Moved by the desire to keep Britain united, Uter Pendragon summoned his barons and their warriors, and explained his plans for a campaign.  He even insisted on being carried to the battlefield in a litter.  He died when the battle was won.

The king was dead!  Who would succeed him?  No one in Britain knew the answer to that question, except its faithful protector, Merlin.  The country’s noblemen asked him to designate the nobleman who would be worthy to succeed Uter Pendragon.  Merlin promised them that on Christmas Day, all would be revealed.

Just as Merlin promised, on Christmas Day Uter Pendragon’s successor was revealed when young Arthur easily lifted the miraculous sword.

On Christmas morning, all the nobles of the realm gathered in the ancient city of London to attend High Mass in St. Paul’s old cathedral.  When the faithful emerged from the church they saw, standing against the wall, something that had not been there when they went in.  It was a large block of gray marble.  On top of it there stood an anvil, and out of the anvil rose a long sword in its sheath, partly hidden in the anvil.  All the old noblemen and young knights agreed that this was the finest sword they had ever seen.  It shone light gold, and its sheath was encrusted with jewels.  There was also an inscription on it, but no one could read it.  They asked the bishop, who called one of his very scholarly clerics, who finally deciphered the inscription.  It read: LIFT ME BY THY HAND.  KING BE IN THIS LAND.

Of course, all the high noblemen and senior earls of the realm tried their hand at lifting the sword, but it could not be moved.  The bishop smiled and spoke: “Gentlemen, God’s chosen king may be born in a stable of poor parents.  David was only a shepherd boy.  Saul was the son of a farmer; he was searching for his asses on the day before he was anointed king of Israel.  God has His ways.”

When not even the strongest of the knights present could move the sword, they all went to partake of the Christmas banquet.  After the banquet, a great tournament would be held, the finest the city had seen for many years.  The knights expected that the winner would become king, but God had his own way.

Sir Ector had also come to London with his two sons, Key and the young Arthur, a handsome boy of sixteen big for his age.  On their way to the tournament they passed in front of the cathedral.  Key was teasing his younger brother: