（外文电子版资料）04 - Pendragon 1.0.docVIP

PROLOGUE What is there to say of Arthur after all these years? His birth you know, and something of his end. You know his battles and his triumphs — those, at least, which the story-makers tell. And Aneirins book is open to all who care to read it. Poor Aneirin, he laboured so hard at his black book. Yet even Aneirin caught but the slightest glimpse of the man he meant to honour. It brought him misery in the end. Arthurs fame, his very presence, like bright sunlight on clear water, obscured more than it revealed. So, you hear tales and think you know the man. You hear a part and think you know the whole. You hear one of a thousand speculations spun out by dim and dreary dreamers and think you have grasped the truth. But do you know the highest achievement of Arthurs life? Do you know his sorest trial, when he stood alone on the battle plain and all Britain hung in the balance? Do you know how he laboured to save the Kingdom of Well, I am not surprised. In this ill-born age, much is forgotten that would best be remembered. Men always give over the best of their birthright for the small comfort of the moment; the treasures of the previous age are sold cheap, its wealth trampled underfoot. Alas, this is ever the way of things. And where Arthur is concerned much that should be known remains hidden. Because Arthur himself was hidden in those troubled early years. But I, Myrddin Emrys, know all the lost and hidden tales, for I was with him from the beginning. And I stood beside him on his darkest day. A day unlike any other in the long history of our race — a day of deceit, and dread, and, oh, great glory. Yes! Great the glory. For on that day Arthur won the name he treasured above all others: Pendragon. That is a tale worthy of its telling. Lost and forgotten it may \ be, but if you would hear such a tale, if you would learn the measure of a man whose name will outlast this sorry age, listen . then. Listen and remember. For I tell you the truth, you do not know Arth