Arthur, The Once and Future King, speaks to El Aurenx

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El Aurenx, I who speak to you am Arthur. You have called upon me to give some account of myself, as many have wanted to know my true story; but how shall this be told when so much of it was invisible to mortal eyes? Yea, I may give you the bare facts of my earthly life, but as in my previous life as Jesus most of the extraordinary events were experienced inwardly, enacted on the cosmic planes of existence, whereof only shadows were cast upon the earth.

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Many have wondered over the name of Arthur. What is its derivation? They have not known. It is indeed my Dhuman-Adamic name of Atlantis, and signifies ‘Royal Power’. I acquired that name again at last in my British incarnation when I oversouled the divine spark reincarnation of King David (whose oversoul in that previous life had been the Dhuman-Adamic Dadu). At birth I was christened David, but you will see how I came again to be called Arthur.

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There were many rival chiefs of the clans, but there was at the time no true king. The Druids proclaimed the ancient oracles of the coming of the True King whose time was deemed imminent, and everywhere in the country the name of Arthur was whispered in the woods, for the hoary traditions of the bards preserved the legend of ‘the once and future king’ — the fabled King Arthur of Atlantis. He it was for whose return they waited and watched, he who would come again. His sign in the sky was the Great Bear of the stars — the constellation of Ursus (or feminine, Ursa) Major which in the ancient Druid tongue was called Arthwyr.

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There was a secret prediction among the Druids that when the Dragon mated with the Bear, of them would be born the child that was to be the True King. In the stellar lore of the ancients the Dragon was Draco — the constellation coiled around the North Star; while the Bear was the constellation of Ursus, called Ursa in the feminine. It is true, my child, that my father was indeed the Awesome Chieftain of the Dragon clan, for that was the meaning of his designation as Uther Pen-Dragon. My mother was a maiden from the Bear clan. As my birth was illegitimate, I was myself received into the clan of the Bear.

 

Among the Druids there was one who recognized in my birth the fulfilment of the prophecy. He was even the great wizard Emrys Powys, the Merlin or vizier of my father’s dominion, and an incarnation of El Amenu, the eighth Osirian adept of Atlantis. He revealed the secret to my mother, but my father knew nothing of my birth and Merlin kept it and the prophecy from him. Instead he skilfully aided and abetted my father’s ambitions to expand his dominion, knowing that thereby would be laid the first foundations of the kingdom that I was one day supposed to claim.

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Meanwhile as I grew up I was carefully trained by the Druids in their esoteric arts, and Merlin himself was my chief instructor and initiator. I did not as yet know who my father was, nor knew I yet of his daughter, my half-sister Morgana, who was another one of Merlin’s special protégés undergoing esoteric initiations. She was, my child, a reincarnation of Mary Magdalene the messianic Queen of Israel as the wife of Jesus. In this life our relationship was to take a different turn from that of our previous life together, for she was the mother-to-be of Mordred the betrayer, the reincarnation of Judas Iscariot.

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Complex karmic forces were unfolding in these turns of events, too complex for me to do more than simply hint at them in my plain narrative. My father, in his warfare against the Saxon invaders of yore, then successfully rallied many of the warlords to his cause, and thereby became the commander-in-chief of a confederacy of allied clans under the pennons of the Dragon. Meanwhile my half-sister Morgana, being the only legitimate heir of our father, was married to a prince of the Dragon clan on whom was to devolve the rule of my father’s domains. However, he did not live long enough, but of their union was born Mordred, my nephew, destined to thwart my destiny and yet thereby to serve it. You will later see how Mordred came to be regarded as the son of an incestuous union of Morgana and me.

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As a young warrior, I attained a command in the armies of my father, both of us unknowing of our kinship. I soon distinguished myself in leadership so much so that the chiefs of the tribes of the Bear clan exalted me to an honorary position as their arch-chieftain, realizing my potential to become commander-in-chief of the allied campaign against the Saxons, and which would give our clan ascendancy over the hegemony of the Dragon dominion. Merlin watched as my reputation, like that of young David in the time of King Saul, began to overshadow all others. The time came when my father was killed in battle against the Saxons, and I myself instead carried our campaign to a decisive victory. Merlin capitalized on the acclaim I received. He seized on this supreme moment to make known to all that I was the son of Uther Pen-Dragon, in whom the prophecy of the True King was realized. No one was more astonished at this than I. 

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Merlin called on all the chiefs of the clans to recognize me as the True King under whose aegis should all the domains be united into one kingdom. A great majority rallied to his call, but as it ever will be, a few of the chiefs were not impressed by this surprising turn of events and demanded proof of the claims made on my behalf. My half-sister Morgana was in a dilemma. She trusted Merlin’s integrity, but was suspicious of me and my authenticity. Could I be an impostor, having deceived even Merlin? Was I not out to wrest from her son his succession to the Pen-Dragonship? Could I really be the True King?

 

My child, blame her not for her doubts, for even I was astounded at Merlin’s bold assertions and knew not what was expected of me. Merlin had anticipated the call for a decisive demonstration of his proclamations. With the sanction of the arch-Druids he disclosed further aspects of the prophecy, in particular apropos of the sacred sword of the True King. This sword was verily venerated among the Druids as the very sword of the divine King Arthur of Atlantis, guarded by them for untold generations in a secret crypt at Camelot. Camelot was not a palatial castle but a monastic fortress built by the Druids centuries before, like that of the Essene headquarters which once stood upon Mt Carmel, wherefore it was in fact called Caermelyn, for the ancient Druids were affiliated with the old Essenes of Palestine. (Here Joseph of Arimathea had hidden the sacramental cup, the Grail, which was later to be sought again.)

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Merlin convened at Camelot a great assembly of all the clan chieftains and tribal warlords of the land to see for themselves the truth of the sword. The ancient and awesome object was brought forth from its crypt by the Druid custodians and set before the eyes of all. It was a great iron sword, larger than any seen before. The point of its blade was imbedded in a big block of stone. The convention was conducted ceremonially as the ancient scrolls were unrolled and certain texts read out at length, telling of Atlantis and its King Arthur. Merlin then stepped up to the sword in the stone. This, he declared, was indeed the actual sword of Arthur. The divine king himself had thrust it into the stone before departing this world. It could only be removed by the hand of him to whom it rightfully belongs. Merlin looked knowingly at me while a chorus of Druids solemnly intoned an oath swearing to the truth of it all. Then Merlin loudly and dramatically declared:

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‘King Arthur is come again. He is here among us, in our midst. Let any man who doubts it satisfy himself. Let him attempt to compel the sword of King Arthur!’

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An awed hush fell over the hall. Many men, convinced of Merlin’s claims, dared not take up the challenge. They well knew that none of them was the True King, and deemed it a desecration to touch the sword; but there are always those who will try their luck at anything to gain power for themselves over others, not so? One by one the brazen dissidents stepped up. One by one they strained at the sword with all their might. One by one they utterly failed to budge it in the slightest. One by one they retired, undaunted in defeat — for each was sure that no other, nor I, could conquer the sword — confident that this artifice would never work.

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Eventually Merlin beckoned to me to approach the sword. I trusted him, yet went hesitantly, tentatively. Suddenly I heard his voice speak in my mind saying: ‘Concentrate. Compel the sword. It will yield to you.’ I looked at him and saw the compelling look in his eyes. I grasped the hilt, concentrating in my mind, until I felt the sword slipping easily out of the stone at my effortless endeavour. As I held the brand aloft before the amazed eyes of the assembly, I heard a humming arise in the hall — a murmuring of the name of Arthur. I saw heads bowed before me, but did not fail to notice the taut faces of a few in whose eyes I beheld evil.

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My child, was it a trick of sorts? Was it hypnotic entrancement that kept all others from drawing the sword? No doubt such sceptical suggestions could be conjectured. I tell you it was no trick but a reality unknown to the science of your time. It was magic, and the magic was simply in the fact that the stone was attuned to the vibrations of my etheric aura and thus responded readily to my concentrated will, relaxing its tension on the sword and enabling me to extricate it without resistance. Some doors today only unlock at the touch of the rightful entrant; some devices operate only by the right code of personal identification numbers, not so? Science duplicates artificially what is only natural in magic. Understand thereby the magic of the mind.

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My child, as I held the sword in my hands and felt its power course through my body and soul, I knew that I was none other than Arthur. I remembered within myself who I was and am, but I wondered in my mind: Have I come to bring peace by a sword?

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As I watched Merlin approaching me with the crown he was to set upon my head, I knew what I had to do. I knelt down and bowed my head to the floor at his feet. Then I arose, taking the crown from his hands, and I hung it upon the hilt of the sword which I held before me by the blade. The sword now looked like a cross on which was hung the token of kingship. The assembly must have been bewildered, but Merlin grasped the significance of my gesture. He smiled enigmatically, as if this were exactly what he expected me to do. He turned to the congregation and bade them await the will of the king while the arch-Druids withdrew for a conference of the high council. I was to join them behind closed doors and to speak what was in my heart.

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Before the high council of arch-Druids, I confirmed that I was indeed Arthur, the reincarnation of King Arthur of Atlantis. I explained why I did not wish to be crowned king. The Saxons, I said, were continually a threat to us; but even greater a threat lay within ourselves. Military might could not alone secure our fate, for might does not make right — rather should might be the result of right. It was essential that we establish a realm of righteousness — of justice tempered by mercy, of honour justified by virtue, and of unity under the rule of law and order for the sake of liberty and peace. I would lead, as I ought, but I would not rule, for every man must rule himself. If the people wished to regard and treat me as their king, I would do my best to serve them — to lead by example. Even so, I would not be crowned king, but would hold the title only as a token of true kingship as I saw it. A true king is not a king in his own eyes, but only in the eyes of those who follow him — and only for as long as he remains true to them. I concluded my speech with these words:

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‘The True King is not of this world.’

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Merlin again smiled enigmatically, as if this were exactly what he expected me to say. Be that as it may, my child, you now know that I was never crowned king, and why. The arch-Druids were not unanimous in their approval. Nevertheless I emerged from the cloistered conference to inform the chieftains and address the assembly in the hall of Camelot. I made it known to them that my kingship would remain uncrowned – that the kingdom should be governed by the chieftains themselves, according to the constitution I outlined. I asked for their loyalty to me, not for my sake, but for the sake of the unity I intended to uphold by my life. 

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Impressed and inspired by my proposition, the chieftains unhesitatingly swore their allegiance to my cause. Those who would not do so were left to go their own way, and I sensed with sadness the dark cloud that one day would come to obscure the light I came to shed. I remained at Camelot for a time, meditating and meeting much with Merlin. He was always to be my highest counsellor, and I would need his wisdom in the times to come. Another trusted senior counsellor was the arch-Druid Bedivere about whom I shall have more to say for he was the reincarnation of Joseph of Arimathea, the central character in the Grail saga of King Arthur.

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My child, never sat I upon a throne. The crowned sword of King Arthur remained the only visible sign of my uncrowned kingship. The allied domains that declared allegiance to me became known as the Kingdom — a kingdom without a king! Since it is said that I, Arthur, fought twelve great battles against the Saxons, let me say that this is not quite true. Our warfare perforce continued, it is true, to protect the people against those murderous marauders. I masterminded many of our military manoeuvres, it is true, but seldom would I wield a sword. The twelve battles rather reflect the initiatic conquests of the twelve signs of the zodiac. (The twelve tasks of Hercules are of a similar mystical meaning.) It was with regard to these mysteries that I formed the Fellowship of the Round Table, a select circle of twelve initiate knights, also to be known as the Knights Templar of the Grail, each representing one of the signs of the zodiac. My child, as you know, the twelve I chose were reincarnations of the patriarchs of the tribes of Israel, and of the twelve apostles of Jesus Christ, though they themselves knew not yet of this. Merlin identified them to me alone — including Mordred, my half-sister’s son, as the reincarnation of Judas Iscariot. Even then I perceived what it implied. I knew the destiny that awaited us, but which in the greater scheme of things could not be circumvented.

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The twelve initiate knights were to be the epitome of chivalrous virtue, and the apostles of spiritual ideals. They were duly initiated into the secret legend of the Grail whose guardian was Bedivere, for the Grail was the sacred symbol of the esoteric cause we served — of the alchemystical transmutation of the human soul. The initiatic tradition we inherited was Old Druidic, but which incorporated aspects of esoteric Christianity. The Grail was actually the sacramental cup of Jesus at the Last Supper in the house of Joseph of Arimathea. Joseph had preserved the cup and brought it to Britain. It was concealed at Camelot and kept suspended in a dematerialised state, intangible and invisible to the physical senses. Joseph in his incarnation as Bedivere the arch-Druid was the only one who could cause the Grail to manifest to those who were worthy of it upon the successful culmination of their initiatic quests. Of the initiate knights, only three were ever to behold it. 

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In these initiatic quests Morgana was to play a prominent part. She was regarded as the queen of the realm, an ironic corollary to my kingship, invested with revered authority over the constitutional court at Camelot. She exerted an extraordinarily enigmatic influence over the Fellowship of the Round Table, as she exposed the perplexing dilemmas wherewith we had to contend in our pursuit after perfect justice and righteousness. She inculcated uncertainty and controversy in the congress of the knights, so that they were sorely tried. Merlin had deliberately educated her to this end in sophistry and the complexities of contemplation so that she knew well how to bewilder any of them of their cherished convictions and to cast a spell of perplexity. With subtle insinuations of contrariness, she all but bewitched the knights, tempting them to stray from their confident course and to entertain enigmatic enchantments. Few of them would withstand her wiles. Intelligence only meant more susceptibility — but the antidote was innocence.

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Only three of my knights were sufficiently sincere to succeed despite the seductions of Morgana, namely Bors, Percival and Galahad (I call them not by their actual names but by their legendary designations) – and they were the reincarnations of the apostles Peter, John and James — these the very ones who had witnessed the transfiguration of Jesus as the incarnation of the celestial Grail — the Divine Feminine. In the end only they kept truest to the service of the True King who is not of this world, our Father-King, Adam el Daoud. One by one the others were to succumb to the aberrant ambitions of this world. First to fall was Lancelot, my foremost knight — unsurpassed as was his prowess in valour as well as virtue until he fell in love with my queen Guinevere. Of this I shall now speak in explanation.

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From my youth I loved Guinevere, the daughter of a chief of the Lion clan. After the Dragon and the Bear, the Lion was the most powerful of the confederate clans of the kingdom. I believed that our marriage could strengthen the alliance and offset the tendency of Morgana being regarded the rightful queen of the realm. Merlin revealed to me that in Guinevere was incarnate my twin soul, Arthea, oversouling reincarnations of the Queen of Sheba and Bathsheba, conjointly. My child, you will perhaps appreciate the implications of this composite incarnation of Guinevere. King David was reincarnate in me as the entity I oversouled, thus I was karmically linked to Guinevere as the reincarnate Bathsheba. You know the shameful story of how David came by the hand of Bathsheba, the wife of another; and it was therefore that I was to be betrayed of my love for Guinevere. Lancelot was a reincarnation of King Solomon, the son of David by Bathsheba; and the Queen of Sheba had been Solomon’s soul mate. Karmically, Lancelot was double-bound to Guinevere, the one destined to thwart our matrimony.

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My child, you know that when the marriage was arranged, I sent Lancelot to escort Guinevere to Camelot. Though I realized the tragedy that was to come of it, I yet understood that it was in no wise to be eschewed. 

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Indeed, it was then already that they fell in love, so that when Guinevere took her marriage vows with me, her heart was distraught. Inside our relationship lay a complicated play of passion. The David in me desired the Bathsheba in her, but the Queen of Sheba in her desired the Solomon in Lancelot. Our bond remained an unconsummated marriage, for even though we loved each other as only twin souls can love, I knew that her mortal heart was with Lancelot, and the David in me grieved sorely of unrequited love. As for Lancelot, the Solomon in him desired the Queen of Sheba in her, but the oversouling Salomaiu understood that Salome, his twin soul, was not in her (for this was only to come later, my child, as you are shortly to see).

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Lancelot was torn apart by his conflict of loyalty. According to the legend Morgana kept Lancelot locked in a castle and tempted him with three queens. Esoterically, Morgana tested Lancelot’s fortitude of fidelity, holding him in a double bind of moral dilemma. The three queens depict the threefold aspect of Guinevere:

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1. Arthea, my twin soul, whose oversouling of Guinevere rendered Lancelot’s love for her karmically illicit;

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2. Bathsheba — the mother of Solomon — who rendered Lancelot’s love for Guinevere karmically incestuous; 

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3. Queen of Sheba, Solomon’s consort, who rendered Lancelot’s and Guinevere’s love legitimate but unsanctified until he should regain the grace of the Divine Feminine out of the alchemystery of the Grail. (My child, you know somewhat of this from former messages on the Lives of Lot  given you by El Ochre.)

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Lancelot still withstood the tribulation by Morgana and would not claim Guinevere for himself. In the end, Arthea broke the spellbinding of Morgana by withdrawing from the incarnation of Guinevere. Henceforth the oversouling of Salome governed Guinevere under the esoteric guise of Elaine of Carbonek in whom Lancelot was to recognize his twin soul. Guinevere was then no longer rightfully mine, yet neither would she yield to Lancelot, but recused herself from the court of Camelot and seceded into cloistered chastity. Lancelot grieved sorely of unrequited love, and deserted his duty to Camelot, becoming for quite some time a wayward wanderer.

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Meanwhile the other knights were undergoing their tests and tribulations according to their karma, of which I shall not treat in this discourse. The cryptic clues are all in the legends if you but search with diligence. Know also, my child, that many more came to Camelot seeking initiation into the higher knighthood so that the Order of the Knights Templar grew beyond the inner core of the initial twelve initiate knights; but alas, the Fellowship of the Round Table was slowly beginning to break up under the strain of the karmic forces that had to be endured – much of it of more than personal import, but also of a transcendental significance. Some of my knights fell into the fallacy of seeking vengeance upon Lancelot whom they condemned for all the misfortunes of the kingdom. He became a hunted man, and as they caught up with him one by one, was he forced to the defence of himself. As none could ever best him by the sword, one by one were they slain. Last to go against Lancelot was my cousin Gawain. Lancelot had long ignored his boastful provocation, but Gawain would not give up. When they finally clashed in single combat, Gawain was severely smitten by Lancelot who nonetheless spared his life and sent him back to Camelot. Those who heeded my behest to let Lancelot alone were the Grail knights Bors, Percival and Galahad. Their enmity was only toward Mordred. 

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Mordred had begun to evidence his destiny as the traitor. Misconstruing his mother’s aims, he subscribed to the rumours of Guinevere’s infidelity with Lancelot, and pressed me to punish them, which I would not do. Mordred became bitterly disillusioned with the court of Camelot, and with me as uncrowned king, saying:

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‘What kind of king suffers himself to be insulted?

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What kind of king condones such a disgrace?

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What a charade is Camelot!

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The kingdom needs a king – duly crowned and sovereign.

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If you will not be king, then I will!’

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He left the Fellowship of the Round Table and took up company with the clan chieftains who had never accepted allegiance with me. Soon he was claiming to be the True King himself. He even put it about that he was my son by my half-sister Morgana, his mother; thus the true spawn of the Dragon and the Bear, and the final fulfilment of the prophecy. The schismatic chiefs acclaimed him and the kingdom was besieged by the foes of freedom in the name of Mordred. Murder was the dolorous stroke that laid waste the land.

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Many could not countenance that I, who so often resisted the Saxons, seemed not to act at this crucial time. Gawain, wasted by his wounds, sent urgent word to Lancelot, beseeching him to come to the rescue of Camelot and the kingdom. Gawain died, as did Bors, Percival and Galahad, in the insurrection wrought by Mordred. Eventually Mordred and I came face to face. It is said, my child, that I slew Mordred, and was myself mortally wounded by him, but this is not quite the truth.

What is true is that Mordred mocked me as a coward, and scorned the charade of Camelot as he called it. Repeatedly he ranted:

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‘The kingdom needs a king – duly crowned and sovereign.

If you will not be king, then I will!’

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Mordred wanted my acknowledgement of his claim, the abdication of my uncrowned kingship, and to let him be crowned as my successor and the true sovereign. Seeing that I would never sanction his usurpation, he became enraged and threatened to assassinate me then and there. Ignoring this, I poured a cup of wine and broke a morsel of bread. Dipping the bread into the wine, I offered him the sop, saying:

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‘Whom does the Grail serve?’

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He grasped the significance of my gesture only too well, at which his rage erupted and broke loose, so that he lunged at me with his lance. It pierced my side. I dropped the cup of wine and stepped back a few paces. Mordred stood amazed as the blood spurted from my side and mingled with the wine spilled from the cup. As the omen of it overcame him, I extended my arms like wings, and he saw that I bled from my wrists too. Blood was suddenly also streaming from my head and from my feet. I was like a living crucifix. And I said:

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‘It is final.

The True King is not of this world.’

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Mordred’s eyes glazed over. He stood transfixed, trembling in every limb. He hesitated for a moment, then he fell forward onto his own lance, impaled through the spleen. At that I too sank unconscious to my knees. Thus they found us lying in a pool of blood, Mordred already dead, and I dying. In my last hours of life was I tended by the Druids. I entrusted my last testimony to them that they might know of certain secret things. No one anymore knew where Merlin was, but I saw him in his spirit form on the other side of life, awaiting my release from the mortal flesh. The arch-Druid Bedivere presided over the expedition that bore my dying body in a barge to the isle of Avalon at Glastonbury. There was I interred, my tomb never to be unearthed. 

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In the course of time, the insurrection instigated by Mordred was quelled under the leadership of Lancelot, the last surviving of my knights, and peace came once more over the land. Lancelot and Guinevere, called Elaine, eventually consummated their love, and she gave birth to a son who came also to be called Galahad. He was an incarnation of Menelaiu, who was later to reappear in history as Abraham Lincoln, as you know. This Galahad grew up to succeed Bedivere as the guardian of the Grail, and he reinstated the Fellowship of the Round Table and the Order of the Knights Templar of the Grail, which continued in concealment until the time, six centuries later, when the Knights Templar resurfaced in the context of the medieval Crusades.

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My child, I hope I have here given you a glimpse of insight into the saga that launched a legion of legends. My last word is of the sacred sword of King Arthur. It is romantically told that Bedivere cast it into a lake. The lake surely means the immaterial etheric plane. In actuality, Bedivere, on my instructions, conducted the magic rite whereby the sword was dematerialised, and it vanished from this world forever.

 

Amni Dak [In the Name of God]

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