Excalibur Page #8

SIR KAY:

Sir, I didn't draw the sword. Arthur

gave it to me.

SIR ECTOR:

Arthur ?!

(spinning around to

face him)

How did you get the sword, child?

ARTHUR:

(frightened)

Sir... Kay needed a sword. His was

stolen. I saw Excalibur, and... I

took it.

SIR ECTOR:

You freed it, son?

ARTHUR:

I did, Father. I beg your forgiveness.

He starts to kneel but Ector pulls him up.

SIR ECTOR:

Try the sword, Arthur.

Arthur is about to grasp the hilt when Uryens and Lot, and

other nobles, Leondegrance of Camelyarde, and Sir Caradoc

and Sir Turquine among the younger, stride up.

URYENS:

Stand back, Sir Ector, and take your

children.

LOT:

We will try again.

Uryens, Lot, Leondegrance, Caradoc, Turquine - each in turn

grapples with the sword, only to be defeated by its

immobility. The crowd around the stone is thickening with

common folk.

SIR ECTOR:

Let the boy try the sword.

BISHOP:

Let the boy try...

The demand is echoed by peasants and serfs. The great knights

remain silent and bitter in their defeat. Sir Ector pushes

Arthur to the sword.

SIR ECTOR:

Go ahead, boy. Don't be afraid.

The boy hesitates shyly, and then takes the hilt of Excalibur

and pulls out the sword with a great sweep.

The throng is stunned. Silence falls. Some kneel, following

the example of Sir Ector and Sir Kay, of the Bishop and

Leondegrance. The other nobles stay back, confused, afraid,

angered.

Arthur stands there, little more than a boy, his cheeks

flushed, his soft hair ruffled by the wind, his eyes shining

with exultation, awe, and fear. Then, as if gaining confidence

from the sword itself, he turns it in arcs above his head.

BISHOP:

We have our King, thanks be to God.

The commoners and some of the knights react with roaring

enthusiasm. The others draw closer to Uryens and Lot and

their supporters, closing ranks around them.

ARTHUR:

Please, Father, rise up. I was your

son before I became your King... if

I am King.

Sir Ector rises, tears streaming down his cheeks.

SIR ECTOR:

My Lord, you are King, all the more

because you are not my son, and I am

not your father.

This is quite a shock to the boy king, and to the onlookers.

ARTHUR:

Who is, then?

SIR ECTOR:

I don't know. Merlin brought you to

me when you were newly born and

charged me to raise you as my own.

At first, I did so because I feared

Merlin, later because I loved you.

Merlin's name is on the lips of all those close by.

ARTHUR:

Who is Merlin?

MERLIN:

Speak of the devil!...

From out of the forest strides Merlin, dramatic, cape flowing,

eyes crazed as ever, laughing at his own entrance. A crow is

perched on his shoulder, and it squawks loudly. Annoyed with

it, Merlin swooshes it away.

MERLIN:

I am Merlin. Counselor to kings.

Wizard and beggar. Prophet and...

(he drops it)

I have feasted on thunderbolts, I

savored my death before I got myself

born. I--

Merlin interrupts himself when his eyes fall on the boy, who

is taking in his performance raptly, half awestruck, half

amused.

ARTHUR:

Whose son am I?

MERLIN:

You are the son of King Uther, and

the fair Igrayne... you are King

Arthur.

The suspicion and confusion and envy of the lords erupts.

LOT:

Merlin, we haven't forgotten you.

This is more of your trickery.

URYENS:

You're trying to foist a boy of

dubious birth upon us. You want to

shame us?

LOT:

Lord Leondegrance, join us against

the boy. Surely you can see he is

only Merlin's tool.

LEONDEGRANCE:

No. I, Leondegrance, Lord of

Camelyarde, saw the drawing of Uther's

sword, and witnessed no trickery. If

a boy has been chosen, a boy shall

be king.

The crowd of serfs and peasants cheer wildly, and their long

suppressed anger against the nobles comes to the fore. They

dare to press up against them, fists hammering on their

shields as the chant Arthur King over and over. Dark and

scowling, full of rebellion, all the lords except Leondegrance

begin to withdraw their iron men surrounding them.

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