Arthur Rex Read Online Free PDF Page B

animals had staled.
    And during this time the barbarians increased their inroads into the realm, and soon the cities and villages under British sovereignty were islands in an Anglish sea, except for remote Wales and also Cornwall, in which Gorlois’s successor Mark held sway and took unto himself the new title of king, which you can be sure Uther Pendragon, if his old self, would never have suffered him to do.
    When finally the Anglish forces were nearing Winchester itself, old Ulfin holding his nose went unto Uther Pendragon and spake as follows.
    “Sire,” said he to the king, who lay upon straw before the disused fireplace large enough to roast three beeves at once for the banquets of yore.
    Now the king recognized him with difficulty through reddened eyes and the unkempt beard which, not having been trimmed in many months, all but covered his visage. “Ah, is it thee, old Ulfin? Look thou there, at the sorrel!” He pointed to a snorting stallion that did at the moment lift its forequarters to mount a complaisant mare. “Once such cockstands were routine to me,” said Uther Pendragon, directing Ulfin’s gaze to rest upon the horse’s stout tool, then he fell into a desolation, saying, “Alas, no more. Ulfin, I am ill.”
    “Ill, Sire?” asked the aged Ulfin.
    “The corruption hath reached my brain, I fear,” said Uther Pendragon. “I can fasten my mind to nought.”
    “Alas,” said Ulfin, “the Angles and the Saxons are at our gates with a great host and can not long be withstood by our forces unless the men are inspired.”
    And at this Uther Pendragon did attempt to rise, for his British heart had not lost its valor, but his limbs were too feeble to sustain him. Therefore he commanded Sir Ulfin to fetch a litter and bearers for it, and it came and he was placed upon it and he was carried without the walls at the head of his army, where upon the plain before Winchester he did battle with the Saxons and he defeated them soundly. For though himself too weak to swing a sword, from his litter in a voice that was still mighty he urged his host on in such words as these.
    “Cut down the shit-eaters and carve their rotten bellies out and wind their stinking guts around their necks and drive staves up their dirty arseholes. Rip off their ballocks and shove them down their muzzles,” and so on in language of the greatest eloquence for its effect on the British warrior. And great carnage was made. But the effort proved to be the last such ever made by Uther Pendragon, for when he was carried into the castle once more he knew he was dying, and he did call old Ulfin to him and say as much.
    Said Ulfin, “Shall I fetch the bishop of Winchester, for to perform the last rites so that you will be in the proper state to be received in Heaven?”
    Uther Pendragon swore a terrible oath, the which the ancient knight took as evidence that the malady had indeed polluted the royal brain, and the king then roared, “I’d sooner burn in Hell than admit that bloody bugger! Fetch me Merlin.”
    But Ulfin did not have to go far, for Merlin appeared in an instant and came to the litter.
    “Merlin,” said Uther Pendragon, “thou dost find me dying. Nor can thine arts restore me now. But I seem suddenly, if dimly, to recall that I begat a child upon the then fair Ygraine many years ago, the which thou didst take away at birth. Dost yet have it someplace?”
    “Indeed, Sire,” said Merlin. “I know where he is kept.”
    “‘He,’” said Uther. “Then ’tis a male, Merlin?”
    “Male,” said Merlin, “and hale.”
    “Doth he, Merlin, display the attributes of a future king?” asked Uther.
    “Those of a very great one,” said the magician.
    “Then,” said Uther Pendragon, “I expect we had better find someone we can trust to establish a regency until this boy comes of age, who must now be five or six years old.”
    “He is fifteen, Sire,” said Merlin.
    “Damn me!” swore the king. “Can that be