"Where to, Arthur?" Merlin asked.
"My brother Kay has broken his sword. I must get him another."
"Tarry a moment," Merlin said. "I have a question which troubles me. The enemies of our land march against us, and they outnumber us five to one. Were you king, what would you do?"
Arthur laughed, a clear ringing laugh that showed rows of white teeth. His brown eyes glowed with an inward fire.
"Do? I would take the field against them, of course! Even though they outnumber us fifty to one."
Wilbur thrilled to the words. But Merlin shuddered slightly and Wilbur heard a faint groan of distress come from his lips.
"Got here in the nick of time," the old man muttered. He looked up at Arthur and said aloud: "You may have your chance. But first you must make me a promise. You must come to my castle this very night and drink the draught I shall prepare for you."
"I promise," Arthur said unthinkingly. "And now I'll be getting that sword for Kay."
"This looks like a good one," Merlin said. He pointed to the sword in the stone.
"It does indeed," Arthur agreed. Without a second look he bent and seized the hilt and wrenched it free. He raised the sword in a salute to Merlin and Wilbur, laughed his ringing carefree laugh, and was gone in a cloud of dust.