by Daniel Diehl
Inevitably, mention of Merlin’s attempts to move through time brought them around to his awkward appearance in Beverley’s shower, for which the wizard apologized effusively, thoroughly embarrassed by the entire episode. Clearly Merlin was a lot more bothered by it than Beverley had been, and in an effort to keep him from apologizing yet again, Beverley shifted the topic of conversation and began explaining their work on Dark Age archaeology. She told him about the sites where they had carried out digs, the discoveries they had made, and the praise and ridicule generated by their book, Shining a Light on the Dark Ages. Somehow, the idea of discussing their attempts to prove the existence of King Arthur to no less than Merlin himself made her almost giddy, and caused all three of them to break out in gales of boisterous laughter. Inevitably, the mention of Arthur prompted Beverley to ask whether Merlin had spent time with his old friend.
“I’m afraid I haven’t gotten back to Arthur yet. There were so many things I needed to do before I went back to my old life; things I needed to prepare for. I couldn’t just jump back into my world without making proper preparation.”
Her mouth flew open in amazement. “You mean you came back to see us even before you went to see Arthur? That’s so sweet. So are you back here to live, or what?”
“No, no, I just wanted to come here before I did anything else. I wanted to let you both know that I was alright. Once I get things sorted out here, then I can go home.”
Listening to Merlin’s vague, slightly elusive explanations to Beverley’s questions, and watching the old man’s face, Jason began to have the same odd sensation he had had on numerous occasions in the past - the feeling that there was a lot more going on than Merlin was telling them. Finally, during a lull in Merlin’s narrative, Jason cleared his throat, calling for attention but hesitant to call his friend out.
“Merlin, I’m really, really glad to see you, and I’m SO relieved you’re not dead, and I think it’s amazing that you came to see us first, but I have to ask – and forgive me if I’m wrong, here – but you want something. What is it?”
“Jason Carpenter!” Beverley’s mouth flew open, her jaw hanging on her chest in amazement.
“Bev, I’m sorry. I’m as glad to see him as you are. But after the whole Morgana thing and Mongolia and Egypt and everything else, I think I know him by now and…”
Merlin’s face broke into a shameless cat-that-ate-the-canary grin as he dropped his eyes and raised his hands, waving them back and forth through the air in a sign of mock surrender. “No. No. He’s right, Beverley. But I promise you, it’s not what you’re thinking.”
“I don’t know what I’m thinking. I just think I know you by now.”
“Fair enough. But I promise I don’t want anything from either of you. Just give me a moment to explain.”
As Merlin collected himself, preparing to launch into a new line of conversation, Beverley leaned forward, stroking his sleeve, murmuring apologies for her husband. Wordless, Jason took a long pull on his wine and leaned back grinning.
“Obviously I’m going back to see Arthur. That’s my home, I live there, or at least I used to. But I wanted to come see both of you first, for exactly the reasons I gave you.”
“And…” Jason squinted down on the sorcerer with one eye, waiting for him to get to the point.
“And I just wanted to ask if you and Beverley might like to come with me.”
“Really? Oh, my God.” Beverley’s hand flew to her mouth and she let out an excited little squeal.
Smiling benignly, Merlin nodded. “Just imagine what a wonderful adventure it would be for you, my dear. You would be the first people in history ever to visit the past. Who could ask for more fun than that? Besides, you want absolute, verifiable proof that Arthur really lived; well this is an opportunity that any archaeologist or historian would give his right arm for.” Warming to his subject, he leaned across the table, shifting his hypnotic blue eyes from Jason to Beverley and back again. “Just imagine it. This is an opportunity that you couldn’t match in a hundred lifetimes of digging little holes in the ground. After just a few weeks in the fifth century you could learn enough to rewrite the modern world’s entire history of that time period. People would stop calling it the Dark Ages and start calling it the Age of the Britons or the Arthurian Age. Why, if you brought the truth about Arthur – about my entire world - into your present it would instantly make the pair of you the most famous archaeologists who ever lived.”
Eyes glowing with unalloyed excitement, nearly breathless, Beverley reached out and grabbed Jason’s hand, squeezing it until his fingers hurt. “Oh, my God, Jase. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”
Torn between his past experiences with Merlin’s slanted stories and con jobs, and the undeniable fact that this really was a world-class opportunity, Jason could feel his heart race with excitement, banging against his ribcage. “Really? You’d take us there and bring us back?”
“Absolutely, my boy. Think of what you could learn. And think of the opportunity to introduce new ideas into my world. Just with the things you already know you could become the most famous wizard there ever was – even more famous than I am.”
At Merlin’s last few words Jason balked, pulled his head back and raised his hands defensively. “Woah. Hold on a second, there. This all sounds like a great opportunity but I think it would also be a really, really dangerous thing to do. I mean, you can’t risk tampering with the past. There is absolutely NO WAY I would introduce modern technology or ideas into the fifth century. Hell, even the tiniest, most inadvertent mistake could irrevocably change the future in ways we can’t even imagine. No. I’m really sorry, Merlin, but it’s just too dangerous. I don’t think it would be safe for us to go back with you. Hell, I don’t know if it’s even safe for you to go back, considering what you know of our world.”
While Jason sat shaking his head, Beverley was clearly becoming anguished over his cautionary words. Looking longingly at Merlin she simultaneously wrung her hands and nodded at Jason.
“I appreciate your caution, my boy, but I don’t think this is as major a concern as you seem to think. I came into your time and together we fought Morgana – and, I might remind you, we won – and that undoubtedly changed what will happen from now on. I don’t recall you being concerned that we might change the future; you knew what would happen if we didn’t stop her and you stepped up and helped me change all that. So what’s the difference?”
Jason leaned forward, trying to justify his position and make himself understood. “Look, Merlin, the future is unwritten so it’s open to any possibility. It’s our duty to try to change it for the better. Does that make sense?”
“Of course. And that’s exactly what we did; we killed Morgana, locked the dragon gate and changed the future for the better.”
“Right. But there’s a big difference between the past and the future. The past is already written. We can’t risk changing it. God knows what kind of terrible things might happen if we did that. It could be catastrophic.”
“You mean, unlike the way the centuries between my time and yours happened this time around - all sweetness and light and goodwill toward men. No wars, no genocide, no plagues, no famines. Is that what you don’t want to change, Jason?”
While Jason pulled himself together for another round of explanations, arguments and counter arguments, Merlin hoisted their empty wine bottle into the air, waggled it toward their waiter and signaled for him to bring another bottle. Even before he set the empty bottle back on the table Jason had resumed talking, shaking his head for emphasis.
“Aw, come on, Merlin, you know what I mean. As bad as the past has been it could have been a hundred – a thousand – times worse. And if we went back and made one tiny slip-up in the past it could change things in ways we can’t even imagine.”
Merlin leaned back, smiling wanly at Beverley and shaking his head before taking a long, deep pull on his wine. “I’m sure you’re right, Jason and you know I would never do anythi
ng to endanger civilization – such as it is. Maybe I didn’t think this thing through the way I should have. I just thought the two of you might like to spend a few days observing my time first hand. Besides, if we were careful, I’m sure we could avoid catastrophic damage to the timeline.” The old wizard’s voice took on a sad, dreamy quality and his eyes gazed wistfully into the distance. “I mean, I can only imagine how frustrating it must be for the two of you, being the only people on earth who know that King Arthur and Merlin and Morgana le Fay were actually real people and not just mythical characters. This would be your chance to prove the reality of what you know. Make the academic world accept you. Expand the world’s knowledge of a time period virtually lost to history. But, of course, it’s entirely up to you.”
“Goddamn it old man, you always do that.”
Beverley laid a hand on the table near Jason, spreading her fingers wide, tracing patterns on the blank, white tablecloth before she spoke.
“Sweetheart, it’s not like we need to take part in anything that might change history, even accidently. I completely agree with you there. We just can’t give people in the past any kind of modern knowledge. That would be wrong and really, really dangerous. But it would be nice if we could go back and just observe for a little while. I mean, do you think it would really be that dangerous?”
Fully aware that he was being worn down, one argument after another being demolished by a master debater – not to mention not wanting to hurt Beverley’s feelings or pass up what was so obviously one of the best offers in human history - Jason changed tactics, retrenching and trying again, fully realizing that he was already losing ground, his defenses crumbling.
“What about the possible dichotomies of time travel? What if you go back and meet yourself in the past? What would happen then?”
“Son, I honestly don’t think you’re going to meet yourself in the fifth century. And as for me, I’m going back whether you come or not but, somehow, I don’t think I’m going to meet myself as I was before Arthur’s death. I just don’t think that’s how it works. There is only one me, there has only ever been one me and I think it will remain that way no matter where in time I go.”
There was a long, awkward silence during which no one said anything. Merlin and Beverley both stared quizzically at Jason, waiting for him to make the next move. Eventually, when the silence stretched out until it became as obvious and heavy as an elephant sitting in the middle of the table, Merlin spoke again.
“Alright, Jason. I’ll be completely honest with you. I need your help.”
“Ah-ha. I knew it.” Turning toward Beverley, he pointed an accusing finger toward his old friend. “I told you so. I knew he wanted something. He always does this. He only gives you half the story and then wheedles you into helping him do some goofy thing that no sane person would touch in a million years. It makes me crazy.” Finally he turned his attention back to Merlin. “So what is it? What do you want me to help you do this time?”
With eyes as big, round, blue and innocent as a child’s Merlin looked from Jason to Beverley and back again. “I need you to help me stop Morgana from turning the dragons loose and destroying the world.”
Reaching across the table, Jason laid both of his hands on top of Merlin’s and pressed them gently. Staring hard into the hypnotic eyes, he said “Merlin, Morgana le Fay is dead. She died in the Hellfire Caves. You almost died when we killed her. Don’t you remember?”
“No, no. She’s only dead in the twenty-first century. I need you to come back with me so we can stop her in the fifth century. If we can stop her, think of the untold millions of lives it will save over the course of the next fifteen centuries. We can stop entire wars if we can put her out of business.”
“And you can save Arthur and his kingdom. That’s what this is really about, isn’t it?” When Merlin failed to answer, Jason repeated the question. “Isn’t it? You want us to help you save King Arthur’s life.”
“Of course that’s part of it, Jason. He’s my friend; just like you’re my friend. And that’s what friends do, they help each other. That bastard Mordred killed him but he couldn’t have done it without the help of his mother and the dragons.”
“His mother being Morgana?”
Merlin only nodded in silent acknowledgement.
“So you DO want us to help you change the past?”
“I guess I do. And maybe that’s wrong. So you do whatever you think is best. I won’t try to influence you anymore.”
“Look, let me sleep on this, Merlin.”
“Fine. I can’t ask for more than that.”
Awkwardly, Beverley pointed out that they were now the only customers left in La Pizzaria and the waiters were up-ending the chairs on the vacant tables, casting disparaging looks in their direction. Without saying a word, Merlin stood up, walked to the bar and paid their bill. Then, in near total silence, they headed toward the door.
They were nearly half way back to Jason and Beverley’s flat before anyone said anything, but Jason’s first words were exactly what Merlin wanted to hear.
“If I do agree to go - I’m not promising you anything, understand? – but if we go back with you there is no way we are going to use any knowledge that didn’t already exist in your world. Do you understand?”
“Absolutely. That’s perfectly fair and I admire your caution. After all you killed Morgana’s dragon in Mongolia with a Roman style ballista. That’s all I am asking; just something to give us an edge.” Then, after another long, awkward silence, he added “And if you agree to help me I promise I’ll teach you everything I know.”
“What?”
“My magic. I’ll teach it to you.”
“Really?”
“Really. I’ll teach you everything I know. I will teach you magic by divination, magic by spell casting, by sendings, by potions and by angelic interventions. You will know every type of magic short of that aided by demons. You will be the only wizard in the entire twenty-first century and one of the best who has ever lived.”
“Oh, God, I haven’t even agreed to go and already I have a really bad feeling about this.”
Merlin had already brightened up, straightened his back and was smiling to himself in the dark. “Nonsense, Jason. You said the same thing before we went to Mongolia.”
“And I was right. We almost got ourselves killed. Four or five times.”
“I hate to interrupt this, guys, but how long do you think we’re going to be gone?”
“Beverley, my dear, this is time travel we’re talking about. Even if you’re gone for a decade I can have you back before tea time tomorrow - or before breakfast yesterday, if you prefer.”
Shaking his head, Jason mumbled “I just know I’m going to regret this.”
“You’re a good boy, Jason, but you worry too much. Just think of it as another one of our little adventures.”
“I am. That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Chapter Six
Beverley, Jason and Merlin picked their way through a jumble of tiny houses, none of them larger than a single car garage. The buildings’ exterior walls were plastered with a mixture of mud, pig dung and straw, and their roofs were thatched with bundles of reeds, imparting an overall muddy brown color to the entire cluster of dwellings. The only relief from the drab sameness were the ornate, Celtic designs carved into the wide planks decorating the gable ends of the roofs. The village was comprised of no more than a dozen-and-a-half hovels, all nearly identical in size and shape and clustered together, huddled like frightened children terrified of the unknown.
Encircling and enclosing the sad little houses were hundreds of yards of fencing crudely woven from twigs and reeds. Between the buildings, decaying lengths of wide, rough-hewn planks rested in the dirt, placed there to protect the feet of villagers and visitors from the effects of spring and autumn rains. With Beverley in the lead, the trio wandered along the plank walkway, careful not to slide off the rotting timbers into the mud puddles that still dotted
the narrow ribbon of earth between sidewalk and house fronts. As they moved cautiously forward, peering into the narrow spaces between the houses, gazing into small paddocks filled with shaggy, short-legged cattle and strange brown sheep with four horns, a high-pitched wail pierced the springtime silence.
“Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God, it’s Beverley McCullough. What are you like, girl?” The wailing woman was dressed in an ill-fitting, floor length blue dress with the sleeves and collar of a dun colored blouse sticking out at the neck and wrists. Long brown hair and a brightly patterned red cape fluttered behind her, making her look like a slightly mad Viking Superman. As she bore down on Beverley they both threw open their arms and joined in a crashing embrace at the point of impact. After a moment of unintelligibly jabbered greetings and laughter, they pulled apart, taking a step back to survey each other.
“Liz Trotter. How on earth did you know I was here?”
“The office rang me on my mobile and told me you were here looking for me. It’s so great to see you, Bev.”
“How long has it been, Liz?”
“What was it, second or third year at university?”
“Second year. My God, do you realize that’s almost ten years ago?”
The tiny steam engine of a woman planted her hands firmly on her hips, a look of stern confusion creasing her brow. “So what brings you to Murton Park? From what I’ve been hearing I thought you only wanted your bits of history to come out of a mucky hole in the ground. I didn’t know you went in for living history.”
Before Beverley could answer, the woman lifted her eyes, apparently taking in Jason and Merlin for the first time. Pointing a stubby index finger toward Jason she grinned manically and blurted out, “Is this that Jason lad you married? God, he’s a hunk.”