The Call of Destiny (The Return of Arthur Book 1) (9 page)

‘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, there 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.’

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 brother
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.

It was not long before he
picked a fight with Arthur and gave him a black eye. When Hector asked him how
he got it Arthur said he had walked into a door. Hector knew differently and
wanted to confront Keir, but Elizabeth persuaded him not to interfere. ‘It will
only make things worse.’

‘Then how do we stop him
bullying Arthur?’ he asked, and was surprised at his wife’s response e.

‘It’s not up to us. It’s up to
Arthur to stop him.’ Hector looked doubtful. ‘He’ll never do that.’ ‘When he’s
ready he will.’

Secretly Elizabeth doubted the
wisdom of sending both boys to the same school. As a mother, she understood
Keir’s chronic jealousy of his younger brother, and it troubled her to see his
pain. It troubled her conscience too, for if Keir was the child of her womb,
Arthur was the child of her heart.