From an old manuscript of the Cambric Annal:

Here followeth an account of Bleys, son of Loiz, sometime of the convent of St Bernard, and latterly a bard in the court of Arthur King of Brythons.

In the days of Arthur, Rex Britannorum, such signs and wonders were seen in this island, that all men greatly feared the coming of the End Times. For dragons laid waste to the North Country, though they had not been spied in Brython for four and twenty winters. And as the Scripture hath it, Et vidi aliam bestiam ascendentem de terra, et habebat cornua duo similia agni et loquebatur sicut draco. That is, 'And I beheld another beast coming up out of the earth; and he had two horns like a lamb, and he spake as a dragon.' And further, Et fecit signa magna, ut etiam ignem faceret de caelo descendere in terram in conspectu hominum. To wit, 'And he doeth great wonders, so that he maketh fire come down from heaven on the earth in the sight of men."

Now good King Arthur rode up from the south, beside the Norman prince Edward. And these two lords joined their strength unto that of some Saxons and Danes, and all sallied forth against the dragon. But, woe unto thee, man which is fallen out of Eden. For death is thy lot, and sin hath come into the world. For who can doubt the everlasting fires of Perdition, when the Lord hath made such a beast as this dragon, which devoureth all things by flame? And Lo, the earth and all the soldiers upon it burned in the dragon's breath, even as the sinners in the Pit where the worm dieth not.

But King Arthur was put not to flight, and he couched his lance and charged the beast forthwith. Wherefore all men were much inspired of the king's valour, and many did ride to aid him in his enterprise. But however great was the king's heart, all would have perished in that conflagration, excepting that a wise man took the field, having the aspect of a great sorcerer. And this enchanter did shield the king from the dragon's breath, and did have conference with the beast, even as one learned in the tongues of dragons.

Whereupon the old man cast off a glamour about his person, and discovered himself to be the king's own Royal Herald, hight Merlin of Ealdor. And, disputing fiercely with the dragon, Merlin mastered the beast by his discourse, and did cause it to leave the field without wreaking aught more destruction. Wherefore all men had much marvel thereof, and some praised the Herald, while others said, 'What, be the king's servant a sorcerer? And doth he converse with evil beasts such as the dragons?'

Then the Archbishop waxed wroth, and demanded of the king that he lay against his Herald the charge of practicing sorceries and enchantments. But the king heeded him not.

For a moment after the dragon had left, the world was still. In that instant, Merlin turned and looked for Arthur. The king, standing as he was amidst carnage and ashes, surrounded by the warriors who had rallied desperately to his side, met the eyes of his Herald. He nodded, and there was much in that nod: the recognition that Merlin had always craved but seldom received, pride, and the understanding that whatever the consequences that followed, they would bear them together.

They did not have to wait long.

Merlin began to walk towards the king, and he felt a rush of giddiness. Every step he took seemed to carry a great weight. The grass and soil under his feet felt more vibrant, as though he were connected to some great power in the earth. The veil of secrecy had been thrown off from him, and now he was exposed before all. He should feel vulnerable, and yet, despite not casting a single spell, there was power thrumming in his blood, and he felt wild and elated, almost drunk.

He looked for injured men to tend, but the dragon's breath had left no survivors. The ashes of the slain drifted softly across the field, and flew skyward, like an inverse rain, like the Earth shedding tears. This was all that remained of so many gallant warriors.

Dust you are, and to dust you shall return.

The Old Religion, the dragon's voice seemed to say, the High Priestess, the Druids. Those with the power over life and death. You hold that power, Emrys. He still felt her whispering in his head. The touch of her mind resounded in him yet, firing unknown sensations.

The people on the field, too, looked at him differently as he drew near. Many of the Cambricmen, and some of the Normans and Saxons, took the knee, as before a lord, and many crossed their brows and bosoms, as though in the presence of a great cleric. But others looked frightened, and cowered away from him.

He was glad that Arthur did not bow, or flinch away.

"Merlin," said the king. "It's good to see you."

"Likewise, sire," Merlin replied.

"And the dragon?"

"She has agreed to a truce. We must challenge her to combat two weeks hence. I must challenge her."

Arthur looked at Merlin with awe. "I can't believe you drove her away, Merlin. She was like nothing I've ever encountered before. The touch of her mind… how can mortals stand up to power like that? What are you, that you could speak to her as an equal?"

"I'm your servant, Arthur."

"You're something more. You always have been."

"I'm not the dragon's equal. Not yet. I need to speak with the Druids… I only pray two weeks is enough to learn what the Dragonlords once knew."

"If there's anything left, after we destroyed their teachings senselessly," said Arthur.

"The Old Religion can't be destroyed, Arthur. Any more than life or death itself."

"But we came close enough. Too close. Maybe this is why you were sent into my service, Merlin. To help me restore what we took away… "

All of a sudden, a commotion occurred. The Archbishop of Camelot was pushing his way through the crowd, a gaggle of worried priests following at his heels.

"Sire!" he exclaimed, his voice shaking, as he raised a trembling finger to point at Merlin. "Sire! Come away from this worker of enchantments! Knights! Men-at-arms! Restrain the sorcerer! Protect the king!"

Some of the knights stirred, but most remained still, looking from the priest to King Arthur.

"Hold," said Arthur. "I am in no danger. We are all delivered from danger, thanks to my Herald. That any of us remain living is due to his intervention. Mend your speech, Archbishop."

"Mend my speech?" replied the Archbishop incredulously. "Have you all been struck blind? Did we not all see the king's closest servant and confidant reveal himself an enchanter?"

"We all saw him," said Arthur, "saving our lives."

"Sire!" breathed the Archbishop. "You know nothing of this sorcerer's motivations! You know not how subtle the snares are which the Enemy has laid for you! All this time, even as your father hunted sorcerers to safeguard you and your murderous sister… all this time, he nursed a viper in the very bosom of his household! God have mercy! How the Adversary has blinded us, making us chase after High Priestesses and Druids, even as his disciple walked among us in sheep's clothing!

"All this time he has witnessed our councils. He has dripped venom in our ears. He has tenderly bathed you and clothed you and nurtured you like a very brother! He has bided his time, for the Enemy is patient. What is a decade to an Angel that lives for aeons?"

"Archbishop," said Arthur coldly. "Enough. Merlin has my complete trust. And had you any decency, he would have your gratitude for saving all of our lives."

There was a pause while Archbishop De Croismere considered this. His expressive dark eyebrows contracted, and his handsome face worked as if he were possessed by a spirit of fury.

"You knew," the Archbishop said. "Pardieu! You knew your own bosom companion was a sorcerer! For how long? And what does it matter? Why should I expect your answer to be sensible? For surely the reason this idiot boy was able to insinuate himself within the royal household is that his Master gives him influence over the minds of men! Surely the Deceiver set that witch Mary Collins to make an attempt on your life, for the sole purpose of his servant appearing to save you! Without doubt the Fiend had the ear of your father on that day, when this abomination was welcomed into your service!"

"Have a care, Archbishop," said Arthur. "I will hear no more slander against Merlin. Go to."

"The king is not in his right mind," said the Archbishop, turning away. "Prince Edward! Earl Gallien! There are statutes against sorcery in your kingdom, are there not? As my own lord is incapacitated, I charge you to seize this miscreant!"

Earl Gallien looked to Prince Edward, who had a grave look on his habitually smiling, handsome face. His sister was ahorse beside him, her blonde tresses wildly dishevelled, her face smeared with sweat and ashes. "It would be an affront to justice," the prince said at last, "to despoil the security of a person who had braved hellfire itself to save us. Rather than censure, the Herald of Camelot deserves commendation and honours."

The Archbishop, by custom a reasonable enough man, became increasingly desperate as he saw he had no allies among the crowd. "What, will no one do their duty to the laws of Man and God? The Scripture is clear! Maleficos non patieris vivere. Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live!"

Bishop Rhodri now stood forward, his blonde curls blowing in the wind, exhaustion on his pale, drawn visage. "It pains me to disagree with you, Your Grace, but the Scripture is far from clear on this point. It was no accident that Blessed St Jerome chose to render the Avramite word chasaph as veneficus, or even maleficus, in the Vulgate. Scholars opine it can just as easily mean poisoner as enchanter, and I cannot believe it applies to all men now termed sorcerers."

"What, Rhodri?" growled the Archbishop. "Why am I unsurprised to see you coming forward to defend the warlock? Do you now twist the words of Holy Writ to preach the acceptance of witchcraft? Was there ever an unrighteous cause you didn't love?"

"Your Grace," said Rhodri, "to object to the torture of an innocent man was never unrighteous. If the Saviour taught us to see His face in the persecuted and oppressed-"

"Do not compare yourself to our Redeemer," said the Archbishop. "Be silent! Did you not swear a vow of obedience? Did you learn nothing in your convent except how to dabble in proscribed arts, and plead the causes of pagans and necromancers?"

"I swore," said Rhodri, "an oath of obedience to the Successor of the Prince of Apostles, and not to you, Your Grace."

"I am the anointed representative of Holy Pontifex in Camelot!"

"We are not in Camelot now, neither do you technically outrank me! Your Grace."

The Archbishop's face clouded. "I had wondered why the king should sponsor such a youthful and wayward priest as yourself. Surely the influence of the Enemy was upon him through his manservant. For I see now that you are far more dangerous than the King's Herald. That Merlin is merely imperilling his own soul, and perhaps the king's, perhaps even those of the entire kingdom of Camelot. But you - you would destroy the fabric of Holy Writ, and preach a heresy that would see Holy Church give its stamp of approval to all sorts of Demonology and Idolatry! You threaten the faith itself! What, am I surrounded by the slaves of the Serpent?"

"Your Grace," said Rhodri, "if every man with a different opinion to yourself is a bond-slave of Satan, you would have to build a pyre as large as this island to punish us all. In which case, it may have saved time to let the dragon burn us all, and spare yourself and Holy Church the trouble."

Archbishop De Croismere looked disgusted with Rhodri, and drew away. "Enough. Since you are all either cowards, or defective in your consciences, I will take the sorcerer into my own custody." He made as if to move towards Merlin, but Arthur stepped in front of him.

"You will do no such thing," the King of Camelot said. "Merlin is my subject, my servant, and my friend. I will not have him transferred to your jurisdiction. If you have a complaint against him, you will come to me. Until then, if you lay hands on him..." Arthur left the sentence unfinished.

"I swore an oath," said the Archbishop, "to your father. Do you know what we meant to each other? Do you know how much he sacrificed, how much it cost him, to realise his vision? The kingdom we were to build… it must come to pass! And now that he has died by a sorcerer's hand, it is left to me to defend his legacy. I alone remain of all his old counsellors. I cannot allow you to throw away what he built, Arthur, especially if this sorcerer has enthralled you... "

Pain came into Arthur's face at the mention of Uther, and he faltered. But then he said, "What my father built is a kingdom where a Pendragon rules. Were I to flout my own judgement in deference to yours, were I to give a subject due my protection into your custody, then I would be betraying his legacy. My Herald will not be menaced by you. Go back to Camelot, Archbishop. You are no longer needed here. Tend to your flock."

"You are my flock, Arthur," said De Croismere desperately, reaching for the king with trembling, supplicating hands. "More than any other soul in Camelot. Your father gave you and your sister into my keeping. You were the most precious things to him. I could not save Morgana from the devouring she-wolf, from the fruits of her father's sin. I failed Uther. If I could only keep you safe… I made him a promise! Do not make me an oathbreaker again."

"Raimund," said Arthur compassionately, taking the Archbishop's hands. "Your sense of failure is between you and my father. Whatever unreasonable oaths you swore to him are also betwixt you both. I will not sacrifice Merlin to salve your own guilty conscience. My father is in the communion of the saints, now, and he will regard any broken vow of yours with mercy. Go back to Camelot. Go and pray for my father, as he must be praying for you. But you will not touch my Herald, in Uther's name, or anyone else's."

The Archbishop pulled his hands away and drew back, his eyes hardening. "This is a grave mistake," he said. "You are setting yourself against God. Greater kings than you have fallen to His judgement. And when His sword is unsheathed against Camelot, it will be your people who suffer."

"When suffering comes for my people," said Arthur loudly, "they know that I will put my own body between them and peril, as they see me do now for Merlin. Go back to Camelot."

"Very well," said the Archbishop. "I depart." He turned and addressed the crowd. "Know you all that the Holy City will hear of this! I have no choice but to write to Holy Father and inform him that the King of Camelot has ignored the counsel of his Archbishop! When I catalogue the sins of this Pendragon, which eclipse even his licentious father's, King Arthur will surely be denied the Sacrament of the Eucharist! Further, if he persists in sheltering sorcerers, and refuses to repent, he may not be reconciled with Mother Church!

"All those here who have not stirred do their religious duty, thinking themselves above the laws of God, stand in danger of being found guilty of collusion! For the Church can no longer give her consent to this expedition, as it is now de facto led by a sorcerer! Let anyone who fears God and knows the value of obedience depart with me!"

Murmurs of discontent and worry echoed through the crowd. Many of the knights and nobles exchanged glances of fear, for excommunication could lead to their properties being confiscated and their families' reputations being ruined. No marriage of theirs could be contracted in a church, and therefore alliances vital to protecting their households and gaining influence would be stripped away from them. To be shunned socially would lead to the destruction of their livelihoods.

Earl Broderick said, "This is a heavy act, sire. It will break up our coalition. Men will part from you rather than ride with one attainted of sorcery by Mother Church."

"And what of you, Broderick?"

"I have sworn an oath of fealty to you, sire. And yet, I have sons and a daughter, as yet unmarried. Should the head of their House be excommunicated… command me to ride elsewhere to serve you. Were it up to me alone, I would follow… "

"Do as your conscience wills. I cannot ask less of you than I do of myself."

The earl said softly, "Is this truly worth it, sire? Casting away the regard of church, barons and princes? All this for one herald, a boy of common birth, and an approved witch?"

"He is more than that to me," said Arthur, equally softly. "He's more than any of you know to me."

"How extraordinary," said the earl. "I pray the Archbishop is wrong, and you are not bewitched. For it is beautiful to see that such friendships exist even in our unfaithful age. And yet, such unions are not earthly things. In this world they do not endure long, but ever end in tragedy. Perhaps we lesser mortals are not privileged to witness such bonds until the Hereafter, and only glimpse flashes of such companionship in the meantime, which shine as brightly and briefly as the lightning-strike." And he turned his massive war-horse and rode away.

Seeing the earl depart, Prince Edward nudged his horse a bit closer, and said, "Well, well. How precarious is the state of princes. See how the most devoted followers fall away."

Arthur said, "Yet you're still here. Are you not afraid of excommunication?"

Prince Edward laughed heartily, his dark locks shaking. "Excommunication? Me? Digne cousin, my virtuous mother built half the cathedrals and monasteries in Brython, Flanders and Aquitaine out of her own purse. My warlike brother, King Richard, has slain a thousand Saracens by his own hand, and he alone saved the Church from total defeat in Palestine. Do you think any priest dares to so much as give me a Pater Noster after confession without my family's permission? Excommunication? When half the fat bishops and cardinals in the Holy City tremble if my brother so much as frowns in their direction? I fear no man, should he wear chainmail or cassock.

"Not all my earls and followers will be so bold, however. They do not have such high rank to protect them. You are a bold man, Arthur. None can fault your resolution, or your personal sense of justice. I myself am interested to see how events shall unfold." He suddenly wrinkled his brow, as if a thought had just occurred to him. "My mother does command much influence with the Church. I suppose I could write to her and ask her to intercede on your behalf… "

Arthur turned and looked at Edward, mistrusting his smiling, clever face. "You sound doubtful."

"Well, there is a small difficulty. I was sent by my brother to expand his territories, and subdue his enemies. You are one of those enemies. Should you be shunned by the Church, you would certainly lose influence. It would weaken your political power significantly. We might even be given a divine mandate to make war upon your borders, and despoil you of your wealth. I can hardly ask my mother to intervene on behalf of one of her son's enemies… "

"But?" said Arthur, who saw where this was going.

"On the other hand, intervening on behalf of a son-in-law would be her duty."

Arthur's eyes flickered to Princess Marguerite's countenance, and for the first time, the Norman princess spoke directly to him.

"I followed your charge against the dragon," she said. "Few men in chainmail can ride faster than me. Fewer still would have ridden straight into a dragon's breath to draw fire from his followers. You are as gallant as the tales say." She favoured Arthur with a rare smile, which transformed her begrimed face into a beacon of loveliness, before turning her steed and cantering away.

Prince Edward bowed his head, displaying his own slightly ironic smile, which unlike his sister's, was bestowed on all and sundry, and took off after her.

"Do you have to leave me, Merlin?" Arthur said.

They stood on a high hill overlooking the open field where Arthur's court had made camp, not wanting to impose upon the hospitality of Earl Gallien. Prince Edward could have forced one of his vassals to provide accommodation, but Arthur did not wish to breed resentment, and he felt more comfortable surrounded by only his own people - those who were left. Earl Broderick and his warriors had ridden away, escorting the Archbishop back to Camelot. Queen Annis had remained, as had almost all of Arthur's personal knights. Even the few who had departed, Arthur knew, had done so out of fear of the repercussions for their families. Individually, Arthur's men trusted him with their lives.

The Norman princes and Earl Gallien had retired to the earl's castle, taking with them the Saxons and Danes. Soon, Arthur supposed, these forces would be reduced in number. Some men still spoke of making forays against the dragons, and others would remain to buttress their defences in case Merlin failed. But after witnessing the dragon's wrath, and seeing that Merlin alone had walked away from her unscathed, most seemed to trust that the warlock was their best hope, and that their lives were not worth squandering if Merlin could spare them the danger.

They will profit from Merlin risking his life, thought Arthur, even while shunning him out of fear of the social consequences. And when all this is over, and Merlin has defeated the dragon, they will happily stand aside and let him be punished by those who should be thanking him.

Apart from the Norman princes, there was one other group who did not seem intimidated by association with Arthur. The leader of the Danes, with a couple of his men, had visited Arthur's camp, and were seen to be observing everything with great interest. Arthur had seen the largest Dane watching him intently, though he had not had time to converse with the man, or to thank him for saving his life on the battlefield. The Dane was a little way off even now, wrapped in a thin mantle. He had apparently followed Arthur from the camp, but his two companions were no longer with him.

"You know I wouldn't go unless I had to, Arthur," Merlin said in reply. He, Finna, and Elyan stood before three swift horses, all dressed in travelling cloaks. "This dragon is greater than anything I have faced before. I need to know more of the dragonlore. The Druids are guardians of the Earth. The High Priestesses rule the element of Water. But the dragons are creatures of Air and Fire, and their magic is subtly different, and only the Dragonlords of old knew how to subdue them. I'm the only one who can do this, now. Finna will show me the way. But you aren't a Druid… "

"Elyan isn't a Druid," Arthur said.

"But he is Druid-touched," said Finna. "As I think you remember, Arthur? He may accompany us where you may not. Where we are going, the dead are restless, and we need their goodwill. And there are many Druid souls which were parted from their bodies by your own blade, Arthur Pendragon."

Arthur looked guilty, and Merlin hastened to add, "Besides, you are needed here. To uphold the honour of Camelot. To show that we are not running from the dragon, but merely preparing to fight it. And if any of these princes or churchmen seek to use this dragon for their own gain, only you can oppose them.

"Just… promise me something, Arthur. No matter what foolish expeditions others mount, do not go against the dragon queen yourself. She gave me her word she would not harm a human unless provoked. And you and your father have done a lot to provoke her. She bears you a very heavy grudge. Promise me you won't do anything rash and give her pretext to break her peace."

"Merlin, as you so tactfully brought up, my father and I are responsible for this dragon being here. All those men on the field who perished in her breath, while I walked away… "

"You won't bring them back by doing something stupid, Arthur. Promise me."

"I can't, Merlin. Kings aren't good at taking instructions."

"Arthur! How am I supposed to focus on my mission when I'm worried about what you might be doing here?"

"Now you know how it felt trying to keep you out of trouble. You don't like people encroaching on your territory, do you? Now you know how princes feel when their magical manservants get themselves tangled up in their affairs. Just go, Merlin."

Arthur patted Merlin on the shoulder, then thought better of it, and pulled him into an embrace. "May God speed you," Arthur said. "Come back swiftly, not as my herald, but as my own enchanter. The time for secrecy is over. You must step into your destiny soon, before my whole court."

Arthur released Merlin, hugged Elyan as well, and then formally bowed to Finna. "Keep him safe, you two," he said.

When Merlin had receded into the distance, Arthur turned to go back to camp, and saw that the Dane had approached swiftly in the meantime.

"Arthur Pendragon?" said the gigantic blond man. "I would speak with you alone." He rolled his r's curiously, with a liquid sound, which Arthur had heard among Saxons and Brythons in the country on the eastern borders of Camelot.

"It's all right," Arthur said to his knights. "I owe this man my life. Await me on the edge of camp."

When they were alone, the man approached Arthur and said, "Well met, King of Brythons. Your valour sets you above these other trembling Southmen. I wonder if some king of your line took a Vyking maiden to wife. Even your hair is unusually gold for men of your province. When I first saw you, I thought, this man's locks and brow are so fair, is this Baldur himself reborn? And when you rode straight for the jaws of the dragon, I thought, this is no coward Southman, but a half-Dane, a foundling from the North, raised by these Brythons, like a wolf pup raised among hounds."

"Praise from a warrior such as yourself is always gratifying," said Arthur. "But I know you didn't trail me all day just to flatter me."

"Arthur Half-Dane," said the giant man, "my name is Holgier. I, and the men I came south with, are no ordinary warriors. I can see that you are no ordinary fighter, either. You are a man of honour. This dragon's terror touches your honour. You feel responsible for it, and for that purpose, you would put your life on the line. I would not see you throw your life away senselessly. But what if I told you that your wizard friend is not the only one who has the power to withstand dragons? What if I told you there were living warriors who had killed dragons and walked away?"

"I… I would call you a liar. Except I saw you on the battlefield. Your shield was immune to the dragonfire. How is that possible? What is it made of?"

"That," said Holgier, "is a secret, Arthur Fairhair. A secret no Southman has ever been acquainted with. Would you learn it?"

"What are you asking for in exchange?" said Arthur warily.

The Dane seemed to grow offended, or angered. "I? I ask nothing in exchange. There is only one who has the right to demand payment of such a warrior. What he will demand of you is a terrible price, and I would not offer to show you his way unless I had seen the strength in you to make such payment."

"I don't understand what you mean," said Arthur.

"Tell me. Have you heard the word berserker?"

"I've heard the stories," said Arthur. "In the age of heroes, there were terrible warriors from the North, who felt no pain, who fought like wolves, and could take the shape of bears. Children's fables, really."

"Well, Arthur Sun-Hair," said Holgier. "If you are tired of children's fables, and would hear the words of men - men who have slain dragons, who have tasted the ale of the gods, and seen the feasting hall of Odin with their own eyes - then come with me. But tarry not, for you will never be offered this chance again. And remember: a warrior gains nothing without fighting for his life."

The gigantic Dane turned, and began to move away with astounding swiftness and silence for a man of his stature.

After a few moments, Arthur drew his cloak around him tightly, and began to run after the Norseman.

A/N:

Thank you everyone for your very kind reviews of the last chapter. And mersan123, Gingeraffealene, Iphigenia and Padre Pedro, you always leave such regular reviews and praise the story so highly, that I'm not 100% sure I deserve it. But it's very encouraging, and trying to live up to your high praise keeps me motivated. Thank you!

Iphigenia:

Thanks for asking your question about a phrase I used, "winter of our discontent." It actually comes from one of Shakespeare's history plays, which must be where the author you mentioned got it from. I'm glad you brought this up, because it has a nice connection to Arthurian legend.

Richard III is the play about the end of the Wars of the Roses. The two English noble houses at war, Lancaster and York, were cadet branches of the Plantagenet dynasty (the Plantagenets were descended from the French-speaking Angevins and Normans who ruled England, and who are represented in this fanfic). Richard III was defeated by Henry Tudor, who had both French/Norman and Welsh ancestry, and Henry became the first Tudor king. Henry used the Welsh dragon as part of his royal flag after his coronation, and even claimed to be descended from the last king of Wales (though that was pretty common for any vaguely noble Welsh family at the time).

Much later, Edmund Spenser wrote an epic poem called The Faerie Queen, which is one of the longest poems in the English language. Spenser drew heavily on Arthuriana and chivalric romances. Part of his intention is to glorify the English royal line, especially Queen Elizabeth I. Spenser makes Elizabeth a descendant of King Arthur, through her Tudor descent from the Welsh King Henry Tudor! He also has Merlin prophesise the future birth of Elizabeth, a Virgin Queene (!). I haven't read the whole poem (it's extremely long, in archaic language, and dense with extreme allegory), but if you're interested in poetry, Arthurian lore or the English language in general, I'd recommend checking it out.

By the way it would be interesting to draw a comparison between Richard of York and Morgana, in that Richard murders one of his brothers and welcomes the death of the second so he can take the throne. The famous, ominous lines that open the play have Richard praising his brother the king, whom everyone loves, and who has ended the civil war:

"Now is the winter of our discontent

Made glorious summer by this son of York;

And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house

In the deep bosom of the ocean buried."