The Arthuriad Chapter 4
Greetings Gentle Sentients!
I’m trying something new this week. I’m posting the entirety of the next chapter of the Arthuriad in the hopes that a longer post will make more of a splash in the algorithim. When we last left the world of Arthus and company he had been taken into the house of Ecthelion one of his fathers warriors. For the past ten years Arthus has been raised by this good knight, ignorant of his royal heritage. But the time has come for the boy king to become a man and regain the estate of his father. That is the narrative I will be retelling over the next threeish weeks. This part of the story treads on some well worn ground but I hope my spin on it is pleasing to you all.
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549 A.C.
Uthor had been dead for nigh on ten years. There was an uneasy peace in the land marred by the intrigues and wars of the barons and their personal house soldiers. The church though secretly hating this state of affairs which had thrown religious devotion in the land into a state of utter turmoil with the relative tolerance of the church in each cantrev dependant on the whims of the ruling baron had orders from the Jedithite primates in Rhodain which was the headquarters of the church to do nothing overt in resisting baronial rule. But there were those of the church who longed for a return to the old ways.
In Cantonbar town the arch-primarch of that city was one such ecclesiastical dignitary who longed for a return of the line of Aurelian both that the cause of true religion might be advanced in every corner of the kingdom and that his brothers in the faith might no longer chafe under the oppressive yolks of the crueler barons. Now this primarch was a man with a great many connections in the decent and not so decent companies of the town’s citizens. It was from one of these connections that he heard that Myrdwin who had been the court magus of the fallen King had taken up residence in the ruins of an old Reman hill fort right outside the walls of the city. It had been decided by the old barons that Cantonbar should be constructed around new and more sturdy fortifications and that those old ruins outside the city should be left for a habitation of the crows and wolves.
The arch primarch decided that he should consult with Myrdwin who was reputed to be a man of great wisdom and learning about how to remedy the problems that he and his brothers in the faith faced. As such he journeyed to the fort outside the walls alone and without his retinue which was a move of great audacity as the roads such as they were, were wild in those days and ill tended. Though it must be said to that good man’s credit that he divested himself of his clerical vestments before he set forth on his journey.
The hill fort was ruined and wracked by the toil of time. It looked as if some giant hand had overturned the great walls and plowed through the inner chambers. The primarch found himself wondering what manner of cataclysm could have caused that great fort to be rent in pieces like a child’s play thing. He stood at the mouth of a particularly wide hole in the inner wall of the keep wondering if he had erred grievously in coming to this place.
Then to his utter shock a great booming voice came to him from no discernable source. “Who goes there?”
The arch primarch was not a man of mean abilities. He was courageous and valiant as a leader of the church ought to be. Nevertheless he found himself quaking in fear as he answered the mage. “I am a simple traveller mighty lord who has come from the city seeking thy council.”
The voice bellowed a cheerful reply. “Well come in come in, don’t just stand there out in the damp. You’ll get soaked!”
Questioning the wisdom of his various decisions of the past hour the arch primarch stepping into the ruins of the inner keep. It was not a place that a sane man would want to live in with stone strewn all over a dirt floor. In Reman times it had been a place of splendor with fine eastern tapestries and golden vessels for the commanders of the legions to serve their troops in fine festivals for the old gods. But as the arch primarch strode cautiously into the inner keep seeing neither sight nor sound of the strange man who he had come to see he noticed that the tapestries that remained were moth eaten and what vessels that had not been taken by invaders were corroded and dented.
To the arch primarch’s surprise there was a table in the center of the hall that appeared untouched by the twin ravages of time and age. Around the table were six chairs of elabroately carved wood fit to be the thrones of kings. From a door at the back of the chamber strode a man of indeterminate age. He had the bearing and wisdom of a man of sixty, his physical appearance did not suggest that he was anymore than forty, but the cheer with which he greeted the arch primarch suggested a youth of no more than twenty.
Smiling the mage bade the churchman take a seat. The arch primarch obeyed and sat at one of the grand chairs. His visage still showed the shock he felt at noticing the incongruity of such fine furniture in a place strewn with rubble and ruins. Myrdwin smiled. In answer to his guests’ query he replied. “I have to have some presentable furniture for when I receive such exalted visitors as yourself.”
The arch primarch grew confused. “How do you know who I am great one?”
Myrdwin shrugged the unconcerned shrug of a great wizard who was used to prying out the truth of things by arcane means. “I have servants in the city. The pigeons and ravens tell me things.”
The casual tone in which this was said quite unnerved the arch primarch but he reasoned within himself that this was not the strangest marvel he had heard of in his long life and he did not react to this strange pronouncement. Though he was in truth desirous to test the abilities of the strange man before him. So he asked, “Do you know why I have come to visit you?”
Myrdwin replied. “I would imagine that it has something to do with baronial excesses and the drain it has made on the peoples coffers. I am aware of the role your kind play in the cities of this land. When the people are starving they come to you for bread do they not?”
The arch primarch nodded. “They do.”
“And you I would hazard feel powerless about your relative inability to deal with the large scale and scope of this catastrophe. Because if you will, Father, excuse the crudity of my speech, the baronial incompetence that this island has seen over the past ten or so years has risen to the level of a bloody catastrophe. ”
The arch primarch nodded again. “Truely you have set forth all that was in my thoughts quite succinctly. I was wondering if a man of your wisdom might have some solution to the problems that face the people of this diocese. I know it is unconventional and some indeed might consider it unseemly for a man in my position to be consulting one with your strange powers but truely I am desperate for a miracle to help my followers.”
Myrdwin meditated on these things for a moment and then he spoke. “Father, I see that you are a sincere man. I will therefore tell you certain truths that I have kept hidden for a long time that may yet prove to be the salvation not just of your people but of this island as a whole.”
The arch primarch said. “Speak on sir. My heart tells me that you have good tidings to share with me.”
Myrdwin replied. “Before he passed, Uthor, our dearly departed king and lord, left in the company of one of his worthy champions, one of the heirs of his body. This youth is a boy of great promise and his name is Arthus.”
The arch primarch was stunned. He spoke up. “How do you know this thing sir? Every one knows that none of Uthor’s champions survived the fall of Londinium? And as to the son of Uthor surely if he had survived the barons would have heard a report of this.”
Myrdwin chuckled. “I know these things father because I have been watching over the boy. As of yet the boy knows nothing of his heritage and he thinks he is the bastard son of Sir Ecthelion and a nameless prostitute.”
“When will you tell him of his heritage? Surely you don’t intent him to pass the rest of his life ignorant of his true nature?”
“Hold your peace father, I’m working my way towards explaining my design in full. I will Father, with your blessing exert a little bit of my power and perform a deed the likes of which has never been seen in this realm heretofore and likely will not be surpassed in either of our lifetimes.”
“I trust your council, Myrdwin. Do as seems fit to you in this matter.”
Myrdwin arose. He held out his right hand to the arch primarch. The worthy man took the mage’s hand. In the twinkling of an eye both men stood on the steps of the great chapel in Cantonbar. They had been conveyed there instantaneously by the magic of Myrdwin. From the folds of his robe the wizard produced a great staff of twisted ivory. He pointed the staff downward toward the great courtyard before the chapel and without a word to the arch primarch he began to recite words in a language that had not been spoken in the mortal realm since the Godwar. It was a tongue of power used by the priests of Lemuria when they conjured the city of Tengwar out of the raw marble of their barren homeland. When Myrdwin had finished reciting the words there stood before the church a great block of marble three cubim by three cubim. The arch primarch noticed that within the marble was thrust a great bare sword. The stone covered half of the blade but the part of the blade that was visible was of a blueish steel like the fine many layered metal that came from the far east near Damascene. The guard was of gold and it surmounted a hilt of polished dark wood carved with marvelous cunning. Capping this extraordinary weapon was a stone of pure white hue, one of the fabled cats eye opals from the mines of Koril.
There was a certain elegant simplicity to the weapon. As he stood there observing this marvel the arch primarch thought that this was a weapon fit for a king to wield. He turned to Myrdwin wordlessly beseeching with his eyes an explication of this marvel.
Myrdwin turned. His expression was slightly haggard but his eyes gleamed with a strange feral light. The spirit of prophecy was upon him. The gods of his ancestors who they worshiped in Lyonesse in ages past momentarily found their sight cleared and it was through the mages mouth they spoke. In a high clear voice Myrdwin spoke. “This sword shall act as a sign and a wonder to the people. Whosoever shall perform the miracle before us now my lord and draw this blade from the stone shall be of the blood of Uthor and Aurelian and be the king that this land longs for.”
As Myrdwin spoke words to this effect were etched on the blade by a fiery hand. The inscription read as follows, “Whoso Pulleth Out this Sword from the stone that same is rightwise the born king of Alba.”
The spirit of prophecy left Myrdwin and he stood weary like a man who has run a great distance on foot.
The arch primarch fell to his knees and blessed the One for he knew that the lord of creation had worked through the fell sorcery of this Myrdwin for the good of his people.
After some time Myrdwin spoke. “A year from today it shall be the beginning of Yuletide. At that time invite the nobility of Alba to this city for a great tournament. On the sixth day of the Tournament invite every man present to have a turn at drawing this sword from the stone. He who draws the sword from the stone shall be of the blood of Uthor and the man you are to crown the new king of Alba.”
The arch primarch realized the nature of Myrdwin’s design. “And this Arthus shall be the one to draw the sword from the stone.”
“Exactly.”
The arch primarch did as Myrdwin bade and issued an invite to all 100 barons and kings of the island of Alba telling them of the great miracle which had been performed by Myrdwin and inviting them to join in a great tourney at the time of our saviours birth. Of these seventy five nobles and their retinues accepted the invitation of the arch primarch and three months before the time appointed began to wend their way towards the city of Cantobar. In the time leading up to the tournament there was much talk among the people. There were some who thought that Lot the King of Orkneve would be the one to perform the miracle of the sword, others who thought that that would fall to Uriel Baron of Gorna both these worthies being related to Aurelian by marriage. There were still others who thought that Leodegran of Cameliard who would succeed in drawing the sword or his brother Ryence the Firey who was lord of North Umber. But there were none of the common people who knew though some still secretly hoped that the blood of Uthor Pendragon resided in a youth of twelve years by the name of Arthus in the house of Ecthelion.
Hope you all enjoyed. Next chapter should be coming soon. That part will be the tournament itself. As always if you have thoughts or feedback let me know in the comments.