“Is it he who pursues you?—Zabulun! I shall have a welcome for Zabulun.”
“Save us, O Merlin, from Zabulun,” Bird-of-Gold cried.
Vivien came down from the tower. “It is Zabulun who comes to our island in chase of these two, my Vivien,” Merlin said. “Now you shall see me match my power with Zabulun’s.”
“A match between magicians, how entertaining it will be!” cried Vivien, clapping her hands.
“O lady, if Zabulun is not baffled it will be death or separation for us,” said Bird-of-Gold to her.
“Merlin will baffle him—you will find that Merlin will baffle him,” said Vivien. “You see, he has done nothing to impress me for an age.”
Now Merlin had sent the tame wolf that was his servant upon an errand, and the wolf at this moment returned leading nine men who wore white robes and who had chaplets of oak leaves upon their brows. These were the nine prime bards of the Isle of Britain who had come to the Island of the White Tower with Merlin, their chief.
They stood as he bade them, four on one side and five on the other, with the Enchanter of the Isle of Britain between them. Merlin bade Eean stand with the four bards. He touched them with his staff, and the row of bards and Eean with them became all as alike as ten peas in a pea pod. And Merlin went to Bird-of-Gold and touched her also, and she became like the lady Vivien exactly.
Now the black horse that bore Zabulun came to the sloping bank of the Island of the White Tower, and Zabulun sprang off his back and drew the black horse up on the bank. The horse breathed mightily, and then like the others lay down on the grass.
With great and sure strides Zabulun came to the White Tower where Merlin stood. “Hail, Merlin,” he cried in a loud voice.