by Ben Zackheim
They enjoyed some succulent dishes, quiet conversation, and the view of the mountains. No one nearby was showing contempt for Simon so far. In fact, Russ and Josh were joined by some other kids who went out of their way to include him in the conversation.
“Nellie was pretty as a pie, you ask me. I don’t know what she sees in that doofus,” said a fair-skinned, slightly unhealthy looking boy. “He didn’t even pay attention to her the whole time.” The most life the boy had in his face was in his eyes, which were trying to get a look at this Nellie, who sat across the hall.
“Ooooo. Sam is smitten with a new girl today,” Josh teased him. He leaned in close to Simon and whispered, “He falls for a new one every week.”
“Cut it out, Josh,” Sam said, getting some much-needed color in his face.
“A true romantic,” said Russ. Some of the guys laughed, their mouths full of buttery bread and bacon.
“A true moron,” came a deep voice from farther down the table. Simon remembered the speaker as one of the large boys who had helped Gawain to his feet after the fight the day before.
The nearby kids dipped their heads down. They didn’t want trouble. Simon would have done the same a few days ago, but not here. He’d have none of that here.
“Who are you?” Simon asked curtly.
“I’m your worst nightmare,” the kid mumbled to his friends. The posse laughed. Simon noticed that Gawain was in the middle of them, but he wasn’t acknowledging the conversation at all. He just kept eating his porridge.
“I guess I’ll call you Mumbler, then,” Simon said, not sure where he was getting the courage to stand up to this guy.
All the big kids lost their grins, glanced at each other and nodded their heads.
They stood up quickly, in perfect unison. The backs of their legs knocked the long bench over. All the other boys on the bench, including Simon, were on their backs in a split second.
Gawain was standing along with the other big kids, but he’d grabbed his plate and was still eating from it as if nothing were happening.
Simon was about to sit up when a foot came down on his chest. It was Mumbler, who appeared very self-satisfied. The back of Simon’s head hit the stone floor. The big kid removed an armored glove from his hand and was about to slap Simon with it when Gawain snagged his wrist.
“We play fair around here,” Gawain said. Mumbler jerked his arm away and put his glove back on. Gawain leaned into Simon’s field of vision. “At least some of us do.”
The posse walked through the door to the grounds outside, laughing and giving Mumbler pats on the back. Gawain lifted the bench back into place and sat down by himself to work on a new bowl of porridge.
Russ grabbed one of Simon’s hands and Josh took the other. They pulled him up. All of them stared at their plates of tasty food.
“The Mumbler is Eric,” Russ said softly, probably wanting to break the humiliating silence. “He fancies himself Gawain’s right-hand man. That would make him second in command among us trainees.” Russ glanced over at Gawain, who still ate as if he’d just been introduced to food, then whispered. “No one’s sure if Gawain even likes him, though.”
“You could have taken him if he hadn’t cheated, Simon,” Sam said, his left knee jiggling nervously.
“There’s no such thing as cheating,” Simon said. The words came to him automatically. “The enemy will win any way he can. That means you have to think like him. As long as you’re on the right side of things, that’ll guide you.”
The boys didn’t know what to say for a moment. Even Simon pondered what he’d said, as if someone else had spoken with his voice.
Then Russ asked, “So being right is the only thing that separates us from the enemy?”
Simon was surprised at all the eyes on him. “I don’t know about that, but I lost because I didn’t act on stuff I knew.”
“Like what?” Josh asked.
“Like he’s bigger than me and that all his friends are bigger than me. I knew he didn’t like me from the second I saw him, so I was a target. Me and everyone I’m with. I knew the only thing that bound me to him in any way, actually, was the seat we sat on. It was a weapon he could use against me.” The boys nodded. “The thing that surprises me is that he had the move coordinated with the other guys.”
“Yeah, they pull that trick sometimes,” Russ said. “But usually without provocation.”
“I know the type.” Simon remembered he’d had the same conversation with Red.
“Not sure why they’re taking you on,” Josh said. “You’re going to be our leader one day and we all know it.”
“Don’t count on it,” Simon responded. “Merlin and Hector would throw me out if they thought I wasn’t up to it. If Mumbler and the Dim Bulbs keep getting away with moves like that, they’ll definitely find someone else.”
The boys laughed. They started repeating the name, Mumbler and the Dim Bulbs. The joke seemed to calm everyone down a bit.
“Time to line up!” Hector hollered from outside.
They filed out to the training ground. Its green grass sparkled with dew, which would have been soothing if the grass wasn’t also covered in dummy soldiers with weapons sticking out of their heads.
Again, onlookers dotted the field. Hoping to see something to gossip about, Simon thought. Hector leapt onto a large wooden horse on the other side of the field, rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, and watched his trainees get in line.
“It’s a short day, boys and girls. We have a fair to go to!” The sounds of the fair opening up were all around them. “But that doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy. Simon! Gawain! Get ready to protect me!”
The two boys jumped out of the line and ran across the field to Hector’s perch.
“Gawain. Show Simon how to buckle his belt, please.” Gawain, stone-faced, slowly strapped the belt on right, making sure Simon studied each step. There were loud chuckles and some whistles from the lineup.
“Listen up!” Hector shouted. “Yer goal today is to get past my two bodyguards here and tap one of my legs with your sword. Should be simple.”
Hector had a gleam in his eye. Simon knew that couldn’t bode well.
The trainees didn’t wait. Simon thought it would be like gym class, where someone blew a whistle to start things off. But this crowd was ready for action, and now.
Most of them had their eyes on Simon, including Mumbler. They were all screaming as they ran. Gawain stood his ground, but Simon sprinted straight toward his opponents, sword raised. His aggressive move threw everyone off. The attackers were running so fast that they passed Simon, who easily parried their swings. Their forward momentum took them right into Gawain, who made easy prey of them. There were a couple of stragglers, but Hector’s bodyguards took them out without much effort.
With the entire battalion on its back, Hector broke the awkward silence with a belly laugh. Everyone joined in, except Mumbler. Even Gawain broke a smile. He nodded at Simon, who smiled back.
“Two stand, and two dozen take in the view of the pretty clouds. Two can trap an army! Ponder that one. And have a great time!”
The knights-in-training cheered, got themselves up, and ran from the field. One boy with a limp arm ran with them.
“No way, Stanley!” Hector hollered. “To the nurse!”
“Aw!” Stanley said, his face red with pain.
“It’s broken, kid!” Hector barked, leading him away.
Simon followed the crowd to the edge of a wall surrounding the grounds. He climbed over with the rest of them and found himself at the top of a hill overlooking the town, now flooded with colorful tents, high-flying kites, and makeshift booths.
The fair was glorious, as Maille had said it would be. Baked goods gave off aromas so sweet that the trainees ran full speed from the top of the hill to get the first bite. The weight of their armor made a few of them fall but they kept on rolling until they could get to their feet again. People from the town below saw the kids descendin
g and cheered them on.
Simon, for his part, was determined to find that treat he’d seen when he’d first entered the city. And could he get the old toymaker to give him another go on the “Knights of the Round Table” game?
Russ and Josh joined him, and he told them his plans.
“Excellent! That sweet is called Yellow Swirl. It’s like cake on a stick,” Josh explained.
“Except better,” Russ said.
They found a man selling it for four bits. It was good that Simon had company, because he didn’t have any money.
The three boys tore into the warm, soft pastry. Simon had never tasted anything like it. It had a lot of cherry, a little bit of vanilla, with a touch of… some other sweet stuff. Whatever it was, he finished it within ten seconds and was ready for the next one.
The boys wandered the fair together with their second helping in hand, searching for the third one. Simon wrapped an extra in a napkin to bring to Red later.
Simon liked Russ and Josh a lot. Sure, they were knights-in-training, but they were also just some kids looking to have fun. Russ was a big lug, and he was also very kind. He helped a crying toddler find his mom, and stopped a cart of fruit from rolling down the street when its frail, elderly owner lost his grip.
Josh, for his part, was a talker. He was filled with thoughts, ideas, philosophies, and observations. His optimism made it all agreeable, though he could be irritating from time to time. Josh went out of his way to make it clear to anyone who would listen that Simon’s arrival was more important than Arthur’s.
“It’s a well-known fact that Lancelot was the greatest warrior of all time, and that’s what we need right now,” Josh said, biting into his third Yellow Swirl. They wove through the crowded streets, taking cursory glances at booths as they passed.
“Yeah, Merlin’s going to be the real leader anyway,” Russ said. “It’s not like Arthur will get to do what he wants.”
“But how is he supposed to lead the people if everyone thinks he only does what Merlin says?”
“Maybe he’s not supposed to lead the people. He’s probably here to get everyone excited for a few weeks,” Josh said, obviously proud of his own insight and convinced he was correct.
“They were definitely into him last night,” Simon said, irritated.
“Not everyone.” Russ’s smile faded a bit.
“What do you mean?”
“Some people would rather keep living as we’re living. Some people figure that you and Arthur showing up means we have to go to war. They think New Camelot has made it over a thousand years without any trouble. I mean, look around. People are having fun. They don’t want to go to war.”
“Who’s the enemy?” Simon asked. “Has Merlin even said who it is?”
“Nope. But word on the street is that some country has found out about New Camelot and considers us a threat,” Russ explained. “I guess it would freak me out if I found out there was an invisible city over the hill.”
Simon remembered that the Odders lived in places hidden by magic too.
“So the Odders may also be in trouble,” Simon said.
“Yeah, my theory is we’re going to be spread really thin defending a lot of different places,” Russ said. “It’s a worthy cause, of course, but it’ll be tough.”
“Unless Merlin has something up his cloak,” Josh hoped out loud.
“He’d better,” Russ answered. “Because a bunch of kids with swords won’t do much good against tanks and jet fighters and what-not.”
“What do people think about him?” Simon was doing his best to stay focused on the conversation, but it was hard when a couple of monkeys were playing patty cake in a nearby booth.
“Merlin? They’re afraid of him. We all are,” Russ said. Simon knew the feeling. There was something intimidating about being in the presence of a three thousand year old man, give or take a thousand years.
“But there’s one thing about Merlin that is consistent,” Josh said. “It’s his love of Camelot. He’ll do anything to protect it.”
Something about that statement didn’t ring true to Simon, though. After reading so much of the Arthurian lore it was all a blur. He wished he’d listened to his father ramble on about the stories a little more when he’d had the chance.
“Bottom line is, no one knows what the plan is,” Russ said. “You heard him at the ball. Even Merlin says he’s not sure what’s going on! It’s clear he thinks that the prophecy is coming true. We’ve all been taught about the return of Arthur in his kingdom’s hour of need. Well, Arthur’s here I guess, so we get to find out why soon enough.”
All three boys walked in silence. The burden they were forced to bear suddenly weighed down on them.
“So this fair is timed really, really well,” Simon said. Both Josh and Russ looked at him. He smiled, then they all laughed.
“Wow, look!” Josh said. He pointed to the sky. A huge zeppelin floated on the horizon, getting closer. The balloon moved at a fast clip, crossing in front of the sun and casting a massive shadow on the festivities. It silently hovered above the pointing, smiling crowd.
“That’s the Excalibur II,” Josh said. “Merlin made it after New Camelot was almost discovered during World War II. If the outside world found us, he was ready to unleash it. It’s pretty much invulnerable.”
“Yeah. The passenger compartments below and above the balloon are designed for Merlin and his best wizards and witches to zap the enemy from any angle,” Russ continued. “Cool huh?” Simon nodded. He’d only been there a few days, but it was clear the wizard had a tight grip on New Camelot. Did all these people trust the old man so much?
As they finished up their Yellow Swirls in the shadow of Merlin’s display of power, Simon said, “I can’t believe I’m here.” It’s something he said to himself once in a while, but it felt good to say it out loud. The boys smiled at him. “It’s weird because my parents spent their lives trying to find Camelot. They believed in Arthur and just wanted a broken tablet or parchment to prove he existed. And here it is. It’s all true. I wish I could tell them they were right.”
“Searching for someone, are you?” A man in a long cloak stood behind them. His skin was wrapped in cloth, like a mummy. A chill buzzed Simon’s spine. “Don’t mean to pry, but you did say you’re missing someone, eh?”
“Kind of. Yes.”
“It so ‘appens, I have what you need right ‘ere.” The man lifted a small metal box to Simon’s face. “Open this and you’ll find whatever yer lookin’ for. Or whoever.” Simon reached out for it, but the cloaked man pulled it away. “Two bits,” he growled.
Russ reached into his pocket.
“Thanks, Russ,” Simon said. He put his friend’s money in the stranger’s palm. He was about to open the box when he heard some ruckus down the street.
Everyone was clamoring to watch a procession of dozens of horses with teenagers on their backs. Simon strained to see over the crowd.
“Wow,” Russ exclaimed. “Looks like Merlin found a bunch more knights.”
“Cool,” said Josh. “He only needed to find, like, ten more.”
“He almost has a complete set,” Russ said, laughing at his own joke.
Merlin was easy to spot, with his purple robe streaming behind his black horse. But behind him, so small she could almost disappear in the festive colors of the fair, was a girl riding sidesaddle. Her back was to Simon and the boys, but if the crowd’s wide-eyed response to her was any indication she must have been impressive.
The procession wound up the cobblestone street toward Simon. The lady’s horse approached them. Simon could see her face now. Chester’s appearance at the ball was a shock, but this turned Simon’s world upside down. The lady riding the horse wasn’t a ‘lady’ at all.
It was Gwen.
Her white dress blended into the coat of the white horse she rode on. It was difficult to tell where the horse ended and she began. She was visibly uncomfortable being paraded around. Simon assumed t
hat her discomfort was by the wizard’s design.
She passed him without even the slightest bit of recognition on her face. Simon shouldn’t have expected more after the way she avoided him at Graham Academy. But it hurt, nonetheless.
“I know her,” Simon said, assuming Josh and Russ would be impressed. But they weren’t.
Josh laughed. “Of course you know her, Sir Lancelot. See that bucking horse crest on her escort’s saddle? That’s Guinevere!”
26
Wonderful. Gwen was the descendant of King Arthur’s wife, Guinivere, who dared to love Lancelot. How many more surprises was Merlin preparing to pull out of his beard? Simon felt like he’d arrived in the middle of a complex scene change at the theater, and he didn’t know his lines. He was thankful he was making friends. But was anything permanent around here? Nothing was what it appeared to be. His friends might be enemies. His enemies were invisible. His school mates were descendants of legends, like him, apparently. Nothing he’d seen or done in the last week of his life hung together.
Simon needed to be alone with all his questions. He broke away from his new buddies as they ogled a tent full of shiny new swords.
Wellwoven was empty. The dozens of neatly made beds were splashed in dashes of sunlight streaming in from the twenty foot tall windows. He sat on his bunk, relishing a moment alone, when a plump, rosy-cheeked lady waddled in. She was wheeling a cart of mops, exploring for places to dust or soak in soap. When she saw Simon, she offered up a smile.
“Hello,” he said in his most polite tone. It didn’t sound too happy, though, and she noticed.
“Goodness, a day like this and you’re inside. What could possibly keep you from the fair, young man?”
“I’m Simon.”
“Mary Mouthy. In charge of keeping this place clean.”
“Cool. You do it well.”
“Why, thank you. Now, tell me what troubles you.” She got to work dusting, but Simon could tell she was listening.
“This place. Everything, I guess. Merlin, definitely.”
“Ah yes. The boss. He is a handful sometimes,” Mary said as she fluffed some pillows. “He bamboozles and discombobulates as easy as you and me breathe. But I like to remember that the man is thousands of years old. His idea of hard work, humor, warmth, well everything actually, is very different from ours. He is only human, but he’s been on this planet longer than you or me combined times a lot. And it shows, doesn’t it?”