And this is what she said:

'I have seen a land shining with goodness, where each man protects his brother's dignity as readily as his own, where war and want have ceased and all races live under the same law of love and honour.

'I have seen a land bright with truth, where a man's word is his pledge and falsehood is banished, where children sleep safe hi their mother's arms and never know fear or pain.

'I have seen a land where kings extend their hands in justice rather than reach for the sword; where mercy, kindness, and compassion flow like deep water over the land, and men revere virtue, revere truth, revere beauty, above comfort, pleasure, or selfish gain. A land where peace reigns in the hearts of men; where faith blazes like a beacon from every hill, and love like a fire from every hearth; where the True God is worshipped and his ways acclaimed by all.'

Charis opened her eyes, glistening from a mist of tears. 'These are the words of Taliesin. Hear and remember,' she said, and, looking down at her feet saw Arthur kneeling there, holding the sword she had given him across his palms. No one had seen him leave his place.

Merlin was on his feet, his face glowing in the light of the fire. Excitement drew his features taut. 'Arthur?'

Charis raised a hand to Merlin and stopped him. She touched Arthur lightly on the cheek, and he raised his head. His eyes were shining, too – not from tears or the fireglow, but from the glory of the vision awakened by Charis' words.

'What is it, Arthur?' she asked.

'You have given me the sword,' he said, in a voice stiff with emotion. 'And now you have given me the vision with which to use it. Now I know the reason for my birth: I will be the Summer Lord. With the help of God and his angels, I will do it. I will establish the Kingdom of Summer.'

'What is it you wish of me?'

'Consecrate me, my lady, to the task for which I was born.'

'But I -' began Charis, glancing at Abbot Elfodd for help. The abbot came to stand beside her and, putting his hand into his sleeve, withdrew a small vial of oil. This he pressed into Charis' hands, encouraging her to do as Arthur bade.

She accepted this and, laying her hands on Arthur's head, began to speak in a voice tender and low, saying 'As a servant of the Saviour God, I commend you to this noble task, Arthur ap Aurelius. In the name of Jesu, who is the Christ, I anoint you with this oil as a symbol of his authority and abiding presence.' She touched her finger-tips to the vial and made the sign of the cross on his brow.

'Be upheld in his power; be filled with his wisdom; be strong in his love; be just and merciful in his grace. Rise, Arthur, follow the vision that Our Lord Jesu has given and called you to obey.'

Arthur took Charis' hand and pressed it to his lips. Then he rose up, and I beheld him with new eyes. For he was not the same Arthur any more; he had changed.

His hands gripped Caledvwlch with solemn purpose; his clear blue eyes radiated peace and joy. Yes, and the light streaming from his countenance blazed with a high and holy fire.

Merlin came to stand before him with upraised hands, in the manner of a declaiming druid. With a solemn and mighty voice he began to speak. And this is what he said:

'Behold a king of stature in ring-forged mail, helmed with majesty and light! Behold a bright warrior, who strives against the pagan with the cross of Christ upon his shoulder! Behold a lord in whom other lords find their substance and worth!

'See his court! Justice erected it, stone by stone. See his hall! Honour raised its high-peaked roof. See his lands! Mercy nurtures root and branch. See his people! Truth reigns in their unselfish hearts.

'Behold a kingdom of peace! Behold a kingdom of right! Behold a king ruling with wisdom and compassion as his stalwart counsellors!

'Behold Arthur, of whom it is said: His days were like the Beltane fire leaping from hilltop to hilltop; the soft wind from the south laden with fragrant airs; the sweet rain of spring on the red-heathered hills; autumn's full harvest bringing wealth and plenty to every hearth and holding; the rich blessing of heaven from the Gifting God to his contrite people!

'Behold the Kingdom of Summer!'

I Bedwyr, a prince of Rheged, write this. My father was Bleddyn ap Cynfal, Lord of Caer Tryfan in the north, kinsman to Tewdrig ap Teithfallt and the lords of Dyfed in the south.

Though the Devil take me, I will always remember meeting Arthur for the first time. It was at Caer Myrddin in Dyfed. Myrddin had brought Arthur there to hide him from his enemies, and my father had come to deliver me to Tewdrig's court, where I would receive my first fosterage. Arthur was but a squally babe.

Not that I was so very much older myself – all of five summers, perhaps, but old enough to think myself already a warrior of vast renown. I stalked the rampart of Tewdrig's stronghold, gripping the shaft of a short wooden spear my father had made for me.

While the kings held council concerning affairs of the realm, I marched around the caer pretending that I was its lord and chief. My only thought was that one day I would become a warrior like my father, a respected batdechief, and I would kill Saecsens and make my people proud of me.

To be a warrior! It was sun and stars to me. I could not sleep unless I held my wooden spear in my hand. The life of a warrior held great allure for me then; it was all I knew. Oh, but I was very young.

Caer Myrddin – Maridunum of old – fairly blazed under a hot summer sun. Everywhere men were busy and working; hard metal glimmered and gleamed from every corner, and the sound of a hammer on steel rang in the shimmering air like sounding iron, or church bell. The caer was a good deal larger than our own at Penllyn. It bespoke the power and wealth of the king, as was fitting.

And Tewdrig had a smith – which we did not have. The hall was larger, too; timber and thatch, with a great planked door bound in iron. The walls were timber, topping steep earthen ramparts.

I stood on the bank above the ditch, imagining I alone defended the gates and that victory depended upon me. Absorbed in my dreams of future glory, I felt a touch on the haft of my spear and glanced round. The infant Arthur was clutching the end of my spear in his chubby hands and grinning toothlessly at me.

I jerked the spear angrily. But he held on. I jerked again, and still he did not let go. Such a grip! Well, of course I was forced to show him that I was his better, so I stepped close and shoved the spear against his chest. His unsteady stumps buckled and he toppled backwards into the dust. I laughed at him and gloated in my superior strength.

He did not cry put as I expected him to, nor did the smile disappear from his round face. He simply gazed merrily at me with not so much as a mild reproach in his wide blue eyes.

Anger and shame battled within me. Shame won. Glancing around guiltily – lest anyone should see what I had done – I quickly stooped and took his fat little arm in my hand and pulled Arthur to his feet.

We were friends from that moment, I believe. Little Arthur became my shadow, and I the sun that rose in the sky for him. Few were the days that we did not spend in one another's company. We broke the same bread, drank from the same cup, breathed the same air. And later, when he joined me in the boys' house, we became closer than brothers.

When men think of Arthur now, they think of the emperor and his lands and palace. Or they think of the glorious battlechief, whose victories stretch behind him like a gem-crusted strand. They think of the invincible Pendragon who holds all Britain in sure, strong hands.