ABACUS

by Chris McGowan

  “But we what?”

  “We might…have to stay here.”

  “Never go home again?” she gasped. “Never see Mum and Dad again? Or any of our friends?”

  “I—don’t know.”

  Kate was distraught.

  “If it comes to that,” he began, hesitantly, “the people are nice…”

  “It’s okay for you!” she snapped. “You can be the big sorcerer. And play sword-fighting and bows and arrows with the grown-ups. What’s here for me?”

  “You like Gwendolyn and her friends. I thought you were having a good enough time.”

  “Gwendolyn’s cool. Some of the others are okay too. But I want more from life than sitting around talking with the girls and playing with children.”

  “Maybe you’ll meet Sir Galahad, you know, get married,” he joked, but she wasn’t amused.

  “Look, the last few weeks have been better than I expected. But I want to get back to our own world. I want to take a shower, text my friends, watch TV—”

  “Let’s try it again.” AP checked the settings. “Are you ready?” he asked, finger poised.

  Kate, dreading disappointment, nodded and grabbed his arm. AP pressed the button. Nothing. He tried again. Still nothing.

  AP tucked away the abacus and they continued walking. A dove sang a mournful song to the sky.

  “Guess what Arthur said on the way home?” AP began, after a long silence. “Medoc is getting frail and has only a few years left. Arthur asked if I’d take his place—he trusts me.”

  “Laying that on a twelve-year-old is a bit unfair.”

  “So what will he do when Medoc’s gone?”

  “He’ll manage. You said he makes the right decisions by himself.”

  “But he thinks he needs help. Before the battle, he was so unsure. What if I hadn’t been there?”

  Kate snorted. “You’re really sold on this mystic thing! Do you want to be the power behind the throne?”

  “No!” AP protested. “I just…feel sorry for him.”

  As they headed for the fort, Kate told him about the planned victory feast. She was bursting to share something else too. AP recognized the signs—Kate was hopeless at keeping secrets.

  “Okay,” he said. “What’s the big news?”

  “I can’t tell you. It’s private.”

  “So what’s Gwendolyn’s secret?”

  “Who said anything about Gwendolyn?”

  “Come on—I know it’s about her!”

  Kate hesitated. “Promise not to tell anyone.”

  AP gave his word.

  Kate looked around furtively, even though nobody was in sight. “Gwendolyn’s expecting a baby!”

  “That’s nice,” he said with a shrug.

  “Is that all you can say? I’ve just given you the most amazing news.”

  “Well, she is married.”

  “Oh, why did I even bother?” Kate groaned. “I can see my secret’s safe with you.”

  * * *

  On the day of the feast, people were in a festive mood. Those not involved in the preparation—most of the men—relaxed and enjoyed themselves. Arthur spent the morning with AP, working on his swordsmanship.

  “I see an improvement,” said Arthur. “You’re sidestepping well, and parrying my sword. Let’s work on your attack.” Holding his own weapon upright to fend off AP’s blade, Arthur instructed him on lunging.

  AP swung the sword toward Arthur’s right shoulder. The two weapons met with a deafening clang. AP immediately raised the blade and aimed in the opposite direction.

  “Good!” shouted Arthur.

  They continued for several minutes, until Arthur noticed AP was tiring.

  “Let’s take a rest.”

  “No!” AP defied, and continued lunging with renewed determination.

  “Enough!” bellowed Arthur. “You’ll injure yourself. We will rest.”

  Slumping to the ground beside his mentor, AP panted to catch his breath.

  “If I had a son I’d want him to be like you,” Arthur declared, patting him on the shoulder. “You’ve got courage. You refuse to let your small size stop you.” He paused, “So, will you be Medoc’s successor?”

  AP thought long and hard before answering. “Kate and I may be going away,” he began uncertainly. This caught Arthur off guard. “If we stay though, I’d be honored to do so.”

  Arthur smiled, wistfully. “I can’t ask more than that.” A comfortable silence followed.

  “I may be having a son of my own soon. Gwendolyn is with child.”

  AP blushed. Nobody had ever talked to him that way before. Arthur’s words made him feel special.

  Shortly before noon, someone started a bonfire in a shallow pit. Once the fire died down to burning embers, some men erected wooden spits and began roasting pig carcasses. AP watched, fascinated.

  “I wonder whether one of them is our pig?” asked Kate.

  “Maybe.”

  “That’s it for me,” she said, making a snap decision. “From now on I’m a vegetarian.”

  Early that afternoon AP learned that the old scribe wanted to talk with him about the battle. “I won’t be long,” he told Kate.

  “I’m going with you,” she said firmly.

  “But it’s the scribe who wants to see me, not Medoc.”

  “Suppose he’s in league with him? They’re both oddballs.”

  “You don’t even know the scribe!”

  “All the more reason to suspect him!”

  * * *

  The scribe lived in a tiny shack close to the gate. AP knocked on the door, wrinkling his nose against the stench from the nearby garbage.

  “Is he home?” asked Kate when there was no reply.

  “Somebody is—I can hear noises.”

  Several moments later the door opened a crack and the scribe’s wizened old face appeared. He had pale watery eyes, shoulder length hair and a long straggly beard. His hair, once snow white, had discolored to a pale shade of straw. Seeing Kate confused him at first. Then AP made the introductions and the scribe invited them indoors.

  “I’m afraid it’s cluttered,” he apologized as they squeezed inside his one-room home. His faded brown robe reached the floor. Both elbows were threadbare from long hours spent leaning over his work.

  A large table occupied most of the space, piled high with parchment scrolls. [4] Each cream-colored roll was tied with a red ribbon. More scrolls were stacked on the shelves along the walls. A bed was crunched into one corner. The only other furniture was a pair of rickety chairs.

  “Please, sit down,” he told AP, pointing a bony hand toward one of the chairs. He turned to Kate. “I fear there’s nowhere else to sit but my bed.”

  “That’s fine,” she replied, stepping over a pile of rumpled clothes.

  “Now my young sir,” he said, lowering himself into the chair opposite AP. “I would like to hear everything you remember of the battle.”

  AP’s account lasted almost an hour. The old man scratched notes on a piece of parchment, using a quill pen. He kept stopping and squinting, holding the parchment at arm’s length to read it.

  “What are all those other scrolls?” asked AP.

  “Records of our great leader’s exploits,” he replied reverently. “I’ll show you.”

  Arms outstretched, the scribe read from the most recent one. “…young Arthur streaked through the water like an arrow, to rescue the precious dagger. He moved so quickly that the water boiled, sending up great clouds of steam that could be seen far across the land…”

  Kate and AP were astonished at how exaggerated the story had become. So this was how legends began!

  The records dated back to Arthur’s birth. Unfortunately, the scribe could no longer read them. “In those days my eyes were bright and my writing small.”

  AP had an idea. “Have you got a scrap of parchment and a pin?”

  AP pricked a hole through its center, and held the parchment up to his eye. Then he handed it
to the scribe.

  “Try reading one of your scrolls through the hole.”

  The old man tried, with no luck.

  “Hold the scroll closer,” said AP, raising the frail hand. “Can you see anything now?”

  The scribe peered intently for several seconds. Then, with a whoop he cried, “I can read! This is miraculous!”

  He wept for joy, proclaiming AP to be the greatest sorcerer.

  “I’m confused,” said Kate as they left the shack. “Why did the hole in the parchment help him read?”

  “The lens in your eye, like the lens in a camera, is curved, back and front.” AP cupped his hands together to make the point. “The two surfaces must be perfectly rounded, otherwise the image at the back of the eye—on the retina—will be out of focus.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “As people get older, the lens changes shape, making the image fuzzy. This distortion get worse toward the edge of the lens.”

  “So it’s better in the middle,” said Kate.

  “Exactly. Holding a pinhole in front of your eye blocks out the distorted part.”

  Kate was impressed by the simplicity of the solution.

  “It’s still early,” said AP. “What do we do with the rest of the afternoon?”

  “I haven’t swung a bat in ages,” said Kate. “How about doing some pitching for me?”

  “Sure, I can work up an appetite for that delicious pork and crackling.”

  Kate groaned.

  * * *

  The longhouse was barely big enough to house all the merrymakers at the feast. People had to sit shoulder to shoulder along the makeshift tables running along its length, but this only added to the festive mood. After eating, drinking, and enjoying themselves, the speeches began. Hector was first on his feet and gave a stirring account of the battle.

  “When the deed was done we counted their dead,” he concluded. “Our small force of fifty three men had slain more than twice that number of raiders!”

  The burst of applause carried all the way to the river.

  Several other commanders described the fighting. The men listened intently, cheering in all the right places, but the women were less interested in warfare. When Arthur’s turn came though, everyone wanted to hear.

  Arthur began by honoring their fallen comrades. Then, after praising each of his commanders, he paid tribute to his warriors. “No leader has ever been so proud of his men,” he roared, raising his goblet.

  “But there is one among you who is not a warrior, though he tries so hard to become one. His miraculous powers helped secure our victory.”

  AP began to blush. Kate nudged him beneath the table and grinned.

  “Young Arthur has been with us such a short time, yet has astounded us all with his powers. He can swim like a fish, fly like a hawk, and summon phantoms from the air. And, as our learned scribe discovered this afternoon, he can restore sight to aging eyes.”

  The longhouse buzzed with excitement at this latest news.

  AP was mortally embarrassed.

  Kate turned around to check Medoc’s reaction. He was beaming. And when Arthur announced that her brother could become the greatest sorcerer of all time, Medoc nodded enthusiastically. “That slippery snake’s up to something,” she said to herself.

  “Nobody knows how long young Arthur and his sister will be with us,” Arthur continued. “But if they do stay, our young sorcerer has pledged to become Medoc’s successor.”

  A thunderous roar of approval followed and Arthur had to raise his hand for silence.

  “To that end, Medoc has graciously agreed to help young Arthur complete his studies. Our oracle is journeying to Fordon Forest to replenish his stock of herbs. He has invited young

  Arthur to accompany him, so he may benefit from his vast knowledge of plants.”

  AP was stunned. Kate was livid. Medoc was elated.

  Then Arthur, changing the subject, announced that Gwendolyn was expecting a child. At this, the audience exploded into a cheering, table-banging display of jubilation.

  “How can I get out of the trip?” AP asked Kate later that night.

  “You can’t,” his sister conceded. “Not when it’s been announced to the whole world. That was Medoc’s intention. He wants you all alone, so he can take care of you—once and for all. But I’m going to upset his plans. I’m going with you.”

  Chapter 9: A Poisonous Plot

  For all his powers, Medoc was unable to stop Kate from accompanying her brother. Her last-minute inclusion disrupted his planning, but he never let it show. Indeed, the old sorcerer went out of his way to be kind and considerate to them both.

  Medoc spent the day following the feast preparing for the week-long journey. He harnessed a packhorse to carry their supplies, declining Kate and AP’s offer to help with the food. “That is most generous,” he beamed, “but I know exactly what we need. I’ll take care of everything.”

  Kate and AP exchanged suspicious looks. “He’s going to poison us,” she whispered, when Medoc was out of earshot. AP agreed this was likely, especially given his knowledge of potions. They must be vigilant—they would refuse anything Medoc didn’t try first. As an added precaution, they packed a secret supply of food and water. They even devised a way of pretending to drink without swallowing—just in case he slipped them something. If Medoc thought he was dealing with gullible kids, he was in for a surprise!

  The trio departed the following morning, as the sun peeked over the hills. “I’ll take care of them!” assured Medoc as Arthur and Gwendolyn waved goodbye.

  * * *

  Hours later, a tall thin man arrived at the fortress. After enduring weeks of strife, he had finally reached his destination. During that time he’d been tricked by a guide, chased by a bear, hunted by raiders, and lost more times than he cared to remember. But none of that mattered any more. Soon he would have his hands on those children, whoever they were. They had no right to be time-traveling, and he would make sure they never did so again.

  * * *

  The first day of the journey was uneventful. Medoc was the perfect guide, pointing out interesting things along the way and showing AP and Kate every consideration.

  Before they went to bed that night, he stressed the importance of rising early. “We’ll leave before dawn,” he told them. Noticing their puzzled looks, he explained how they must reach the forest before dark.

  “Look,” said AP pointing skyward, “a full moon.”

  “Right now I’m more interested in sleep,” said Kate. “I’ll never get up tomorrow.”

  “He’s in a big hurry,” whispered AP the following morning. The sky was just getting light and Medoc was striding along as if late for an appointment.

  They were traveling in chalk country, with rolling hills of short tough grass and few trees in sight. The sun had yet to show its face but the sky was already bright. Soon they began climbing, following a footpath worn into the chalk by generations of travelers. Because of its narrowness, they had to walk single file.

  Medoc glanced up at the eastern sky expectantly. Kate noticed this, and the route they were taking. If necessary, her navigational skills would get them back to the fortress without his help.

  Suddenly Medoc came to a halt and began adjusting the horse’s harness.

  “What is he up to?” whispered Kate.

  “Haven’t a clue.”

  “It’s no good,” called Medoc, fiddling some more and checking the sky. “The mare keeps slipping her bit—she doesn’t like being followed. You’ll have to take the lead, young Arthur. I’ll take the rear.”

  They set off again, with Kate close on her brother’s heels. Medoc let them get well ahead before he started, explaining the horse was better behaved that way.

  The hill had become steeper, and they began rounding a long bend. Glancing to her left, Kate noticed the sheer drop. The near-vertical hillside, with large boulders at the bottom, made

  her nervous. Moving as far from the edge as
possible, she focused her attention on the way ahead. “Good job Medoc’s a long way back,” she muttered.

  Without warning, the sun exploded in their faces. AP lost his footing and disappeared over the top.

  Kate screamed, convinced her brother had fallen to his death. Heart racing, she peered over the edge, expecting to see him lying at the bottom. Instead, she saw him sprawled against the hillside just beneath the precipice, clinging to a clump of grass.

  Kate had the presence of mind to throw herself flat on the ground. Then, legs splayed for stability, she grabbed both of AP’s arms. Her fingers dug into his flesh like fishhooks, anchoring his arms to the spot. Feet scrabbling, hands grappling, AP clawed his way to the top. Medoc, meanwhile, was still out of sight.

  “I thought that was it,” stammered AP. “And it would have been if not for you.”

  “No big deal,” she said, smiling, her heart still pounding, “that’s what big sisters are for.”

  When AP went to see where he’d slipped, he found that part of the footpath was broken away. Looking more closely he saw marks on the chalk, as if someone had been digging with a pick. Then Medoc came hurrying around the bend, asking what had happened.

  “How terrible,” he gasped when they told him. “You could have been killed!”

  “I bet he sabotaged the footpath, during his disappearing act from the fortress after the battle,” said Kate when they were underway again.

  “That’s a bit far-fetched.”

  “Okay—why else would he make you take the lead just before we came to the dangerous part? And why did he keep looking up at the sky? Is it just coincidence that the sun happened to blind us as we reached the break in the path?”

  AP admitted she had a good point.

  The rest of the day was uneventful and they reached the forest late in the afternoon. Kate took a fix on their position by checking the direction of the sun and noting landmarks.

  Delighted with their progress, Medoc suggested they continue for another two hours, “Then I’ll cook us a splendid supper.”

  “Look at the size of those trees,” murmured Kate. “Even if we joined hands we’d still be unable to hug one of them.”

  “They’re beeches,” said AP. “See how they spread out at the top.” Both peered up at the dense forest canopy, high above their heads. “No wonder it’s so dark.”