If it is my life you desire, then you have it, lord, and my word with it. Free me and I will never again trouble any who have tasted the bread by which you have conquered me."
'Holding the loaf, Mab Righ said, "Your life is small enough payment for the wrongs you have done to my people, but for the good of all I will free you." With that he lifted the bread loaf which had conquered the giant. "Go you hence," the lord told the giant. "You will have neither morsel nor crumb from us for ever more."
'The giant rose and shook himself all around. Then, honouring the oath by which he had bound himself, he took his leave of Mab Righ and walked away to the east and was never seen in the island again. And thus the island was rid of the three plagues, and the people were released from their long ordeal. As sore had been their affliction, so great was their happiness. They delighted in their deliverance, and revelled in their release.
'For thirty days and three, the people of the island realm feasted on the bread of their liberation, and as much as they ate, there was three times that much left when they were finished. Indeed, they will feast on it for ever!
'Here ends the song of Mab Righ and the Grain of Rescue. Let him hear it who will.'
NINE
As the last glittering notes went spinning into the night like the flaming sparks from the fire behind me, I gazed upon the hillside. The people sat rapt, unwilling to break the spell that held them. They had tasted-had feasted! – on the food of life and were loath to leave the table.
Oh, but it was not my voice that stirred those starving souls to their feeding; it was the Great Light, rising like the morning sun within them, bidding them break their long fast.
I became aware of a movement nearby and Arthur was there beside me, tall and strong, his face lit by golden firelight, a field of stars behind him. He lifted Caledvwlch, brandishing the naked blade as if he would drive away all dissent. I stepped aside and Arthur took my place.
'Cymbrogi!' he cried, lofting the sword, 'you have heard the song of a True Bard, and if you are like me your heart aches with the beauty of things we cannot name. And yet… and yet, I tell you that it has a name. Truly, it is the Summer Kingdom.'
The High King spoke simply, but with the zeal of a man who knows his greatest hope is within his grasp. Vitality shone from him, brightening his countenance with holy fire. He was the Summer Lord and he had glimpsed his kingdom, still far off, but nearer now than it had ever been.
'The Summer Kingdom,' he said again, his voice almost reverential in its awe. 'Myrddin Emrys says this wonderful kingdom is near. It is close at hand, my friends, awaiting our good pleasure to establish it. Who among you would shrink from such a glorious undertaking? If we hold it in our power to establish the Kingdom of Summer, how can we turn aside?
'I do not know whether we shall succeed or fail,' he continued. 'The task may be more difficult than any alive can know. We may give all we have and still we may fail, but who in the ages to come would forgive us if we did not try? Let us therefore pledge our hearts and hands to something that is worthy – nay, more than worthy – of our best efforts. Who will make this pledge with me?'
At this the warrior host roared out a shout to tremble heaven and earth. My song had filled them with a yearning for the Summer Realm, and the sight of their High King bold and bright before them had given them a glimpse of its lord. They pledged themselves freely and with all their hearts.
But Arthur was not finished. When the shouts had died away, he looked at Caledvwlch in his hand. 'This blade is mighty; my arm is strong,' he told them.
'Cymbrogi, you know that I love Britain better than my life. Had I ten lives I would hold them worthless if I could not spend them in the Island of the Mighty.'
This brought whole-hearted approval, which Arthur humbly accepted. 'Believe me when I tell you that I would never do anything to defile this land, nor less yet bring it to harm. Believe me also when I tell you that this ruinous war must cease.' He paused, gathering all eyes to himself. 'Therefore, I will meet the Black Boar on the plain tomorrow and I will fight him.' The High King, still grasping the sword, threw his hands wide. 'Cymbrogi!' he cried, 'I ask you to uphold me in the day of trial. Uphold me, my brothers! Tomorrow when I walk out onto that plain, I want your hearts and prayers united with mine in the battle. Cast off doubt, brothers. Cast off fear. Pray, my friends! Pray with me to the God who made us all to grant me the victory – not for my sake alone, but for the sake of the Summer Kingdom.'
He paused, looking out across the silent sea of faces. 'Go now,' he said, 'go to your prayers and to your dreams. Let us all rise tomorrow in the strength that comes from hearts and souls joined in true accord.'
Thus did we sleep. And when night faded in the east and the High King and Queen emerged from their night's rest, Gwenhwyvar stood resolutely beside Arthur, her face impassive against the day.
Arthur broke fast and held council with his chieftains. 'You have pledged to uphold me through all things,' he said, reminding them of their vows of fealty. 'I commend your readiness for war, but now ask your willingness for peace. Today I will fight Amilcar and I demand your sufferance. Hear me: no one shall give the Vandali cause to doubt that I shall hold to the terms of the ordeal in good faith.
'If any man among you cannot agree this course, let him depart now, for he is no longer friend to Arthur. But if you stay, then you will honour me in this.'
Many among them still distrusted the barbarian's intent. I do not blame them for feeling uncertain. A man can doubt, can nurse great misgivings, and yet uphold his vow though his heart is no longer in it.
This, I believe, is the spirit's highest consummation – holding fast to faith by dint of will alone when the fire of certainty has grown cold. For when the fire-wind of ardour gusts high, even the weakest soul can fly. But when the fire dies and the wind fails, the real test of a soul's worth begins. Those who persevere through all things gain strength and find great favour with God.
Arthur did not cozen them, but let the lords of Britain know what he demanded and what their support would cost. To their credit, the nobles remained staunch; none, despite their misgivings, deserted the High King, or muttered against him.
Accordingly, as the sun began to break the far horizon, the High King armed himself, donning his good mail shirt and his war helm, and slinging his iron-rimmed shield over his shoulder; with Cut Steel on his hip, he tucked a dagger into his belt, and selected a new spear. Cai and Bedwyr did what little they could to help him, inspecting his weapons, tightening straps and laces, offering advice and encouragement. When he was ready, he mounted his horse and rode out to the arranged meeting place on the plain, the amassed war host of Britain at his back.
The place was not far, and when we halted a short time later Arthur ordered the battlechiefs to take their places, bidding Rhys to remain alert to his signal, and his chieftains to maintain keen vigilance and order among the men, come what might.