“One warrior halted them. He stood the same height as Merlyn, which wasn’t tall, with a wild red beard and a helmet that looked like it had been beaten out of scrap iron. There was a round bundle slung over his shoulder, and as he saw Merlyn, his beard broke into a mischievous grin.
“Merly,” he shouted and laughed. “How are you?”
“Good, thank you. I haven’t seen you since I was a youngster. It’s a pity that you choose to fight me and mine.”
“Oh, this isn’t about you personally!” Here the warrior’s face was a theatrical mask of outraged surprise. “I wouldn’t dream of laying arms on you or Arthur ordinarily but you know how it is. Strangore must be protected.”
“Strangore?” Warren frowned.
“Lovely bit of country just south of Gore,” the warrior sighed. “Half-in, half-out of the waking world. You might go there when you dream, boy.”
“Bran, this is Warren, my… ah… assistant,” Merlyn said. “Warren, this is the half-god with the cauldron of plenty whom I told you about. This is Bran de Goris of Strangore.”
“Can you not persuade Arthur to sign a treaty, promising not to exact tribute from us?” The way in which Bran stated the question made Warren realise it had been asked many times before.
“No.” Merlyn’s voice was weary. “I must return this child to his family. Excuse me.”
“I’m not a child!” Warren snapped.
“Ah, let the boy see my cauldron before he goes!” Bran chuckled. “I may not be alive again to show its wonders.” He set the bundle on the ground and unwrapped it.
The cauldron was surprisingly small and covered in rust. The bottom end was thinner than the opening at the top, almost like a horn.
“It used to be the Horn of Plenty but I pinched it on a raid,” Bran said. “My father, the sea-god Lir, sent my sister Branwen to Ireland to marry King Anguish and the cauldron was a wedding present. Needless to say, the marriage turned sour pretty quickly – Anguish is mortal – and I had to intervene. Stick your arm in it up to the elbow and ask for whatever you could want. It will be in your hand when you draw it out. Try it.”
Warren hesitated.
“You won’t lose your arm,” Merlyn said. “Go on.”
Warren stuck his hand into the cauldron. There was a strange sense of groping through a vast empty space.
“I’d like my dog back.”
He pulled out nothing.
“Ah. I forgot to mention it doesn’t work for lost items,” Bran said. “The cauldron spits out what you consider to be edible. As we are not in Korea, I’m afraid the dog won’t appear. Oh, that rhymes!”
Warren didn’t find it funny.
“Imagine the stress I had rejuvenating my warriors as they died, through the cauldron, when we fought the battle with Anguish,” Bran went on. “I had to find a cannibal to dip his hand in and do the asking. Nightmare.”
Warren wiped his hand on his pyjama top. “I wouldn’t eat anything from that if you paid me.”
Bran guffawed. Warren and Merlyn walked out of the forest of Beddegrin with his uproarious laughter ringing in their ears…”
SHOUT-OUTS
Some interesting and entertaining sites and groups I have been perusing over the past few weeks:
Hedge Mystic (Jan Blencowe) An artist who does cool scrapbook journalling and delves into pagan mythology and tarot symbolism
Ghosts reddit group I have been scrolling through this with a comfortable spine-tingle. You can’t beat real-life ghost stories. Am I a believer? Perhaps
Eyebombing group because it’s damn hilarious.
Erwin Saunders youtube channel He has a fantastic gentle persona, and the CGI (or whatever it is) looks so convincing. I especially liked the video with the “dragon” cave.
Arthur Rackham facebook group His illustrations are like liquid spellwork.
Nightwalks 