We know from the surviving witnesses that Le Morte Darthur was completed in the ninth year of Edward IV's reign, that is ‘between 3 March 1469 and 4 March 1470’. The maker, Sir Thomas Malory, ‘knight–prisoner’, was in Newgate at the time, and probably still there when he died in March 1471. A wider public then gained access to the Morte through Caxton's printed edition in 1485. It is conceivable that Malory himself, the scribes of the Winchester manuscript, and early readers of Caxton's Morte realised that a significant date highlighted in the text of Le Morte Darthur placed them very close to 1,000 years after the time in which some of its major events are said to occur.

The date occurs in Malory's tale of the ‘Sankgreal’. On a Pentecost Sunday Lancelot finds new writing on the Siege Perilous stating that the Siege will be filled 454 years after the Passion of Christ, and ‘account[s] the terme of the wrytynge’ [‘calculates the period indicated by the writing’] ‘frome the byrth of Oure Lorde untyll that day’ (M 667.19–21) and realises that this Pentecost is the one occurring 454 years after the Passion of Christ, which must be taken to mean the year 487, since in mainstream medieval tradition Christ dies aged 33. Malory takes this material, like so much in his ‘Sankgreal’, directly from the French source, La Queste del Sant Graal. He does not specify the exact year of this Pentecost, but shows that his Lancelot must know what it is in order to be able to make the calculation. In 487 Easter Sunday was March 29 in the Julian Calendar. Pentecost therefore fell on May 17, so May 17, CE 487 must be the day that the Holy Grail and Galahad appear at Camelot, and the Siege Perilous is ‘fulfylled’ (M 667.16), bringing Arthur's company ‘holé togidyrs’ (M 672.25–30) and signalling that Galahad will achieve the Grail (M 670.19–24).

In 1469–1470, Malory or the early readers of his manuscript might also have made another millennial calculation. By his mother's account, Galahad is already ‘fully fyftene wynter olde’ before he comes to Camelot (M 656.29–30). Earlier in the book a hermit has announced, at Pentecost, that Galahad's begetting will occur at Pentecost ‘this same yere’ (M 620.16–19).

This chapter provides an overview of the sociolinguistic dimensions of heritage language acquisition and use across a variety of settings. Principal theoretical concepts and methodological approaches that address macro, meso, and micro level considerations, including history, context, community, and culture as well as identity, investment, and ideology are described. It considers ‘the social turn’ in language acquisition research more broadly and explains its relationship to heritage language studies, highlighting, in particular, linguistic variability. The chapter identifies key trends in the fields of heritage language acquisition and socialization, and describes the crucial impact of social variables such as generation, social class, ethnicity and race, and gender and sexuality in processes of heritage language acquisition and use. Finally, potential future areas of research focused on the sociolinguistic realities of heritage language users and their communities are highlighted. Overall, this chapter provides readers a glimpse into the sociolinguistic complexity of heritage language speakers, learners, and their communities.

Judicial life is perhaps one of the most individual – and lonely – of professional callings. On appointment, a judge takes an oath to ‘do right to all manner of people according to law without fear or favour, affection or ill-will.’1 At that moment, she shoulders an individual responsibility to meet the highest expectations of the law.2 This expectation, and concomitant scrutiny, will continue throughout the judge’s career. Legal, political and public commentary may welcome her on appointment, examining the appropriateness of her credentials, experience and political neutrality. There may be ongoing critique of the quality of her judicial conduct in court, her decisions and reasoning, all of which must, subject to few exceptions, be performed in the public eye. Even upon her retirement, her conduct and any transgressions it reveals, may be the subject of critical public comment. In performing her institutional role, the judge is afforded no personal anonymity.

What is encompassed by the idea of ‘style’ in judicial reasons and why might this be of value and something worth striving for in a judge’s performance of their role? Through a synthesis of judicial pronouncements on the topic from judges in common law jurisdictions, the author identifies recurring themes and typologies that are used by judges when they reflect upon what is meant by style – and the manifestations of which are to be, respectively, applauded and emulated or lamented and avoided. Lynch frames this discussion in the context of the High Court of Australia’s contemporary practice of ‘joining in’ to a draft opinion any justice who agrees with it, so that individual authorship is obscured from plain view. This practice reveals an interesting dynamic between the individual and institutional conceptions of the judicial role. 'Joining in' , and its consequences for the benefits that are to be obtained by the conscious development of individual judicial style, is contrasted with the modes of collective expression of agreement in the final courts of the United Kingdom and United States.

Two High Court chief justices may be considered candidates for the title of 'Australia’s Towering Justice’: Sir Owen Dixon and Sir Anthony Mason. Dixon’s claim to the title lies in his articulation of a formalistic doctrinal methodology – ‘Dixonian legalism’ – which held firm for decades. Mason’s claim lies in his unshackling of the Court from legalism, and his reconceptualising of the Court’s role within the Australian system of government. This heralded a form of realism that led to the development of doctrines, some first propounded by Dixon himself, that would progress individual liberties and democratic participation in a constitutional system lacking comprehensive rights protections. This chapter claims that Mason’s legacy is the most important today. His Court’s methodological realism and explicit acknowledgement of values and policy in judicial decision-making, and the doctrinal development that gave the Australian ‘people’ constitutional status and protections, all continue to shape modern constitutional law and debates over the judicial role and method. It is against Mason and the jurisprudence of his Court that modern legalists must now define – and defend – themselves.