When George, Merlin and Jack reached their destination they were appalled. Half of a mighty stone castle had fallen into a great hole in the ground. ‘Don’t go too near the edge,’ warned Merlin, ‘it could collapse further at any moment.’ Even as they watched, debris from the remaining battlements was falling down and disappearing into the abyss. One of the Welsh dragons ventured too near to the edge of the great hole and only just managed to flap away as the ground beneath its claws slid in a downward plunge. The vibration caused another great section of wall to sway drunkenly before toppling in its turn into the uncharted depths.
A man in uniform approached the party. He was clearly badly shaken. ‘I’m the castle warden,’ he said. ‘I’m Merlin the Whirlin, prime minister of England and this is the patron saint.’
‘Welcome St, Cuthbert,’ said the man.
‘Was anyone else in the castle when it collapsed?’ asked Merlin.
‘No, only me, King Freddie says he can’t afford to have soldiers standing idle when there’s work to do in France.’
‘So nobody was hurt,’ persisted the prime minister.
‘No, I was lucky to be taking mead in the Lark and Leak when it happened.’
‘Is the mead good at the Lark and Leak?’ asked Jack.
‘Never mind that,’ said Merlin, ‘we must make a proper survey of the damage. Do you have any architect’s drawings of the original structure?’
‘We had some but now they’re at the bottom of that pit,’ said the warden dejectedly.
‘Well, how far did the castle extend?’ asked Merlin.
The warden walked slowly towards the edge of the hole, trying to gauge the former position of the end wall. ‘Be careful,’ cried Merlin, ‘that edge isn’t safe.’
‘But I want to show you the position of the end wall.’
‘That’s good enough for me,’ said Merlin.
‘And me,’ said George, ‘what are we expected to do about this shambles?’
‘Wait for Cuthbert,’ said Merlin with a broad grin.
‘What’s he coming here for?’
‘I suggested Freddie appoint him minister for subsidence.’
‘Why did you do that?’
Before Merlin could answer there was a thunder of horse’s hooves and Cuthbert galloped up in shining armour on a splendid white stallion. The Welsh dragons hissed at the horse which reared high in the air, depositing its rider with a clanging thud on the soft turf. Jack ran over to help the fallen knight to his feet. ‘Thanks’ he gasped, then turning to Merlin he said: ‘His Majesty said you might need my help.’
‘Gosh, are you really the great St. Cuthbert?’ said the warden with awe and wonder in his voice, ‘Am I really to be honoured by a visit from our noble patron saint?’
‘Well, I’m not exactly the patron saint anymore,’ said Cuthbert, ‘but I have been appointed minister for subsidence.’
‘What’s your salary?’ asked George.
‘Only five shillings a week – what’s yours?’
‘Three and six,’ said George miserably.