Not long after, Uther fell sick, and he knew that his end was come; so, by Merlin’s advice; he called together his knights and barons, and said to them:  “My death draws near.  I charge you, therefore, that ye obey my son even as ye have obeyed me; and my curse upon him if he claim not the crown when he is a man grown.”  Then the King turned his face to the wall and died.

Scarcely was Uther laid in his grave before disputes arose.  Few of the nobles had seen Arthur or even heard of him, and not one of them would have been willing to be ruled by a child; rather, each thought himself fitted to be King, and, strengthening his own castle, made war on his neighbours until confusion alone was supreme and the poor groaned because there was none to help them.

Now when Merlin carried away Arthur—­for Merlin was the old man who had stood at the postern-gate—­he had known all that would happen, and had taken the child to keep him safe from the fierce barons until he should be of age to rule wisely and well, and perform all the wonders prophesied of him.  He gave the child to the care of the good knight Sir Ector to bring up with his son Kay, but revealed not to him that it was the son of Uther Pendragon that was given into his charge.

At last, when years had passed and Arthur was grown a tall youth well skilled in knightly exercises, Merlin went to the Archbishop of Canterbury and advised him that he should call together at Christmas-time all the chief men of the realm to the great cathedral in London; “For,” said Merlin, “there shall be seen a great marvel by which it shall be made clear to all men who is the lawful King of this land.”  The Archbishop did as Merlin counselled.  Under pain of a fearful curse, he bade barons and knights come to London to keep the feast, and to pray heaven to send peace to the realm.

The people hastened to obey the Archbishop’s commands, and, from all sides, barons and knights came riding in to keep the birth-feast of our Lord.  And when they had prayed, and were coming forth from the cathedral, they saw a strange sight.  There, in the open space before the church, stood, on a great stone, an anvil thrust through with a sword; and on the stone were written these words:  “Whoso can draw forth this sword, is rightful King of Britain born.”

At once there were fierce quarrels, each man clamouring to be the first to try his fortune, none doubting his own success.  Then the Archbishop decreed that each should make the venture in turn, from the greatest baron to the least knight, and each in turn, having put forth his utmost strength, failed to move the sword one inch, and drew back ashamed.  So the Archbishop dismissed the company, and having appointed guards to watch over the stone, sent messengers through all the land to give word of great jousts to be held in London at Easter, when each knight could give proof of his skill and courage, and try whether the adventure of the sword was for him.