It wasn’t the kind of day on which one would think a legend could be born. Drooping heavy with rain, the low ceiling of cloud made the atmosphere close and stuffy. A slow metallic drizzle poured itself on the dirty, well-worn path ahead, but I didn’t particularly mind. It’s not that I liked rain – I didn’t – I just failed to take any note of the weather. So, I trudged along the zigzagging trail without much thought, same as I had always done. Yet, on this day, my mental cloud would be broken.

Occasionally a fellow traveler would pass by, but, in general, they were as oblivious to the surroundings as I was. We took little notice of each other. Yet on this one day, I saw a stark figure to the side of the path which drew my eyes from the rain-coursed rivets in the dirt at my feet. She was standing under an oak, the limbs of the ancient tree providing a suitable cover from the incessant drizzle. I don’t suppose that there was anything singularly interesting about the woman herself. She was fair and tall, but I had seen many such women before. Thinking back on this encounter, I believe it was her dress that first attracted my vision. It was red, red as an autumn sunset. It is hard to say why, but I don’t believe I would have noticed her if the dress had been merely blue or gray or green. At least, not with the drab, grayish atmosphere hanging low in the sky. But the red dress outlined against the gray backdrop startled me from my drudgery. The clash of red and gray was like drinking fine dark wine from a heavy silver-plated chalice. But her appearance was nothing compared to her voice.

“Good day.”

It was as deep as the darkest burgundy, as cheery as the tinkling of silver. I stood with my mouth open.

“You are a traveler of this ancient path?”

Somehow, I was able to gasp out an assenting response.

“I will give you something this day, something which I doubt you will soon lose.”

She pointed behind me, off to the right of the path which I had just been traveling. If you were to ask me, even now, I could not say from where the hidden pathway had come. There was a wide break in the wall of trees, and a golden pathway led eastward. Without even looking back at the lady or even asking myself where this path led, I started down the new trail.

It was a long way down this golden path. I cannot say that I noticed my surroundings anymore than before, but I was now more intent on the walkway at my feet. As I strode along, my heart began to beat more violently. Long dormant, a sense of excitement started to swirl in my head. Trying to stop this crescendo of exhilaration, I slowed my pace. Yet it was then that I looked up and saw the chapel.

Encircled by a hedge of deep green forest, stood what might have been a small parish church except for the strange light that emanated from it. It may be impossible to picture, but there was a reddish hue that appeared to smolder in the gray stone. Like charcoal in the flame, the chapel walls, though made of darkened stone, glowed with the intense red that can only be seen in a wind-streaked sky at dusk.

I was not naturally confident, but I felt when looking at this edifice that I was being beckoned. If I entered through the large oaken doors, I would not come as an intruder, unbidden. So intense was the desire to enter the sanctuary that I broke into a run and grasped at the handles of the doors and pulled them open. Rashly, I hurried down the narthex. And there, at the entrance to the sanctuary, I stopped as one dead.

Standing ominously beneath the giant crossbeams of the narthex was a ghastly giant. His face appeared as stone, with moss covering his beard and neck. In his hand he held a great battle-axe. And his guttural voice resounded off the glowing walls.

“Why do you enter this holy place?”

Even now, I’m embarrassed to admit that I could find no words to answer this apparition. Never before had the presence of something or someone so impressed itself upon me. The life on the old road had been one of superficial likeness; the people only appeared to breathe, the trees and grass were only incidental to the atmosphere, and the weather did not have life. But this giant of living stone was immanent, was near in spirit as well as body.

In my stunned silence I stood in unmasked horror. And in my horror the great guardian of the sanctuary struck me down. My face and body hit the stone floor with a resonant blow. Who knows how long I lay there? In my haunted sleep I had many dreams, dreams too fearsome and deep and satisfying to tell.

I know not what stirred within myself during the slumber, but when I awoke – be it days or months or years later – the chapel looked still the same. As I painfully rose and brushed the dust off my clothes, I turned and looked at the entrance to the sanctuary. For a moment, my heart ceased to beat and an icy sweat broke out on my forehead and palms – for there was the giant, axe in hand, ready to strike. But then, with deep relief, I saw that the stone giant was no longer moving. It was frozen like a statue, standing guard against the wall. Somehow, I did not fear this sleeping apparition anymore and I made my way into the holy place.

Through the dappled windows, a musty light poured itself onto the chapel floor. The rustic charm of the sanctuary overwhelmed me and I stood still for several minutes. Yet after a time, I saw something lying in front of the altar several paces ahead of me. Walking over and stooping down, I saw that this object was a great battle sword, like the ancients had wielded. My sleep must have changed me in some way, for I was no longer ill at ease in this strange place. And now that I saw this great weapon, I knew instantly that it was mine. It had been fashioned for me alone.

So, with a little difficulty, I lifted the sword and began to walk back down the aisle and out into the sunlight.

With each step I took that morning heading back on the golden path, I gained new vitality and strength. I did not trod now over a beaten path, but I strode with a confident gait. For the first time, I noticed that on either side of the golden walk was a sylvan wall. Ancient willows and deep green oaks whispered in the wind as I passed.

Before long, or at least it did not seem long to me, I came again to the juncture of the paths that the lady had pointed out to me so long ago.

And she still stood under the branches of the oak.

“You have returned.” She said this as though she had long been expecting me.

I found the courage to answer, “Yes, my lady. And I have brought with me the gift you had appointed for me.”

“Indeed. I can see you are faithful and have completed your quest. It is now time for you to return to the path you once followed.”

I was stunned. Did she really mean for me to again follow the old dirty, rutted pathway?

“My lady, how can this be? You have given me this weapon and a new strength. How can I now return to the old path?”

She answered like hardened steel, “Do you think that there are no enemies to fight on the old pathway? Do you think you slept in the holy place so that you can dream your whole life? I tell you, that is not the way of the true pilgrim.”

I cannot think what I actually intended to do now. But certainly the thought of returning to the weathered trail was not my intention. Yet, now that the lady stood before me in her reddened finery, I saw that I must obey.

Looking on me, and with the voice of velvet she said, “I know what you are thinking, that the old way is the way of sunless days and starless nights. You believe that only because you have not yet walked the path as one truly living. Before, you were as dead stone; now, you shall walk as one alive, for the true life shall course through you.”

Then, as a thunderbolt, the color and life of the surrounding trees, grass, animal life, and all else became real. The presence of the place was imminent. The clouds etched across the sky were moving in the wind as the seed from a flower. In the air, a sweet fragrance swirled around me, and I breathed deeply. The path at my feet looked inviting and soft – for it was my path.

She bade me to kneel. As I did she took my sword and rested the blade on my shoulder.

“Arise, Pendragon. Take your sword and walk the straight path.”

And so I did.