Camelot

Something to note, all myths have many versions and variations. For this episode, we've selected those we felt are the most dramatic and entertaining and supplemented them with additional research into medieval British traditions. Our myths may not always be the version you're familiar with, but we hope you'll enjoy them. And be warned, today's episode contains depictions of violence and sexual situations. Please exercise caution for listeners under 13.

Darkness covered the forest of betagrain. In the neighboring meadow, 100,000 lights glowed. Most of the soldiers were already asleep in their tents, armor stacked neatly beside them. Those that were still awake. Huddled around the flames, drinking and muttering dark thoughts. Every now and again, a soldier cast a mutinous glance at the large pavilion near the center of the encampment. Lantern light glowed from within, evidence that

that their commanders were still plotting inside. Three years have passed since Arthur's coronation at Carleon. Back then there were only six of us. Now, we are eleven. Eleven kings, eleven armies against one. And yet. We are losing this war. The problem is this. The people love him. They hide his forces, provide them food, shelter, and intelligence. Our fight becomes more costly every day.

And now, Arthur is courting new allies. King Lot turned from his war map to glower at the ten commanders seated around him. Two were already drunk and one had dozed off. It is time to end this war once and for all. The people think Arthur is their savior. Then let him save them. I will march on Cornwall Spreading rumors that I intend to raise it. Arthur will come to defend the town. But when he arrives, All of you will be waiting. No exits, no retreat, one final battle. Who's with me?

What is that? Lot rushed to the entrance of the pavilion. His face went rigid with shock. Knights on horseback charged through his camp, cutting down soldiers as they emerged from their tents. a wall of infantry advanced from the other end, spearing sleeping men with their pole axes. Lot's forces scrambled to mount a defense, but they were disorganized and confused. Most had no time to put on armor,

With dawning horror, Lot realized his mistake. His enemy was not as noble or naive as he'd assumed, but he'd been right about one thing. No exits, no retreat. One final battle.

Welcome to Mythology, a Spotify original from Parcast. Every Tuesday we present dramatic stories from ancient mythology and explore their origins. I'm your host and narrator, Vanessa Richardson. You can find all episodes of Mythology and all other Spotify originals from Parcast for free on Spotify. This week we return to the British Isles for another epic story from Arthurian legend. When Geoffrey of Monmouth put quill to parchment in the 12th century CE, he created a movement.

King Arthur already existed as a folk hero, possibly based on a historical figure, but Monmouth's writings catapulted him to mythic status. The legend of Arthur captured European imaginations like few stories since the Holy Bible. Here was a magical hero who defeated the Saxons and united all of Britain. As Monmouth's rendition made its way to France and Germany, and then Spain and Portugal, other writers took his story and ran with it.

Some of these new tales were quickly forgotten. Others, like Wace's Roman de Brute, the poems of Robert de Boron, and the Arthurian romances by Christian Dutoit became core pieces of the legend. Over centuries they transformed Monmouth's simple narrative into a rich, sprawling, sometimes indecipherable saga. At the center of it all was Camelot. First appearing in 1170 in French author Christian Dutoit's writings, this castle city became Arthur's main stronghold and the center of his court.

It was the place where every adventure started and ended. A gleaming city on a hill, a symbol of chivalry, honor, and virtue. But Camelot was not all a place of light and wonder. From the earliest days of Arthur's rule, his kingdom was marked with a stain of evil. A darkness that, if left unchecked, would spell calamity for all of Britain. Coming up, a king kneels. New Maybelline Serum Lipstick. Lane.

Dawn broke over the forest of Bedagrain. In the neighboring meadow, 100,000 campfires smoldered. The corpses of soldiers and horses lay amidst the sea of broken tents. Infantrymen wearing Arthur's bear sigil moved through the field, searching for survivors. King Arthur stood on a low hill overlooking the wreckage. His once bare chin now sported a trimmed blonde beard.

His armor was dark with blood and dirt. His eyes, the same sky blue as they'd been since his youth, had seen enough horrors to last a lifetime. He was eighteen years old. Arthur turned. King Lot knelt before him, flanked by two of Arthur's knights, Sir Kay and Sir Bedevere. A broken spear protruded from Lot's shoulder. King Lot Three years ago I promised that I would see you kneel. Now that promise is complete. Your forces are decimated. Your allies have abandoned you. As you say.

I make you my own promise. Spare my life, and I will serve as your vassal. My land shall be your land, my sons. All night. You are a dangerous man to keep alive. Arthur stepped forward, drawing Caliburn from its scabbard. He had pulled this sacred sword from the anvil at St. Paul's, proving he was to be the true King of England.

Now he placed the flat of the blade against Lot's cheek. I have faced many enemies these last years, but none so great as you. It would be an honor to welcome you to my court. Ha ha ha ha! The great hall at Carleon reverberated with music and joyous voices. Knights and ladies sang, ate, danced, and drank as if it were the last night of their lives. In fact, it was just the opposite. It was the dawning of a new era.

Only Arthur seemed unable to join the merrymaking. He sat at the head of the table, his gaze distant, as if he was looking past the hall and into the night beyond. In the seat beside him, his trusted advisor Merlin prattled on while devouring an especially large meat pie. Hm fantastic mutton, I dare say, boy, and the sauce. Oh, we'll be sure to bring the chef when we move court. Speaking of which

Have you given any more thought to the new location? I still don't see what's wrong with Carleon. The keep needs repairs, but the people here are loyal to us. It served us well. It served us fine, but we couldn't exactly be choosy in wartime. A kingdom to last the ages needs a capital, with good bones, somewhere strong, solid, Ah, and big. Somewhere your enemies will think twice before attacking. What enemies?

We won the war. Lot sworn fealty, and the other rebel kings have surrendered or fled. There will always be more enemies, Arthur, which is why a proper seat of power is so critical. What about that castle downriver from Astelot? Camelot. Not the worst idea, but not my first choice. Why do you suggest it? I like the people there.

The forests to the east are full of wild game, and the meadows would be excellent for hosting tournaments in the summer. Ah, yes, you and your games, tournaments and hunts. A true king does not have time for such frivolities. Remember, Arthur, a king is a servant to his people. He must always strive for greatness, not for his own sake, but for theirs.

He must be confident, sure footed. Merciful but just. The half drunk wizard continued his sermon, oblivious to the fact that Arthur was no longer listening. The young king's gaze had drifted further down the table, Lod and his family sat at the far end. The seats around them were empty. Arthur's knights had refused to sit in their recent enemy's presence. Despite the cold reception, the enormous lot devoured his food with defiant gusto.

Four young sons sat beside him, glancing fearfully around the hall. Arthur's stomach tightened. What must they think of him? If Lot had won the war, would one of them eventually have become king instead of him? For all he knew, they would have been better suited to it. Then Arthur's gaze drifted to Lot's wife. she looked to be twenty years older than Arthur, dressed in an elegant crimson robe, her raven hair in an intricate braid.

From her faultless posture to her glittering jewelry, there was no mistaking that she was a woman of significant stature. Arthur had heard rumors that she was even higher born than her husband, Seeing her in person, he found it an easy rumor to believe. Lot's wife suddenly turned, meeting Arthur's eyes. He looked away quickly, but not before catching a hint of a smile on the woman's lips. And of course, there must be time for children. What? Children?

But I'm not even married. How could I forget? Another thing to add to the list we must discuss your future queen. Where are you going? I'm not feeling well, Merlin. I think I might turn in early. Ah, yes. Ah, good thinking. You should be well rested before we set out to scout castle. I will inform the stablemaster that we leave on the morrow. Sure. Whatever you want.

Arthur's feet felt heavier with every step as he climbed the stairwell to his chambers. All he wanted was to sink into his bed and the oblivion of sleep, to be free from the decisions, the non stop responsibilities, and especially from Merlin's pestering, As he stepped onto the landing, Arthur jumped with surprise. A woman sat on a bench next to the tower's small stained glass window.

Excuse me. I didn't expect anyone up here. Well, there's no need to apologize to me. Not in your own castle, Your Highness. You're Lady Morgaze, aren't you? Lot's wife? What are you doing up here? Forgive me, but I was feeling a bit confined at the party. I thought I might lie down, but I can't seem to find my rooms. Well, that's all right.

It's just down this stairwell, two flights, left at the hall, then a right into the next stairwell. Won't you show me I'm ever so helpless with directions? Well Alright. I was watching you at dinner. Your wizard certainly had much on his mind. That's Merlin. He's never once failed to fill a quiet moment in the three years I've known him.

During the war it was military strategy from dawn to dusk. And now the fighting's over. It's your marital prospects. How did you know? Doesn't everyone? I don't know what you mean. Arthur What is the point of a king? What is his job? Um He makes decisions, wins battles, keeps his people safe, I suppose. That's three answers, all of them wrong. A king has one purpose: to provide stability.

Stability means children. You've seen what happens when a king dies without an heir. It leaves a chasm that can only be filled through war. So everyone's waiting for me to get married so I can have a kid as soon as possible? Don't look so glum. It could be worse. You could be a queen. But I've never even courted a woman before. I don't know the first thing about it. Well, it's just like anything else. All it takes is a bit of practice. Here are your rooms.

Won't you come inside? I'm enjoying our conversation. I really should be getting back. I leave first thing tomorrow to scout for a new capital. I'm worried about you, Arthur. I can see you're all tied up inside. I believe you need a tutor. Someone to teach you how to go about things the right way. And I dare say that wizard isn't going to cut it. What do you say, Arthur Would you like me to tutor you? I'm not sure exactly what you mean.

Yeah, more gaze. Arthur spun around as King Lot's hulking figure emerged from the stairwell. Arthur was suddenly acutely aware of how close Lady Morgaze was to him. For a horrible moment he was sure King Lot was going to lunge at him. Then he smelled the king's breath, and realized Lot was almost too drunk to stand. Oh whoa what a what what are you doing here?

I got lost looking for our rooms. Arthur was kind enough to show me the way. That's right. Just giving directions. I hope you find your quarters, um, satisfactory. Good night. Arthur, huh? You want some advice? Boy. Okay. Don't take it so seriously. The king of business. Show some joust. Meet some young princesses. Show your wild oats as they say, because it won't last forever. And when it's over. You're going to wish you'd enjoyed yourself when you had the chance.

I'll keep that in mind. Arthur turned and fled up the stairs to his quarters. He shut the door and barred it behind him, then threw himself onto his bed.

Sleep did not find him, at least not immediately. Arthur lay awake for hours, a storm of thoughts and feelings raging within him. It wasn't just the bizarre encounter with Lady Morgays that bothered him. Ever since his coronation, life had only gotten messier. With each battle he had grown more competent as a leader and less certain that he was on the right side.

drawing Caliburn from the anvil had marked him a king, yet as he watched men die in his name, he felt less and less worthy of the crown. He wondered if he ever would.

Just as he was finally starting to drift off, he heard it. Who's there? Don't get up. Morgaze stood in the open doorway, cast in silhouette by the torchlight in the hallway. Despite the darkness, Arthur could see that she only wore a thin nightgown. Lady Morgaze? What are you doing here? And how did you get in here? I locked the door. Or did you intentionally leave it unlocked because you hoped I would come? I'm pretty sure I locked it. Have you given any more thought to my proposal?

About your education, You said you leave in the morning, which means we don't have much time for your first lesson. Arthur's eyes went wide as the Queen's nightgown fell to the floor. She approached the bed wearing only a wry smile. Arthur lay frozen as she reached up to stroke his cheek. All of Britain watched when you became a king. Now, let's see if we can't make you a man. Coming up, Arthur's sin spawns unforeseen consequences.

What could be more shocking than uncovering the deep, dark secrets behind history's biggest stories? Realizing that everything you thought was true was a lie. Hi, it's Carter from the Parcast series Conspiracy Theories. Every Monday and Wednesday, take a closer look at the blurred line between in fiction and discover that there may be more to the so-called truth than you think. From the government's linked.

And the otherworldly secrets of the Vatican, to the grateful dead's role in the spread of LSD. And more. On conspiracy theories, we leave no stone unturned and no skeptic unheard. Some may just be outlandish claims. Others may make you rethink everything. Follow the Spotify original from Parcast Conspiracy Theory. Listen free only on Spotify. Now back to the story.

It was a bright, warm summer day. As two horses and riders made their way from Carleon, Arthur rode beside Merlin, keeping Shamray, his cream-white palfrey, to an easy canter. His thoughts swam with images of the previous night. He could still picture Lady Morgaze's lit body beside him, just as he could still hear her musical laughter and feel her breath on his neck.

He wasn't sure how to feel about what had happened. Certainly he'd enjoyed it, but when he'd awoken, Lady Morgaze had already been gone. In her wake, a feeling of emptiness had taken root in Arthur's stomach. and as the hours passed, all his euphoria had turned to shame. It wasn't just the sin itself, it was the betrayal King Lot might have been his enemy, but Arthur had accepted his surrender and welcomed him into his court. Now, with a single act, he'd made a mockery of their alliance.

Arthur was so mired in his own dark thoughts he didn't notice Merlin watching him even more closely than normal. You're awfully quiet this morning, boy. Not still flummoxed over our conversation on childbearing, are you? Come on. It's not all that horrible. And what would you know about it? I thought you didn't have any kids. Not from a lack of trying, but perhaps it's the prospect of finding a bride that's got you more worried.

Three years of war hasn't left much opportunity for getting to know young ladies, I suppose. I'm just tired, Merlin. I didn't get much sleep. Uh, I don't understand. I thought you turned in early. Did something happen? No, nothing. I just had some Strange dreams is all. Dreams are not nothing, boy. They are a window into the world beyond our shallow selves. Past, present, and future meet and clash, like winds colliding over dark water. Most men will only see the storm.

But the experienced sailor sees where the winds have been and where they will go next. Tell me. What did you dream? Alright, if you really want to know. But I don't promise it will make any sense. It was just a dream, after all. I was hunting with my foster brother Kay in the forest, near where I grew up. We were following a white deer. I don't know which of us fired the arrow, but it was wounded, and leaving a trail of blood through the woods. We followed the blood to the mouth of a cave,

It was dark inside, but I could hear the deer inside. And something else. An army of monsters came pouring out of the cave. Griffin, basilisks, chimeras, and dragons, all belching terrible flames. Their breath scorched the trees, and soon the whole forest burned. Next thing I knew, I was on a hilltop, watching as the beasts poured across the land in a great wave, burning towns and leveling cities. The fields were littered with the dead.

All my friends among them. I saw Kay clawed to death by a griffon, my stepfather Sir Ector, gored by a one-horned monocerus, and your apprentice Morgana, torn limb from limb by wolf. Then the monsters came for me. I kept fighting, kept swinging my sword through the fur and scales and darkness and blood. But there were too many of them. I could feel their claws raking my side, their teeth tearing at my flesh. Then it was over. I still stood. A sea of dead monsters littered around my feet.

All the land was dead and burnt, and all my friends gone. I felt the venom moving my veins from some viper that got its fangs in me, and I knew that soon I would be gone too. That's it. Like I said, it was just a dream.

What have you done? Arthur looked up, finally meeting Merlin's gaze. The wizard's face had gone deathly pale. His eyes were wide, his lips trembling. He stared at Arthur in horror. Merlin? What? Have you done? What are you talking about? I haven't done anything. You stupid fools. You have. Some horrible sin, some affront to God and nature. Something has gone wrong. Something has happened. Changed and you

You what did you do? Nothing. I You're lying! There is something you're hiding. I can see it in you, boy. I didn't mean it was a mistake. She came to my room last night and I I was weak. Who? King Lot's wife, the Lady Morgaz. What do you mean, Morgays? King Lot's wife? I know. I've ruined everything, haven't I? Now Lot will find out and break the treaty. The war will start again. People will die all because of my weakness.

King Lord is the least of our problems. Do you understand what you've done? Everything we hoped, everything we've planned might now be ruined. Oh because my pupil is a lusty little ferret with no sense or even good taste. I never should have let you out of my sight around that witch Oh Oh what have I done? I am such a fool. What are you talking about, Merlin? Why is everything ruined? No not not ruined. Not yet. I I apologize. I spoke in anger. This is

My error, and I must be the one to correct it. You have done nothing wrong. Well, not nothing. But there is no way you could have known. No way I could have known what? What are you not telling me about Lady Morgaze? Nothing. Nothing you need to worry about now, at least. For now, we should get on with our quest. We have a long way to go if we want to reach Camelot by tomorrow.

Arthur wanted to argue, but the wild look he'd seen in Merlin's eyes stopped him from pressing further. It hadn't just been anger, something had made Merlin afraid. A dark cloud hung over Merlin for the rest of the trip. Arthur sensed that he was grappling with some great problem. By the time they stopped to make camp that night, Arthur had decided that he preferred the wizard's constant chatter to this unsettling silence.

They made good time the next morning, and by midday were already on the outskirts of Camelot. It was just as Arthur remembered it, a bustling town on a hilltop with a great stone keep rising from the center. The castle wasn't the grandest or the newest Arthur had encountered, but there was something about it. It seemed so far removed from the grimy streets of Londinium, surrounded by sprawling meadows with a backdrop of dense forests, it reminded him of Sir Ector's humble fief.

It was, he realized, a city straight out of his boyhood dreams of brilliant. Merlin's spirits seemed to have improved. As they passed over the drawbridge, Arthur found himself on the receiving end of one of the wizard's classic lectures. Camelot. Of all Britain's great townships, it has perhaps the least storied history. Only one legend of consequence that I remember.

It concerns the San Real. I've never heard of it. The San Real is a relic. The relic, in fact. It is the Holy Grail, the chalice used at the Last Supper. Which caught the blood of Christ as he hung on the cross. Legend says that the cup was passed to one of Christ's disciples, Saint Joseph of Arimathea. After the resurrection, Joseph smuggled the grail out of Jerusalem, on to Gaul and Hispania, eventually

He arrived in Britain and brought the grail here to Camelot. At the time, it was ruled by a desper named Argestus. But Saint Joseph's teaching sparked a violent uprising, and the downtrodden people of Camelot overthrew their king. And yet, When the fog of war lifted, Joseph and the Grail had disappeared. Of course, Joseph would have been hundreds of years old by that point, so the story is impossible.

Unless the Holy Grail really does possess miraculous powers. What kind of powers? Eternal youth and health to whoever drinks from it. That is why men have sought the grail for centuries. Uh don't go getting any ideas, Master Arthur. Men have wasted their lives looking for it. And you've got far more important things to do. I know that. But it would be nice, wouldn't it? Like a divine quest from the old stories, when heroes serve the common good, slaying giants and rescuing maidens.

I used to think being a knight would be like that. Now I know it just means being the soldier with the best armor, the biggest horse, and the riches to pay for them. Well that's a rather pessimistic view. Quite unbecoming of a king. I'm just being realistic. Exactly. Why should a king be realistic? A king shapes reality. If you want to keep Sir Kay, Sir Bedevere, your loyal servant Lucan, and the others at home to defend your lands.

Well, you'll just be doing what everyone expects. But if you choose to send them out on divine quests, to slay giants and rescue maidens, No one is going to stop you. I suppose you've got a point. You don't think I'm being childish? I think it's a new a noble dream, and one that I would be proud to share in. But first, as we've said, our kingdom needs a capital, and I sense that you've made your decision?

I have. Well, set it here. My court shall be at Camelot, and when people speak of this city in the future, never again will it be said that it is a place of few stories.

Arthur and Merlin turned, startled by a sudden commotion in the street. A boy of about fourteen pushed through the crowd, eyes locked on Arthur. Blood smeared his face and tunic. Please let me through! I have to speak to the king! That boy's injured. Let him through. What's the matter, boy? Where are you hurt?

The blood is not mine. It is the blood of my master, Sir Miles, a good knight. And where is Sir Miles? He is dead, sir. The Knight of the Fountain gave him a severe blow to the temple. I managed to load him on his horse. But he expired before we reach the city. Please! Will you not avenge him? Look, son, I I'm not following. Why don't you start at the beginning? Who is this knight who killed your master and what's he doing with a fountain?

The fountain is well south of here, at the edge of the forest. It has served the people in that area for years. But a few weeks ago, a knight in black armor arrived at the well. He refuses to let anyone use it unless they meet his challenge. Ah, shakes them down for coin, does he? No, sir, it is not money he's after, but glory.

He wishes to show that he is a greater warrior than any man. He says he will not relinquish the well until some knight is able to unhorse him. You have shown bravery today. Your master would be proud. Rest assured that I will see his death avenged. Indeed, one of your knights will see to this. Perhaps Sir Bedevere. No, Merlin. I will take care of this myself. What? Weren't you yourself just saying that your knight should serve the common good? This seems like just the opportunity. It is.

But I will not ask my men to do anything that I would not. Oh come now, be reasonable. If you're injured or killed, it'll be a far greater loss than one farm. Well where are you going? Arthur! But Arthur would not be reasonable. Blood pounded in his ears as he strode down the steps of Camelot, one hand already resting on Caliburn's hilt. Here at last was a battle with no contradictions, an enemy who deserved to be defeated, a chance to prove once and for all that he was worthy of his crown.

And if he died in the attempt, at least one young squire would know that he had tried his best. Coming up, Arthur faces the Knight of the Fountain, and loses more than he bargained for. Now back to the story.

Pelinor lifted the bucket to his lips, taking a long, slow drink of well water. The water was shockingly cold, a welcome respite on this hot summer day. He shut his eyes in blissful satisfaction. It had been a fine morning. A knight and his squire had arrived shortly after dawn, demanding that Pellinor relinquish the well. The fight had been over quickly, but it was a satisfying bout.

He'd allowed the young squire to drag his injured master away. Pellinor hoped the man survived. He did not desire any man's death. He only wanted to win. In his experience, survivors tended to create more challengers. Pelinor's ears perked up at the sound of approaching horsehooves. He poured the remaining water on his head, tossed the bucket back into the well, and turned to face the newcomer.

Arthur pulled up on Shamray's reins, slowing to a canter as he entered the clearing. The knight the squire had described stood beside the fountain, in the act of donning his black helmet. His armor and shield were also black, smeared with dry pitch so that his coat of arms was unreadable. You there! I seek the knight of the fountain. I am a knight, and this is a fountain of sorts. Then you must answer for your crimes.

You stand accused of killing Sir Miles, a goodly knight who desired only the benefit of his people. He's dead then? Pity. I'd hoped he might be back for another round. Is it true that you have seized this well? And that you refuse its use to any but the knight who can defeat you? That is my custom. Then I would urge you to take leave of it. That well is intended for public use. There is a river nearby. Anyone is welcome to it.

I expect the well was built so that the people would not have to climb all the way down to the riverbank. Any man who is grieved by my custom is welcome to amend it. I will amend it! Hold on now. Any rogue or foot soldier can cross blades. We are knights with the happy fortune of good steeds, and it's a fine summer day. Why not a joust? Arthur watched as the knight disappeared into his pavilion. He emerged a moment later carrying a steel tipped lance and riding a large black charger.

Arthur stealed Shamray to the far end of the clearing. They sat facing each other, the night inscrutable beneath his black helm, Arthur glared through the slits of his visor, incensed by his enemy's lackadaisical posture. He lifted his lance and shield into position, readying for the charge. Across the field, the Black Knight nodded. They charged. Arthur's lance struck Both weapons exploded in a spray of wood and metal. The blow sent waves of pain up Arthur's arm to his shoulder

He teetered precariously in his saddle and just managed to hang on. He righted himself and turned, discarding the shattered lance and drawing Caliburn from its sheath. Oh! That was a fine joust! Let's have another! I would be happy to. But alas, I have no land. Use one of mine then! Pelinor rode back to the pavilion, taking a lance from a barrel out front. He gestured for Arthur to do the same, then returned to the end of the field. All right then.

One more joust. With a fresh lance in hand, Arthur rode back to take his position across from the night. he wished they could get over with the formalities and on to the real fight, with Caliburn in hand. But this discourteous knight and Arthur's pride demanded one more joust. So he lifted the lance again. His shoulder ached from the last blow, and it took all his concentration to aim the weapon. They charged a second time.

Arthur's lance glanced off the Black Knight's shield just as the knight's lance struck him. This time the impact threw Arthur clear of the saddle. he hit the ground hard and rolled. Before he'd even come to a stop, he was on his feet. Now fight me! One more. Why bother? I have lost the honor on horseback. Face me with swords now and receive justice! One more. Fine. They drew new lances and took their positions.

Arthur winced beneath his visor. waves of agony rippled through his shoulder, and he could barely even grip his lance. he spurred his horse forward. Just before impact, Arthur let his lance drop. The pole swung down, knocking his enemy's weapon out of the way. he pushed off his horse, launching himself toward the night. The men collided, tumbling backward together. They hit the earth and bounced, rolling over one another in a great clamor of clanging metal.

Arthur came to a stop first. He staggered to his feet and drew Caliburn from its sheath as the Black Knight drew his own sword. Enough games! It is time for you to face justice. This is my sword. Its name is Caliburn. It speaks only truth, and today it Your blood! Let's get on with it then! The They crashed together, crossing swords again and again until both men were bloody and nearly spent. They staggered away from one another, gasping. You are a powerful warrior.

Why not use your strength for good? If you would first undertake a quest for penance, I would welcome you in my court. No. Why not? What do you seek to gain staying here, challenging every knight who passes? I seek that which every knight desires. Greatness. Arthur hefted his sword and charged. The Black Knight lunged toward him, swinging his own weapon with all his might. Their blades met, and Caliburn snapped.

Impossible. Arthur stared at the broken sword in disbelief. The sacred sword, forged from the Pendragon Star and enchanted by the Sisters of Avalon, had broken. Of metal still extended from the hilt, but the greater portion of the blade lay on the grass. A heavy blow struck Arthur across the helm, sending him reeling. The black knight was on top of the side.

Of him, hammering him without mercy. Arthur tried to parry his blows with the broken hilt, but the Black Knight knocked it away like a toy. Arthur fell back on the forest floor, bloody and disoriented. no longer able to defend himself, the Black Knight picked up the broken pieces of Arthur's sword. He tossed them in the river, then approached Arthur again. He reached down and ripped off Arthur's helm. He hefted his own sword, ready to strike the killing blow.

Yield. I will not. Then die. Arthur shut his eyes as the Black Knight swung.

But the blow never came. Slowly Arthur opened his eyes. Merlin stood over him, one hand outstretched toward the spot where the knight had stood. Arthur turned to see the knight lying crumpled beside him. Merlin? No. He is merely asleep. Enough about him. It's you I'm worried about. Merlin, the sword. I broke Caliburn. I know. It's just as I feared. A great darkness has taken hold over you, boy. It hovers over your future, threatening all our dreams.

I fear this is beyond my skills. Your physical wounds will heal with time. But your spirit bears a more serious injury. We need help. With great effort, Merlin helped the injured king into Shamre's saddle. He took the reins and he led them into the forest. They walked for hours, following the river. The trees began to thin until they emerged onto a rocky beach. A vast lake stretched before them, shrouded in heavy mist.

A small wooden rowboat bobbed at the water's edge. It was not tethered to the shore, but seemed to wait patiently for them. Merlin helped Arthur into the boat. As they pushed off from the shore, the mists began to close around them. Arthur blinked, straining to see through the haze of white. Where are we going? Rest now, boy. I'm taking you to see a friend.

Thanks again for tuning in to mythology. Today's episode combined a number of iconic stories from the Arthurian legends, including Arthur's victory at the Battle of Betegrain, his disastrous affair with Morgaze, and his His fight with the Knight of the Fountain Arthur and Merlin's story is far from over, and we'll explore more legends about the young king and his knights in the coming weeks. We hope you join us.

You can find more episodes of Mythology and all other Spotify originals from Parcast. for free on Spotify. If you enjoy mythology, you'll love my other podcast, Tales. Tales presents fairy tales the way they were originally told. Morally and unadulterated, every Wednesday we dive into the dark origins of classic fables. We'll be back Tuesday with another epic story.

Mythology is a Spotify original from Parcast. Executive producers include Max and Ron Cutler, sound designed by Kenny Hobbs, with production assistance by Ron Shapiro, Trent Williamson, Carly Madden, and Travis Clark. This episode of Mythology was written by Andrew Kelleher, with writing assistance by Molly Quinlan and Robert Teamstra.

Fact checking by Haley Milliken and research by Adriana Gomez. The amazing cast of voice actors includes Drew Lawn, Brian Kim McCormick, Melissa Medina, and Laith Walschleger. I'm Vanessa Richardson.