So, we have heard of the lords, and the law-givers of yore,

The songs of the Saxon-breakers, and of the sword-knights,

Of Rome and rulers, and the realms of

The kings and knights, from Caerleon led.

We gather in the gift-halls, and God we ask

To bless our broken-kingdom, our Britain this night

As we tend our fire-hearts, and with friends we eat.

May this harp-house give honour to our fathers.

When centuries from Christ, Constantine left

This island of iron-men, incensed with blood,

Suffered in anguish, an age of fire,

From the shores the Saxons, their spears at hand,

Came and plundered, the peace-breaking men.

The Lords of the Britons, battled and quarrelled,

Blood-feuds they fought, the folk did suffer.

Then rose two kinsmen, one king they desired.

Ambrosius and Uther, oaths they swore,

And Uther arose, armed and ready.

The Son of Constantine, a crown he sought.

One banner he raised, bloody and worn.

The Dragon-banner loomed, and the lords knelt.

All Britain united, and Uther was crowned.

Gift-Lord they called him, the cup-lord of Britain.

Two daughters a gift, God-given to Uther

The first one of iron, and ice the other.

The elder named Morgause, the maiden of iron.

Morgana her sister, the silver-haired princess.

Kings they married, and mothers to kings.

Two brothers they wed, warriors both.

To Orkney went Morgause, married to Lot,

And Morgana to Uriens, of ash-grey Rheged.

To Uther they swore, their swords and their lives

As long as they lived, their loyalty he had.

Two sons for Morgause, Mordred and Gawain

And for Morgana one son, the sword-knight Ywain.

When he defeated the Saxons, a son Uther hoped for.

To God Uther prayed, and a prophecy he received.

A son Merlin promised, the Pendragon heir,

The king once and future, yet a father to none.

Entrusted to Ector, Arthur was hid.

For the good of the realm, he raised the boy well,

And assigned him as squire, and sword-work he learned,

With Sir Kay as his brother, with blades they practiced.

And when Uther did perish, the peace went with him,

And again the realm divided, as the dragon-banner lowered.

The lords sought a throne, and treason they committed

Thus Merlin appeared, an answer he gave them.

“If a throne you seek, a sword you shall find.

A sword on an anvil, Uther’s heir shall pull.

And the true King of Britain, the blade shall he wield,

For the Pendragon sword, shall all swear an oath.”

And thus it appeared, the anvil and sword

Laid down in London, the law-giving seat.

Yet the sword none pulled, no Pendragon were they,

Ere one knight told, a tourney proposed,

The winner of games, God-given be him,

The Pendragon heir, Uther’s true son.

The lords gave consent, the crown in mind,

And to London in journey, to judge all their worth.

The road lay under snow, and sword upon the anvil,

And on Christmas morn, that majestic day,

The gathered lords, to London came,

And to win a crown, Sir Kay arrived,

With his father Ector, and Arthur his squire,

But ere the games, gallant he was,

Sir Kay did find, fervent and dismayed,

His scabbard empty, and Arthur he sent,

His loyal squire, his sword to bring.

And Arthur went, on winter day,

To fetch the sword, his sibling lost,

And at the inn, Arthur found,

The room was locked, and the lusty boy searched,

A sword to find, for foster-brother,

And near the church, on cloudless day,

There Arthur saw, a sword that lay,

Upon the anvil, and Arthur grabbed,

That sacred blade, and bore it towards,

His foster kin, Sir Kay his lord.

When he saw the blade, his brother frowned,

Sir Kay then asked, “Arthur, my brother,

Where did you find, this flame-bright sword?”

And Arthur said, “This sword you hold,

I found this morn, in Mass-house yard,

Upon an anvil. Like an altar relic,

It lay untouched, til I removed,

That sleeping sword, in sacred yard.”

Kay beheld his brother, and the blade he held,

And to his father turned, and told Sir Ector,

“My lord Father, fearless among men,

I hold the sacred sword, and sovereign I am.”

And Ector beheld, his boys with tears,

The Lord then asked, and to Arthur turned,

“This sword you bring, this bright-flamed arm,

From whence it came?” Sir Kay then frowned,

And Arthur knelt, “No knight it came,

Nor from the inn, this iron blade,

From church, it came.

I saw it sit, this sword untouched,

Upon an anvil, unclaimed it was.”

Then Ector wept, that warrior-lord,

And before his king, he knelt and said,

“My son you see, that sword you found,

Was no mere blade. My blue-eyed son,

You are indeed, Arthur my dear,

The son of Uther, Arthur Pendragon.”

His fellow lords knelt, towards the crownless boy,

And Arthur rose, the ruler new,

To Ector said, “A squire am I,

Not a royal king! No crown have I,

Nor gilded sceptre, a sword I hold,

And a blade I wield, a warrior’s son,

Your son!” So said,

On Christmas morn, the majestic boy,

The Pendragon heir, Arthur king of Britain.

Then Kay did give, that gilded blade,

To Arthur his king, and Kay proclaimed,

“Arthur I serve, though squire he was,

He is my king, and his knight am I.”

And Arthur wept, the warrior’s son,

And to Kay he said, “Silence my friend!

I may be king, but Kay you see,

You are my brother, my burden-mate and friend.

If I am king, then Kay I ask,

As you I served, steward you’ll be,

And aid not king, but kin and friend.”

Then the first few lords, in London saw,

The British King, the crownless boy,

Uther’s heir, Arthur Pendragon.

On New Year’s Day, the daring king,

With the grace of God, gathered the lords,

And other knights. Knelt they did,

Before the boy, his banner raised,

Over London’s walls, and warriors pledged,

To Arthur oaths, of undying loyalty.

His cousin Cador, the Cornish Duke,

Knelt before his kin, and Cador swore,

Upon the Lord, loyalty forevermore.

Then the great Leodegrance, Lord of Cameliard,

Gave his oath, and Arthur welcomed him.

Then other knights, they knelt and came,

And joined his court, and the king received,

With open arms, their iron swords,

and steadfast words, those warriors true.

Anthony J Kleem

Fiction & Poetry

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