But the judges replied: ‘We think you’re right.’
And they did as the good man advised, locking her in a house of stone with all the ground floor doors walled up. And with her they installed two of the worthiest women they could find for the purpose. They left windows upstairs through which the things they needed could be hauled inside. After arranging this, the good man spoke to her at the window, saying: ‘Once the child is born, have him baptised as soon as you can. And when they bring you out and prepare to pass judgement on you, send for me.’
She was kept in the tower for a long while, and the judges supplied her and her attendants with everything they needed. There she stayed until it pleased Lord God that she had the child. And when he was born, he had the power and the intelligence of the Devil – he was bound to, being conceived by him. But the Enemy had made a foolish mistake, for Our Lord redeemed by His death all who truly repent, and the Enemy had worked upon the child’s mother through sheer trickery while she slept, and as soon as she was aware of the deception she had begged for forgiveness and submitted to the mercy and commandment of Holy Church and of God, and had obeyed all her confessor’s instructions. God had no wish to deprive the Devil of what was rightfully his, and since the Devil wanted the child to inherit his power to know all things said and done in the past, he did indeed acquire that knowledge; but, in view of the mother’s penitence and true confession and repentant heart, and of her unwillingness in the fatal deed, and of the power of her cleansing baptism in the font, Our Lord, who knows all things, did not wish to punish the child for his mother’s sin, but gave him the power to know the future. And so it was that the child inherited knowledge of things past from the Enemy, and, in addition, knowledge of things to come was bequeathed to him by God. It was up to him which way he inclined. If he wished, he could answer the claims both of Our Lord and of the devils; for a demon had made his body, but Our Lord had given him the spirit to hear and understand. Indeed, he had given more to him than to other men because he would certainly be needing it. It remained to be seen which way the child would lean.
And so he was born, and the moment the women received him and set eyes on him they were filled with fear, for he had more and far longer hair than they had ever seen on other children. They showed him to his mother, who crossed herself and said: ‘This child frightens me.’
‘We hardly dare hold him,’ said the women.
‘Take him below,’ the mother said, ‘and give orders that he be baptised.’
‘What name shall he be given?’ they asked; and she replied: ‘The same as my father, whose name was Merlin.’
So the child was baptised and named Merlin after his grandfather. He was given to his mother to be fed, and she fed him until he was nine months old – when he looked at least a year or more. And time passed and he reached eighteen months, and the women said to her: ‘We want to be out of here and go back to our homes – we’ve been here so long!’
‘Truly,’ she replied, ‘I can’t bear to see you go!’
But they said: ‘We can’t stay here any more!’
She began to weep and begged for mercy in God’s name, that they should endure it just a little longer. They went and leaned at a window, and the mother took her child in her arms and sat down and wept, saying: ‘Dear son, I’m going to suffer death on your account, but I haven’t deserved it. But I shall die, because no-one knows the truth about who fathered you and no-one believes a word I say. So die I must.’
And while the mother lamented to her son – and complained to God of her woes, declaring that He should never have let her be born – the child looked at her and said: ‘Mother, have no fear, for you will not die on my account.’
When she heard the child speak her heart quite stopped in dismay; she dropped her arms, and the child bawled as he fell to the ground. And when the women at the window saw this they leapt forward and ran to him, thinking she was about to kill the child. But she said she had no such thought.
‘I dropped him in astonishment at what he said; my heart and arms failed me! That’s why he fell.’
‘What did he say,’ they asked, ‘to give you such a shock?’
‘That I wouldn’t die because of him.’
‘Let’s see if he’ll say more!’ they said, and they took him and watched him with rapt attention, wondering if he would speak again. But he gave no sign at all of doing so; he uttered not a word. After a long while had passed the mother said to the two women: ‘Give him to me and let’s see if he’ll speak.’
And she took him in her arms, desperate that he should speak in the women’s presence. But the women said: ‘What a shame it is for your lovely body, that you’ll be burnt for the sake of this creature. It would have been better if he’d never been born.’
And the child replied: ‘You lie! That’s what my mother would have me tell you!’
When the women heard this they were stricken with fear and said: ‘This is no child but a demon, who knows what we’ve said and done!’
They burst into excited babble, and he said to them: ‘Leave me be! You’re wilder sinners than my mother!’
They could not believe their ears, and said that this marvel could not be kept secret. ‘We must let the whole world know!’
They went to the window and called to the people below and told them what the child had said. The people were astounded and said it was high time the mother was put to death. They sent letters to summon the judges, and her execution was fixed for forty days thence. When the mother heard that the day of her death had been decreed she was filled with fear and sent word to her confessor.
Time went by until there were only eight days left before her stoning, and the thought of that day terrified her. The child toddled around the tower and saw his mother weeping and began to laugh in apparent delight. The women said to him: ‘You’re sharing few of your mother’s thoughts! In this coming week she’s going to die because of you. Cursed be the hour of your birth! God cannot love her, letting her suffer death on your account.’
But the child replied: ‘They’re lying, mother. You’ll never be brought to shame as long as I live, and no-one will dare touch you or determine your death but God.’
Hearing this, the mother and the two women were stricken with awe and said: ‘This child has remarkable powers and will be a great man, if he can make such pronouncements!’
So matters stayed until the day decreed. And when the day came, the women were released from the tower, the mother carrying her child in her arms. The judges had arrived, and they took the women to one side and asked them if it was true that the child had made these utterances. The women reported everything they had heard him say, and the judges were astounded and said: ‘He’ll need a way with words indeed if he’s to save her from death!’
Back they came; and the good man was there to give her counsel. One of the judges said: ‘Young lady, is there anything more you wish to say or do? Prepare yourself now, for you’re about to suffer death.’
‘If you please, sir,’ she replied, ‘I’d like to speak to my confessor there.’
The judge gave her permission and she went into a chamber, leaving her child outside. Many people tried to get him to speak but without success. Meanwhile the mother talked to her confessor, weeping most piteously; and when she had said all she wished the good man asked her: ‘Is it true that your child speaks?’
She heard his question, and replied: ‘Yes, sir.’
Then they left the chamber and found her child crying outside, and she took him in her arms and came straight before the judges. When they saw her they said: ‘Lady, tell us who is the father of this child. Beware of concealing the truth.’
‘My lords,’ she replied, ‘I can see I’m doomed to die. But may God have no pity on my soul if I ever knew or saw the father, or if I ever willingly gave myself in such a way as to be with child.’
But one of the judges said: ‘We don’t believe that can be true. We’ll ask other women if what you’re
telling us could possibly happen. No-one has ever heard such a tale before.’
And with that the judges withdrew and asked many women if the mother’s story could be true. One of the judges spoke to the large gathering and said: ‘All you ladies assembled here, has it happened to any of you, or to any woman you’ve ever heard of, that a child has been conceived without the carnal involvement of a man?’
And they replied that no woman could become pregnant and have a child without male company. Hearing this, the judges returned to Merlin’s mother and repeated what the women had said.
‘And now justice must be done, for there appears to be no truth whatever in this woman’s story.’
Then Merlin leapt forward, incensed by their words to his mother, and said: ‘She’ll not be burnt so soon! If all men and women who committed adultery were put to death, more than a couple of the people here would be burnt, for I know the ways of these women as well as they do themselves! If I were to speak of them, I’d make them confess and admit the truth in front of this whole assembly. There are some who’ve done worse than my mother! She’s not guilty of the charges made – and if she is, this good man has taken them upon himself. If you don’t believe me, ask him yourselves.’
The judges summoned the good confessor and asked him if what the child said was true, and he recounted word for word what Merlin’s mother had first told him.
‘And I told her that if her story was true she need have no fear of God or the world, for she would receive fair treatment.’
Then she told them herself how she had been deceived, and of the marvellous conception of the child while she slept, without having any pleasure of a man; she did not know who had fathered him. ‘And I’ve made confession and repented.’
Then Merlin said to the good man: ‘You wrote down the night and the hour when it happened. You can tell whether my mother’s speaking the truth. From your note you can prove part of what she’s said and done.’
‘That’s true!’ the good man said. ‘I don’t know where your wisdom comes from, for you’ve far more sense than any of us!’
Then the women who had been in the tower with Merlin’s mother were summoned. They reported to the judges the time of the child’s birth, and therefore his conception, and compared it with what the good man had written, and found that it was as he said. But one of the judges replied: ‘This doesn’t acquit her on its own: she must tell us who begat you.’
The child was furious and said: ‘I know my father better than you ever knew yours! And your mother knows who fathered you better than mine knows who fathered me!’
The judge was enraged and said: ‘Merlin, if you know something about my mother you’ve a duty to tell me.’
‘I can say for sure,’ Merlin replied, ‘that your mother deserves death more than mine! And if I make her admit it, then acquit my mother, who’s innocent of the charge you’ve laid upon her, for be assured that what she’s said about me is true.’
The judge was incensed by this and said: ‘If you’re right, you’ll have saved your mother from the fire. But I tell you this: if what you’ve said about my mother is false, yours will certainly burn.’
They adjourned for fifteen days, while the judge sent for his own mother and put Merlin and his mother under close guard: indeed, he stayed with the guards himself. The child was often encouraged to speak by his mother and by others, but they could not get a word from him.
The appointed day came and the judge appeared with his mother, and Merlin and his mother were taken from prison and led before the people. Then the judge said to Merlin: ‘Here is my mother, about whom you must speak.’
‘This is not wise,’ Merlin replied. ‘Go, and take her to a house in private and summon your closest counsellors. I shall summon my mother’s – God omnipotent and her confessor.’
Those who heard his words were almost speechless with astonishment, but the judge knew that what he said was wise. And Merlin said to the other judges: ‘If I can deliver my mother from this man, will she be acquitted?’
‘If she escapes his condemnation,’ they replied, ‘nothing more will be asked of her.’
And so they retired to a chamber, the judge taking with him his mother and two of the worthiest friends he could find, while Merlin took his mother’s confessor. When they were all assembled, the judge said: ‘Merlin, now you may say what you wish to my mother, to earn your mother’s acquittal.’
‘I’ve no desire,’ said Merlin, ‘to defend my mother if she’s done wrong, but I wish to protect God’s truth and hers. Be assured she’s not deserved the torment you intend for her, and if you’ll take my advice you’ll acquit my mother and cease to inquire about your own.’
‘You’re not going to wriggle round me like this!’ the judge replied. ‘You’ll have to say more!’
‘You’ve taken my mother,’ said Merlin, ‘and intend to burn her for giving birth to me without knowing who begat me. But I know who fathered me better than you know who fathered you, and your mother could say whose son you are better than my mother could say whose son I am.’
Then the judge said to his mother: ‘Am I not the son of your lawful husband?’
‘Oh God, dear son,’ his mother replied, ‘whose son would you be, if not your good father’s, long dead?’
‘Lady,’ said the child Merlin, ‘you must tell the truth if your son is to acquit my mother and me. I dearly wish he’d do so now, without more being said.’
‘I most certainly will not!’ the judge replied; and the child said: ‘All you’ll achieve by making your mother testify is to find that your father’s still alive.’
Everyone present was astounded by this; and the child turned to the judge’s mother and said: ‘Lady, you must tell your son the truth.’
The lady crossed herself and cried: ‘Devil Satan! Haven’t I done so?’
‘You know very well,’ Merlin replied, ‘that he’s not the son of the man he thinks.’
The lady was appalled, and said: ‘Whose is he, then?’
‘You know,’ replied the child, ‘that he’s your priest’s son. By way of proof, the first time that you conjoined with him, you told him you were afraid of becoming pregnant; and he said you wouldn’t be so on his account, and that he’d make a note of all the times when he lay with you, because he for his part was afraid you’d lie with another man, for at that time you were on bad terms with your husband. And when your son was conceived, you weren’t slow in lamenting your misfortune, being with child by him. If I’m telling the truth, admit it. If you won’t, I’ll reveal more.’
The judge was terribly distressed, and asked his mother: ‘Is this true?’
And his mother, in great alarm, replied: ‘Do you believe this demon?’
‘If you won’t admit it,’ said the child, ‘I’ll tell you something else which you know to be true.’
The lady went quiet, and the child said: ‘There’s no point in hiding it, for everything done is known to me. The truth is that when you knew you were pregnant you sought to make peace with your husband, so that he wouldn’t realise the child was not his. The priest arranged your reconciliation and encouraged you to lie together once more, and so made your worthy husband imagine it was his child – as did everyone else. Your son himself was sure of it. You’ve lived this lie ever since, and do so still. Indeed, the night before you left to come here, you and the priest lay together; and when you set out in the morning he accompanied you a good part of the way, and said: ‘My dear, make sure you do and say all my son wants to hear’ – for he knew he was his son because of the notes he’d kept.’
When the judge’s mother heard these words – which she knew to be entirely true – she sat down, devastated. She knew now that she had to tell the truth; and the judge looked at her and said: ‘Dear mother, whoever your lover may have been, I am still your son, and as such I want you to tell me the truth. Are the child’s words true?’
‘May God have mercy on me, yes,’ she replied. ‘I can’t hide
it: it’s all true, every word.’
The judge turned pale, and said: ‘This child is wise indeed, saying he knew his father better than I knew mine. It would be wrong to put his mother to death without doing the same to my own. In the name of God and love,’ he said to Merlin, ‘and so that I may clear myself of blame in the eyes of these people, tell me who is your father.’
And Merlin replied: ‘I will do so, but it may not be to your advantage. I would have you know that I am the son of a devil who deceived my mother. He was one of a kind of demon called Hequibedes, who inhabit the air. And he bequeathed to me the power and intelligence to know everything that has been said and done: that’s how I know all about the life your mother has led. And Our Lord has granted me the knowledge of things to come, as you’ll see by what I’m about to tell you.’
Then Merlin took him aside and said: ‘Your mother will go now to the man who fathered you and tell him everything I’ve said. And when he hears that you know the truth his heart will be overcome by terror. He’ll flee in fear of you, and the Devil – whose ways he’s followed so long – will lead him to a river where he’ll drown himself. You can use this to judge whether I have knowledge of the future.’
‘If it proves to be true,’ the judge replied, ‘I’ll never doubt you.’
With that they left their private talk and returned to the people, and the judge said: ‘Sirs, this child has saved his mother from the stake. All who see him may be sure they’ve never seen one wiser.’
And they answered: ‘God be praised!’
So Merlin’s mother was set free and the judge’s mother known to be guilty.
The judge sent two men after her to see if Merlin’s prediction was true. And as soon as the lady reached home she spoke in private to the priest and told him of the wonders she had heard, and he was terrified. He went away and thought in his heart that the judges would hunt him down and kill him; so he left the town and came to a river, where he said to himself that he would rather drown than be killed by the judge and die a base and shameful death in public. And so the Devil – whose works he had done so long – drove him to leap into the river and drown; and this was witnessed by the two men sent by the judge. The story teaches that this is why a man in distress should beware of being alone, for in solitude a man is more open to the Devil’s wiles than he is in human company.
Merlin and the Grail Page 9
