The Dragon and The Grail

The Dragon and the Grail

by Chris Shelley

Chapter One:

"In faith there is enough light for

those who want to believe and enough

shadows to blind those who don't."

Blaise Pascal

He saw darkness, a bitter cold darkness sparkling here and there but faintly with frozen dew-frost. And though it was only the darkness of night, and despite the moonlit sparkling, it was it seemed a deeper darkness than was usual in those places where the moon failed to shine and deeper still and darker among the pitch dark shadows away among the trees. In his dream he saw a section of a wrought path that meandered through the forest and this was the only place where small shafts of the light of the fervent trembling moon penetrated the darkness and where here and there it caught the jewels of newly frozen dew.

All around was darkness. All about was shadow.

Silence.

There was nothing in the still air but a strange and mournful silence, an unnatural quiet that covered the forest like a thick suffocating blanket, like the silence of the world in snow, but there was no snow here only darkness and deeper darkness and the silence endured in the darkness that enclosed it.

He watched the scene in isolation frozen like an image in a tapestry.

Where nothing moved but time.

Then in the far distance there came a faint rumbling, a rolling trembling drumming faint as a memory pounding through the night. Wherever the noise originated it sounded distant and obscure but gradually it grew louder coming nearer, beating, drumming, pounding down the pathways of night. As the sill air clutched the hem of night time, louder still and louder, closer still and closer still came the thunderous noise, and it sounded like the galloping of a thousand horses charging down the dark hallways of his dreams, closer and closer and closer still.

When it seemed that the drumming could get no louder, it did just that. And when it seemed that the cause of the noise that came racing towards him down the pathways of darkness must appear within sight, it did not. The noise, the drumming, grew louder still and louder again until the din swelled almost beyond the dream, so close it threatened to breach reality.

And then they came. . . . . .

And then they came. . . . . .

And then they came. . . . . .

There appeared in the shadows then a hoard of vile spectres, creatures of the night, evil incarnate, the very picture of terror and spectre of ill.

The Spawn of Satan came then, as if the very gates of hell had unleashed all their venous ills, and made each of them incorporeal and incarnate. Towering above the running demons of the gutting shades came at their head an immense stag. Surely it was the largest deer that any man had ever seen. Here it seemed was the king of all the deer, magnificent in his majesty, with antlers that glowed silver in the blades of moonlight and whose many jagged fingers pierced the errant darkness. The eyes of the beast glowed with flames which scorched the fabric of the night. But it was not the spectres who caught his undivided, and it was not the stag for all its heinous might that compelled his unwavering trepidation, for worse than all his eyes were drawn now to where, upon the creatures back, there rode a man.

All else was forgotten, all else disdained, it was the rider now who claimed all his unwavering attention and plunged his screaming mind into the bowels of a hideous nightmare . A figure clothed in the deepest darkness, cloaked in a samite that was deeper black than the darkest shadow of the surrounding night, a darkness blacker than the very heart of Satan himself. Perhaps this was he, perhaps this was Satan, or perhaps it was Death himself. For sure it was no mortal The figure had a long silver beard and floating silver hair that streamed from within the black cowl that hid his shadowed face and which torched the air around him like the silver flames of a rampant fire In his right hand he brandished a sickle like the very scythe of death himself. Here rode horror incarnate praying on the souls of all mankind.

Around, beside and behind this portent of terror swam the host of awful creatures of the night. The only sound that they made was the pounding of feet, hooves and paws upon the dry ground. Dark wolves with teeth flashing , hags, black and silver foxes, huge raving dogs with white fangs slicing through the night, large cats clad in midnight and many other monsters, monsters unknown and monsters unnamed, with eyes yellow and shining, on they came, tearing, pounding, thundering through the moonlit darkness.

He woke then shaking and trembling , for this nightmare was more near reality than any dream he had ever had or any dream had any business being for even as he woke he heard the drumming echoes of the passing of evil as they tore onward toward dawn. And the noise and the dream stayed with him for moments without end as the sweat of his fear run down him and he fumbled with the fictions of the night.

The next morning as he came wild and unkempt to the table where his family took bread his mother turned to him and fixing him with her one good eye she smiled a humourless fancy, and said A messenger has told me that we shall have a visitor before too many days have passed, the great druid wizard Merlin will be coming to see you. She starred at her young son expecting the fear that she knew this news engendered to be instantly apparent. She was a little disappointed. Pellas starred back at his mother his mouth open his tongue uncooperative, his eyes wide and beating back tears.

Pellas' mind was crowded with confusion. He knew that there had been no messenger, at least no human messenger and he wondered what kind of beast or fowl had brought this awful news to the witch. He turned pale and listless in her gaze,

He was not afraid of her, and though the news she cast at him troubled him it was surmountable.

This was not why he trembled.

This was not why he stammered and baulked.

This was not why he quaked from his nose to his toes.

The dream was true.

Chapter Two

"He will have power to bruise your heel

but you will have power to crush his head"

Genesis3v15

Pellas knew he was in trouble, big trouble, and his problems weren't about to get any the less. His mother had been quite succinct you see, her meaning had been unequivocal, her desire had been put in the most direct and penetrating terms. In fact it had not been so much of a request but was more an order or a command, a command which, unfortunately, he had disobeyed.

Don't you dare get your clothes dirty. she had said, Don't even dream of going outside, she had said. Do not disturb your Grandfather, and do not, I repeat, do not play with the dog. And then as she had wondered off to prepare herself for their visitor he had heard her mutter filthy animal and he wasn't sure if she meant him or the dog.

When you are lame, even if you're used to being lame, sometimes you put the lame foot down and slip or stumble. Sometimes even if you have two good feet you can put a foot wrong, but its easier and happens more often when you are lame. So he had slipped and fallen while he was outside and while playing with the dog, and he had got his clothes dirty. He had done exactly what he had been told not to do and all he could do now was hide outside where he wasn't expected to be.

Pellas stayed outside the Castle. He would be punished if he went in. It was misty still but the sun was threatening to push through the clouds and drive them away. The grass was soggy with dew, but he sat down anyway and the dog sat beside him with his head resting on his best friends knee. Pellas looked down the mountainside, and saw the river running like a dark ribbon through the small village below and then disappearing into the gloomy darkness of a forest that stretched to the grey shrouded horizon as far away as the eye could see. The few houses filled a space hacked out of the forest between the river and the trees. There was smoke wafting gently from a couple of them. The peasants were probably having lunch but perhaps they were just trying to keep warm or dry. It was chilly but Pellas had not slept well so when the sun successfully nudged its way betwixt the last vestiges of cotton wool up above and warmed him a little his sleepy mind wilted and within a whisker of a moment he dozed.

**********

He had no idea how long he had been asleep.

Here he is. It was his mothers voice and she was angry. She was angry because she had had to look for him and because he hadn't come when she called. However now she saw the state that he was in, her anger grew.

Pellas stirred , but kept his eyes closed. He didn't want to open them , because he knew he didn't want to see just quite how angry his mother had become, and he somehow thought that whatever punishment he was about to suffer wouldn't begin until they were sure he was awake.

… And he's filthy. Pellas suddenly wondered who his mother was talking to. She wouldn't talk like that to a servant , and they weren't expecting anyone, His mind struggled into near wakefulness – then he remembered. How could he have forgotten? They were expecting someone!!

Pellas opened his eyes, suddenly even more afraid of what he would see than he was of his mother. He looked up. He was in trouble and any distraction from the beating he was about to get would be most welcome. But the distraction that towered above him dark against the sun seemed suddenly way too big and very very frightening. It was a distraction after all – It was his nightmare come out of the darkness to stand like his worst dream in the shadows of the sunlight before him.

The figure was tall, too tall, and dressed in black a lot of black and he had a white beard and long white hair, and even though Pellas couldn't see the face that stared down on him he and wouldn't have know the face even had he seen it – but he somehow knew that the face was sharp and pointed scared and wrinkled and that the eyes were piercing and as they bore down upon him they revealed his every secret, dream and desire. He suddenly knew that all his sins were laid bare and all his mischief uncovered. He suddenly knew that his life would never be the same and that this was not good. There was only one man who would appear like this, who would appear now, and suddenly Pellas was even more frightened of the interruption than he was of the beating he had been about to suffer

It was Merlin.

Their guest had arrived.

Is this the child? the voice brooked no hesitation, it demanded the truth and nothing but.

Yes this is Pellas, and he is a very naughty child who I am afraid is going to have to be punished. his mother was merciless - the distraction, for what it was, had accomplished nothing.

I will speak with him tomorrow then. said the wizard and as he left the punishment began.

*********

Pellas did not remember ever being in quite as much trouble as he was now. He had been sent to bed with only the merest of scraps to eat and just a glass of water to drink and he was afraid that worse was yet to come because he did not remember ever having seen his mother has angry as she had been the evening before. It was not just his disobedience or his very dirty clothing, it was not even that she had lost her temper in front of a visitor. It was rather because this was no ordinary visitor. This was Merlin.

Pellas had slept badly when he slept at all and now with the morning half gone he still had no intention of leaving his room until someone allowed him to.

The rattle of rain against the walls of the castle was all he heard and rising he looked out of the slit window into the drenching downpour. He had nothing else to do. The forest looked dark almost black and sometimes like today it seemed it threatened to reach out of the surrounding darkness to engulf the village below. The forest looked menacing, even more menacing in weather like this. And was filled with things that a child's nightmares were full of. Things like the wizard who was going to interrogate him. The rain drummed even harder now and all other noise was squashed and unheard beneath it. All noise that is except the strident advance of footsteps getting closer.

They were the footsteps of a woman in a hurry an angry woman who had no time for nonsense or civility. The footsteps sounded clipped, curt, demanding and they were getting louder and they were coming his way.

Pellas thought about hiding under the bed or in the wardrobe but those were the first two places she would look and there was nowhere else he could hide. The angry intolerant footsteps now arrived at their destination, and paused outside his bedroom door. Then with neither a knock or word she opened the door thrust it aside and entered.

Get up. she said.

Pellas suddenly realised that he could have hidden under the bedclothes and tried to do so.

Get up you horrible little boy and get dressed. He is waiting for you. It was threatening, and she made it sound as if it was just another part of the remorseless and unending rain of punishment that would be poured out upon him hour after hour, day after day, until she forgot why he suffered or forgot what he had done and they both knew that she had a very good memory.

Pellas was used to such punishment, "Why does it always rain?" he thought but: Who? he asked, although he already knew the answer. When? He asked though he already knew when.

Merlin, She said And NOW. Her words sounded like a victory as a she threw them at her ailing and errant son..

No. he was not refusing, or denying her, he just didn't want it to be true.

IN THE TOWER. And then she left. She somehow made the tower sound like a place where people were sent to be tortured or executed

Reluctantly Pellas got up, dressed and having dragged his fingers through his black unkempt hair he all too soon found himself climbing the stairs to the tower room. He had put on his warmest clothes, his heavy robe, and his goatskin cloak. He probably stank of damp fur, mold, and stale urine but everyone else smelled very similar. It was not quite so bad, and nobody smelled their own stink anyway.

He was, he discovered, almost more afraid of what would happen if he didn't go to the room in the tower than he was of what he would find when he did – almost but not quite. The door to the room was open and Pellas paused for just a moment before entering. The Wizard was standing looking out of the window with his back towards the newcomer. From here the wizards eyes looked down upon the valley of the River Dee and the small village of Llangollen at the foot of the mountain upon whose rocky prominence the grey castle stood, It was a good view, even in the rain, you could see any enemy foolish enough to come this way several miles off - assuming that is that the enemy came from the East, and of course they always did. - First the Romans, then the Angles and the Saxons all of them came from the East up the valley.

Pellas rarely came here unless he wanted to reach the open roof of the tower which he used to sit on, On those occasions this was just a room that he passed through generally it was full of boxes and chests and stuff that nobody used much, now the room was full of far more interesting things. Pellas didn't even stop to wander where they had come from of when and who had brought them here, the answer of course was that it was magic. There was a large table covered with all sorts of magically paraphanalia, glass bottles and books, some open, mostly stacked in piles. There was a retort , several candles and some other metal and glass contraptions that looked incredibly interesting and which Pellas could not even begin to give a name to. There were shelves also full of bottles and bric-a-brac several chairs and more cases and boxes than usual scattered around on the floor and on a perch on a stand slightly above his head height here was a large horn eared owl who seemed to be asleep. The room smelled of magic.

Sit down. said the grey-haired sorcerer without turning round. And Pellas who was suddenly nothing but obedient did as he was told.

The forest was grey and shrouded in the mist that was falling rain. Sometimes it looked like a living thing that breathed and had hopes and fears. More often though the forest seemed sullen and brooding or was dark and sombre and full of things most men feared even if they didn't really know what they were, Merlin expected that Pellas was afraid of the forest, but of course most men were, and like all human frailties such fears were something Merlin could use to manipulate and control. Merlin also knew that Pellas was afraid of him.

Morrigon broods over the forest Pellas, she glides above the trees, darkness on ravens wings, black as death, she seeks those who fail and fall that she may peck at them and pluck their souls from their stinking bodies and so she can carry them away to whatever hell they have made for themselves. She is there now. Pellas couldn't see the bird or the forest but he took the wizards word for it.

Merlin gazed at the youth, intimidating the child even more than he was: The child had hair as black as a ravens wing, cut at his shoulders in the celtic style and not like the Romans cut theirs. His sharp nose remind Merlin of his mothers shrewish features, but he knew that neither the child or his mother were stupid enough to be bad tempered or haggish and nagging. The child looked inquisitive, and though he was obviously scared he was trying hard not to let the wizard see it. He also sought to hide his lameness, keeping his deformed left foot tucked out of sight behind the right one. Merlin approved of what he saw.

Do you know why I'm here? asked the wizard.

Pellas couldn't even raise a stutter, words, in fact all the effort at reply was beyond him. He couldn't even murmur a mumble.

The Wizard turned to see what was going on and as the boys mouth opened and closed, he added, Have they not told you why I'm here?

Pellas continued to stammer and stutter and say nothing. The old man's eyes pierced him like daggers.

I'll take that as a no. suddenly the wizard smiled, and his face became happy and his eyes bright. He leant towards the young boy and chuckling to himself he said. I have come to test you, I have come to see if you have the makings of a king.

Pellas wasn't sure whether he was quite as frightened of the man who now smiled at him as he had been of the black clothed figure whose face he had never seen. Perhaps this person was as fearful as the spectre who rode a mighty stag through his dreams but the face now that he saw wasn't quite as sharp and menacing as he had imagined it to be. True the eyes opened up his soul and penetrated into the darkest recesses of his mind, but the face smiled and said: Yes, my little tadpole, a King.

Might? b,,,b,,,b,, but,,,I WILL be a king one day When Pellas was nervous he stuttered a bit and fiddled with things. He now tried pushing his errant black hair back where it belonged, tucking it behind his ear. It was a pointless task for it didn't calm his nerves one tiny bit.

The wizard scoffed. A King!!!

B... b... b... but won't I be king when my father dies. He sounded hopeful. His mother had told him he would be, especially if he behaved himself.

The wizard turned and looked out of the window once more at nothing. Pellas, you are the son of a king, and the grandson of a king and you live in a country full of a hundred kings, but a country that needs a king worthy of the name, a country that needs a King of Kings, a king perhaps like your wise old grandfather. You live in a country that, unless it pulls itself together, will collapse amidst petty conflict and strife and yet if this country can find; if I can find, one king to rule them all, then this country could survive. He turned and now peered closely into the eyes and soul of the child: We need a king, and not just a King, but a king that is more than a king. And that king shall be called the Pendragon, like Caradoc, or Uther. I am not suggesting you are that king or that you might be that king all I am suggesting is that you might be a king worthy of the name and as for the rest, we shall see.

But I will be ...He wasn't sure if he was about to protest or affirm what the wizard said, but he never finished..

You will be dead before you're ten years older if you don't pay attention and listen to me. Merlin turned his back on the rain and the dark forest far beneath them and sat down in a comfy arm chair; Now show me your foot……No the lame one.

I was here when you were born. said Merlin turning the offending ankle in his hand and feeling how the bones were set. Your mother was most distressed when the midwife told her that you were deformed. She became quite angry. Pellas could quite imagine