As soon as he was in the forest, the king saw a great hart before him, and spurred his horse, and rode long eagerly after it, and chased until his horse lost breath and fell down dead from under him. Then, seeing the hart escaped and his horse dead, he sat down by a fountain, and fell into deep thought again. And as he sat there alone, he thought he heard the noise of hounds, as it were some thirty couple in number, and looking up he saw coming towards him the strangest beast that ever he had seen or heard tell of, which ran towards the fountain and drank of the water. Its head was like a serpent’s, with a leopard’s body and a lion’s tail, and it was footed like a stag; and the noise was in its belly, as it were the baying or questing of thirty couple of hounds. While it drank there was no noise within it; but presently, having finished, it departed with a greater sound than ever.
The king was amazed at all this; but being greatly wearied, he fell asleep, and was before long waked up by a knight on foot, who said, “Knight, full of thought and sleepy, tell me if thou sawest a strange beast pass this way?”
“Such a one I saw,” said King Arthur to the knight, “but that is now two miles distant at the least. What would you with that beast?”
“Sir,” said the knight, “I have followed it for a long time, and have killed my horse, and would to heaven I had another to pursue my quest withal.”
At that moment came a yeoman with another horse for the king, which, when the knight saw, he earnestly prayed to be given him. “For I have followed this quest,” said he, “twelve months, and either I shall achieve him or bleed of the best blood of my body.”
It was King Pellinore who at that time followed the questing beast, but neither he nor King Arthur knew each other.
“Sir Knight,” said King Arthur, “leave that quest and suffer me to have it, and I will follow it other twelve months.”
“Ah, fool,” said the knight, “thy desire is utterly in vain, for it shall never be achieved but by me, or by my next of kin.”
Therewith he started to the king’s horse, and mounted to the saddle, crying out, “Grammercy, this horse is mine!”
“Well,” said the king, “thou mayest take my horse by force, and I will not say nay; but till we prove whether thou or I be best on horseback, I shall not rest content.”
“Seek me here,” said the knight, “whenever thou wilt, and here by this fountain thou shalt find me;” and so he passed forth on his way.
Then sat King Arthur in a deep fit of study, and bade his yeomen fetch him yet another horse as quickly as they could. And when they left him all alone came Merlin, disguised as a child of fourteen years of age, and saluted the king, and asked him why he was so pensive and heavy.
“I may well be pensive and heavy,” he replied, “for here even now I have seen the strangest sight I ever saw.”
“That know I well,” said Merlin, “as well as thyself, and also all thy thoughts; but thou art foolish to take thought, for it will not amend thee. Also I know what thou art, and know thy father and thy mother.”
“That is false,” said King Arthur; “how shouldst thou know? thy years are not enough.”
“Yea,” said Merlin, “but I know better than thou how thou wast born, and better than any man living.”
“I will not believe thee,” said King Arthur, and was wroth with the child.
So Merlin departed, and came again in the likeness of an old man of fourscore years of age; and the king was glad at his coming, for he seemed wise and venerable. Then said the old man, “Why art thou so sad?”
“For divers reasons,” said King Arthur; “for I have seen strange things to-day, and but this moment there was here a child who told me things beyond his years to know.”
“Yea,” said the old man, “but he told thee truth, and more he would have told thee hadst thou suffered him. But I will tell thee wherefore thou art sad, for thou hast done a thing of late for which God is displeased with thee, and what it is thou knowest in thy heart, though no man else may know.”
“What art thou,” said King Arthur, starting up all pale, “that tellest me these tidings?”
“I am Merlin,” said he, “and I was he in the child’s likeness, also.”
“Ah,” said King Arthur, “thou art a marvellous and right fearful man, and I would ask and tell thee many things this day.”
As they talked came one with the king’s horses, and so, King Arthur mounting one, and Merlin another, they rode together to Caerleon; and Merlin prophesied to Arthur of his death, and also foretold his own end.
And now King Arthur, having utterly dispersed and overwhelmed those kings who had so long delayed his coronation, turned all his mind to overthrow the Saxon heathens who yet in many places spoiled the land. Calling together, therefore, his knights and men-at-arms, he rode with all his hosts to York, where Colgrin, the Saxon, lay with a great army; and there he fought a mighty battle, long and bloody, and drove him into the city, and besieged him. Then Baldulph, Colgrin’s brother, came secretly with six thousand men to assail King Arthur and to raise the siege. But King Arthur was aware of him, and sent six hundred horsemen and three thousand foot to meet and fall on him instead. This therefore they did, encountering them at midnight, and utterly defeated them, till they fled away for life. But Baldulph, full of grief, resolved to share his brother’s peril; wherefore he shaved his head and beard, and disguised himself as a jester, and so passed through King Arthur’s camp, singing and playing on a harp, till by degrees he drew near to the city walls, where presently he made himself known, and was drawn up by ropes into the town.
Anon, while Arthur closely watched the city, came news that full six hundred ships had landed countless swarms of Saxons, under Cheldric, on the eastern coast. At that he raised the siege, and marched straight to London, and there increased his army, and took counsel with his barons how to drive the Saxons from the land for evermore.
Then with his nephew, Hoel, King of the Armorican Britons, who came with a great force to help him, King Arthur, with a mighty multitude of barons, knights, and fighting men, went swiftly up to Lincoln, which the Saxons lay besieging. And there he fought a passing fierce battle, and made grievous slaughter, killing above six thousand men, till the main body of them turned and fled. But he pursued them hotly into the wood of Celidon, where, sheltering themselves among the trees from his arrows, they made a stand, and for a long season bravely defended themselves. Anon, he ordered all the trees in that part of the forest to be cut down, leaving no shelter or ambush; and with their trunks and branches made a mighty barricade, which shut them in and hindered their escape. After three days, brought nigh to death by famine, they offered to give up their wealth of gold and silver spoils, and to depart forthwith in their empty ships; moreover, to pay tribute to King Arthur when they reached their home, and to leave him hostages till all was paid.
This offer, therefore, he accepted, and suffered them to depart. But when they had been a few hours at sea, they repented of their shameful flight, and turned their ships back again, and landing at Totnes, ravaged all the land as far as the Severn, and, burning and slaying on all sides, bent their steps towards Bath.
When King Arthur heard of their treachery and their return, he burned with anger till his eyes shone like two torches, and then he swore a mighty oath to rest no more until he had utterly destroyed those enemies of God and man, and had rooted them for ever out of the land of Britain. Then marching hotly with his armies on to Bath, he cried aloud to them, “Since these detestable