There was a hollow place in the wall of the castle near the fireplace, and in that hollow the king’s son kept his own father, and gave him food. He opened a secret door, and brought out the old king.
“Now tell me, father,” said he, “who is it that has never been born, and never will be?”
“That’s a thing of which no tidings have been given, or ever will be,” replied the king.
When the father wasn’t giving him the answer he wanted, the son put the old king, standing, on a red-hot iron griddle.
“It’s fried and roasted you’ll be till you answer my question, and tell who is the birth that has never been born, and that never will be,” said the son.
The old king stood on the griddle till the marrow was melting in the bones of his feet. They took him off then; and the son asked him a second time.
“That’s a question not to be answered by me,” said the king.
He was put, standing, again on the red-hot griddle, and kept on it, till the marrow was melting in the bones to his knees.
“Release me out of this now,” cried the king; “and I will tell where that birth is.”
They took him from the griddle. He sat down then, and told this story to his son, in presence of Arthur:—