You may want to make a note of that.
Up to the day set, there was no talk in all Britain of anything but this combat.

All other topics sank into insignificance and passed out of men's thoughts and interest.

It was not because a tournament was a great matter, it was not because Sir Sagramor had found the Holy Grail, for he had not, but had failed; it was not because the second (official) personage in the kingdom was one of the duellists; no, all these features were commonplace.
Yet there was abundant reason for the extraordinary interest which this coming fight was creating.

It was born of the fact that all the nation knew that this was not to be a duel between mere men, so to speak, but a duel between two mighty magicians; a duel not of muscle but of mind, not of human skill but of superhuman art and craft; a final struggle for supremacy between the two master enchanters of the age.

It was realized that the most prodigious achievements of the most renowned knights could not be worthy of comparison with a spectacle like this; they could be but child's play, contrasted with this mysterious and awful battle of the gods.
Yes, all the world knew it was going to be in reality a duel between Merlin and me, a measuring of his magic powers against mine.