When the ancient thorn tree of Falmouth withers and will not wake, the loremaster Myrdda is blamed for it, cast out, and sent walking east across a Dumnonia still haunted by the ghost of Rome. To save the tree, and the drowned magic anchored in the ley-lines beneath it, she must seek the wisdom of the West Country's stranger folk: a scholarly hog upon Bodmin Moor, a bickering parliament of spectacled goats, the small grumbling creatures who live at the bottom of the cider, and a young king named Arthur upon his hill at Cadbury. What she finds there will cost her her name, her form, and the memory of all she was, and remake her as the wizard the world would one day call Merlin. Part folk-comedy, part elegy, The Snarleygogs of King Arthur's Court is a mythology for Somerset and Cornwall, told in verse and prose and illustrated by hand throughout. It is a tale of grief and mirth held in a single cup, of what is lost and what endures, and of why, to this very day, a drinker might weep one salt tear into the bottom of the glass.