“I may well be pensive and heavy,” he replied, “for here even now I have seen the strangest sight I ever saw.”
“That know I well,” said Merlin, “as well as thyself, and also all thy thoughts; but thou art foolish to take thought, for it will not amend thee. Also I know what thou art, and know thy father and thy mother.”
“That is false,” said King Arthur; “how shouldst thou know? thy years are not enough.”
“Yea,” said Merlin, “but I know better than thou how thou wast born, and better than any man living.”
“I will not believe thee,” said King Arthur, and was wroth with the child.
So Merlin departed, and came again in the likeness of an old man of fourscore years of age; and the king was glad at his coming, for he seemed wise and venerable. Then said the old man, “Why art thou so sad?”
“For divers reasons,” said King Arthur; “for I have seen strange things to-day, and but this moment there was here a child who told me things beyond his years to know.”
“Yea,” said the old man, “but he told thee truth, and more he would have told thee hadst thou suffered him. But I will tell thee wherefore thou art sad, for thou hast done a thing of late for which God is displeased with thee, and what it is thou knowest in thy heart, though no man else may know.”
“What art thou,” said King Arthur, starting up all pale, “that tellest me these tidings?”