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Excalibur’s
Master
Gwen understood about a word of that, but she remained silent.
‘A Pendragon should be on the throne. Uther’s son.’ The man
looked expectantly at Wart.
At first, the boy just stared at him mutely. Then, with wild eyes,
the boy slowly shook his head.
‘Impossible.’ He whispered.
‘What is going on!’ Gwen asked, her eyes darting between them.
‘Who are you?’
‘Me?’ the old man asked lightly, ‘I am Merlin the magician. As for
this young man, he is the last Pendragon, the Rightwise King Born
of All England.’
Gwen sucked in a breath, and looked at the boy. ‘Wart?’ she asked.
‘No, not Wart,’ he said hollowly, ‘Arthur.’
‘Yes, Arthur,’ Merlin said cheerfully. ‘It’s time to swap your straw
hat for a crown, boy.’
‘
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