by Unknown
‘This one did.’
‘Very well, let’s suppose I am wrong. Let’s say it did miss the first time. What about the second time? Why did it only scratch
Arthur’s face when it could easily have inflicted much greater injury, or perhaps even killed him had it wanted to? Was that chance too?’
Hector shook his head in bewilderment; instead of taking his hand and guiding him to terra firma, Merlin was leading him into a quagmire. He was beginning to wish he had never come. ‘If the whole thing wasn’t chance, what else could it have been?’
‘A test, perhaps?’ suggested Merlin.
A puzzled frown. ‘What kind of test?’
‘A test of Arthur’s courage and resourcefulness.’
What was Merlin getting at? ‘I don’t follow you,’ said Hector irritably. ‘Whose test? And what for?’
The two men faced each other across the table in Merlin’s kitchen. Hector’s mug of tea was warm in his hands, the table solid under his elbows, the floor stone, the furniture pine, and everything around him as commonplace as could be. He had come here for an explanation as ordinary and accessible as Merlin’s kitchen. What he was getting was anything but.
It was as if Merlin had read his thoughts. ‘What is it you want from me?’ he asked.
Hector sipped his tea. His own theory was weak, far-fetched, one he would like to believe in but couldn’t. What he needed from Merlin was a rational explanation of that extraordinary and disturbing encounter with the eagle.
‘Reassurance.’
Merlin smiled. ‘I’ll do my best.’ He moved over to the hob, returned with the pot and refilled their mugs.
‘The first time the eagle attacked you, what happened?’
Hector closed his eyes, reliving the scene; and so terrifying was it that even here and now in Merlin’s kitchen it was all he could do not to shield his face from the predator’s murderous talons. ‘I stumbled and fell. I nearly passed out. Keir ran over to see if I was alright.’
‘And Arthur?’
‘Art was behind us on the track, looking up at the sky.’ ‘What happened next?’
Why all the questions? ‘Where is all this leading?’ ‘Bear with me, Hector,’ said Merlin gently.
‘The eagle appeared again and started to circle. I was sure it was going to attack me.’
Merlin leaned forward, eyes bright, every muscle in his body tense. ‘You were sure it was going to attack you. Not Arthur.’ ‘No. It had attacked me once, and it was directly over me again.’
A satisfied nod. ‘What did you do?’
Hector clasped his hands together to stop them shaking. ‘I told the boys not to move. Then I saw Arthur running in the long grass and shouting like a maniac.’
Merlin bounced with excitement. Hector had never seen him so animated. ‘He left the track and ran into the field?’
‘Yes.’
Merlin leaned back in his chair and sighed a contented sigh. ‘And when the eagle attacked him, what did he do?’
‘One moment he was running away in blind panic, the next he was turned to stone. I suppose he was paralysed with fear.’ ‘You think so?’ Merlin’s eyebrows arched. ‘What happened then?’
‘The eagle was circling directly overhead. I shouted a warning to Arthur.’
‘And then?’
‘The eagle attacked him again, and this time it scratched his face. I thought it was going to kill him.’
‘What did Arthur do?’
Merlin’s relentless questioning compelled Hector to relive traumatic events. He was close to tears. ‘I can’t remember.’
‘You can’t remember anything at all?’
‘No! . . . yes! . . . he . . . he flinched,’ Hector stammered. ‘Why? Why did he flinch?’
Absurd question. ‘Because the eagle scratched his face.’
‘No.’
‘What do you mean, no?’ said Hector indignantly. ‘I saw it with my own eyes.’
Merlin soothed the air with his hands, calming Hector. ‘You saw Arthur flinch. But he didn’t flinch because the eagle scratched his face. The eagle scratched his face because Arthur flinched.’
A long silence. ‘I have not the remotest idea what you are talking about,’ said Hector wearily.
Merlin leaped up and paced the kitchen excitedly, back and forth. ‘Listen to me, Hector. When Arthur saw that the eagle was about to attack you, he shouted and ran. That was not panic, he did it deliberately to distract its attention. And that is exactly what happened. The eagle attacked him and not you. So you see, Hector, far from panicking, your son risked his life for you. When the eagle attacked him a second time, he was certainly scared but he didn’t run, did he? He didn’t even try to shield his face; all he did was flinch. For that momentary weakness he paid a token price. He will bear the mark of the eagle’s talon for the rest of his life, not as a badge of shame, but as a sign that he is human.’
Hector was deeply confused. This was not what he had come to hear; it was far from being reassuring. How could a nine year old boy show such courage, such amazing presence of mind? Every logical cell in his brain, every reasonable fibre of every nerve and muscle in his body cried out that Merlin must surely be mistaken. And yet . . . and yet . . . whatever the dictates of reason, intuition was sending him a different message, Elizabeth’s words were in his head: Arthur is special. Merlin slumped on his chair again. Observing the turmoil in Hector’s head, he was deeply sorry to have been responsible for it. His friend had come to be comforted, and he had given him cause for unease. ‘Consider what happened after the third attack,’ he said softly. ‘Was that not even more astonishing than anything that preceded it? The most dangerous predator in the skies stands peacefully on a small boy’s shoulder. Why, Hector? Why did it hover over him? Why did it circle him?’
Hector didn’t know and he didn’t want to know. He should have stayed at home and tried to make do with his own poor theory. There would have been doubts but he could still have slept at night. Nervously his hands folded and unfolded on the table. He had gone too far to stop now. ‘You tell me why,’ he said fearfully.
‘The eagle perched on Arthur’s shoulder as a sign that he has been chosen. When the eagle spread its wings over him it was telling Arthur that he will always be protected. And when it circled Arthur, the king of the skies was paying homage to a defenceless young boy on behalf of all creation.’
Chosen? Protected? Homage? Arthur was his son, a normal child, nothing more. Hector crossed the room and looked down at the empty crib that still stood in the corner.
Merlin stood beside him, his hand on Hector’s shoulder. ‘Do you remember when you and Elizabeth carried a tiny naked baby into the garden on that freezing winter’s night?’
‘Shall I ever forget it?’
‘Elizabeth held him up to the heavens, and you said what you had to say. Do you remember what happened then?’
‘The clouds parted,’ murmured Hector.
Merlin dipped his head in acknowledgment. ‘The clouds will always part for Arthur.’
‘There’s no rhyme or reason to it,’ Hector complained. ‘It doesn’t make sense.’
Merlin smiled. ‘Must everything make sense? You want to analyse and define, you want to draw the length and breadth and height, you want to pluck out the heart of the mystery. But you can’t, Hector, no one can. Arthur is of the earth, as all men are, but he is not earthbound. His relationship with God’s creation is metaphysical, a thing of infinite beauty and mystery.’
Tears glistened in Hector’s eyes. ‘He’s just a boy, Merlin, just a boy. He’s my son. I can’t think of him in any other way.’ ‘It’s a simple matter of faith,’ said Merlin.
‘Not so simple.’
Merlin smiled the kindest and gentlest of smiles. ‘It is if you believe.’
Hector rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. ‘I don’t,’ he said stubbornly.
It was as if Merlin had not heard him. ‘In a few years’ time, when Arthur is fifteen, th
ere will be a second sign.’
‘What kind of sign,’ asked Hector suspiciously.
‘You will recognise it when you see it,’ said Merlin, ‘and when you do, you will be convinced that Arthur has been chosen.’
‘For what, Merlin? Chosen for what?’
‘Why,’ said Merlin, as if it were the most obvious thing imaginable, ‘to save the world, of course.’
Nine
2004
Keir and Arthur were growing up fast and soon they would be leaving Ponterlally Primary School. They were both enrolled for Glastonbury, a fine school with an excellent reputation, and besides, Merlin was keen for them to go there. The only problem was the entrance exam. Keir would certainly pass it. But Arthur? Hector worried about his younger son. Arthur was a dreamer who did not take to schoolwork at all, and was regularly near the bottom of his class. In many ways, Hector would rather Arthur went to the local state school where there was no entrance exam and the academic pressure not so great.
It was early days, of course, but when Hector thought about Arthur’s future, his head began to spin. What would he do with his life? How would he earn a living? What career was open to a lad with the attention span of a dragonfly, whose only interests were sport and animals? ‘Tell me, Arthur,’ he would ask him, ‘what do you want to do when you grow up?’
‘Don’t know,’ the boy would respond.
Why didn’t that surprise Hector? ‘There must be something.’
Arthur would pull a rueful face more eloquent than words. ‘What could I do? I’m not much good at anything, really.’
‘You can do whatever you want to, if you work at it,’ said Hector, always ready to shore up Arthur’s confidence.
Arthur’s blue eyes clouded over. ‘Do you really think so?’ ‘I do.’
Arthur thought hard. ‘I’d quite like to be a vet.’
‘Good idea.’
Thank God, Arthur had both feet planted firmly on the ground. He was not all that bright but at least he was sensible. It might be better if he did not go to Glastonbury, as a boy could get some very strange notions listening to Merlin.
‘You don’t believe all that stuff about Arthur being chosen to save the world, do you?’ Hector asked Elizabeth.
‘Yes, I do,’ she said.
In Hector’s view Merlin’s influence on Elizabeth was far too strong. He was the one putting fancy ideas into her head about Arthur. ‘Just because Merlin says so?’
Hector ought to have known by now that Elizabeth had a mind of her own. No one was going to tell her what to think or what to do. ‘You should know better than that,’ she said huffily.
He was puzzled. Did Elizabeth know something about Arthur that he didn’t? ‘Why do you believe it?’
‘Because I believe it, that’s why.’
Surely there had to be a reason for believing, some logic, some rationale? ‘What evidence do you have?’
‘You and your evidence,’ scoffed Elizabeth. ‘I know Arthur.
That’s quite enough for me.’
Frustrated, Hector resorted to sarcasm. ‘It’s not what I’d call a career,’ he said, ‘saving the world. Not exactly a recognised profession, is it? Even if it were, there wouldn’t be any money in it.’
‘You can scoff as much as you like,’ said Elizabeth. ‘It wont change what I think.’
‘I’m sorry, darling.’ Hector put his arms around Elizabeth. ‘It’s just that I worry about the boy. What’s he going to do with his life? He’s talking about being a vet now. That’s all very well, but vets have to take exams just like doctors. If only he weren’t such a hopeless student.’
Elizabeth kissed her husband firmly on the mouth, wiped off the lipstick and patted his face. ‘You’re a good man. Now stop worrying. And don’t you go bothering Arthur about his future. He’s only ten, after all. When the time comes, he’ll do what he has to do.’
‘How do you know that?’
She wanted to explain but she could not. How to explain instincts and feelings? ‘I just know. Some things can’t be explained.’ Whatever the truth about Arthur, Elizabeth was sure of one thing; he had been given to them for a reason. Whatever it was that made Arthur special had something to do with that cold winter’s night when the clouds parted for him. For her that would always be a treasured memory, one to be locked away in her heart, too precious and too fragile to be shared with anyone but Hector.
In the autumn of 2004, at the age of eleven, Keir went to Glastonbury school, having sailed through the entrance exam. Arthur would have to wait another year.
Keir came home for the Christmas vacation very much the superior elder brother. He and Arthur went fishing at the usual spot near the stone bridge across the Lally. Elbows on knees, chin on hands, Arthur stared at the float, his thoughts wandering downstream with the current. This lazy little tributary at his feet joined another and another, until a dozen or more tributaries merged into a great river. Crammed with boats, white sails swollen in the breeze, the river flowed faster and faster, until finally it surged into the Bristol Channel and the sea. The sea! What would he not give to be out there on the Atlantic swell. Or in space. Or in the foothills of the Himalayas. Or anywhere in the universe, anywhere but school.
‘What will you do when you grow up, Keir?’
‘Haven’t decided yet, have I? I expect I’ll have my own company – something on the Internet, probably. I’m going to be a billionaire,’ Keir boasted, ‘that’s for sure.’
Arthur was impressed, and rather overawed by his brother. After a time he plucked up the courage to ask, ‘Would you like to know what I’m going to be?’
‘Not really. I expect you’ll tell me, though.’ ‘I’m going to be a vet.’
‘You’ll never pass the exams,’ said Keir cruelly. ‘Do vets take exams?’
Keir raised his eyes to heaven. ‘Do fish swim?’
Arthur stared hard at the sky. The clouds were wet and blurry.
For a while Keir concentrated on his fishing, and Arthur on his dreaming. ‘What’s Glastonbury like?’ he asked finally, more to please Keir than because he really wanted to know.
‘Brilliant.’
‘Lots of sport and things?’
‘Look here, Arthur,’ said Keir, ‘it’s no use thinking they’re going to let you in just because you’re good at sport. Glastonbury is for chaps with brains.’
Arthur did not like the sound of that at all. ‘Do you think I’ll pass the entrance exam?’
‘Not a hope.’
Arthur stiffened his jaw to stop his lower lip trembling. ‘Why not?’
Keir was pitiless. ‘Because you don’t know anything, that’s why.’
Arthur thought that was a bit unfair. ‘I may not know much about history and Latin and stuff, but I know a bit about animals, and quite a lot about birds.’
‘Terrific,’ said Keir, with heavy sarcasm. ‘When they ask you about Archimedes Principle you can do your bird imitations.’
‘Is the work very hard?’
‘Hard?’ A scathing look. ‘Hard!’ Another withering look to ensure he had Arthur’s complete attention. ‘You could not even begin to imagine in your wildest dreams how hard it is.’
Arthur looked glum. His float dipped once, and then again. Easing it gently away from the fish, he reeled in his line and cast it far upstream. This outrageous transgression of the fishing code did not pass unnoticed. ‘Don’t you want to catch a fish?’ ‘I’m waiting for a big one,’ said Arthur, grinning nervously.
‘Is that so?’ Keir reeled in another fish. ‘Not only is the work ex-ceptionally hard,’ he continued, with savage emphasis, ‘but there’s a huge amount of it. When I say huge, I mean huge as in colossal. Most boys can’t keep up. And I’m talking about the clever ones. I don’t want to discourage you but I really don’t see how you could possibly cope. You’d be miserable at Glastonbury. Take my advice and go to some other school where the academic standards are not so high.’
Arthur looked at his bro
ther enviously. ‘I wish I was clever like you.’
‘Well, you’re not,’ said Keir. ‘But that’s life. Men are not born equal. We can’t all be clever.’
That little mole of thought burrowed around the top of Arthur’s nose. ‘If I was to start doing my homework . . . ’
‘If I were to start doing my homework.’ Keir wagged a
reproachful forefinger at Arthur. ‘There, you see. How can you expect to get on in life if you don’t know your grammar?’
‘What did I say wrong?’
‘You should have used the subjunctive.’ ‘Is the subjunctive important, then?’
Keir’s lip curled. ‘Of course it is, ignoramus. What kind of question is that?’
‘If I were to do my homework,’ said Arthur carefully, ‘do
you think I could get into Glastonbury?’ Like a hungry dog, his eyes feasted on Keir’s face, pleading for a titbit.
Keir kept his kid brother waiting. Opportunities like this were not to be squandered. ‘I tell you what,’ he said.
‘Yes?’ said Arthur eagerly.
‘If you were to study really hard.’ ‘Yes?’
‘If you were to do your homework every day.’ ‘Yes?’
‘If you were to stop dreaming.’ ‘Yes?’
‘And if you were to start concentrating.’
‘Yes?’ Arthur’s mouth gaped with anticipation.
‘You still wouldn’t have a cat’s chance in hell of passing the entrance exam.’ Keir writhed on his back, shrieking with mocking laughter, bicycling his legs ecstatically in the air. Overwhelmed by a profound sense of inadequacy, Arthur threw chunks of grass in the water and watched them drift downstream with his hopes.
But Keir was wrong; Arthur passed the Glastonbury entrance exam; what’s more, he passed it easily. Hector was astonished, Elizabeth not at all. Arthur was happy about it, though perhaps less surprised than might have been expected. When Keir came home for the Easter vacation, he took his revenge on Arthur by being even more superior and patronising than ever. No amount of tender loving care from his parents could reconcile him to the fact that Arthur would be joining him at Glastonbury. Would he never be free of the little wretch? Elizabeth did her best to reassure him. ‘It will be alright. You’ll always be in a higher form than Arthur. You’re a year older than he is, and that’s one thing that will never change.’ True enough, but small consolation for Keir.