Stephen Lawhead - Pendragon

'From the earliest days of our race, the Guardians of the Spirit taught that wisdom resides in the heart of oak.' I raised my harp above my head and held it high for all to see. 'I hold in my hands this heart of oak. By virtue of his craft, the bard releases the soul of wisdom to work its will in the world of men.

'Hear, then, and heed all I shall tell you – that you may remember all that you are and may become!'

So saying, I cradled the harp and began to play again. Like a weaver spinning threads of silver and gold, my fingers worked the intricately patterned melody, establishing a gleaming ground for the words I would recite. I played, gazing out upon the faces of all those people – men from every part of Britain, from Prydein, Celyddon and Lloegres, and from Ierne also. They seemed to me hollow people, gaunt-eyed and empty; like their lords, they were starving for the True Word. I realized this and my heart went out to them.

Great Light, I stand humble before your loving power. Move in me, my Lord, that I may move the hearts of men!

In the same instant, I felt the up welling of the awen – like a long-captive bird released to the sky. The melody came first, trailing words in its glittering wake, taking shape as it touched my tongue. I gave myself up to the song; there was no longer Myrddin: only the song existed and I was but a vessel, hollow, empty of myself, but filled with the exquisite wine of the Or an Mor.

I sang and the Great Music poured forth unstinting in its blessing. A new song took life that night, and men were amazed to hear it. This is what I sang:

'In the Elder Age, when the dew of creation was still fresh on the ground, there arose a mighty king and Manawyddan was his name. All the world was his realm, and every tribe and clan owed him tribute. Everything he put his hand to prospered; and wherever he looked, something good and worthy favoured his gaze.

'One day, evil tidings reached Lord Manawyddan and caused him sore distress. The Otherworld, it was said, had fallen beneath the shadow of a usurper who treated the people most cruelly. The Great King decided then and there to give the sovereignty of his realm to the best man he could find so that he might go and free the Otherworld Folk from the sly oppressor. And this is the way of it:

'The Great King summoned his noblemen to attend him and laid the matter before them. 'I am going away for a time,' Manawyddan told them. 'Whether short or long, I do not know, but I shall not return until I have vanquished the Usurper, who even now plunders the Otherworld and lays waste to that fairest of realms.'

'His lords and noblemen answered him. 'Full sorrowful we are to hear your purpose,' they confessed. 'It may be well for the folk of the Otherworld, but it is nothing less than a calamity for us.'

'To this the king replied: 'Nevertheless, this is what I have decided. I will place the kingship in the hands of the man I shall choose, and he shall serve in my place until I return.' And he began to assay among them who was worthy to take up the sovereignty. No easy decision that, for each man among them was as worthy as the next, and no less worthy than his brother. 'In the end, however, he devised a means to put the issue to the test. He caused his Chief Bard to make an ornament of gold shaped like a ball. And then Manawyddan brought forth this ball and held it before his lords. 'This has been made for me,' he told them. 'What think you of it?'

'And they answered, 'It is very beautiful, lord.’

‘The king agreed. 'It is beautiful indeed. And more beautiful than you know, for it is the symbol of my reign.' He lifted the golden sphere before them. 'Here!' he called.

'Take it!'

'With that, the Great King threw the golden ball to his lords. The first one reached out and caught it, easily clasping it to his chest. The king said, 'Thank you, noble friend. You may go.'

'The lord turned to go, but the king prevented him until the golden ornament was retrieved. No sooner had the ball been returned to him, however, than he threw it again to another, who caught it in his fist. 'Thank you, noble friend. You may go,' the Great King told him.

'The chieftain turned to go, but the king prevented him until his precious sphere should be returned. And this is how it was with each man in turn. Each time the king threw the golden ball, it was caught and returned to him – until he threw it to Lludd.

'Up the ball flew and down it came. But the nobleman could not bring himself to grasp it. Seeing the priceless ornament fall from his open hand, Lludd sank to his knees. 'Forgive me, my king,' he cried. 'I am not worthy to touch such a valuable object.'

'But the king raised him up. 'Not so, Lludd,' he told him. 'You alone are worthy to hold my kingship until I return.' So saying, the Great King took up the ball and placed it firmly in Lludd's hand and charged him thus:' Such authority as I enjoy, I give also to you. Hold it until I come again to my kingdom.'

'No one saw King Manawyddan after that, though they often heard tidings of his marvellous deeds in the Otherworldly realms. Lludd, meanwhile, ruled well and wisely. And the realms under his care flourished and grew great. So that none would lack the benefit of his wisdom, Lludd established lords in each realm to serve him and bring before him the needs of the people there.

'One of these lords was a brother named Mab Righ, who watched over his island realm with dedication and devotion. Day or night, whatever trouble the people brought to him, that was all his care.

'Now, it happened that the realm of Mab Righ was attacked by a strange and formidable enemy in the form of three plagues – each more peculiar than the one before.

'The first plague was the arrival of an enemy host called Coranyid, whose knowledge was derived from the fact that they could hear any word spoken anywhere. No matter how hushed the speech, the wind carried the words to them. Thus, no one could say anything against them, and it was impossible to move against them for they always learned the plan and evaded it. The Coranyid laid waste to everything; nothing remained where they passed.

'The second plague was a terrible cry that arose at Beltain on every hilltop, over every hearth, and under every roof in the realm. This cry was of such tormented misery that it pierced the hearts of all who heard it, and there was no living thing anywhere that did not hear it. Men lost their strength, and women their vigour; children swooned, and animals lost their senses. If any female creature was pregnant, a miscarriage resulted. Trees and fields became barren; the water sickened and soured.

'The third plague was the inexplicable theft of food from the houses of chieftains and nobles. No matter how much food was prepared, none remained the next morning: if meat, not so much as a greasy bone was left; if bread, not so much as a grainy crumb; if stew, not so much as a drop of broth. Though they prepared enough food to last a year, by dawn the board was bare.

'These plagues so distressed the people that they raised a piteous lament. Mab Righ was moved to gather all the tribes together to determine what should be done. Everyone was baffled by the plagues; no one knew what had brought them about, nor could anyone say how the island could be rid of them. Three days and nights they bethought themselves what they might do, and in the end Mab Righ summoned his chieftains and, placing the care of the people in their hands, left his island realm to seek the counsel of his wise brother lord.

'A ship was fitted out in secret, and sail was raised in the dark of night so that none should learn of Mab Righ's errand. The ship soared like a gull across the waves, and Lludd, looking out across the sea one day, saw his brother's sails coming towards him. He commanded a boat to be readied, and he set off at once to meet him. Lludd received Mab Righ gladly, embraced him warmly, and gave him gifts of welcome.