Grail

TWENTY

Dreams of spitting cats and hissing snakes kept me thrashing on my pallet all night. I heard strange laughter, and awoke to the sound of someone calling my name. The warriors' quarters were quiet, however, and, as the sun was rising on a new day, I thought to banish the night's malignant cast with a cold plunge in the lake.

I crept from the palace and made my way quickly down the twisting path. The mist rising off the lake as the dawnlight struck the surface of the water made it seem as if I descended from the pure heavenly heights to the cloud-bound earth below. At the lakeside, I stripped off my clothes and waded out from the shore – some little distance, for, owing to the drought, the level of the water was much lower now.

Gathering courage, I dove in and swam quickly to the centre of the lake before I lost my nerve. The water was clear and stinging cold, but not as cold as it should have been for the season. Here the Christ Mass was upon us, and winter winds should be howling from the frozen north; yet, save for a few chill evenings, the days, though short, remained warm as midsummer, and dry. The warmth nobody complained of, but the lack of rain scoured the land to dust.

Ever since I was old enough to walk from my father's caer down to the water's edge, I have loved swimming. Lot insisted that anyone bred and born on a rock in the sea should be able to swim to save his life, so my brother and I learned early and learned well. This thought was in my mind as I swam to the centre of the lake, took a deep breath, and sank down into the cold, spring-fed depths.

Down and down I went, the icy water tingling on my skin, pricking like ten thousand needles. When at last I could stay under no longer, I rose to dive again and again, trying to go deeper each time. The last time, I simply bobbed to the surface to float on my back, gazing up at the sun-streaked morning sky, letting my thoughts drift as idly as the clouds above.

While I lay floating, the sound of someone singing reached me – a lightly lilting, wordless melody. Silently, without so much as a ripple, I sank down into the water and turned my eyes to the bank, where I saw a hunched figure hurrying along the lakeside pathway leading to the Tor: a woman, dressed all in black. I did not recognize her, for a cloud had passed before the sun and her features were hidden by shadow. Curiously, this shadow moved with her, covering her, so that I could not see who it might be.

It was then I remembered having heard that same strange song before – it had led me a chase the day I found Morgaws in the wood. The thought had no more flitted through my mind when she stopped – halting in mid-step, much as someone might when hailed from behind by the shout of a friend. In the same instant, the shadow vanished and I saw that it was, indeed, Morgaws, and what I had taken for black was, in fact, her customary green, which I could see so clearly I wondered how I had mistaken it before. That aside, I thought it odd she should be astir so early in the morning, and naturally wondered where she had been.

She stood stock-still for a long moment, and then turned slowly towards the lake. Something in me urged secrecy, so I allowed myself to submerge once more. Strange to say, but as my head sank beneath the water, I felt a peculiar warmth where her gaze swept the water. It passed in an instant, like a wave washing over my head, and then all was as it had been before. When I surfaced again, Morgaws was gone. I watched for a time and thought I saw her on the Tor path just before she entered the palace gate, but owing to the brightness of the sunlight, I could easily have been mistaken.

I swam to the bank, dried myself, and dressed, then made haste to find Myrddin; I had it in mind to tell him what I had seen. But by the time I reached the Tor, I had convinced myself that my concern was mere foolishness. What had I seen, after all? Only someone taking an early-morning walk. She sang, yes, as any young woman might, delighting in her own company and the simple splendours of the new day. In any event, Myrddin was occupied with the ordering of the ceremony, and would not care to be bothered.

Along with the rest of the Dragon Flight, I spent the day in preparation for the consecration ceremony. Beginning with a fast, we assembled in the hall to learn our duties for the ceremony, and to hear how our ranks should be ordered. We then attended to our clothing and weapons: siarcs and breecs were washed and cloaks brushed, swords and spears were burnished, and shields were washed white with lime and painted with the cross of the Christ. That night, in place of a meal, we gathered in the hall and held vigil; led by one of the abbey priests, we prayed through the night for the Good Lord's blessing on the new realm.

Then, as dawn broke upon the eastern horizon, we dressed in our finest clothes, and arrayed ourselves as for battle. The participants assembled in the yard, each one taking his place as we had been instructed: Arthur and Gwenhwyvar first, Myrddin and Charis following, with various priests and monks and nobles from the region coming after, and behind them, the Dragon Flight and the rest of the Cymbrogi. Walking slowly, crosier held high, the procession was led out through the gate by Bishop Elfodd; beside him walked Lord Avallach, carrying a fine wooden casket in his hands.

Thus, we walked slowly down from the Fisher King's palace to the lakeside path, two by two. Upon reaching the lake, the monks commenced chanting a psalm, softly, quietly at first, but louder and with more spirit as we went. When we passed the monastery, its lone bell tolled, the plaintive voice ringing out over the countryside, calling the world to witness the changing of the age.

Much of that world seemed prepared to take notice, for there were many hundreds of people already gathered in the valley, awaiting the ceremony. The stoneworkers and their families were there, of course. Also, I suppose the monks had spread the word throughout the region, and many, despite the plague – or, indeed, perhaps because of it – had come to see the Lord of Summer begin his reign.

The Grail Shrine gleamed like white gold in the morning light, the cool stone shimmering and radiant against the fair blue of the sky. The procession reached the foot of the hill and stopped, whereupon Bishop Elfodd turned and spoke a prayer. We then continued up the hill – followed by the crowds, which pressed in all around us to see and hear what was taking place -and paused at the hilltop for another prayer; a third prayer was spoken as the Grail was carried around the perimeter, and a fourth at the entrance to the shrine. At each place, Avallach, accompanied by the bishop, presented the casket to the four quarters, while the good bishop offered up a prayer; together they sained the earth with the presence of the holy object.

In a loud voice Bishop Elfodd called for all present to bear witness. 'From this day the ground whereon you stand is holy ground. Let it here be known, and proclaimed throughout all Britain, that the Lord Christ has favoured this place and has claimed it for his own. Henceforth and for all time, this place shall be a refuge and sanctuary for any and all who come here, and no one shall be turned away, nor shall anyone be compelled to leave, nor carried away by force. Thus, no one shall prevent another from entering God's peace.'

Then Myrddin, his dignity and noble bearing never greater, ascended the steps of the shrine, turned to the mass of onlookers, and stretched forth his hands. If anyone had forgotten that Myrddin was once a king, the memory was reawakened now. I have lived my life in the presence of kings and noblemen, and I saw a king now, lordly in manner and mien. Tall and erect, his head high, his expression grave and proud, his golden eyes ablaze with the light of righteousness, Myrddin gazed out over the upturned faces of the throng, and silence descended over the hill as all upon it strained forward to hear what he would say.

'My people!' he cried in a loud voice. 'This is a day like no other in the long history of our race.'

He paused and I felt the air quicken around me with anticipation. The crowd, as a solitary creature, keen with yearning, held its breath.

'Rejoice!' the Emrys shouted suddenly, and I swear I heard his shout echoing across the surrounding hills like thunder.

'Rejoice!' he cried again, lifting his hands high. 'For this day begins the Kingdom of Summer, may it endure forever.

'Listen! Hear the words of the Chief Bard of Britain, Taliesin ap Elphin ap Gwyddno Garanhir: "There is a land shining with goodness where each man protects his brother's dignity as readily as his own, where war and want have ceased and all races live under the same law of love and honour. It is a land bright with truth, where a man's word is his pledge and falsehood is banished, where children sleep safely in their mothers' arms and never know fear or pain. It is a land where kings extend their hands in justice rather than reach for the sword; where mercy, kindness, and compassion flow like deep water, and men revere virtue, revere truth, revere beauty, above comfort, pleasure, or selfish gain – a land where peace reigns in the hearts of men; where faith blazes like a beacon from every hill, and love like a fire from every hearth; where the True God is worshipped and his ways acclaimed by all."

'Thus Taliesin spoke, bequeathing his bright vision to a world ruled by the Powers of Darkness. Today, it pleases the High King of Heaven to honour the words his servant uttered so long ago. People of Britain, hear me! Rejoice and be glad, the long-awaited day has dawned.'

The High King took his place beside Myrddin then. As I gazed upon Arthur, tall and strong, his handsome face lit by golden morning light, the white stone of the shrine fairly glowing behind him, I knew that the Wise Emrys, as ever, had spoken the truth. The High King drew his sword, Caledvwlch, and raised the naked blade like a cross and held it before him.

Today, in your hearing, Taliesin's prophecy is fulfilled,' he said. 'My friends, the Kingdom of Summer is begun. Taliesin's fair vision has become reality. Here we begin, and may the Living God crown our efforts with every virtue.'

Arthur lofted the blade-cross, and the host of people gave voice with a great cry of acclaim. 'Pendragon! Pendragon!' Their shout became a flood rolling down the hillside to spread throughout the land. 'Pendragon!' In that moment, the High King, bold and bright before them, became the long-awaited Summer Lord.

After a time, the cry died down, allowing Arthur to continue. Lowering the great sword, he placed the point of the blade against the stone at his feet, and folded his hands one over the other atop the pommel. Then, gazing out over the people and the valley beyond, as if into the far-distant future, he said, 'What is begun this day will burn in the hearts of all who hear of it. What is begun this day will be a boon of rich blessing to the people of every race and tribe.

'What is begun this day,' Arthur Pendragon said, his face shining in the morning light, 'will last to the end of the world, when God shall roll up the heavens like a parchment and return to Earth to reign in righteousness for all eternity. So be it!'

Delivering his sword to Myrddin, the king turned, stepped to where Avallach stood waiting, and, with a bow of acknowledgment to the Grail's first Guardian, placed his hand on the casket and opened the lid. The world was lit with a sudden flash of radiance – as if lightning had been shut up inside the box to be released at this moment. The onlookers gasped as Arthur reached in and withdrew the Grail and raised it high. I do not know what others saw, but I beheld a footed cup which glittered and shone in the bright sunlight as if it, too, were alive to the light that danced over and around it. A row of rubies and emeralds glittered around its foot, and the rim was set with pearls; a broad band of impossibly ornate scrollwork bent around the bowl, catching the light and throwing it off like sparks from a golden flame.

My heart soared as I filled my gaze with that rapturous sight. I felt myself grow stronger and, yes, more noble – as if the light revealed the man I was meant to be, but so rarely was. And I was not the only one to feel this way: from the murmurs of amazement around me, I guessed that all who beheld the Lord Christ's bowl were in that selfsame moment granted a vision of the Good God's redeeming grace.

It happened in the blink of an eye, the narrow space between one word and the next – for yet was Arthur speaking. 'Behold! I give you the Cup of Christ, which shall be the emblem of the Summer Realm, and a perpetual reminder of the source and sustainer of our good fortune.'

So saying, he stepped to the entrance of the shrine and placed the Grail on the altar stone which had been prepared for it. This done, he reverenced the cup with a bow and stepped away from the altar. Outside again, he retrieved his sword from Myrddin, raised it, and declared: 'From this day I have done with war and killing. Strife and violent contention have no place in the Kingdom of Summer. Henceforth shall Britain be called a land of peace.' Stepping into the shrine once more, he laid Caledvwlch before the Grail, point on the floor and hilt resting against the altar stone, so that the blade looked like Bishop Elfodd's cross. The High King then knelt before the altar and offered up a prayer.

Father in Heaven, never let me forget that sight: Arthur on his knees before the altar, his head back, face tilted upwards, his strong arms outspread, palms upwards to receive the blessing he sought. And above him, shining with the brightness of the sun itself, filling the shrine with a high and holy light, the Grail.

How long he remained in the shrine, I cannot say – for the moment was eternal and all creation held its breath. When he emerged, it was to a world subtly, but surely, changed. Arthur himself seemed fairer, stronger, more noble – as if all those lordly qualities which he already possessed in rare abundance had been expanded, increased, multiplied within him, and he now assumed a greater stature than before. If anyone doubted his own perception, he had only to look at Gwenhwyvar; the expression of admiration and love commingled in her eyes would have convinced the hardest sceptic that here before us stood a lord transfigured.

The High King, his face shining with the reflected glory of the Holy Cup, slowly raised his hands in a gesture of benevolence and said, 'May the Grail which we have established in this shrine serve as a beacon of hope to all mankind. Let it hereafter be said that once upon this Island of the Mighty, men and women loved virtue more than their lives, and sacrificed themselves to the rule of truth and justice.

'Friends,' he said, 'we have kindled a flame that will burn to the end of the world. We are men still, but God's own Cymbrogi stand in awe of the things we shall do. Even now angels are gathering to assist us on the journey we have begun. Signs and wonders will become commonplace, miracles will multiply in abundance, and peace will wash over the Island of the Mighty like a great sea wave lifted on the wings of the storm.

'I ask you, who can stop the waves? Who can tame the ocean's fury, or harness the sea's colossal strength? Who can bid the sun to halt in the sky, or stay the steady march of the seasons?

'I tell you the truth, we shall do all these things and more who pledge fealty to the Kingdom of Summer and its Eternal Lord. For if we remain loyal through all things, Britain will be the wonder of the world: a torch that is never quenched, a holy fire that cannot be extinguished. And all the nations that dwell in darkness will lift up their eyes and will behold the light of their salvation, burning as a beacon in the night. They will look up, and they will rejoice, and so great will be their rejoicing that the sound of celebration will overwhelm the sound of war. That hateful craft will pass away, never to be remembered.'

If the acclaim before had been thunderous, the roar of approval which met this pronouncement was deafening; it seemed to go on and on and on. During this exuberant and joyous outpouring, Bishop Elfodd stepped forward and, lifting holy hands to the Lord of Hosts, began saining the shrine with prayers of consecration. But the ceremony was effectively finished; even as he prayed, people came crowding forward for a better view of the sacred cup.

Arthur signalled the Grail Guardians to take their places, which we did, standing in a wide double rank to form a narrow pathway through which the people might pass into the shrine. Men and women, young and old, hastened forward, jostling one another in their eagerness to kneel before the Grail and offer up their own heartfelt prayers.

Once begun, the flood became a tideflow which washed up the side of the hill and into the shrine. We Guardians stood and watched them come, some anxious and halting, some so a-tremble with awe that they could hardly move, some with touching reverence, others bold, as if they would lay hold of the kingdom and claim its mighty promise for themselves.

No matter how they went in, all emerged changed – some more, some less, but no one who entered the shrine remained the same after having seen the Grail. I saw one old woman with a withered hand emerge with her hand restored, and a man on a wooden crutch walked out on two strong legs to throw the stick as far away as he could hurl it. Another man, so ill he lacked the strength to walk, was brought to the altar by his friends, only to emerge leaping and jumping for joy.

These were but the first of many healed that day. I saw men and women bent double by grief and care enter the shrine, and leave with heads high and the fire of hope shining in their faces. Many emerged with tears glistening in their eyes and on their cheeks; more than a few had to be removed from the shrine: dazzled by the glory of the Blessed Cup and overcome by the holiness of the moment, they were transported into a rapture of bliss and were borne out by kinsmen and friends.

The evening stars were shining in the eastern sky when the last of the worshippers departed. Bishop Elfodd lit the torches either side of the doorway, and replaced the Grail in its wooden casket. Only then were we able to sit down and rest our aching feet. Despite watching all day, Bedwyr, Cai, and Cador volunteered to take the first night's watch. Llenlleawg and I were allowed to return to the Tor – with Cai's admonition to remember the watchers their supper.

The first night passed peacefully in the Summer Realm, and the next day remained so tranquil and serene it was easy to believe that the world had indeed changed. The few folk who visited the shrine went away manifestly blessed – one crippled woman, a girl given to fits, and two boys with skin diseases were healed. The prevailing mood of peace and elation made our guard duty pure pleasure. We ended the second blissful day full of brotherly love and kindly thoughts for all mankind.

Ah, but word of the miracles accomplished in the presence of the Grail was spreading through the land. Already the news had gone out beyond the borders of the realm, and like a spear hurled from the hand, there was no calling it back.