It was a certain experience, that to his mystic-loving instinct omened history still dark in the womb of the future, and kept him closeted with Dubricius that day after knight and churchman had filed out from the conclave. In the twilight of the hall, with its painted frescoes and glimmering shields, Dubricius listened to the King as he spoke of portents and visions of the night. Uther, with his elbow resting on the arm of his chair and his chin upon his palm, stared at the cedar wood burning pungently upon the hearth and catechised Dubricius on visionary belief. The old man looked keenly at the King under his arched white brows. He was as much a mystic in his creed as this son of Constantine, a believer in miracles and in manifestations in the heavens. Certainly unusual powers had been given to the early Church, and it was not for the atomic mind of man to deny their presence in any later age. "My lord dreamed a dream," said Dubricius tentatively when he had heard the tale to the end. Uther quashed the suggestion with the calm confidence of a man sure of his reason. "Never a dream, Dubricius." The old man's eyes were very bright, and his face seemed full of a luminous sanctity. "A vision, then, my lord?" "I am no woman, Dubricius; I must believe the thing a vision, or damn my senses." "My lord, it is no mere woman's part to see visions; search holy writ where the chosen of God--the great ones--were miraculously blessed with portent and with dream." Uther looked into the old man's face as though for succour. "I am troubled to know what God would have me know," he said. "Dubricius, you are aged in the service of the Church!" "My lord, I have no privilege from heaven in the rendering of dreams." "Am I then a Pharaoh disappointed of mine own soothsayers?" "Sire, what of Merlin?" "Merlin--" "The man has the gift of prophecy and can speak with tongues. Send for him, my lord; he is a child of the Church, though a mage." Uther warmed himself before the fire of cedar wood, his face motionless in contemplative calm. Presently he turned, and looked deep into Dubricius's vigil-hollowed eyes as though to read the thoughts therein. "Merlin, the black-haired man who told Vortigern of the future!" "He spoke the truth, my lord." "Sad truth for Vortigern." "Yet who should fear the truth?" "Dubricius, to hear of death!" "Death, my lord?" "Remember Vortigern." "My lord, he was a planet lurid with murder, and so damned to darkness. Need the sun fear light?" Uther smiled sadly in the old man's face. "You are too faithful a courtier, Dubricius." "My lord, you are the pillar of a distraught land; God be merciful and spare you to us." "I have done my duty." "Amen, sire, to that."