{"product_id":"arthur-the-always-king-isbn-9781536212655","title":"Arthur, the Always King","description":"\u003cb\u003eIn this pulse-quickening retelling, Carnegie Medalist Kevin Crossley-Holland and former British Children's Laureate Chris Riddell welcome another generation to Camelot.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTranslated, adapted, told, and retold, the stories of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table have captivated imaginations across time. Now comes a lavishly illustrated, masterful retelling sure to enthrall a new generation of readers. From the tale of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight to the quest for the Holy Grail, stories both familiar and unfamiliar are woven into a vivid tapestry of Arthurian lore that spans from the king’s conception to his final battle. Merlin, Guinevere, Lancelot, and other timeless characters come to life as complex men and women in a rich and atmospheric feat of storytelling that feels at once historical and fantastical, otherworldly and fully human. A compelling collaboration between internationally acclaimed author Kevin Crossley-Holland and three-time Kate Greenaway Medal winner Chris Riddell, this beautiful volume is sure to be treasured by readers of all ages.A stately rendition of the Arthurian legend. . . . Visually stunning.\u003cbr\u003e—Kirkus Reviews\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCrossley-Holland (\u003ci\u003eNorse Myths\u003c\/i\u003e) recounts myriad Arthurian legends in this evocative, episodic telling. Intricately detailed full-page artwork by Riddell (\u003ci\u003ePirate Stew\u003c\/i\u003e), rendered in swathes of muted color highlighted by regal blues and vivid gold, accompanies succinct literary text. . . . lyrically developed.\u003cbr\u003e—Publishers Weekly\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e[Crossley-Holland] presents a retelling of several Arthurian stories and parts of Thomas Malory’s sweeping \u003ci\u003eMorte d’Arthur. . .\u003c\/i\u003e challenging and thought-provoking.\u003cbr\u003e—The Horn Book\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMr. Crossley-Holland includes enough courtly language and historical references to keep the stories situated in their time, but otherwise he writes with a freshness and economy that will make these centuries-old tales accessible to the modern reader. Mr. Riddell’s illustrations, which sometimes dominate the page and sometimes decorate its margins, help make this striking volume special—ideal for reading on a beach holiday after the sand is washed off for the day.\u003cbr\u003e—The Wall Street Journal\u003cb\u003eKevin Crossley-Holland\u003c\/b\u003e is a Carnegie Medal–winning author as well as a poet, librettist, reteller, and teacher. His world-renowned Arthur trilogy has sold well over one million copies and been translated into twenty-five languages. His retellings include \u003ci\u003eAcross the Rainbow Bridge: Stories of Norse Gods and Humans\u003c\/i\u003e,\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003eillustrated by Jeffrey Alan Love; \u003ci\u003eBetween Worlds: Folktales of Britain and Ireland\u003c\/i\u003e, illustrated by Frances Castle; and \u003ci\u003eNorse Myths: Tales of Odin\u003c\/i\u003e,\u003ci\u003e Thor\u003c\/i\u003e,\u003ci\u003e and Loki\u003c\/i\u003e, illustrated by Jeffrey Alan Love. After seven years teaching in the US, Kevin Crossley-Holland now lives with his wife in England.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eChris Riddell \u003c\/b\u003eis an award-winning illustrator, a writer of children’s books, and a political cartoonist. He is the illustrator of \u003ci\u003eJonathan Swift’s\u003c\/i\u003e \u003ci\u003eGulliver\u003c\/i\u003e, retold by Martin Jenkins, as well as \u003ci\u003eA Great\u003c\/i\u003e \u003ci\u003eBig Cuddle: Poems for the Very Young \u003c\/i\u003eand\u003ci\u003e Honey for You\u003c\/i\u003e,\u003ci\u003e Honey for Me: A First Book of Nursery Rhymes\u003c\/i\u003e, both by Michael Rosen. The winner of three Kate Greenaway Medals and a former British Children’s Laureate, Chris Riddell lives in England.I\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e | ARTHUR’S CHILDHOOD |\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Murk. Mud.\u003cbr\u003e    Flecks and pads of salt foam whisked up from the roaring ocean. They flew over the jagged sea cliff.\u003cbr\u003e    In the almost dark, a man who may have been young, maybe old, and probably both carefully picked his way along the path leading from the castle on the cliΩtop toward the little village of Tintagel. Just one slip or trip and he’d have been food for the fishes. Then the man tramped up the path from the village leading to the manor of Sir Ector, two miles inland.\u003cbr\u003e    Look! This man—his name is Merlin—is carrying something very, very small. Wrapped in a cloth of gold.\u003cbr\u003e    A swaddled baby no more than two or three days old.\u003cbr\u003e    A baby called Arthur.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e But Arthur’s story begins nine months and a few days before this.\u003cbr\u003e    It begins when Merlin used magic to trick Arthur’s mother, Ygerna, Duchess of Cornwall, into the arms of King Uther, who was passionately in love with her. The magician changed the king so that Uther looked and felt exactly like Ygerna’s own husband, Gorlois.\u003cbr\u003e    So King Uther and Ygerna were spellbound, and Arthur was their son.\u003cbr\u003e    And what was the price Merlin agreed with Uther? Nothing less than this: Ygerna was to give her baby to Merlin as soon as he was born. She would entrust him to the magician without knowing where Merlin was taking him, or who was looking after him, or even whether the child was still alive.\u003cbr\u003e    Merlin spirited the baby away from sobbing Ygerna and carried him, pink and small as a shrimp, to his foster parents.\u003cbr\u003e    So that is how this story really begins.\u003cbr\u003e    Or did it begin long before that? Was it a gleam in the magician’s eye? \u003cbr\u003e    Merlin tramped through the dark hours when nightmares galloped through the starless sky, snorting and neighing.\u003cbr\u003e    Outside Sir Ector’s gate, a lantern swung in the wind, like a shining truth assailed by the swarming dark.\u003cbr\u003e    A trustworthy knight, Sir Ector, with a capable wife, Margery, and a little son, Kay. A chunk of a farming man with an open smile who had a way of whistling back at the whistling choughs and curlews. A man who had learned to read and loved nothing more than to surround himself with candles and open a manuscript across his lap and tease out an old story.\u003cbr\u003e    The magician made a fist of his right hand and knocked at the hefty oak door.\u003cbr\u003e    Sir Ector and Lady Margery were ready. They had been waiting for this hour. Lady Margery herself swung open the door. At once, Merlin passed her the little parcel, and she cradled it and hurried away to Kay’s nursery. She had decided not to farm the new baby out to a wet nurse in the village but to feed him herself.\u003cbr\u003e    But a world away, in a drafty castle room overlooking the welling and snatching sea, a voice was singing and sobbing:\u003cbr\u003e    “My son! My son! Almost unbegun.”\u003cbr\u003e    Little Arthur didn’t know that. As he began to grow up, what he knew was that he was Sir Ector and Lady Margery’s second son. Kay’s younger brother.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Sir Ector’s manor sat at the top of a tight valley between two hills, late to see the sunlight, quick to lose it. Sometimes the mist had a way of wrapping around it and clinging to it all day. \u003cbr\u003e    A stranger could strain his eyes, unsure whether or not he could make out the manor.\u003cbr\u003e    “We’re in this world and out of it,” Sir Ector pronounced with satisfaction.\u003cbr\u003e    “Or in this world and in  another,” his friend Merlin suggested with a smile. \u003cbr\u003e    “Between worlds,” said Sir Ector.\u003cbr\u003e    “If I really had to live in any single place and time,” Merlin told him, “I would choose your manor.”\u003cbr\u003e    Outside roamed the huge black dog who howled at night and galloped away over the moorland, yes, and screeching night-hags, and the prowling ghost who patrolled the cliΩ path beyond the castle: beings living between times, and between waking and dreams.\u003cbr\u003e    But inside the manor house, with its mighty oak beams and moorstone walls, Arthur and Kay felt safe, and the magician often visited them there.\u003cbr\u003e    “What’s what,” the cook Jolly often told the two boys before they understood what she meant. “Yes, you two need to know what’s what.”\u003cbr\u003e    But as soon as they could understand anything, Arthur and Kay learned the difference between \u003ci\u003ecan\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003ecan’t\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003edo\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003edon’t\u003c\/i\u003e, and the rules and rhythms of the manor. \u003cbr\u003e    When Arthur was six and his brother almost eight, Sir Ector told his sons, “What I want is to see you two working at your skills so that you’ll become well-trained squires. Your fencing. Your tilting. Your wrestling. You haven’t even ridden to hounds yet. And your archery. Most of your arrows not only miss the bull; they miss the target altogether. And talking of bulls, I want you both to share the work of everyone here in this manor and in our village.”\u003cbr\u003e    “Like blacksmithing,” said Arthur.\u003cbr\u003e    “Cooking,” said Kay, sucking in his cheeks.\u003cbr\u003e    “Shearing.”\u003cbr\u003e    “Mucking out the stables.”\u003cbr\u003e    “Felling.”\u003cbr\u003e    “Wringing the necks of chickens,” said Kay. “I know—and if we hear a cock crowing, after noon, it’s a death-omen and we have to kill him at once.”\u003cbr\u003e    “Why?” asked Arthur. “Why do we have to do diΩerent kinds of work?”\u003cbr\u003e    “I’ll tell you,” said Sir Ector. “Think of a row of seven people with five people standing on their shoulders and three people standing on their shoulders, and—”\u003cbr\u003e    “I see,” Arthur said. He flexed his knees and began to bounce.\u003cbr\u003e    “We all depend on each other,” their father continued, wagging his finger at them. “And God assigns to each of us our responsibilities. You must learn what they are if you want to be squires, and that includes understanding what other people have to do.”\u003cbr\u003e    “When will I become a squire?” Kay asked.\u003cbr\u003e    “When I see that you’re ready to be,” his father replied. “And Arthur too. When you’ve improved your skills and learned your duties. When you’re fit in body and mind.”\u003cbr\u003e    “When I’m eleven?” Kay pressed him.\u003cbr\u003e    “Maybe.”\u003cbr\u003e    “Is it true,” Kay asked his father, “that your sister, Lady Laudine, owns a townhouse in the City of Lon-don?”\u003cbr\u003e    “It is.”\u003cbr\u003e    Then the boys started to yap around Sir Ector and beg him to take them to see her and the house and all the sights of London, but he would have none of it.\u003cbr\u003e    “Enough!” he said. “Now, then. Have either of you seen Merlin today? I need to speak to him.”\u003cbr\u003e    No one ever knew where Merlin was. Not for long, anyhow. He had a way of entering or leaving a room without anyone noticing, and his idea of time was not the same as anyone else’s.\u003cbr\u003e    “Time is what you make it,” he told Arthur. “You can speed it up. Slow it down.”\u003cbr\u003e    “You can’t delay the sun rising,” said Arthur. “Can you?”\u003cbr\u003e    Merlin just smiled.\u003cbr\u003e    Once, the boys asked Merlin whether he had ever ridden to London and met Lady Laudine.\u003cbr\u003e    “Have you really?”\u003cbr\u003e    “You’ve never told us.”\u003cbr\u003e    “Are the streets made of gold?”\u003cbr\u003e    “Did you see a dancing bear?”\u003cbr\u003e    “Is it true some houses are five \u003cbr\u003e levels high?”\u003cbr\u003e    “What were you doing there?”\u003cbr\u003e    When the boys sang in tune—instead of getting in each other’s way, as they often did—Merlin felt as if he were being pelted with snowballs so thick and fast that he had no time to throw one himself.\u003cbr\u003e    He held up his hands.\u003cbr\u003e    “London shall mourn the death of twenty thousand and the Thames will be turned to blood,” he announced in a loud solemn voice.\u003cbr\u003e    Arthur and Kay looked up at him, startled.\u003cbr\u003e    “What is the Thames?” Arthur asked.\u003cbr\u003e    “I will tell you about the giant hedgehog loaded with apples, and the heron, and the snake encircling London with its long tail. I will, but not today.”\u003cbr\u003e    “Merlin!” cried the boys.\u003cbr\u003e    “You know your father,” Merlin said. “He needs to see me, and he believes time never waits.”\u003cbr\u003e    “But what do you mean? Twenty thousand . . . a giant hedgehog.”\u003cbr\u003e    “I can tell you old prophecies,” Merlin replied. “I can’t tell you meanings. If you need to know meanings, you’ll have to find them out for yourselves.”","brand":"Candlewick Studio","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46301944250597,"sku":"NP9781536212655","price":29.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781536212655.jpg?v=1767721822","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/arthur-the-always-king-isbn-9781536212655","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}