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watched were wary, not inimical to the pair as yet
Gwalchmai unwrapped Excalibur and went forward into the cleft. Corenice followed, pressing close
behind. The rock walls pinched together after a few steps, until they could touch the cold granite on either
side.
At this juncture there were sounds of little following footsteps behind them and a scratching as of claws
upon the stone above their heads. There was still light to see by, and although they could discern no
definite forms there was a misty gathering all about and they knew that they were surrounded.
Gwalchmai had been told of the invisible people of Cornwall The Spriggans, the Piskies, and the
Jacks-of-the-Lan-terns. He knew also that giants had dwelt here in times long gone. Who it was that
guarded the tomb he did not know but the ring was growing hot and danger must be close.
He held up his hand and turned it about
We are come here on a mission for your Master, Merlin the Enchanter, who set you here as Watchers.
View his ring, which I bear, and do it homage for his sake. Show me where lies the door that I may open
it and enter to lay this blade in the hands of Arthur, the Undying!
There was a chorus of little muted voices. Surprise was in the tones and pleasure and a feeling of
adoration all about the pair.
The padding feet still circled them, but there was no scratching: the claws were sheathed. Then, just
before them, at the height of a man s eyes against the rock where the two walls of the cleft met, a spot of
light came into being.
A replica of the monogram upon the bezel of Merlin s ring!
Without hesitation, Gwalchmai at once fitted the engraved opal into the carving upon the granite. With a
grinding, rushing sound the walls retreated on either side, disclosing a bronze door, above which was
inscribed in deeply incised Roman lettering, in Latin:
HERE ARTHUR LIES KING ONCE AND KING TO BE
The door opened to a touch and Gwalchmai and Corenice stepped into a hushed and softly lighted room.
It was a circular chamber, rich with subdued color. Around its circumference ran a mural divided into
three sections by lines of shadow cast from three bars of gold which curved about a glowing ball of light.
This hung from the domed ceiling on a long golden chain, set in the center of a flower with twelve petals.
Each petal was named after a Roman month, the series beginning with April and ending with February,
according to the Roman year.
As the two of them entered and stirred the air, the delicate petals trembled. There was a tiny soft click
and the lines of shadow moved forward along the mural by an infinitesimal degree. Three lines of letters
moved with them along the upper border of the mural.
Gwalchmai read: THIS is WHAT WAS. It stood above the first section. The pictures were not
painted, but cast upon the wall by the light in the pendant globe. Here were displayed Saxon
dragon-ships upon the sea, engaged in crashing battle against Romano-British galleys supported by one
great dromon that rode the invading enemy down beneath its forefoot. Another row of pictures below
this series showed Arthur s twelve defeats of the Saxon hordes, and the third and last set forth, hi vivid
scenes, the long journey of Merlin, which brought his wounded King to this safe place of refuge.
Gwalchmai looked between the next two lines of shadow dividing the mural. THIS is WHAT is, he
whispered into Corenice s ear, as though by speaking he would disturb the sleeper who lay upon a bier
beneath the globe.
The man was heavily boned and heavily bearded. There was no mistaking the look of majesty in his face;
it would have been recognized in any country or under any circumstance.
Here reposed one who was born to rule one who was still his nation s hope one who slept, biding a
time of great need. Arthur, the Hoped-For! The Great Pendragonl Arthur, the Undying!
THIS is WHAT is, Gwalchmai repeated and looked at the pictures before him on the wall.
Here lay the sad representation of a conquered island. Saxons in submission, then1 stiff necks bowed.
The fury was gone from their faces, replaced by calm resignation. Their hands held hoe and shovel
instead of ax and buckler, for their wars were past, and Norman knights lorded it over them hi pride and
arrogance. Norman keeps and Norman banners held the hills, the waterways, the forests, and the
mountain passes, and Norman ships encumbered the sea.
Yet there was one little spot that still was Britain the mountains of the west, where dwelt the remnants
of the people the Saxons had never conquered and who now alone defied the new invader. Here dragon
standards still streamed above marching men and proudly marked the castles of the free.
It was not yet time to wake from sleep and take up the sword for final battles. There was the third
section to view:
THIS IS WHAT IS TO COME
Again the three strips of pictures covering the remaining wall from ceiling to floor. At the top, men warred
against machines. The murky skies were lit by burning cities, through the smoke of which slipped sleek
birds of death.
The ground was alive with clanking flame-spouting horrors, but men survived.
In the center strip, much time had passed. Here there were no more cities seemingly no more people.
Machines fought other machines. The landscape was littered with rusting, tortured metal, the hills and
plains torn and blasted. The trees were gone and the stumps lay black and decayed like rotting teeth.
Above the desolation drifted clouds of dreadful mist, glowing a hard and deadly blue, reflected in pools
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