“But you are not a man in the ways of other men. Even though you would be a wise and good King, you are not to be a King; that is not your fate in this life. No, but you will make a King, Gwyddion, The Merlin. You will guide a King – the greatest King of all – Arthur, the ‘Bear of the Britons.’ With you by his side, he will fulfill The Dream of your common Forefathers, Macsen Wledig, King Hen Coal, Constantine the Great – and many others!
“Brennos is right – only the true heir will ever find the Sword of Kings, for it lies well hidden in the safekeeping of the Lady of the Lake. You are the only one who can retrieve the sword of Kings from whence it hides. But remember, Caledfwlch must also accept its King. As a sign of this acceptance, the sword will sing and glow, first green, then with what seems to be a blue flame. Once you have received this confirmation, you must put Caledfwlch back to where it was hidden.
“Then Gwyddion, you must contrive circumstances to fall in such a way so that Arthur will find Caledfwlch by his own hands and wield it by his own merit! Caledfwlch must be his.
“You see Gwyddion, by your finding the Sword, you will have claimed your right of Kingship. By replacing it to its place of hiding, you are relinquishing your Kingship to offer it to the ‘one of righteous intent’ who must next wield it. Remember, Caledfwlch must sing and flame in his hands as well as in your own. If the Sword of Kings rejects either of you, all will have been for naught and your mission failed!
“Remember, it would be best to keep the fact of your being the first rightful heir a secret from all save your most trusted allies – and even then, only if you believe it to be the better part of Wisdom to reveal this fact.
“After these happenings have been accomplished; you must devise a way for all the Dux, Chieftains, Tribesmen, Minor Kings and Queens of these Fair Isles to accept him.
“However, if you were to be without Uther’s sword, they may be loathe to believe him Uther’s son. So then, Arthur must have both swords!
“These tasks are for you alone to accomplish. Use your great powers of intellect and Magic, Gwyddion, to formulate a method wherein Arthur will be chosen as High King. This must be done!
“Fret not, Gwyddion, for we see the outcome before the beginning of a thing. You will not fail. Failure is not written in your Stars, Gwyddion!”
I fell to the floor with tremors.
Brennos was very concerned for my well-being.
“What is it?” he asked. “What is it?”
“Just a moment, I am coming back to myself.”
“Of course... I understand. It is about Caledfwlch, is it not? Tell me, did the ‘Voices’ say that it is for Arthur?”
“Yes... for Arthur.”
I saw my destiny unfolding before me.
Hmm... Caledfwlch... hidden in the keeping of the Lady of the Lake. When the proper Time is upon me, I must devise a plan.
After that first long and enlightening evening of conversation, I was offered a pallet on the floor, where I spent the Night in restful slumber.
His Ravens three...
When first I had met Brennos, he had lived with a Wolf named Ffrind. Ffrind had lived with him for almost twenty years. But some Time after my capture by Vortigern, she had died of very old age.
Now he had three companions who shared his Nights and Days with him.
The first of them had come to him about three and one half years before. I had met her on my last visit. She was a beautiful young Raven. He had named her ‘Raven.’
He told me that after a year or so, she had flown out early one morning and had come back that Night with a male Raven. And so, Brennos named him ‘Night.’
The two Birds became a mated pair and the three of Brennos and the Ravens got on very well together. Some Time later the two Ravens had had a nest full of fledglings, but, one of them – who was a female – did not learn to fly on Time or as well as the rest. So it was that when all the others left the nest, she stayed with her parents, and it was only by chance that she had stayed too long. Therefore, she never left at all. And so he named her ‘Chance.’
To the first I said; “Hello, Raven, I trust that you have been well.”
But to the second I said... “Why, who are you?”
“This is ‘Night’” replied Brennos.
To my surprise, Night spoke back and said – “Hello.” I laughed. Then the third little shy one – for she had not grown as big as her parents – came out and perched upon my wrist. I said: “Well, are you not beautiful!? What have you named this one?”
He explained why he had named her Chance and I replied, “We are all gifted by – and victims of – chance, are we not? Does she ever remind you of that truth, Brennos? For, as she perches here upon my wrist I am reminded: We are all in the hands of the Gods and the Mother of Fate. To us, all that comes about seems merely as if by chance. But I have come to see that The Weavers have plans in the works – unbeknownst to us.”
“Yes, it is true. Speaking of chance, only yesterday – but before your arrival – someone else happened into my life... just by chance.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
He went toward the back of his Cave – wherein it was darksome and still. He took a stick and held it out before himself. As he went further back I could no longer see him for the lack of light. But presently, he walked out, and there was an Owl – a beautiful young one – perched upon the stick.
He said, “Mistress Owl, meet Gwyddion.”
The Owl said, “Whooo?” and we both laughed. But then of a sudden, into my thoughts, she spoke – in a voice that was both thoroughly feminine and mysteriously Owlish. Oh, how can I describe it? Wizened... old beyond her age, yet beautifully compassionate and patient. Why, yes... her voice was as I had always imagined the Faery Godmothers’ in Brennos’ fables to be – the ones he used to tell me when I was yet a boy.
“Whooo are you?” said she, and “Why have you come to Brennos’ Cave of Wonders?”
Brennos later told me “Your eyes began to spin into those eerie silver spirals, as they are wont to do.”
He stood and watched as the Owl spoke to me – and as I, his former apprentice, replied to her “I am Gwyddion. Many call me The Merlin.”
“Merlin? A Hawk?” said she. “Then you should see very clearly why I have come here to meet you.
“It was only a matter of Time, our meeting. Do you not remember that we have been together for many lives and so will we be again and again and again? For all things foretold take place in the Night of Time – when Time as we think of it sleeps... The Time between... We are all but shadows whooo fleetingly pass through Her... Even yhoou – the great Merlin – yhoou will have your Time and then it will be gone. But the Time of greatness that will be remembered is the Time of Arthur, the King. The Boy called ‘the Bear.’ This Time is upon us! So I have come... just in Time. Soon we must go to get him. And I would travel with yhoou – if it be your will – for the rest of our lives.”
Then my thoughts began to clear and I came into myself again.
Brennos was holding me, where I had fallen to the floor.
“What is it, my boy?”
“It is Time.”
But I had used the Greek word “Chronos,” which means “Time.” So that is what I named her – this beautiful white Owl who was to be my life’s companion.
“Chronos.”
Then I knew that, indeed, it was Time for all foretold great events to begin.
I spent fourteen Nights there with Brennos, during which my strategy was formed. Then, with great sorrow at leaving him and leaving this place of solitude and of peace, I set out and began to wend my way Southward.
I would arrive just in Time to collect my charges at the boys’ twelfth year-turn, which was still more than three months hence.
But first I thought I would go to visit Morgan. I had much to share with her for I knew that she was to play a great role in Arthur’s life, and I trusted her completely.
She had very
recently achieved her elevation to Enchantress on the Isle of Apples. I was very fond of little Morgan. Well, she would not be so little now – would she?
So, in Brennos’ safekeeping – in his Cave of Wonders – I was to leave Uther’s Sword until the Time came to make Arthur King.
Morgan
These are the things Gwyddion, The Merlin, related to me upon his first visit to the Isle of Apples. I wrote them down at the Time of that visit and am placing them here so as to be in sequence with his written words.
Gwyddion told me that on his travels Southward toward the Island of the Inland Sea, he had many adventures.
He first went into the deep Forests of Dumnonia – to the land of the ancient Dark Tribes, where he bade greetings and paid homage to my grandmother – the Mother of Igraine, and to the Old Grandmother of the Tribe, the very same who had been standing with Igraine when first she had met Gorlois. She was still alive. “So old was she! But I should not be surprised, for I have heard of other such Seers who have lived longer than even four generations.”
Along the way through the lands of the Dark Ones, he had often felt that there were eyes upon him, eyes behind the Trees, up in the Trees and behind the Standing Stones. Unseen eyes were everywhere.
These people of the Old Tribes – my people – were called “the Watchers” by some. They watched – and listened – for everything. They had a system of sending messages and news as quickly as an Eagle flies over the boughs and Mists of the Forests, even to the length of these, Our Fair Isles. This was amazing to all others – even fearsome!
When finally they came – out of nowhere as it seemed – there were four small dark men standing before Gwyddion. They had said, in halting words of the Cymru – in Gwyddion’s tongue – “Greetings, Gwyddion The Merlin, what finds you in our lands?”
He must have smiled within himself at the knowing that they feared him not. For he told me that, “These men were cunning and filled with old Wisdoms. By their very countenance they commanded respect, although did not demand it.”
“I would pay homage to the Grandmother of your Tribe, and to she who is Mother of Igraine, the Seer, and Grandmother of Morgan, Enchantress of the Isle of Apples and of the ones called Morganna and Bedwyr...
“Bedwyr? Not the Bear?” they quipped; with knowing smiles upon their faces. “You will be welcomed, Gwyddion, The Merlin. Allow us to escort you to them.”
Gwyddion told me that he had thought, “Even with all of my Druids’ Gifts, I wondered – no, doubted – if I could actually find their village without escort. For the Old Ones have means of keeping to their own kind ... ancient Magics of keeping themselves concealed wherever and whenever they wish to.”
With a bow he had said, “I thank you very much.”
So, after going through all of the protocols that were known to him regarding their race, he was then taken to see the old Tribal Grandmother.
“As old as she was now and wrinkled, the twinkle had not dimmed from her eyes.”
He told me that her eyes “...danced with Charms. You could read the intelligence behind them. Her thoughts were sharp as the end of a stick, sharp as the sting of a Wasp... and her tongue... well, sometimes it could be that, too!”
But she had been very welcoming and glad to see him. He shared what news of the outer world that he could with her and she shared with him their Tribal events.
Their culture, their Rituals and seasonal round made it seem to him as if they lived in a circle, with one season flowing into the other, one cycle of beginnings and endings returning to the Chaos then springing forth to life again, with no reckoning of the years.
Just so, I knew in fact, they did.
He was treated very, very well. They fed him and provided an Enchanting, canopied Tree house for his privacy and sleep. He rested there with them for two weeks. He went along with them when they hunted. Although he was of the habit of eating very little flesh – such as an occasional Fish – he realised that they were honouring him by their invitation and he would not offend them by abstaining.
It had been a good visit. So much so that when it had come Time for his leave-taking, he said that he had felt a sadness.
The old Grandmother of the Tribe blessed him and Igraine’s Mother gave him a parting gift. The gift was a large, ancient golden brooch, with un-recognizable symbols etched onto it.
She had said; “We know... We understand... what greatness lies in my daughter Igraine’s blood. Yes, I mean the boy... the boy who you will train to be to the one King for all peoples. This brooch holds – within the glyphs of our Ancestors – the formula to keep you from Death’s grasp, so long as he holds the sword of Kingship.”
He, in turn, gave to them a Druids’ Blessing and cut off a lock of his hair and gave it to her, for he had nothing else to give.
It occurred to him that he would probably never see either of them again on this side of the Shadow Realms.
Now, I must add here that for Gwyddion to relinquish a piece of himself, such as his hair, to another, was a great showing of trust. For the Druids, as well as, in fact, most of the Magi of this World, are very cautious – or perhaps very wise – in their belief that to hold a piece of a person, such as their hair, skin, fingernails, saliva or the like, is to hold some of their power, which could be used to harm or control them. It was also a showing of the respect and Love held in his heart for them.
So, on he went with his journeying, until finally he arrived at the Isle of Apples, climbed the Tor and there found me – a woman grown – tending my Bees.
He had come up from behind me, thinking to surprise me, but I had grown in Sight as well as in body. I smiled from the inside out, knowing that this was Gwyddion, The Merlin, who had treated me so sweetly when I had been a little girl.
Never have I had need of covering myself with nets when tending my Bees and never have they stung me. I always move very slowly around them for their comfort. They buzz their buzzing then I buzz my buzzing back to them. We talk and sing with each other in this manner. Oh, I know, this has always seemed “wyrd” to others, but it is just the way we play with each other.
When Gwyddion came upon me, so as not to startle me he whispered, “Good Day to thee, my Lady Morgan of the Woods.”
“Ah, Gwyddion!”
We embraced.
“My Bees will do no harm to you.”
“Well, neither will Chronos my Owl companion do harm to you or your Bees. Morgan, my dear girl, let us walk together on this beautiful Day, if you might take some Time away from your duties?”
I giggled, “Why, certainly!
“Will you be able to stay here with us for long, Gwyddion?”
“Perhaps for a while, for I have much to tell you Morgan, much that I wish for you to remember. I trust you implicitly, but these are things that, for the Time being, must remain between us two alone.
“Have you made a vow of any kind which would require you to share any information I give to you with the Lady Vivianne?”
“No, I have not. In any case she would honour my confidentiality with you.”
So, he spoke to me then of all that had happened and of all things that were to come.
Of course, even from the great Merlin, some things are hidden.
He was, however, very careful not to mention Arthur or “the Bear” by name, always using terms like “Your brother” or “Uther’s heir,” for at that Time, even Igraine knew not of the boys being switched at birth. So, of course, I thought that he meant Bedwyr.
The few Days he thought to spend here actually turned into a few weeks, due to all he wished to share with me. He was also, I believed, revitalised through his taking in the serenity and beauty of our Isle of Apples. We did indeed have good Days together.
So, when all had been said and done between us and we were to part, we looked into each other’s eyes and in the stillness of that moment, I read his thoughts – or perhaps it was his heart – which spoke of the pleasure it had been just to look upon m
y countenance – and of how much I reminded him of my Lady Mother Igraine. I blushed then and my own heart fluttered... But as to why, I have never known...
“Some Time, when I come again, Morgan, it must be at the Season of Sowing – at Winter’s End – so that I might see the blossoming of the Apple Trees… or perhaps in Summer – to see the proliferation of beautiful wild and cultivated flowers that are tended here on your Isle. I have heard much of them from other pilgrims. One Monk told me – ‘In Summer everything smells so sweet that the Butterflies, Bees, and Glow flies Love to linger there – all of which adds to the Enchantment of this place.’
“Oh yes, then there is the Apple Harvest when the orchards come into their full glorious fruiting.”
I replied to him, “They also provide excellent exercise, for the picking of them is vigorous work – thus warding off our sluggishness through the Winter Calming and celebration.”
“My sweet Morgan” he continued “this Cold Moon of Mid-Winter has shared its own beauty with me. Frosted branches, white covered cottages, Priestesses flurrying around in richly dyed woolen cloaks, and our warm conversations by the hearth-Fires, have all been indelibly etched upon my heart. I will never forget this, Morgan. So I suppose that I will be visiting you often.”
His handsome face and his blue-grey eyes grinned...
Upon his leave-taking he formally bade ‘Goddess-be-with-you’ to the Lady of the Lake and began his Westward journey to Igraine’s fortress – to my home – which stood atop the craggy Cliffs of Dumnonia, hanging high above the edge of the Western Sea.
Igraine
Through the next two years, after Morgan’s departure for the Isle of Apples, life at my fortress had been prosperous and peaceful. All the children of my household, including the Bear, remained well, safe, and happy. And so, on went life until the boys reached their twelfth year-turn. It was upon that very Day that, once again, Gwyddion, The Merlin, came back into our lives.
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