But he had told truth – there was an axe in his hand...
He smiled a half toothless smile and welcomed us in.
“Hurry or all the warmth will leave my hut!”
We put our blankets down on his filthy straw-strewn floor. There were only two choices as to where our blankets would go – over or under us... We chose under – hoping all the while that they would not become too infested with Fleas or whatever other wee beasties might lurk there. However, in the case they should begin to bite, I always carry some oil of Flea-bane with me. We covered ourselves with our cloaks and were very grateful for the shelter.
As I was falling to sleep, from somewhere in the distance I heard a calling... “Gwyddion... Gwyddion...” – but this voice was neither Chronos nor the “Voices of the Stars.” It was a mighty and deep sardonic voice... Of course this aroused me so that hours passed before I could sleep...
Then, I had another Dream...
Upon so many Nights, I Dream. Mostly they are inconsequential Dreams of things troubling me, or of secret desires, or of people who dwell in my thoughts of the long-ago past – or simply of those people and happenings that had been present in that very Day’s events. Sometimes they play out in frolicsome – or terrifying – phantasy... These are just Dreams... But then there are the other sort – the Great Dreams – those which hold portents of things to come, or messages from beyond this realm of form. The Dream I Dreamt that Night was of this second kind...
It was like this:
We were searching and searching for something – somewhere. Where it was, my Dream did not reveal. But after long and long tiresome travel, through many Sun and Moon risings and fallings, we found ourselves at a barrier of Water. A Sea? A Lake? Then I noticed that it was filled with jagged Reeds. Beyond its expanse there was a great Hill winding up to the Stars. Its top was hidden in Clouds. It was beckoning – nay, beguiling us toward it. The bottom of this Hill was enshrouded in a heavy Mist rising from the Earth. It was eerie... frightening. Yet, so persistently was it luring us toward itself that we had no recourse but to traverse the perilous way. Only one man’s length beyond the soggy shore could I see...
“How far is the winding Hill?” I asked.
An answer echoed...
“As far as the blood of these Fair Isles or as far as a Dream is away. As far as the realm of Gwyn ab Nudd.”
“What? Gwyn ab Nudd”? He is Lord of the underworld! Are we to die then?”
The Voice answered:
“Arthur will... Arthur will die to the man he now is... As for you and Bedwyr – there will be no turning back from the path. The Question is: ‘will you accept the quest?’”
“A quest? Is there a choice?”
“Always there are choices... and consequences, Gwyddion, The Merlin, this you know – everything has a cost.”
As these specters faded, we were already across the gloomy reeds. When had this happened?
My next footfall was upon the opposite shore. Then we were rushed to the foot of a Mountain – its heights looming above us – or was it the same Hill I had seen moments ago? I could barely see for the Mist. But a vibration – a sound – was emanating from a Moss covered, hidden Cave opening into the bottom of the Hill. So loud was it that I held my hands over my ears, for fear they would burst – then I fell to my knees.
“HA-HA-HA!” thundered the great booming voice. No living man dares to enter into the opening of my Realm! Why have you come?”
“I cannot remember why...”
“Well then, Gwyddion, The Merlin, I will have sport with you... another riddle...
“He who will never be King, will forever hold the Sword of Power in my Realm... HA-HA-HA!”
We awoke in the morn, there in the ragged hut, not itching too badly. Although I did notice that Chronos seemed to be preening herself overmuch...
We broke our fast and bade the man farewell. Then we were on our way again through the Snowbound Greenwood.
That next Night, as we slept in the hollows of two giant Trees, I Dreamed again... I Dreamed of sweet Morgan. She was beckoning me. Next that I knew, I opened my eyes to a glorious new morn.
My Spirit began to lighten as the four of us continued. I knew that we must walk all the way from the Mountains to the Isle of Apples and that would have been too long a Time for me to be moody.
Many fine and wonderful talks and adventures had we after that – making glorious plans for the future. As idealistic boys and men are wont to do, we spoke only of the great achievements and the marvels that lay ahead of us – nothing of the dangers.
Chapter 7
To Make a King
Gwyddion
Traveling to the Isle of Apples had been a demanding journey. There had been scant food for us to eat on our way – only that which we could hunt or fish.
When finally we had arrived, we found that the sisters and brothers of The Order had prepared a great celebration in honour of our arrival – complete with feasting, bonfires, tale telling, and songs. We were delighted. They had prepared meals of venison, Fish and foul along with delicacies of dried Fruit, baked Grains, honey and mead. Of these we were very appreciative, especially realizing that this was not their usual fare, for they of the Isle of Apples are like me in that they are very conservative in their own eating habits.
So it was that Lady Vivianne, with her uncanny foresight had already begun to make preparations – months ahead of the future King’s arrival.
I continued to be stunned at Morgan’s beauty. So like her Mother was she. How quickly Time passes! Let me see... Arthur and Bedwyr were seventeen years now... Hmm... That would make Morgan twenty-three years – a perfectly wonderful age.
Of course, my charges were also delighted to see Morgan... most especially Arthur.
When finally I spoke with Morgan alone, I mentioned the Dream in which someone was calling to me. She smiled and said, “Yes, I know... I am glad that I was successful in reaching you. You see, when I told The Lady that I sensed great changes in the Winds, she told me of the far-reaching events of the near future and of how Gwyddion, The Merlin, must now make a King. Hence, my calling to you in the land of Dreams...”
“Of course... It was you who called me here! I should have known...” Then teasingly I said, “So how, then, would we begin to make a King, Morgan the Enchantress – here amidst your beautiful Winter gardens, bells and Bee hives?”
“Well, first,” said she, “we must go to the Lady of the Lake.”
“Ah, the great Lady Vivianne... I will be most pleased and honoured to speak with her of these matters.”
“As a matter of secondary fact, Gwyddion, you should know that I am aware that the Bear – uh, Arthur – is my brother and our future King. In fact, I have known this for some long Time...”
We left it at that...
Auspiciously, we had arrived on the eve of the New Moon – on the Moon’s darkest Night. I, who am Druid trained, believe, that upon the Dark Moon is the Time of banishing or of cursing. It is the Time to be rid of all obstacles in the way of attaining our needs or desires. So, after the feasting and celebrating had ended, in the Druids’ way – within an Oak Grove in the Woods – that Night I performed my Magics which would thenceforth exist in the Other Realms, there to work on Arthur’s behalf to remove all evil influences that might block his path onward toward becoming High King of the Britons.
On the second Night, with the first sliver of the New Crescent Moon visible, at last the Making Magics could be set into motion. This was the Time to begin the bringing of Arthur’s Kingship into manifestation in the world of Men.
As was the Order’s custom, our visit was to start with the boys and my resting, meditating, grounding to the Earth and all of Her Creation and just general pleasantness, before any business could be done. This was all the more important in preparation for the blessing of a new King. Quite frankly, it was a welcome relief, for the long trip in the cold of Winter had worn us all out.
Upon the eighth
Day, it was Time to make our plans.
The Wind had begun stirring on the Isle; it was a steady blow. There was great power in the Air as Morgan and I walked to the quarters of the Lady of the Lake. Our footfalls crunched upon the Snowy Earth. From somewhere in the distance I heard the sounds of Wolfs wailing their Winter song. An Owl Whoo-Whoo-ted to Chronos from a branch of a silvered Tree nearby – I felt as though Magic was afoot everywhere.
Lady Vivianne was an older woman, of course, but not so old as to diminish her allure. She was dignified – austere even – yet hidden deeply somewhere within herself was a charming and intensely caring woman, filled with the Spirit of the GODDESS. I had the sense that if she were to let her guard down, she could be as playful as the Twyla y Tag... If she would only let it be so. I liked her very much and greatly respected her.
All the while that I had been on the Isle, Lady Vivianne had made sure that I was treated as her peer, by which I felt very honoured. After all, she was the Lady of the Lake. So, that morning I felt no compunction in asking, “My Lady Vivianne, I beg private audience with you...”
She welcomed me into her quarters.
“Yes Gwyddion, of course, with what may I help you?”
She and I spoke for hours upon hours of all that had happened to me and to the boys. I told her then that Arthur, and not Bedwyr, was Igraine’s son. Of this news, she seemed not surprised! I told her of the “Voices,” my Dreams, my years with the boys, of how Chronos had come into my life, of Uther’s murder, the acquiring of his sword, and of many other things...
“As you know, Lady Vivianne, I must lead Arthur to find Caledfwlch before any of what work we are about can proceed. But I know not where it is.
“I have heard of an old legend – one which is held secret by a very few Adepts. My master Brennos told it to me and he in turn was told it by his master Ea Kunagos. This legend tells that Caledfwlch, the Sword of Kings, is held in the keeping and protection of the Lady of the Lake – by you – my Lady.
“Yet, in a worrisome Dream, when haunted by the specter of Gwyn ab Nudd, I was told that I must go into his Cave – the entrance to the Underworld – to find it. I can still conjure-up the look and the smells of His Cave – wherein my Dream insinuated that I would find Caledfwlch.”
“Gwyn ab Nudd?” She laughed. “It is true then; All the Gods are ONE... Here, in our world of Myth, Nodens, ‘the Water Maker,’ is the God of deep and darksome places, of Wells and Caves – and of the Underworld. And to those who would play in darkness, He guards the entrance to the other side of the mirror...
“My dear Gwyddion, as to my holding Caledfwlch – no, I do not. However, I do know where it lies. Gwyddion think! Where is there a Hill that hides a dark and Mossy Cave at its base – a place where none dare to tread... neither Kings nor Wise Ones? Have you not heard these legends?”
“Of course! Have the doors of my thinking faculties been locked to the obvious? The dark and Mossy Cave from whence flow the Waters of the Sacred White Spring – here at the base of the Tor! It has ever been thought a dread place; indeed, an opening to the realm of the dead. One superstition says that: ‘If one passes through the mouth of the Cave, they are held captive, albeit to a place of Beauty, a land of delights and eternal youth – realm of the Twyla y Tag... the Faye... or the Old Gods. But once there, there be no returning to the world of Man...’ Yet I have heard darker myths as well... Tales of ragged toothed Phantom Hounds guarding the way out of the Cave of Gwyn ab Nudd... and that those souls, who through their folly, greed, and audacity have challenged the Lord of the Underworld and must pay the cost by forever remaining in his place of Ever Sameness – where one hour repeats the last, unto the end of the worlds.
‘Nid a i Annwyn ond unwaith’... Which means in my native tongue, ‘There is but one descent into Annwyn.’ Every Human body contains the ‘mewnol yn cael ei,’ their inner being or soul – and that is what is held there in bondage! Then again, my Lady, some tales soften the blow – by hinting that there would be one way out. In Druidical teaching, what this would mean – if it were reality – is that although their soul has traversed through many lives and in many forms to attain to live as a Human – this one and only exit from the realm of Gwynn ab Nudd would oblige them to climb the ladder of transmigration again, to live all of their inner being’s lives over, beginning with its lowliest form – a Snail perhaps – eventually to rise once again into the world of Man.
“But Lady Vivianne, I have always thought these stories to be but metaphor.”
“Metaphor? Yes, of course they are, my dear...”
“May I confide in you, my Lady?”
“Yes.”
“Although I be Druid trained, I believe not that man is higher or more valuable than Animals, Insects, Trees, Rocks or any others who share this Earth with us. Is it true that in your Mystery School, you teach just as I believe: that all beings of form are part of the great ONE, and are equal in the GODDESS’ eyes?”
“That is true... Gwyddion, it is well known amoung the Britons, that you share some beliefs of every Tribe and Clan on these Fair Isles. Perhaps, in addition to your renowned abilities and Wisdom, this is why you have been accepted as The Merlin by all – not just by the Druids. In fact, I believe that you have given the title of ‘The Merlin’ a new meaning.
“You know as well as I, that all things in this world change, given enough Time and necessity. It is now the Time for all on these Our Fair Isles to become more tolerant of one another’s beliefs. You, my dear, are the bridge to this new and much needed accord. Without this compromise, Arthur’s reign of peace and solidarity could never come to be.”
I, always being shy whenever receiving praise, veered away from that conversation, onto safer ground...
“Uh-humm... thank you Lady Vivianne... But, my Lady – what of finding Caledfwlch?”
“Ah, yes... To find the Sword of Kings is not the most difficult part. The next heir in succession of the line of the true ‘Blessed Kings’ will always find Caledfwlch. For this is written in their Stars... However, only a true heir of ‘Righteous Intent’... AND one ‘Powerful of Heart’ will hold the sword of Kings, for only they can command the Blue Flame of Caledfwlch. Caledfwlch will sing for no other.”
“I see... and so the story expands...
“But, why then, did Ambrosius Aurelius not hold the sword of Kings, for truly he was a man of ‘Righteous Intent’? No man have I ever known to be more honourable, fair minded, true to his own word or acting in justice to all men and women! As for being ‘Powerful of Heart,’ fame of his great, compassionate, forgiving and benevolent heart gained for him the Love and respect of all. Surely the Gods found him to be a man of honour?!”
“Yes, Gwyddion, he was a man of compassion, kindness, and honour – a good man. No one could deny him these qualities. I know that your heart holds a great Love and respect for him. But, as to ‘Powerful of Heart’ – in this he had a dangerous flaw. He was loving, compassionate and forgiving to a fault! Did he not allow his younger brother, the one called Uther the Pen Dragon, to betray his fellow Dux Gorlois of Dumnonia without reprisal or consequence? Did he not allow this same brother to usurp his own rightful position as the Pen Dragon – and this done to the ultimate harm of the tentative alliance of peace and stability of his countrymen and women? No, Gwyddion, a true King may hold a powerful life-long Love and yearning for one person, but never would he – or she – shirk their responsibility to this land or people for personal gratification. Neither would they call a wrong a right because of that Love. ‘Powerful of Heart,’ could be said in another way... That being ‘Power Over Heart’... Do you see what I mean?”
“Yes... Yes, my Lady, I do.”
“Gwyddion, let us speak frankly, I know the living secret of the Holy line of Kings. I know that you – and only you – have the power, by right, to make Caledfwlch come to life – once again to the service of these, Our Fair Isles! Shh... Before you speak; I also know that the Stars have not written the jou
rney of King for your life. However, once the sword is awakened, the true heir – in this case you – may pass the Kingdom into the hands of the one he deems worthy, and if Caledfwlch accepts that one, then he, or she, will make Caledfwlch flame. This is how Uther’s son will wield the Sword.
“I am sure that you recognize the problem. All the rest of these details of a transfer of Kingship and so forth are too complicated to be understood – or accepted – by those who must give Arthur their allegiance now... Only Arthur must ever be seen as the awakener of Caledfwlch. So he must find the sword after you have held it and relinquished it back to the darksome, hidden Cave – when, speaking aloud, you must say that “Arthur, son of the Pen Dragon, is true and ever heir of the Sword of Kings.” Then it will truly be his, until upon the Day in which Arthur, in turn, willingly names his own true heir by giving Caledfwlch into their hands.”
Finding Caledfwlch...
As great Dreams often do unfold in the Realm of the Middle World, what events seemed beautifully – or frighteningly – Phantastical, play out in everyday, ordinary ways...
Upon the Day after my conversation with the Lady, Arthur, Bedwyr, and I set forth to the Cave at the bottom of the Tor.
Oh, the beauty of this place... We drank from the White Spring and I told the boys to climb the icy spiral path until they found some green Moss on the uppermost Northern side of the Hill and a rare Winter blooming Herb with yellow Flowers, with which I wanted to make an elixir... “Take the going slowly, for the path can be treacherous at this Time of year.” I used this subterfuge to keep them busy for quite a long while so that I might examine the Cave by myself.
To tell it true – it was a fearsome place and beautiful at the same Time. At first, I could see nothing, for so dark was it in there. When my eyes began to adjust to the dim light, I noticed that there were glimmers here and there against the walls. I lit a torch. Then, moment by moment, the walls seemed to come alive until I saw that the entire round arch of the walls and ceiling were encrusted with Crystals. As shifting illumination and shadows of torch light reflected off the milky white iridescence of the Spring Water running its path in the floor of the Cave, the blue-grey of the interior Stones as well as the clear, pale, purple, and pink coloured Crystals seemed to glint and bounce against each other. Yes, this was a place of beauty, so I wondered why there were such grim tales about it.
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