Pendragon

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. That's what the people of the Valley called our family. I guess because it is in the name, Pendragon. Although my family lived in England for many a century, sometime during the last couple hundred years the family name changed and moved to the United States. Why you ask? The family started to hate the name. Legends follow you always when you have a last name as known as ours. To be constantly compared to an ancient ancestor tends to leave one with an urgency to disassociate with it. My great grandfather felt as much. So, the name changed. He picked a last name that was a common one, Smith. Not only describing what he did for a living, but also for it being a very generic name. Unfortunately, the famous first name still passed to the eldest male child, Arthur, my name. Yes Arthur Smith. Could I be more generic? Maybe. To break up the total commonality of my name, I became a tattoo artist. A very popular one in the tri-state area. So much so that my colleagues gave me a nickname, The Dragon. Ironic, isn't it? Why the dragon you ask? Because I slay my tattoos with fire and ferocity. Even thousands of years later, I am still being plagued with the family lineage. So it came to pass in my 25th year that a man came to the shop looking for the artist they called the Dragon. My sister, Miriam, was off that day. I had the duplicitous duty of tattooing and running the counter. Miriam's son was at home with the flu. I wasn't about to let her work when my nephew, Lance, was ill. She needed to be there for him. It was around 10pm when the man walked in. A full suit, bowler hat and cane to boot. A regular proper Englishman. Needless to say he stuck out like a sore thumb. I watch as he waited for me to finalize my transaction with my latest customer.

"Thanks, Dragon. This sleeve is a killer. I'll see you in a couple of weeks to talk about the next one." My customer shook my hand and left. The Englishman stepped up into his place.

"May I help you sir?" I asked the Englishman being as polite as possible.

"I do hope so. I am looking for a man." His accent told me that he was from the somewhere around London. Too crisp to be Northern England and definitely not from anywhere near Wales.

"I can try to help. What is the name of the man you are looking for?"

"His name is Arthur Smith I believe."

"I am Art Smith."

"Are you now?" The Englishman was astonished. I guess I wasn't exactly what he had in mind.

"Yes, I am."

"Sorry for my bluntness, but I thought you would be older."

"Oh, well, you must be thinking of my great grandfather. He was Arthur Smith as well. I am Arthur Allen Smith."

"Are you the only Arthur Smith in the family now?" The Englishman questioned.

"Yes, I am. My father was the younger of 2 sons. He has since passed. Only I, my sister and her son Lance are the only ones left in our family. Why do you ask?"

"I have come from England to find Arthur Smith and family to bring them to London for him to claim his inheritance."

"Has someone died that was a distant relative?"

"Yes, someone died a long time ago. The family that moved to America never claimed the land."

"My great grandfather told me he wanted nothing to do with the land. He didn't want it." I replied frankly. It was a plot of land in some unknown valley in England. My great grandfather wanted as much distance from England as possible. I personally didn't have an interest either. The Englishman seemed crushed by my remark.

"Sir, a Pendragon has to claim the land. It is imperative that you must claim it." He answered in a very desperate tone. I immediately hushed him. I didn't want my other co-workers listening in.

"We need to talk somewhere more private." I came around the front of the counter and guided him into my booth. As I passed one of the other artist, I asked him to watch over the front counter. Closing the door behind me, the Englishman sat on my stool.

"Sir, this land must stay in the family name. There are people who have been trying to claim this parcel for thousands of years. If it falls into the wrong hands. The outcome would be catastrophic."

"Look, people like you have been coming here for years trying to have my family take our inheritance. Every time we refuse. When will you guys give up?"

"Mr. Smith this is a matter of vital importance. We cannot let this particular parcel fall into the wrong hands."

"Why? Why is this land so important to you?"

"I don't think we should discuss this here." The Englishman replied hearing voices in the hall of a new customer coming into the store.

"Alright then." I answered. Grabbing my drawing book, I tore a piece of a page from it. Quickly I jotted down my home address and handed it to the Englishman. "This is my home address. I have to be back here at noon tomorrow. Maybe we can talk in the morning. My sister and nephew will be present if that is alright with you."

"Yes sir, that would be fine since this concerns them too. I will be over by 9am." The Englishman took the note as he rose to leave. Opening the door, I suddenly had a thought.

"I never caught your name sir."

"Myrddin Caledonensis." The Englishman touched the brim of his bowler hat as he walked out of my booth.

All night into the next morning I racked my brain trying to figure out where I had heard that name before. I must have seemed preoccupied by this. Miriam smacked my shoulder jutting me out of my deep concentration.

"What has got you so distracted?" She asked taking her seat across from me at the table. Lance was in his highchair next to her munching on some Cheerios. Sipping her coffee, Miriam waited for my answer.

"A man stopped by the shop last night."

"It is a tattoo shop, Art." Miriam always had a witty sense of humor. I smiled at her jest.

"True, but not many of them are a well dressed Englishman."

"An Englishman?" She questioned. I could see the apprehension in her eyes as she lowered her coffee mug. "It's that damn land again, isn't it?" I nodded as I sipped my coffee. Miriam stood up frustrated. Turning on her heel, she walked back to the countertop. "Who is it this time?" She questioned pulling the toast from the toaster.

"The man said his name is Myrddin Caledonensis."

"Are you sure?" She asked turning around giving me a quizzical look.

"Yes, why?"

"The guy that came to daddy was named Myrddin Caledonensis."

"How do you know that?" Now I was the one confused.

"I overheard mom and dad talking about it one night some years ago."

"You were spying again." It was my turn for the witty remark. She shrugged a shoulder and turned to tend to her toast again.

"Why are they trying to push this land on the family?"

"I didn't get many details from the man. That's why I have him coming here this morning. Too many prying eyes and ears at the shop."

"Do you think there is something to this land? Some kind of magic or whatever that they don't want certain people to have." Miriam questioned as she ate her toast at the counter.

"I don't know. Maybe. I wonder why it is so vitally important for the land to stay in our family."

"I guess we'll find out today." Miriam remarked taking a bite of her toast. Just then there was a knock on the apartment door. We shot each other a look as I rose to answer the door. Mr. Caledonensis looked the same as he did the night before. Same bowler hat. Same 3 piece suit.

"Mr. Caledonensis, please come in." Again, he bowed his head as he touched the brim of his bowler hat. "Would you like some coffee or tea?" I asked escorting him into the kitchen. Miriam shook the crumbs off her hand before she shook the Englishman's hand.

"Mr. Caledonensis, how are you? I'm Miriam Smith, Arthur's sister. Please sit." The Englishman shook my sister's hand and graciously took a seat at our kitchen table. Our apartment was small so the space in the kitchen was a bit cozy.

"Mr. Smith, Ms. Miriam, let me be frank. This land has to stay in the family name. The future of England itself depends on the land staying with the family."

"Mr. Caledonensis, the family hasn't lived on that land in a very long time. Why is it so important now?" My sister was as equally frank as the Englishman. She could have a battle of wits with anyone. Miriam was a strong woman. She could hold her own against anyone. The Englishman was taken aback by her frankness.

"It is true that the family is has not lived on the land. Though they have always left it in the possession of a caretaker. Unfortunately, he passed away last week."

"Oh, I am sorry to hear that." Miriam was already regretting her earlier frankness.

"Yes, it was tragic. He was murdered." Mr. Caledonensis replied. Now it was our turn to be taken aback.

"Is there an investigation going on?" I asked.

"No. The queen already knows about the situation. She has asked that this matter keeps quiet and that we resolve the matter of the land as quickly as possible."

"A man is murdered and there is no investigation?" Miriam was shocked. As was I. How can you have a murder with no investigation.

"There is no way to prove the murder. It was an extraordinary incident." Mr. Caladonensis replied.

"Could you elaborate on that, sir." I asked intrigued.

"The caretaker was killed by a person with ability to make it look accidental."

"Even murder that was made to look like an accident can be proven." I retorted.

"Not this way." He was dancing around the subject.

"Sir, let's stop this intrigue. Please speak plainly. There is nothing you cannot say that we have not heard already." Miriam was bold in her bluntness. She also had a good point.

"Very well my dear. He was killed by magical means."

"How did I know you were going to say that." I remarked. We have heard these fables for so long. Nothing surprised my sister and I anymore.

"It's true." Mr. Caledonensis replied. "Made it look like a heart attack. Unfortunately, he didn't have time to train a new caretaker. Now the responsibility fails back onto the family."

"If the queen already knows about this. Why not just give the land to her?" Miriam inquired.

"The crown changes hands too often for it to be left in their hands. A Pendragon has held this land for thousands of years. The caretakers are from a lineage like yours as well. They have tended the lands since the time of King Arthur. Now the last of that line has passed. The responsibility now falls back to the family." Mr. Calendonensis replied. His bluntness was a sure sign of the urgency that surrounded this land.

"It wouldn't hurt to see this inheritance out." Miriam stated. I had to admit I was also a bit curious.

"What about the shop? Our clients?" I questioned Miriam. We would have to do some serious reorganization.

"We can always talk it over with the other artist. Any of the big projects can be rescheduled till we come back." Miriam always wanted to go to England. I guess this was her chance. It was also going to be paid for by someone else. A free trip to England, why not?

"Alright, I guess we can go and check this out." I caved in. Not entirely sure why. It might be that my curiosity was peeked. We made our arrangements within the days after our conversation with the ever-aloof Mr. Caledonensis. He never gave us a whole lot of information. Just enough to keep us intrigued. On the flight to England, I began to dig more into this tale.

"Mr. Caledonensis, where exactly are we headed?" I questioned him. Ever the stoic Englishman his answer was simple.

"London first, Mr. Smith."

"After London?"

"Well, you see, that's where things are going to get a little odd." His answer was dragging this intrigue on. Never revealing too much. Just enough to keep my sister and I on our toes. We landed in Heathrow, then a short car ride to our hotel in London. After checking in and a quick shower we were to meet a lawyer nearby. The office looked more like an antique dealer's shop. There were artifacts on the walls everywhere. We entered the office and sat at the large wide desk. It looked like something from an Arthurian tale. Medieval in its design. Like something Uther Pendragon would have had sat at. Swords, shields and some armor decorated the office. I felt as though I was stepping back through time. The lawyer was an old man in a beautifully tailored suit. He looked older than our companion, Mr. Caledonensis.

"Mr. Smith, I am Mr. Sherman. I have here the land deed that has resided with your family for thousands of years." He then produced a document that look as if it was written on some ancient paper. Yet still the ink looked as fresh as if someone wrote it up today. "The document states that there is a test that one must follow before the land be bequeathed to you."

"Alright. What sort of test?" Now my curiosity was really peeked. The ancient Mr. Sherman proceeded to rise and walk over to one of the shield/sword sets. I could tell they were a family crest of some sort. This set, however, had one long sword upon the shield. Carefully removing the sword from the crest, Mr. Sherman handed the sword to Mr. Caledonensis.

"This sword is the key to the land. You must take it to Tintagel. There you will follow the instructions on this document." Mr. Sherman returned to his seat. Handing the document over to Mr. Caledonensis. "I leave these objects in possession of Mr. Caledonensis until the test are completed."

"Where is this Tintagel?" Miriam questioned as she held Lance on her knee.

"On the Southern coast. Near the Celtic Sea." Mr. Caledonensis replied. Miriam looked skeptical about this. Not so much about the destination, but the whole narrative here. I shared her skepticism. This whole trip was a strange one. All the cloak and dagger nonsense of it all. When we returned to the hotel, Mr. Caledonensis left our company. Claiming exhaustion, he returned to his room. Now that my sister and I were alone we could speak freely.

"This whole situation is so odd." Miriam remarked after our guest had left the room.

"Tell me about it. I am so confused about all of this. What if I fail these test? Then what?"

"I was wondering the same thing." We went silent for a while. Neither one of us could compile our thoughts into a cohesive sentence. I think it was the jet lag. We both finally decided that rest was needed. The next couple of days were only going to get stranger.

I didn't sleep all that comfortably. Not that the bed or the room where not cozy. My mind could not rest. Thoughts of knights, swords, maiden in distress, castles and what not played through my head all night long. It was going to be busy day. We packed our bags to go onto the next leg of the trip. Tintagel was a busy little town. Believed to be the place where Camelot once stood. It was a large tourist destination. We even checked into a hotel called Camelot Castle. A very large, ornate, castle on the coast. Medieval architecture with modern amenities. Mr. Caledonensis decided to let us rest for the day. The next day we would start our testing. That night dreams of ancient times plagued me. I felt as though I was reliving the past. When I awoke the next morning, I had a new heightened sense of being. Like a sixth sense about things. I felt as though the test today would fail. I had to brush those thoughts away. This is not the place. So why did Mr. Caledonensis bring us here if this wasn't where the land was? Shaking thoughts from my head, I got myself together for the days adventure. We headed out of our hotel to a small island that was attached by a bridge. A statue of Arthur perched on the rock.

"Place the sword in the statue's hands." Caledonensis instructed. I thought this odd since there already was a sword in the statue's hands. Following his instructions, I grabbed the sword that was already there. I noticed that it gave way easily. Replacing the weather-beatened sword with the nice shiny one in my hands. I stood back waiting for some miracle to happen. Nothing changed. Everything was still as it was. "Perfect, now bring that sword with us." Caledonensis replied as he pointed to the weathered sword now in my hands.

"I thought that something was going to happen." I stated as Caledonensis walked down from the statue. Turning on his heel, he brought me close to him.

"Something did happen." He replied as Miriam approached to listen to the conversation. "That sword you hold has never moved. People have tried to take the sword to see if it is the real Excalibur. Never has it budged. Now you come and switch the sword with ease. That is the first test."

"What are you trying to say? That it was magic that the sword gave way at that exact moment?"

"Precisely!" Caledonensis remarked excitedly. Miriam and I looked at each other confused. Not much else was said on the way back to the hotel. This whole trip was beginning to frustrate me. I got back to my room, tossed the sword on the bed and went to take a shower. I sat in the hot steam that warmed my body. The chilly sea air washing away from the warmth of the shower. When I was thoroughly warmed, I dried off and dressed. Entering my room, the sword lay upon the bed. As my senses came back to me I noticed that the sword itself had changed. The weathered sword was now a bright, shiny, gold sword. Like it had been polished. Yet the sword hadn't moved. The indentation was still in the bed when I lifted the sword. Now I was amazed.

"Miriam!" I shouted. The door to her ajoining room flew open. I could tell she was panicked till I held up the sword.

"How in the world..." Her words cutting off as she reached for the sword. Handing it to Miriam, my hands shook. I could not believe what I was seeing. Miriam handled the sword. Inspecting every inch for the wear we saw only moments ago. It gleamed like new. Not a scratch or dent on the blade. We both looked at each other. You could see a single thought being shared between us. Is this the way the other test are going to go. We were about to find out.

Mr. Caledonensis said the next stop was Dozmary Pool. There was not much to the place. Just one of England's random watering holes. It was too early for swimming. The site was barren of people. Just the birds and our group was there. Standing on the water's edge, Caledonensis began the 2nd test.

"Take the sword and throw it into the lake."

"What? You can't be serious." I was astonished. Even Miriam was taken aback. All Caledonensis did was wait. Following his instructions, I reached back and threw it as far as I could. The sword speared the lake. Disappearing into the water. Nothing happened, again. Just as I was about to turn to leave, a bubbling sound came from the lake. I turned to see the spot where the sword had pierced the lake, was now churning. Within moments, the tip of the sword pierced the bubbling water. The sword was being grasped by a woman. As she arose from the water, her gown white and her complexion glowing, I could not help but to gasp. She then began to speak.

"Welcome Arthur. I am the Lady of the Lake. You are the direct descendant of the Pendragon. By throwing the sword into the lake you have cemented your lineage. Now you must take the sword back to Camelot." The lady levitated the sword back into my waiting hands. Magic only existed in fairy stories. This couldn't be happening. My mind could not think logically.

"Where do I go?" I regretted the question as it left my mouth.

"It is not far from here, East about 2 hours." Caledonensis answered.

"Fairwell, Arthur Pendragon." The lady then dissolved back into the lake. Once again, the lake became a flat calm. Stunned, we walked back to the car. Heading east from Dozmary Pool, we arrived in the town of Cadbury. Not a very populated town. Definitely not a tourist area either. The town was most known for a flat hilltop called Cadbury Hilltop. As we made our way to the site, I began feeling a vibration. My sister could feel it too. Was it us vibrating or the sword which sat between us? We walked to the edge of the hilltop, which was a rather large hilltop. There was a large boulder at the base of the hill. As I went to walk past the boulder to ascend to the top of the hill, the sword began vibrating viciously. So much so I could barely hold onto it. The sword seemed to be guiding me to the boulder. Miriam watched the whole thing aghast. Before I even could react, the sword dead stopped next to the boulder.

"The final task. Drive the sword into the stone." Caledonensis motioned to the boulder to his left.

"Are you mad? The sword will break."

"Have you no faith? Have you not seen glorious things today? You still doubt your power?"

"My power? I have no power." I was amazed. Yes, I had seen many extraordinary things these past couple of days. Why would this be so hard to believe. With no further comment. I stabbed the sword into the top of the stone. I slid in with ease. Like a hot knife through butter. Letting go of the handle I stood back. Looking at the hilltop, the once barren landscape melted away to a glorious castle. Blue banners decorated the turrets. The signa of the dragon upon them in gold. The legends were true. King Arthur Pendragon did exist. As we crossed the threshold by the stone, Caledonensis removed the sword. As he walked toward Miriam, Lance and I his image began to change. His suit melted into long robes. His hair and beard grew. Within a couple of steps, he transformed from a proper Englishman into a what we would consider a wizard's garb. "Who are you?" I asked as he handed me the sword.

"Myrddin Caledonensis. You may know me by another name, Merlin."