Merlin And Vortigern

a folk tale

At one time, long ago, the king of Britain was a man named Vortigern. Now you have surely heard of "Good King This" and "Emperor That The Great" and too, as well, "Potentate Whomeverwhich The Wise"; but Vortigern was a bad king, a foolish one, a man of no accomplishments at all beyond the grand theatrical air of power and command in battle. Here was a person concerned with nothing more than his own desires, and so constantly, of course, here or there in the nation, people would rise in arms against him, trying to replace him with a better one or at least some other. But Vortigern was very rich and had no conscience. Thinking that he must be firm against all such impertinent rebellions, he sent a minion sailing over the rolling sea to Saxon lands and there he hired whole tribes to fight as mercenaries for him against his own people.

This vile plot seemed to achieve its purpose – so it seemed to him – for seven years. The alien soldiers filled his army and his court. They tortured or slaughtered or robbed to poverty anyone who stood up to even speak against him. And they seemed content to bask in the luxuries which he allowed.

But then Vortigern ran out of money. The Saxons demanded land as payment. He confiscated goodly broad estates in the east of the country which he granted to them. Then, of course, they brought their families sailing in many ships. Then, of course – after they had got their women and children and old folks, after they got their new homesteads begun, after they had got their forges fired and their armories pounding, after another seven years more – then the Saxons rose against Vortigern, to replace him with their own.

The wicked king gathered the small forces that would still obey him and fled to the west of Britain, to the tall steep hills above the narrow valleys in Wales. He wasted no time there. Very quick he chose a proper site – a huge round hill right by the only highway through that country. He had in mind to build a fortress on that hilltop and fort himself up and then – somehow, he thought – rally the nation to his native cause.

As you may have heard, in those times the strongest part of a fortress was its tower. Indeed, in that age a goodly tower might withstand a siege all in itself without surrounding fortifications of any kind. And so very quick he set his men to hauling stones and laying up stonework courses on that hilltop for his tall commanding tower. By midmorning of the first day there the walls had risen to human height in quite imposing thickness and work proceeded. But then the earth quaked. That big hill by the highway leaped and rolled quite like the ocean surf will sometimes do. Not only that, but a great cloud of steaming stinking vapor arose from the soil. All of the soldiers threw themselves onto the ground and covered their heads in terror. The stonework rolled away and crumbled.

As you may know, in those times those who studied nature were the Druids. Vortigern still had one Druid in his court and he called this man immediately. Immediately the king demanded to hear the import of this terrifying thing. This fellow was a Druid of sorts and he had the second sight. He had been trained for years by the brothers and sisters of that order and he had the second sight. But he had sold himself long since in slavery. He lacked communion with the spirits of the truth. Immediately upon the king's demand, certain coming events paraded before his mind's eye but he was not given understanding of them.

So this unworthy Druid answered: "O great king! I see a vision! I see a young man and a woman, his mother, dragged before you here. This is a most extraordinary youth, a shining child, a flower of Britain. You shall know him for he has no Earthly father. Surely when such a blooming one is sacrificed and buried in your tower's foundation, then the spirit of this hill will see your generosity be appeased and be your ally. Not far! Not far!" At once the king sent riders galloping off where this fool was pointing, seeking the youth and mother. Just as the fellow said, the riders had not far to go.

It was scarcely noon and two of these stern horsemen came upon a most unusual scene. There was a small town there among the hills and before the town there lay the flowery meadow of a ball field. The hearty men and boys were gathered there at their game but were not playing. No, the men and boys were all in a crowd around two at the center and there was angry shouting by one of these toward the other.

The quiet one at the center of the whirl was a most impressive person to the eye, tall and slender, strong and full of grace. He was dark and bright. And there was such a glamour on him that even in this mob of braves the people all stood back from him a pace. The shouting one berated him bitterly the while, saying that he always won their games by guile and stratagem and such a rogue had never lived before in Britain. Then he said a most intriguing thing. He called the shining lad a bastard for, he said, he had no Earthly father.

The two horsemen rode right through the crowd, you may be sure, and threw a rope about him. He did not even look surprised. At their demand, at once, he led them to his mother. Now, his mother was the priestess of the local well and she stood waiting for them there before the little shrine wrapped in a priestly garment, but nonetheless they seized her too and roped her too and led the two of them off to the great round hill where waited Vortigern among the rubble of his schemes.

When the mother and son were dragged before him, the king at once demanded to hear whether in truth the lad possessed no human father.

The priestess said, "Indeed, foul king, 'tis true. When I was young a prince of spirits came to me in dreams and in those shining dreams became my lover. In due course I was full with child and gave this lovely one to birth and called him Merlin."

Without another word from the king, with a gesture of his hands only, soldiers came with spades commenced to dig right at the young man's feet. When they had made a pit man-size and deep they all stood back. With another commanding gesture, the king summoned that false stupid prophet who came and stood by with an axe. So then Vortigern said to young Merlin finally, "If you would speak, speak now!"

Now I must tell you, although this lad gazed in the pit he had no fear of death. He had no fear of life. He had no fear of Earth, nor of the sky, nor of the sea nor anything. In his few years he had communed with all these spirits and come away yet living.

I could show you many things of Merlin's childhood. I could tell you of his mother's teaching and his father's. I could show you timeless times when the little boy had lain enraptured in a magic forest glade among the wheeling stars, among the flashing crystal gems in magic caverns. I could tell true tales of Merlin's childhood you would not believe, save you are a prophet too. But no, suffice it only now to say that by this time he had no fear left in him. Now when this horror lay before him there was no clamping hand upon his throbbing heart. No; instead of that, true vision filled the cavern of his living skull with roiling smoke and dancing flame.

Young Merlin spoke to the king's Druid. He loudly asked this man, crying out, "Have you the slightest notion why this hill quakes so?"

The false Druid answered, "Yes of course, you stupid child. There is an angry spirit in the hill."

"You fool yourself!" cried Merlin, "The nation all entire is quaking!" He said, "Keep digging, soldiers; dig down to this hill's center heart. False prophet, do you know what waits to be revealed there?"

The king's Druid could not reply.

"A pool inside the hill," then spake the boy, "a pool of black boiling water. And when that pool is drained what shall we find?"

Again there came no answer.

"Two great dragons locked in struggle," Merlin said. "That is the reason why the nation quakes."

Well, there was evidently now to be some battle of wizards and Vortigern wanted the winning side. He set his soldiers all with all their implements to digging and the pit grew huge and soon they broke through to a cavern in the hill and there within the cavern all beheld the black pool, deep and roiling up in noxious steam and vapors.

"Now drain the pool!" the boy commanded.

Again Vortigern set the men digging, to break a hole in through the hillside. The black water gushed forth steaming and the pool was drained off to the valley and there below their feet, far far below, two great long serpentine winged things, beings with the heads of dogs and claws of eagles, one red, one white, wrapped about each other struggling, growling, biting.

Gazing upon the writhing beasts, Merlin was filled with a huge true vision. I must not say it was a vision only because it was a mighty prophecy. I must not say it filled his mind's eye for it filled him all entire, flesh and bone and soul, earth and water, air and fire. He was at once filled with the whole truth about the whole human race from our long gone founding to our distant end. The first savage family is with him on that hill and so are we descendent from his time. Our furthest children are with him there now, even now. In perfect detail everything about the human family is with him in that moment.

Beyond this seeming world in which we seem to dwell, this world with past and future, with this and that and left and right – beyond this world there is another, another world your soul can touch, a world where all things always are. Merlin stood rooted in that world in that one terrifying moment and saw and spoke his words to ours. Those who heard him felt themselves opening out like roses blooming. I cannot tell how long it took – it was a timeless time. I cannot tell how near to dusk it was or how the sun had sunk when he was finally finished.

When the young prophet's words were done, Vortigern was heard to loudly moan, "No, no, no. I only meant . . . I only wanted . . . I only wanted to know what all this means for me."

And Merlin answered. Every hair upon his head was white and the air about him shimmered in every color. He softly spoke, "The king of all Saxons now is landing on the nearest coast, three hundred boats about him and the whole armed hosting of his nation. A long war lies ahead, a war of many lifetimes, a war till all the nations are as one. Oh, as for you, your doom is written."

Ah, well, dear ones, that is our tale for now. Next time we meet, if any time we chance to meet again indeed, perhaps a gentler tale will come. Perhaps we'll hear glad discourses of Good King Uther who brought, after many years of strife, a few brief seasons of a gentle peace and fathered famous Arthur. Better times are near at hand.

Fare well!