Merlin and the Grail

by Robert de Boron

  After witnessing the priest’s remarkable death the men returned to the judge and reported exactly what they had seen. He was astounded by the news, and went and told Merlin, who laughed and said: ‘Now you can see I was telling the truth! I beg you, repeat exactly what I told you to Blaise.’

  Blaise was his mother’s confessor, and the judge told him the amazing story of the priest. Then Merlin set off with his mother and Blaise, while the judges went their own ways.

  Now this Blaise was a very shrewd, bright man, and when he heard Merlin – no more than two-and-a-half years old – speaking so cleverly, he wondered where such intelligence could come from. He went to great lengths to test Merlin in many different ways, until Merlin said: ‘Blaise, don’t put me to the test, for the more you do, the more dumbfounded you’ll be. Just do as I say, and trust in my advice, and I’ll teach you how to gain the love of Christ and lasting joy.’

  ‘I heard you say you were the son of a demon,’ Blaise replied, ‘so I fear you may deceive me.’

  ‘Ill-disposed hearts,’ said Merlin, ‘always pay more attention to bad than to good. You heard me say I was fathered by a demon, but you also heard me say that Our Lord gave me knowledge of the future. If you were wise, this would be a sign to you of which way I would incline. Be assured that from the moment it pleased Our Lord to grant me this knowledge, I was lost to the Devil. But I haven’t lost the demons’ craft and cunning: I’ve inherited from them some useful things, but they won’t be used for their benefit! It wasn’t a wise move on their part to beget me in my mother: they chose a vessel which would never be theirs – my mother’s good life did them great harm! Had they conceived me in my grandmother I’d have had no knowledge of God, for she led a wicked life, and it was because of her that such ills befell my mother – her father’s death, I mean, and all the other things of which she’s told you. But believe what I say about the faith of Jesus Christ, and I’ll tell you something which no-one but God could reveal – and I’d like you to set it down in a book, for many people who hear my words will benefit from them and beware of sin. If you’d do this it would be a great service.’

  ‘I will gladly make the book,’ Blaise replied. ‘But I beseech you, in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit – which three I truly believe are one being in God – and in the name of the blessed Lady who bore God’s son – her son and father both – and in the name of all the angels and archangels and apostles and all the saints and the prelates of Holy Church, promise me you’ll never deceive me into doing anything displeasing to God.’

  ‘May all those you have named,’ said Merlin, ‘bring me Christ’s disfavour if I ever make you do anything against His will.’

  ‘Then tell me what you wish,’ said Blaise. And Merlin said:

  ‘Fetch ink and plenty of parchment, for I’m going to tell you many things; you’re going to write down what no man but I could tell you.’

  Blaise went to find the things he needed, and when he had gathered them together Merlin began to tell him all about the love between Christ and Joseph of Arimathea and everything that had happened to him; and about Alain and his company and his father, and their departure; and how Petrus had set out on his journey and Joseph had bequeathed the vessel at his death; and how, after all this had happened, the demons came together and discussed how they had lost their former power over men, and complained of the harm the prophets had done them, and agreed to create a man of their own.

  ‘And they made me. And you know from my mother and from others the trickery they employed in my making. But through my mother’s repentance they lost me and everything else they desired.’

  And so Merlin told the whole story for Blaise to set down in writing.1 Blaise was often amazed by the wonders Merlin told him, but they always struck him as good and full of beauty, and he listened in delight. As Blaise set about the task of writing, Merlin said to him: ‘This work will cause you suffering, but I shall suffer more.’

  Blaise asked him what he meant, and he said: ‘I shall be sent on a journey2 into the West, and those who’ll come in search of me will promise their lord to take him back my blood. But when they see me and hear me speak, they’ll have no wish to do so. I shall go with them, and you will go to the company who keep the vessel called the Grail. For evermore men will tell of your work and your writings, though your book will have no authority, for you are not and cannot be an apostle; and the apostles wrote about Our Lord only what they’d seen and heard themselves, but you’re writing nothing from experience – only what I’ve told you. Just as I am a figure of secrecy, and always shall be to those I do not choose to enlighten, so shall your whole book remain a mystery and few will recognise its wonders. You will take it with you when I leave with those who are to come in search of me; and Joseph and his book will be combined with yours, for when your work is done and you join that other company, your book will be attached to his, and the truth of our work will be revealed. They’ll have pity on us – if it please them – and pray to Our Lord on our behalf. And when the two books are brought together there’ll be one beautiful book, for the two are one entity – though I don’t wish to relate, and it would be wrong to do so, the words that passed in private between Joseph and Jesus Christ.’

  3 My lord Robert de Boron, who tells this story, says, like Merlin, that it is in two parts, for he could not know the story of the Grail.

  *

  Now at the time of these events, Christianity was newly arrived in England and there had as yet been few Christian kings, and of them there is no reason to tell you except where it relates to this story. There was a king in England named Constans, who reigned for a long while and had three sons: one was called Moine, another4 Pendragon, and the third Uther, and they had a seneschal named Vortigern. This Vortigern was very clever and worldly-wise, and as good a knight as any then living. Constans passed from life to death, and when he died the barons wondered who they should declare king. Most agreed it should be their lord’s son Moine, but as soon as he was made king, war broke out. The Saxons were ranged against King Moine, and many from the Roman Empire, too, came to fight against the Christians. And Vortigern, seneschal of the land, turned everything to his own advantage. The child who had been made king was not as wise or strong as he needed to be, and Vortigern made the most of the war and gained the hearts of the people, knowing they thought him good and able. His pride grew ever greater as he saw that no-one could match his abilities, and he declared he would have nothing more to do with the king’s war and withdrew his services. The Saxons gathered and advanced in great numbers, and the king came to Vortigern and said: ‘Help to defend my land, dear friend: we’re all at your command!’

  ‘Sire,’ Vortigern replied, ‘find help elsewhere. I don’t care to be involved, for there are people in your land who resent my service. They can fight your battle for you: I’m taking no part.’

  King Moine and his followers saw there was no love to be found in Vortigern, so they turned to do battle with the Saxons. They were defeated – and said they would not have suffered this great loss if Vortigern had been at the battle. So matters remained: the child-king could not keep his people’s support as well as he should and many began to despise him, and as more time passed King Moine lost all respect and they said they would tolerate him no longer. They came to Vortigern and said: ‘Sir, we’re without a king: the one we have is worthless! We beg you in God’s name to be our king and lord.’

  ‘I can’t,’ Vortigern replied. ‘It wouldn’t be right, as long as my lord lives. But if he were dead, and you and the others wanted me king, I’d gladly be so. But as long as he lives it’s neither possible nor proper.’

  They heard Vortigern’s words and wondered what to do; they took their leave and departed. On their return they summoned their friends and spoke with them, and those who had been to Vortigern told of their conversation with him. Hearing what he had said, the others replied: ‘It would be best if we killed King Moine! Then Vortigern will be king, and he
’ll know he had the kingship thanks to us and will do whatever we wish! That way we’ll rule through him!’

  And at once they arranged who would do the killing. They elected twelve; and these twelve set off to find King Moine while the others stayed in the town, ready to come to their aid if there was trouble. The twelve tracked the king down, and attacked him with swords and knives and killed him: it was quickly done, for he was very young. After they had killed him, it was a deed of which no-one spoke for a long time. They returned to Vortigern and told him: ‘Vortigern, now you shall be king, for we have killed King Moine!’

  Hearing they had murdered his master, Vortigern feigned fury, saying: ‘You’ve committed a great crime, sirs, in killing your lord! I’d flee if I were you, for the good men of this land will kill you if they catch you – I wish you’d never come here!’

  So they took to flight. Such was the death of King Moine. And the people of the kingdom assembled and declared Vortigern king, for as I have told you, he had the hearts of most people in the land. They all agreed he should be king and declared their allegiance to him.

  At this assembly were two worthy men who were guardians of Pendragon and Uther – Constans’ other two sons, the brothers of the dead King Moine. And when these good men heard that Vortigern was to be king, it was clear to them that he had arranged Moine’s death. They spoke together and said: ‘Vortigern has had Moine murdered, and as soon as he’s king he’ll do the same to our two wards Pendragon and Uther. We loved their father dearly – he was very good to us, and we owe everything we have to him. It would be very wrong to let these children be killed. Vortigern knows the kingdom should be theirs, and will want to kill them before they’re of an age to claim their land.’

  They agreed to send the children away to foreign parts in the East, from where their ancestors had come. So they led them away to safety, to make sure Vortigern could not kill them. I shall tell you no more about them until the right point in the story; but this tale clearly shows that it is best to trust in worthy men.

  So then, as you have heard, Vortigern was declared king by the people of the land. And after he had been crowned and was lord of that country, King Moine’s killers came to him; but Vortigern behaved as if he had never set eyes on them before. They rushed forward and began to yell at him that it was thanks to them he was king, for they had killed King Moine; but when he heard them say again that they had murdered their lord he ordered that they be seized, and said: ‘You’ve passed sentence on yourselves, sirs, admitting that you killed your former lord! You had no right to do such a thing! You’d do the same to me if you could! But I’m more than able to stop you!’

  They were aghast at this, and said to Vortigern: ‘We did it for your benefit! We thought we’d earn your gratitude!’

  But Vortigern said: ‘I’ll show you the gratitude that people like you deserve.’

  And he had all twelve taken and bound to the tails of twelve horses, and dragged along behind them until little of them remained. But they had many kinsmen who came to Vortigern after the executions and said: ‘You’ve wronged us greatly, putting our relations to such a base and terrible death. Don’t imagine you’ll ever have our service!’

  Vortigern was shocked and enraged to hear them threaten him, and said that if they ever spoke of it again he would do the same to them. But they were scornful of his threats, too, and showing little fear they angrily replied: ‘King Vortigern, you can threaten us as much as you like, but we can assure you that for as long as we have the support of our friends you’ll find yourself embroiled in war! We defy you from this time forth, for you are not our lord or the rightful ruler of this land: you hold the kingship against God and justice. We tell you this: you will suffer the same death as you inflicted on our kinsmen.’

  They left without another word. Vortigern was furious, but did nothing more for the time being. So began the strife between Vortigern and the barons. They assembled a great force and advanced into Vortigern’s land, laying waste one part of it, but he joined battle with them over and over until he drove them from his kingdom. But he became so cruel to his people that they could stand it no longer and rose against him, and Vortigern feared they would force him from the land. So he sent messengers to the Saxons to sue for peace – much to the Saxons’ joy. One of them, named Hengist, the fiercest of them all, lent Vortigern his service for a long while until they gained the upper hand in the war against the barons; and when the war was finally over Hengist commented how deeply the people hated him.

  Hengist did many deeds of which there is no need to tell you, but I can tell you this much: Vortigern took one of his daughters as his wife – and all who hear this tale may like to know that it was she who brought the word wassail to this kingdom. I will not tell you about Hengist and his affairs, but the Christians grieved deeply that Vortigern had married his daughter. They said he had largely abandoned his faith in taking a wife who did not believe in Christ. Vortigern realised he was not loved by his people, and knew that Constans’ exiled sons would return as soon as they could – and that if they did so, they would be seeking his downfall. He decided to build a tower so huge and strong that he would have no fear of anyone, and he summoned all the finest masons in the land and ordered them to start work. But after they had been building for three days it came tumbling down. Four times they began again, and four times it collapsed. Vortigern was distraught at the news, and said he would never rest until he knew why it kept falling. He summoned the worthiest men of the land and told them of the collapsing tower and how nothing could be done to make it stand, and they were amazed. They saw the pile of rubble and said: ‘Only a learned clerk could explain this, sire. Because of the depth of their learning clerks know many things beyond our knowledge: you’ll find the truth only through them. You must speak to them.’

  ‘In faith, sirs,’ said Vortigern, ‘I think you’re right.’

  He immediately summoned all the learned clerks of the land, and when they were assembled he explained to them the mystery of the tower. They said to each other: ‘What an amazing story the king has told us.’

  The king asked which of them were the wisest, and then said: ‘Can you explain why my tower falls, no matter what I do? I want you to stay and do all you can to find the reason, for I’ve been told that only you, or other clerks, can tell me.’

  Hearing his request, they replied: ‘We don’t know, sire, but there are some clerks here who could explain, for this involves an art called astronomy, of which they happen to have knowledge. You must find out which of them are the most learned in this sphere.’

  ‘You know the clerks better than I do,’ said the king. ‘Decide amongst yourselves who are the most skilled in this art. They mustn’t hesitate to come forward and boldly declare themselves. I’ll do anything they ask if they can tell me why my tower keeps falling.’

  The clerks withdrew and asked each other if they had knowledge of this art. And two of them said: ‘We know a fair amount.’

  And the king declared: ‘Go and find like-minded men and come to me.’

  ‘Gladly,’ they replied, and the two clerks made enquiries and soon there were seven – each of whom thought himself the finest – and they returned to the king who asked them: ‘Can you explain, sirs, why my tower keeps falling?’

  And they replied that if anyone could, they could, and he said he would give them whatever they wished if they could find the answer. With that Vortigern left the clerks, and the seven of them set about the task of discovering why the tower collapsed and how it could be made to stand. These seven were very skilled in their art and each on his own set to work diligently; but the harder they laboured, the less they found out. The only thing they did discover seemed to have nothing to do with the tower, and was very disconcerting. The king became impatient, and summoned them and said: ‘Sir clerks, what can you tell me about the tower and why it falls?’

  ‘You’ve set us a great problem, sire,’ they replied. ‘Give us another eleven days.’


  ‘I’ll grant you this respite,’ said the king, ‘but if you value your lives, make sure you give me the answer then.’

  They swore they would do so without fail, and withdrew together and asked each other: ‘What do you think about this business?’

  ‘We’ve no idea,’ they all replied. None of them would reveal what he knew, and so the wisest of them all said: ‘Let each of you, one after the other, tell me privately what you’ve discovered so far. I’ll do nothing as a result except with everyone’s agreement.’

  So they all spoke to him in private, one at a time, and he asked them what they thought about the tower. And they all said the same: they had no idea how the tower could be made to stand, but they had seen something else, something remarkable. They had seen a seven-year-old child, born of a woman but fathered by no earthly man. All seven clerks told him the same; and when he had listened to them all, he said: ‘Come to me now, all together.’ They did so, and when they had all gathered he said: ‘Sirs, you’ve all told me the same thing, one after the other, but you’ve also kept something back.’

  ‘Tell us then,’ they replied, ‘what we’ve told you and what we’ve hidden.’

  ‘You’ve all said you don’t know how the tower can be made to stand, but that you’ve seen a child born without a father, begotten by no earthly man. But there’s something else that you’ve left unsaid, and you must believe me when I tell you this: you’ve all foreseen that you’re going to die because of that child. I’ve seen the same as you, truly. That’s what you hid from me: that you’d foreseen your deaths. We must talk about this urgently – it’s a serious matter!’ Then he – and he was the wisest of them all – said: ‘If you’ll trust in me, I’ll protect you from this fate. You’ll soon know if I’m telling the truth.’