by Jd Field
Chapter 7: The Council
A couple of people started clapping. Ken Guthrie raised a hand. “No applause.”
One by one gleaming bodies hauled themselves from the pool. They stood on the side and the lights flicked on. The water shone like an enormous rectangle of planed sky and cast odd shadows up the muscled torsos of the boys.
Guthrie turned to Eddy. “New boy? I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“He can’t, Guthrie.” The complaining voice was a low snarl. “You can’t.” The Four Horsemen had gathered together on the far side of the pool. Kieran Hechter stood at the front of the group. He jabbed a finger at Eddy. “You’re not in your final year, you’re not in the upper sixth. You’re only sixteen. You can’t be head of anything.”
Guthrie raised his eyebrows. “You’re not final year?”
Eddy spoke for the first time, his eyes lowered. “I’ve just started. I’m lower sixth. I didn’t mean to go in the water, I didn’t mean to try and get the sword. I don’t know what happened.”
“Didn’t mean to?” somebody whispered. “Imagine what would have happened if he meant to.”
A massively built boy, with the chest and neck of a bull, shouldered a couple of others aside. “The head of Camelot can’t be a sixteen-year-old. I was just behind him.”
“Who’s that?” I hissed at the boy with his arm in a sling.
“That’s John Owen. He’s captain of the rugby team, and head of Orkney.”
“Why’s he want to be head of Camelot if he’s head of Orkney?”
“Everybody wants to be head of Camelot. He’d change houses and somebody else would take over there.”
I examined Ken Guthrie’s face. He bit his lip. “I think,” he began.
“Throw it back in,” said Kieran Hechter.
“Do it again.”
“No little kids.”
I frowned. Eddy might be younger than them, but he wasn’t little.
“Bloody Camelot,” muttered somebody sitting behind me. “For once things don’t go their way.” He raised his voice. “No! The sword was recovered, let the result stand.”
Eddy peered towards us. I knew that in the darkness our faces would only be a smudge of pale blurs.
Guthrie raised his hand. “We will go back to Camelot, I call a Council.”
“A what?” I leaned closer to the boy with the broken arm.
“A Council. The heads of the seven houses will meet and decide what to do.”
In the audience we got to our feet and shuffled to the exit. I watched the swimmers, some of them shivering as they returned to the changing rooms. Eddy trailed after them, his jacket in one hand, the sword in the other. Again my heart went out to him.
Back in Camelot we filed into the common room. Its high, stone edged, ceiling and Gothic-arched windows resembled a church more than a school building. At one end, on a small stage, a DJ began playing dance music. Coloured lights flashed across the white-painted walls and three girls started dancing. I summoned party Madeleine again, fixing my face in a light-hearted half smile. After leaning against a wall for a moment I looked at my phone, then walked purposefully through the room, trying to give myself an extra bit of sway in my high heels. I crossed the hallway, endeavouring to repeat the air of having somewhere very exciting to go, and ducked into the bathroom.
Re-emerging I slinked confidently through the crowd, fixing my half smile on no one in particular. Behind party Madeleine’s mask I was becoming desperate. I had to talk to somebody, anybody, but there was nobody I recognised. I wanted to leave, but I had to stay and see what happened to Eddy. Maybe he would speak to me.
I leaned against the wall again, trying to make party Madeleine so frivolous that she thought this occasion quite tame. In my head I counted backwards from a hundred. If nothing happened before I got to zero I would have to move off again, though I had no idea where.
The three girls were still dancing. I recognised their moves, born not from a love of music, but from a love of their new dresses and how they thought they looked in them. They didn’t look bad, in a slutty backing-dancer kind of way and half the boys in the room were watching them out the corner of their eyes.
“Cornwall girls love themselves,” muttered a voice somewhere high to my right.
I looked up. An incredibly tall girl leaned against the wall next to me. She wrinkled her nose. “You know they practice dancing like that in front of mirrors? They learn it from videos.”
“Really?” I smiled broadly, not party Madeleine as much as massive relief that somebody was talking to me.
“I’m Karen. High jumper.’ Her voice had a warm Caribbean twang. “You’re Madeleine Bride.”
I nodded. How did she know? I thought I had managed to sneak around Levels in the shadows. I didn’t want people to know about me, but couldn’t ask how she had heard of me, because then it would seem like a big deal. I didn’t want anything to seem like it was a big deal.
“The head of Cornwall is the worst of the lot. Yuki Morisoto. She’s probably in the council now trying to pick up Ken Guthrie or one of the others. Or both at the same time.” With the tips of her long fingers Karen fluffed her already perfect-looking afro.
“Girls are head of houses?” Tiago had given me a different impression.
She frowned down at me. “Of course. Cornwall, Avalon and Lyonesse have all got girl heads. Giselle Bettencourt is the head of Lyonesse, my house.” Karen’s eyes shone. “She’s completely amazing. Not like that Yuki.”
I nodded. “How long will the Council be?” I meant how long would it be until I saw Eddy?
Karen shrugged. “Who cares? Stupid Camelot, lording it around over the rest of us. You know half the people here are pleased it’s gotten complicated.”
“Um, well.” My brain whirred as I tried to think of something uncontroversial to say. The door slammed open and the dancers stopped. The Four Horsemen, all changed back into sleek evening dress, strode into the room. I pressed myself back against the wall.
“Where are the Council? What did they say?” barked Gennady Ivanovich, without greetings or small talk.
One of the Cornwall girls sloped one leg forward and propped her hand on her hip, like a model at the end of the runway. “They’re in the games room. No decision yet.”
I shrank against the wall, trying to hide behind Karen.
“We should go and talk to them.” Kieran Hechter threw a sports bag against a wall. “We have a right to speak.”
“No you don’t,” chimed in the boy with the broken arm. “It’s heads of houses only.”
Hechter’s cheeks reddened and his eyes flashed as he pointed a finger at the slightly built boy. “I didn’t ask you, Correa. You’ll shut up, unless you want your other arm broken for you.”
I winced; here was another reason to dislike him. Beside me Karen hissed a little gasp. I heard Hechter had a temper, but not that he was a bully. Good thing party Madeleine chose Tiago over him.
The Cornwall girl ran a palm over her sleek, red dress and stepped closer to Ivanovich. “They’ll be finished soon. We were dancing, maybe you want to-”
“Ha!” He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “Ask me again when I take the sword from the pool and I am head of Camelot.”
Rami Ahmed stared at him for a moment, then turned to the girl. “What he means,” each word deep and slow, “is when I take the sword he will dance with you. I say is okay.”
The girl looked from one of the Horsemen to the next. “Um, whatever.”
It seemed like there was enough trouble amongst the four of them, to make them forget all about me. Kieran Hechter’s eyes glanced across my face without recognition. I guessed he was looking for Eddy. If I hadn’t been trying to keep a low profile I would have bustled around the party doing the same.
Tiago pushed past him. “Come on, let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”
Hechter shot a venomous look at the boy with the broken arm, followed Tiago three strides towar
ds the kitchen, then stopped dead.
A big wooden door at the far side of the hall creaked open. Ken Guthrie stood in the doorway. “Where is he?”
“Who?”
“The winner. The suit guy.”
Hechter stepped forward, his eyes flashing again. “NOT the winner.”
“Kieran.” Guthrie raised a hand in warning. “Where is he?”
A boy at the back of the group that had just returned from the pool raised his hand. “He’s still outside. I’ll go get him.”
Rami Ahmed pointed a finger at Guthrie. “You can’t make him head of Camelot. I can’t be told what to do by a sixteen-year-old who smells of horse dung.”
Guthrie held his gaze for a moment, before looking back towards the front door. “Whatever the Council has decided, Rami, the Council decided. You’ll have to live with it, no can or can’t.”
The crowd of boys in evening dress parted. Eddy Moon appeared between them. The Cornwall girls giggled. Boys snickered as he passed.
“No way!” Tiago scowled as Eddy moved into open space at the front of the group. He had clearly dressed himself from the swimming pool lost property box and stood resplendent in a mismatched pair of sneakers, grass stained rugby shorts - way too small for him and clinging to the tops of his thighs - and a brown, sagging, woollen tank top with a hole in it. To me it made the beautiful proportions of his big, powerful frame even more apparent. The other partygoers disagreed.
“Freak,” came a comment from the crowd.
“Wierdo.” Another.
“Peasant.”
“You smell.”
My knees quivered and I felt like crying. My heart went out to him, poor Eddy was going to be the complete laughing stock of the whole snobby, superficial Levels campus. Cheeks crimson, he held the sword out to Guthrie. “It’s okay. If you want to do it again. I don’t mind.”
Six more students filed through the games room door and formed a line behind Guthrie. Three boys and three girls, the heads of houses. I recognised Hari Kumar, the head of Logres, my house.
“Keep it.” Guthrie smiled. “You earned it.” He ushered him forward. “My Lords, ladies and gentlemen, I give you the new head of Camelot House. Eddy Moon.”
“No!”
“What?” the Four Horsemen shouted.
More yells of protest issued from the crowd of competitors behind them, but they were laced with cheers and shouts of approval. Somebody snickered. Kieran Hechter and Rami Ahmed stepped towards Correa, the boy with the broken arm. Ahmed grabbed him by the throat.
“Hey!” Guthrie shouted. “This is a celebration!”
Owen, the burly rugby player, stepped forward and glared at them.
They let Correa go and he slowly folded to the floor.
Tiago jabbed a finger at the heads. “There’s going to be trouble. This isn’t over.” He turned, and the other horsemen strode out after him.
Eddy’s hair had dried in a fluffy cloud. He looked back at Ken Guthrie for guidance.
“Well done sir.” Guthrie put a hand on the shoulder of the ridiculous tank top. “Let’s get you some sensible clothes, and talk about what your next steps are.”
“Second-hand shop,” someone muttered.
“...at least something clean.”
My gaze snapped from one insult to the other. Why were they so horrible about him? Why didn’t they see the towering beauty that I saw?
He and the heads went back into the games room. Beside me Karen stared at the last to go, a beautiful girl with golden hair in an elaborate braid and a big crooked smile. I guessed her to be the fabled Giselle Bettencourt. When she disappeared Karen sighed and shook her head. “They’re up to something.”
“Who are?”
“The heads. They wouldn’t have voted for that nutter in the fancy dress if there wasn’t something in it for them.”
“Nutter?” I had an urge to snap at her, but at the same time I didn’t want to cause any kind of controversy. “He’s not a-”
“Can you imagine what Hechter and the others are going to do? He’s going to have a nightmare. And he looks a bit simple.”
I gritted my teeth, sadness tugged at my heart but anger reddened my cheeks. I bit back a retort. Eddy was already the butt of everybody’s jokes; I didn’t need to join him. I vowed to change people’s minds, in time, but getting angry now wouldn’t help either of us. “Karen, it was really nice to meet you.”
She opened her eyes wide. “You can’t go now. The party’s only starting. I have to introduce you to Giselle.”
“I’d love to meet her. Next time. Okay?”
I left Camelot just in time to hear the revving of a powerful engine, then the scream of tortured tires. One or other of the Horsemen’s supercars bearing them away to lick their wounds somewhere. I called Mum to come and pick me up.
In Chalice Drive I slammed the car door and was answered by a flapping of wings from a tree above. Too irritated to sleep, I stalked around my room then flipped open my Mac, looked up ‘Sea Raven’ on Wikipedia, and was rewarded with a picture of an ugly, spiky fish. I added ‘bird’ to the search terms and this time was greeted with a portrait of my gargoyle neighbour. Apparently called a ‘cormorant’ it hadn’t been known as sea raven since the sixteenth century. Eventually I fell asleep trying to work out if using such an old fashioned name meant Eddy was super smart, or just super wrong.
Sunday slipped by in a syrupy blur of sleep. I wanted Monday to arrive, so I could see how Eddy was doing. I found myself thinking up retorts to stupid comments like Karen’s.
In the morning I arrived at school early, but Sarah was in the tutor room waiting for me.
“Oh my God!” She jumped to her feet, ran forward and hugged me before I even had a chance to put my bag down. “I’m so sorry. You must be so upset.”
“Well...”
“Tiago and the others storming out of the party and leaving you there. It must have been terrible.”
“Right. That... yes.”
“Tell me everything that happened. Tell me about the new head of Camelot. Is he really a homeless? Hari says Camelot are finished and it’s open season on the House cup this year.”
“A homeless!” I glared at her. “For craps sake Sarah, of course he’s not. He’s in my history class.”
The rest of the day passed in a repeating cycle of me defending and explaining Eddy Moon, while he himself was nowhere to be seen. For the whole of the afternoon I looked forward to escaping in the swimming pool. Back in the water I absolutely killed my training, finished every drill ahead of the other girls, and showered with a smile. My arms weren’t even tired. Madeleine the jock seemed much more successful than Madeleine the party girl.
Heading home, I cycled slowly, running the day’s events through my mind. Levels got weirder and weirder, but at the same time I became more and more sucked into its odd traditions and obsessions. I turned onto the long road past Naylor’s farm, and held my breath. As I neared the frail gate I heard a familiar clatter on the road behind me. I looked back. Appearing around the bend I recognised the gigantic form of Boxer with Eddy on his back. I slowed, while the horse accelerated into a deafening trot.
“Hi Eddy,” I said when they came alongside. “Hi Boxer. What are you doing here?” I gulped.
High above me, Eddy’s luminous beauty shone down like the sun. “I was taking the big boy out for a bit of exercise. Thought we’d just see you past old Naylor’s.”
“Thanks Eddy, that’s really kind. I mean I’m sure I’d be okay, but it’s nice of you.”
The big black dog barked once. Eddy pointed a warning finger at him. He whined and lay down.
“How do you do that?”
“Knack.”
Questions swarmed like bees at the back of my throat, I tried introducing the subject gently. “No, the dog must be able to sense your new importance.”
“Ha. Not really.”
“How’s being important going for you?”
“Jeez,
Maddie. It’s a nightmare.”
The front wheel of my bike wobbled as I looked up at him. “Really?”
“Kieran wouldn’t speak to me all weekend. He spent it all with the horsemen. I couldn’t face school today.”
“Well, he’s going to be annoyed, but he’ll get over it.”
“I don’t think so. I think they’re planning something.”
“Really?” A huge flock of starlings wheeled across the pale, autumn sky. “Eddy, I don’t want to intrude, but why are you bothered? I mean, let somebody else be head of house. If you really want to, you can do it next year.”
Boxer lurched sideways as Eddy turned to me, pulling on the reins, his face blazing with purpose. I had a sense of why the guard dog had quailed before him. The grim set of his beautiful features and fierce golden eyes was like a portrait of ferocious will. “I didn’t mean to, but I won the contest. I should be head of Camelot. It’s supposed to happen.”
I concentrated on the road ahead, a bit embarrassed by the intensity of emotion he’d revealed to me. Ahead of us the archaeologists had put a small awning over their dig. I tried to take the conversation to more trivial territory. “Have you seen this? I wonder what they’re up to?”
“There used to be a chapel there.” Boxer slowed a little as Eddy pulled back on the reins. “I think there’s still a big tomb where they’re digging. A foreigner.”
“Really? That’s kind of cool.”
The great blurred mass of starlings whirred closer.
“Reckon you should be okay from here.”
“Oh, it’ll be fine. Like I said, thanks.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow in history.”
I didn’t know what to say. Eddy had never committed himself to a future encounter between us. He and Boxer crossed the road towards a gate in the hedge.
“Bye!” I called over my shoulder, as he leaned from the saddle to open the gate. “Have a good...” I bit my lip. “Homework.”
Unable to believe what I had said, I leaned onto the pedals and accelerated away. Have a good homework? What an idiot. What was it about Eddy Moon that made me talk nonsense?
That evening I began my Art coursework by turning to a fresh page in my sketchpad and writing the date on the top of it. Then I stared at the blank sheet, replaying the will power that shone from Eddy’s face, and wondering what Kieran Hechter and the Four Horsemen were plotting.
By the time I went to bed I had a plot of my own. Eddy Moon thought he was all by himself. He wasn’t. I was on his team and if I could I was going to help him out.