The Book of the Stone

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Wounded in Body and Spirit, King Artor summons the Lady of the Lake, his mother Igierne, to use the power of the Cauldron to heal a troubled, wartorn land. But a darkness is emanating from high places and it threatens to devastate a realm.

The king has been drawn again to battle in Gallia, and Medraut, the son conceived by deceit, Iusts for Artor's crown and his queen. If the rightful Defender of Britannia does not return in haste to reclaim his kingdom, the hallowed isle will ...

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The Hallowed Isle Book Four: The Book Of The Stone

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Wounded in Body and Spirit, King Artor summons the Lady of the Lake, his mother Igierne, to use the power of the Cauldron to heal a troubled, wartorn land. But a darkness is emanating from high places and it threatens to devastate a realm.

The king has been drawn again to battle in Gallia, and Medraut, the son conceived by deceit, Iusts for Artor's crown and his queen. If the rightful Defender of Britannia does not return in haste to reclaim his kingdom, the hallowed isle will be ripped asunder and no power will heal the land.

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Editorial Reviews

The final title in The Hallowed Isle series returns the reader once again to Artor's Britannia. Medraut, now free from his mother's control, arrives at Camalot ready to serve his father, King Artor. In an effort to extend the empire, Artor allows Medraut to join him and several warriors on a journey to Gallia as Guendivar is placed in charge of Camalot. Conflicted by the presence of his illegitimate son, Artor wavers between paternal love and abject hate for Medraut. On the way to Gallia, Artor sends Medraut to live with the Saxons in order to keep his son safe from soldiers who discover his true identity. Dangerously manipulative and yearning for acceptance that he cannot obtain from his father, Medraut eventually seeks to gain the throne for himself. While living with the Saxons, Medraut obtains some powerful allies and when freed, Medraut feels ready to take the throne and seduce the queen. While Guendivar becomes closer in spirit with Artor as she reads his letters from afar, she becomes physically attracted to Medraut as he tries to claim her. Artor, with the help of an elderly Merlin, must save Guendivar, Camalot, and Britannia from Medraut's clutches in an exciting final battle. With realistic characters and a mixture of history and legend, Paxson provides readers with a well-crafted version of King Artor's rise and fall that will appeal to serious students of Arthurian lore. The well-executed ending is thought provoking and provides a worthy conclusion to this fantasy series. Highly recommended for readers of the previous titles and for all readers of Arthurian legends. (The Hallowed Isle, Book 4) KLIATT Codes: SA—Recommended for senior high school students, advancedstudents, and adults. 2000, Avon/Eos, 192p, 21cm, 99-39528, $11.00. Ages 16 to adult. Reviewer: Ginger Armstrong; Principal Lib. Assoc., Chesterfield Cty P.L., Chester, VA, July 2000 (Vol. 34 No. 4)
School Library Journal
YA-This volume concludes Paxson's series on the "Matter of Britain." The previous volumes focused on Merlin's life and his origins in prehistory; the Roman influences underlying Arthur's values; the role played by the Saxons; and the variety of spiritual traditions seeking to prevail in determining the fate of Britain. Book Four begins in A.D. 502 when peace has been established and Camalot rules, but Arthur soon leaves on a seemingly hopeless quest to bring peace to Gallia. In the years of his absence, Guendivar grows in stature and becomes a true queen; Morgause finally finds peace as a priestess of Avalon; Medraut, Arthur's troubled son, attempts to usurp the throne; and the kingdom is once again torn by strife. Ultimately the land itself ("the stone") asserts its power to guide the key figures through these cataclysmic events. Though it is the end of one age, spiritual and cultural traditions have been set in motion that will continue to guide Britain's destiny in the years to come. Paxson's vivid retellings of the familiar story bring out the depth of its mythical and magical qualities and should please fans of Gillian Bradshaw, Marion Zimmer Bradley, and other writers who mix historical fiction with fantasy.-Christine C. Menefee, Fairfax County Public Library, VA Copyright 2000 Cahners Business Information.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780380805488
  • Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
  • Publication date: 1/1/2000
  • Series: Hallowed Isle Series, #4
  • Pages: 208
  • Product dimensions: 5.50 (w) x 8.50 (h) x 0.52 (d)

Meet the Author

Diana L. Paxson is the award-winning author of The Lord of Horses, The Wolf and the Raven, The Dragons of the Rhine, The White Raven, and The Serpents Tooth, and coauthor (with Adrienne Martine-Barnes) of Master of Earth and Water, The Shield Between the Worlds, and Sword of Fire and Shadow, the chronicles of Fionn mac Cumhal. She lives in Berkeley, California.

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Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

The Bones Of The Earth Were Close To The Surface Here
Artor let the horse he was leading halt and gazed around him at grey stone scoured bare by the storms, furred here and there by a thin pelt of grass where seeds had rooted themselves in pockets of soil. Harsh though they were, the mountains where once the Silure tribesmen had roamed had their own uncompromising beauty, but they had little mercy for those footed creatures that dared to search out their mysteries. Sheepherds followed their sheep across these hills, but even they rarely climbed so high.

The black horse, finding the grass too short and thin to be worth grazing, butted Artor gently and the high king took a step forward. In the clear light Raven's coat gleamed like the wing of the bird that had given him his name. The stallion had gone lame a little past mid-morning. The stag they were trailing was long gone, and the rest of the hunters after it. The track that Artor was following now, though it crested the ridge before descending into the valley, was the shortest way home.

A stone turned beneath his foot and he tensed against remembered pain. But his muscles, warmed by the exercise, flexed and held without a twinge. Indeed, at forty-two, he was as hale and strong as he had ever been. And Britannia was at peace after untold years of war.

It still seemed strange to him to contemplate a year without a campaign. He would have to think of something -- public works, perhaps -- on which his chieftains could spend their energy so they did not begin fighting one another. He had even begun to hope that he might find it in him to be a true husband to Guendivar.

Artorwas still not quite accustomed to being able to move freely -- for three years the wound that Melwas' spear had torn through his groin had pained him. The night when the Cauldron, borne through the hall of Camalot by invisible hands, had healed them all was scarcely three months ago.

And a good thing, too -- half lamed, he could never have made this climb under his own power. But, now, gazing out across a landscape of blue distances ribbed by ridge and valley, the king blessed the mischance that had brought him here. On the Sunday past, Father Paternus had preached about the temptation of Christ, whom the Devil had carried off to a high place to show him all the kingdoms of the world and their glory. Looking around him, Artor thought that the writer of the gospel must have gotten it wrong somehow, for he himself was high king of all he could see, and the sight of it did not fill him with pride and power, but with wonder.

And, he thought as the next moment brought new awareness, with humility. How could any man look upon this mighty expanse of plain and mountain and say he ruled it all?

Below him the land fell away in long green slopes towards the estuary of the Sabrina, touched here and there with the gold of turning leaves. A smudge of smoke dimmed the tiled roofs of Castra Legionis; beyond them he could just make out the blue gleam of the Sabrina itself. Closer still he glimpsed the villa from which the hunting party had set out that morning. To the south across the water stretched the dim blur of the Dumnonian lands. Eastward lay the midlands, and beyond them Londinium and the Saxon territories. Looking north he could imagine the whole length of the island, all the way to the Alban tribes beyond the Wall. The sky to the north was curdled with clouds. A storm was coming, but he had a little time before it was here.

From this mountaintop, the works of humankind were no more than smudges upon the hallowed isle of Britannia, set like a jewel in the shining silver of the sea.

But it does not belong to me -- Artor thought then. Better to say that I belong to the land.

A nudge from Raven brought him back from his reverie and he grinned, turning to rub the horse behind his swiveling ears, where the black hide sweated beneath the bridle. Men were not made to live on such heights, and at this time of year darkness would be gathering before he reached shelter. He patted the black's neck, took up the reins, and started down the hill.

For years, thought Medraut, these hills had haunted his dreams. But he had not visited the Isle of Maidens since his childhood, and he had convinced himself that the dark and looming shapes he remembered were no more than a child's imaginings. He was accustomed to mountains -- the high, wild hills of the Pictish country, and the tangled hills of the Votadini lands. Why should these be so different? But with every hour he rode, the humped shapes grew closer, and more terrible.

They are my mother's hills...he thought grimly. They are like her. As he dreaded these hills, he dreaded the thought of confronting her. But he was fifteen, and a man. Neither fear could stop him now.

At Voreda. he found a shepherd who agreed to guide him in exchange for a few pieces of gold. For three days they followed the narrow trail that led through the high meadows and down among the trees. Like many men who have, lived much alone, the shepherd was inclined to chatter when in company, and gabbled cheerfully until a glare from Medraut stopped him. After that, they rode in a gloomy silence that preyed upon the young man's nerves until he was almost ready to order the shepherd to start talking again.

But by then they had reached the pass below the circle of stones, and Medraut could see the Lake, and the round island, and the thatched roofs of buildings gleaming through its trees. He paid the shepherd then and sent him away, saying that from here he could follow the trail to the coast without a guide. He did not particularly care if the old man believed him, as long as he went away. The remainder of this journey must be accomplished alone.


Hallowed Isle Book Four, The. Copyright © by Diana Paxson. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.
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