The Calling

“Forgive me my Liege” said Galahad softly as he knelt before the stone alter, his sword pressing down with the point of the blade digging into the rock. He leant against the blade and spoke directly toward the ground as he rested his forehead against the hilt of the sword, “my life is yours to command”

Francis struggled into a sitting position and swung his legs over the edge of the rock, “what happened?” he asked as he gazed around the cavern, his eyesight clearing as the haze inside his head cleared slowly. He could feel a pressure behind his eyes and a throbbing from his mind as his head clouded and dizziness threatened to overwhelm him.

“You have proven yourself...” the Fisher King spoke in a low rumble and his voice echoed through the cave, “you are the last Pendragon” he stated simply.

“What does that mean?” asked Francis, “I-I do not understand”

“Aye” laughed Lord Kay, “He definitely has Arthur’s quick wit” The other Knights laughed and Francis knew the comment had not been complimentary.

He frowned at Kay and spoke directly to Merlin, “please” he said, “you seem to understand what is going on...please...tell me” he said softly.

Merlin sighed, “You are just like the young Arthur, full of questions and inexperience, expecting the world to fall at your feet” he said smiling, “you are definitely a Pendragon”

“Yes...yes...I got that, but what does he mean. What does all of this mean?” he snapped.

It was the Fisher King who spoke, his voice clouding the cavern “You are the last in the direct bloodline to King Arthur of the Britons” he explained, “it is your divine right to hold Excalibur and protect the country at its greatest time”

“And that is now?” The Fisher King stood silently watching as Francis pulled himself off the stone altar and staggered slightly, placing a hand back on the cold rock to steady himself. “Well?”

The Fisher King turned and walked slowly down the tunnel from whence he had travelled, his figure silhouetted in the light spilling from the entrance. “The Lady will tell you more, I simply define whether you are who you claim to be”

“What...and that is Arthur?” he watched as the Fisher King continued to drag its form down the corridor, “wait...wait” Francis called, “I need more answers!” he called.

“I will meet you at the appointed place...follow the voice and she will guide you”

“Then it isn’t over...” Francis shouted down the tunnel, then turned to the congregation of Knights who bowed their heads as he looked over the group.

“My Liege...” began Galahad.

“Don’t start that again” snapped Francis, “I’m not a King...I’m not a hero, I’m a nobody. I’m not important...I’m just me!”

Merlin placed a hand on his arm and spoke softly, “There is no such thing...” he said, “everybody is important...at least to someone. I have never met anybody yet in my life who I haven’t thought was important. I have watched as empires have risen and fallen...I have watched births and deaths, and in all that time there has never been anyone who has been unimportant. Life and death run hand in hand as constant companions and for some death is the greatest gift” Francis frowned at the comment as Merlin spoke, “you are the last Pendragon...and while the world has gone on and you may not be of royal descent, you are the last of the Holy line of pre-ordained Kings. It is your duty as the last of your bloodline to retrieve Excalibur and do its bidding”

Francis sighed, “but how do you know all this?” he asked, “how do you know I am who you think I am?”

“The Fisher King” Merlin stated simply.

“Yes...yes...the Fisher King” Francis replied throwing his hands in the air, “always the Fisher King, but how do you know?” Merlin paused with his answer and stared at him for a moment as though considering his response. “I mean...if I am Arthur’s descendant, shouldn’t I be pulling Excalibur from the stone!” Francis was met with a blank stare from the old sage, “you know...” insisted Francis, “pull the sword from the stone, that kind of stuff. He who pulls the sword from the stone shall be King of England”

“That was but a legend...”

“This whole thing was but a legend!” laughed Francis, “none of this was real...sorry...is real. Arthur didn’t live, it was a myth, a story designed to unite the country against...whatever...”

“Excalibur was not the sword”

“What?” snapped Francis turning to look at the Knights who had been quiet to this point staring at the exchange between Francis and Merlin.

A large man stepped forward, his clothes were simple, but elegant with golden trim running down the center of his chest plate forming into a rampant lion on the polished metal. Yellowing robes clung to his body over the armour and chain mail and swelled across the rotund stomach which strained beneath the armour. His ginger beard fell across the top of the chest plate, as it fell untidily from his chin in a bedraggled state and ginger hair swept down his back from an unkempt forehead. Francis could see a scar snake its way down his forehead, it ran deep and bore witness to a sadness hidden within the man. He spoke again softly through the crowd, “the sword was not Excalibur” he explained, “the sword was a simple blade placed there as a test of true divinity. The sword Excalibur was presented to the King by the Lady upon his ascension following the test”

“That’s just it!” exclaimed Francis, “I haven’t done any test” he walked around the altar to face the seven Knights, “I haven’t done anything...” he trailed off as he thought his life over, “I haven’t done anything” he said softly. The Knights shuffled uncomfortably as Francis continued to speak mainly to himself, “Eat...sleep...work...I haven’t done anything, just existed” he said and hauled himself back onto the stone altar. “I’ve done nothing” he said softly, “haven’t been anywhere or seen anything. I’ve wasted my time...”

“Then what better time to start” said Bedivere walking from the crowd and placing a hand on his shoulder, “we should all have a starting point for our journey” he said, “this could be yours” he smiled at Francis as he spoke.

“And we are yours to command...” said Galahad, “we are aligned to the throne”

“We will accompany you on your journey” said Bedivere.

“But how do you know I am Arthur...or at least his descendant”

“The Fisher King showed us” explained Merlin, “your mind holds latent images of a bygone age. A time past, but linear in its respect for you...yourself as a person. You are the last Pendragon; you are from Arthur’s loins. Your mind holds family memories of Camlaan and his death. You remember...” Merlin grasped his arms as he spoke directly to Francis, “you heard the voice...”

“And this proves who I am”

“No” said Merlin smiling, “you are alive” he said smiling, “if you had died, then you would have been a false King” The Knights around them broke into riotous laughter as he spoke, much to the horror of Francis as the thought and the magnitude of the test finally sank in.

“Well then...” said Francis, “If I am who you say...and I’m still not convinced, then you had better introduce me...” he waved toward the line of Knights who stood lined against the wall of the cavern.