Wilbur was bewildered, but not completely baffled. It had become painfully clear to him that Merlin had found him, not vice versa. The advertisement in the paper had been a trick to lure a timid man. But there was still a little clearing up to be done.
"Would you please explain what I have to do with all this?" Wilbur asked plaintively. Merlin clawed gently at his beard and shrugged.
"I suppose it would be only fair, after abducting you from the twentieth century and dragging you back here. The point is this: after Uther died there was a squabble over who should be king. We couldn't stand a civil war so the bishop of this church prayed for a sign, and the next day this stone and sword were found here. So far nobody has been able to pull it out."
"You didn't have anything to do with that, did you?" Wilbur asked naively.
"I'm not saying. Anyway, Sir Kay is the logical man for the job, except that he's too quick with his blade. That left only one other, and he's got his fault too."
Wilbur was thinking about his right eye. A little flattery might go a long way.
"I should think you would make a good king, Mr. Merlin."
"My father was an incubus," Merlin said, as though that explained everything. He peered down the road as the sound of hoofs reached them.
Wilbur followed Merlin's gaze and saw a young man on horseback coming toward them from the direction of Camelot. The young fellow wore a shirt of mail but no helmet, and his horse was not armored. Merlin held up his hand and the mounted man drew rein. Wilbur got a good look at him.
He was almost as big as Sir Kay, but with a fair complexion and light hair. He could not have been much over fifteen, despite his size. His manner was easy, giving the suggestion of enormous strength in reserve, yet with a hint of gentleness. But it was his eyes which were his outstanding feature. They were a clear brown, wide, and with an expression of complete fearlessness.