Chapter 1

In a corner of the world, among the mists of northern seas, lies the island of Great Britain. For ages, it bustled with people, stories, and a rich culture of its own. But all of this was swept away by the Saxon invasion—buried in war and fire.

One name survived the desolation: Arthur. As ages passed, stories were told of his bravery, courtesy, and piety. Those stories became legends. And legends, as we know, only grow stronger with time. 

So though Britain lost the memory of its ancient days, the desolation forged some of the world’s most enduring legends, those of King Arthur, his knights, and the mythical sword Excalibur.

* * *

The story of Arthur begins with a dream.

Long ago, a few centuries after Christ’s crucifixion, in the western regions of Britain, King Vortigern lay sleeping in his chambers, high above the cliffs and moors.

A dream entered his mind. He saw two dragons, one red and one white, locked in battle underground. The earth shook from their roars and weight. Vortigern watched, marveling, until the red dragon fell under the weakness of its wounds, and the white dragon crushed its skull between powerful jaws. Thus the battle ended, and Vortigern awoke, trembling.

In a rush, he clothed himself with a robe and swept through the palace, calling for his advisors. They came to him, rubbing their eyes. Stars shone through the high windows of the hall as Vortigern addressed them: three druids from the northern forests. 

After he told his dream, he said, “Pray, tell me, in your wisdom, the meaning of this vision, or else your necks will be mere stumps in the morning. For I am disturbed and cannot rest.”

The druids conferred among themselves, then turned back to Vortigern.

“Lord,” said the first. “The meaning is plain. The white dragon represents the Saxons, those barbarians across the eastern seas. The red dragon represents your own people. In time, the Saxons will come to our shores and do battle with us and will crush us—just as the white dragon did the red one.”

Vortigern pounded his throne. “Speak! What must I do to avoid this fate?”

“Lord,” said the second. “What you must do is plain. Become allies with the Saxons. Send a vessel to them filled with treasure and invite them to your shores. Then they will do battle with others and not yourself.”

Voritgern rubbed his beard. “What you say is good. When shall I do this?”

“Lord,” said the third. “Send the vessel a week from now, on the evening of the new moon, so that fortune may go with it.”

Vortigern was pleased and did as they advised. The vessel entered a harbor of Saxon kings Hengist and Horsa. When they had listened to Vortigern’s ambassadors and heard of the green hills of Britain, the kings eagerly set sail from the savage woods of Germany and came to Vortigern’s shores.

Together, Vortigern and the two Saxon kings did battle against the British and crushed them as the white dragon did the red one. 

More Saxons heard of the fruitful lands across the sea and set sail in their long boats. They burned fields and drove out the British and settled in their homes. And the people of Britain, still weakened from the Roman invasion in previous generations, could not withstand the onslaught of invaders and succumbed to them. The destruction was great across the land.

But one British king named Uther resisted the Saxons. His castles among the central mountains could not be easily overcome, and they provided refuge to those scattered by Vortigern, Hengist, and Horsa.

Vortigern and the Saxons tried many times to advance upon his castles, but the structures had been built in previous ages, and many kings had fortified them to be ever stronger and more defensible. Uther himself was well-studied in the tactics of war, but also had another asset: Merlin, the good enchanter, who had come from the dark, mysterious valleys of western Britain. He counseled Uther always in wisdom and shrewdness.

Then, one fateful autumn, Uther broke the lines of the Saxons, and saw an opportunity to march straight unto the castle of Vortigern. He consulted Merlin, who said, “Lord, make haste, for great things are soon to come.”

So Uther did, and all of his kings, dukes, nobles, and Merlin came with him, wishing to finally bring peace to Britain. They rode across the hills that rolled like waves and over many regions, tirelessly, for they knew the haste of their journey. 

One evening, as they rode under the stars, a glimmer caught Uther’s eye and he looked up. There, in the northern parts of the night, he saw a bright comet.

He said to Merlin who rode beside him, “Good enchanter, yonder comet looks like a dragon. Tell me the meaning.”

“Lord, it is good,” said Merlin. “Such comet works fortune upon you. As bright as it appears in the night, so will be your future.”

Uther’s heart was lifted, and he pressed forward. Later in the evening, they pitched their tents and rested only a short while. They continued the next morning while the moon still glowed on the horizon.

The next day, Uther and his army arrived at Winchester Castle in southern Britain, which Vortigern had recently made his home. They pitched their tents and laid siege to it, and their banners waved brightly above the moors. They sharpened thick stakes and stuck them in the ground as defenses along the ridge. Uther sent a message to Vortigern, ordering him to surrender.

Vortigern received the message in his bed, for he had fallen ill. But though his body was weak, his pride was not, and his response was the messenger’s head on a spear.

A week later, Vortigern’s son Paschent led forces out of the castle. They locked their shields and pushed up the hills, while Uther’s men cast rocks and arrows upon them. Paschent’s men-at-arms set fire to the defenses, and looked ready to break through, but Uther himself, leading a hundred mounted knights, set their spears and charged down, wrecking havoc upon them. 

One of Uther’s knights met Paschent, mounted upon his steed, and threw him down. They drew their swords and hacked at each other until the ground was painted red. In weariness, Paschent lowered his shield only slightly, and the knight swiftly smote his helm. As Paschent lay groaning, the knight drove a dagger into his throat.

When the army saw that their leader was dead, they gave a great cry and their spirit left them, and Uther and his kings quickly drove them into a swamp where they perished. Uther’s men tended their wounded. Then they burned the bodies that lay strewn across the battlefield, and the smoke of it drifted west in the wind.

When Vortigern learned the news that his army had perished and that his son had been killed, his face paled. He closed his eyes and wept until he died of a broken heart.

Then Uther entered Winchester Castle and made it his own. He remembered the comet and its foretelling of his victory, and took the name Pendragon. He also took a golden dragon as his standard, which waved in the winds above the towers. And Winchester Castle of southern Britain, former home of the wicked Vortigern, came to be known by a new name: Camelot.

So Uther Pendragon broke the Saxon armies. He and his kings fought other battles, but they were all lesser than the one outside Camelot. Many Saxons fled across the sea, while others retreated to the hills and dark places of the wild.

Three years later, Britain was largely at peace, and its people felt free to travel. Britons went back to their homes, brought out their instruments, and gladly sang for the first time in many years. 

It seemed that peace would reign for generations. And it might have, were it not for another threat. But this time it was for love, not war, because Uther Pendragon strongly desired a married woman.

In the middle of winter, Uther and his kings were celebrating the conquest of one of the last Saxon castles. As they were banqueting and laughing at a fool’s jest, Uther caught sight of dark-eyed Igraine, and her beauty captured his heart. But she was married to Gorlois, one of his dukes.

After the banquet, he went into a garden and sent a servant to bring Igraine. When she came, he begged her to become his secret lover. “Igraine, I can give you many fine things, and no one need know of our arrangement.”

But she was as loyal as she was beautiful, and refused him. Later that evening, Igraine told her husband of the matter. She said, “We should leave quickly, without warning, and ride throughout the night to our castle.”

Gorlois agreed, and they rode overnight until they came to the castle of Tintagel in southwest Britain. When Uther heard of their departure, he was enraged and followed them with a company. The end of it was that Uther dragged Gorlois from his castle and killed him and married Igraine there at Tintagel. And Arthur was conceived.

Then Uther brought Igraine back to Camelot where she gave birth. But Merlin saw dark days ahead, and carried away the child down a cliff in the dead of night. And none knew what happened to them.

Then the reign of Uther Pendragon crumbled. A companion of Gorlois fell into treachery with the Saxons and poisoned Uther who died at his own banquet table. Uther’s kings quarreled over who should rule. The Saxons took advantage of the division and slowly reconquered more and more of Britain.

Years of chaos and misery passed, and the glimmer of light under Uther’s reign was smothered by the cruelty of the Saxons. Camelot was retaken. Uther’s kings were executed and their wives stolen. British banners were thrown down and in their place waved Saxon flags. The British people lamented, and their sorrow was overwhelming.

Then, in a most unexpected time, Merlin returned from the shadows and went to London. His name was great, so none disturbed him. Shortly after, there appeared in a churchyard a mysterious sword stuck point-down in an anvil. The anvil rested upon a marble-stone on which blazed fire-gold words:

Whoso pulleth out this sword from this stone and anvil is the rightful king of all Britain.

Everyone marveled, and their hope of a strong and free Britain began to return.