'I recognize you, Morcant,' Merlin replied, 'and I know you for what you are.'

'Trickster!' Morcant sneered. 'It will take more than your enchantments to make this whore's whelp a king.'

Merlin smiled, but his eyes grew cold. 'I will not make him king, Morcant. These lords gathered in this place will do that – and of their own will.'

'Never!' Morcant laughed bitterly. 'On my life, that will not happen.' He turned to those gathered around him, seeking approval for his words. Some gave it outright; others were more uncertain but on the whole agreed with Morcant.

Emboldened by this support, Morcant moved to the attack. 'We do not know this boy; he is no king. Look at him! It is doubtful he is even of noble birth.' He indicated the sword with a scornful flick of his hand. 'Do you expect us to believe that the blade in his hand is the true Sword of Britain?'

'That,' Merlin told him calmly, 'can easily be shown. We have but to step into the churchyard to see the empty stone from which the sword was drawn.'

Morcant was of no disposition to agree with Merlin. But, having pressed the matter, he could not now back down. 'Very well,' he said, 'let us see if this is the true sword or not.'

Pushing, jostling, the crowd, noblemen and all shouting at one another, fought their way out of the church and into the darkened yard, where even in the fitful glow of flickering torchlight everyone could plainly see that the great stone was indeed empty.

This convinced a few, but Morcant was not one of them. 'I would see him take it for myself,' he declared, firm in the belief that it was plainly impossible for Arthur to have drawn it in the first place, and that he would in no wise be able to repeat this miracle. 'Let him put it back,' Morcant challenged, 'and raise it again if he is able.'

'Let him put it back!' cried someone from the crowd, and others shouted, too: 'Put it back! Let him put the sword back!'