Chronicle of Ages (39 page)

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Authors: Traci Harding

BOOK: Chronicle of Ages
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Diversions

T
he day after my resolve to explore the period of the Dark Age missing from my chronicles, I was cornered by a flock of my students, led by Ragan.

They had been given the go-ahead by the Chailida anniversary celebrations committee to write, direct and produce a play re-enacting the victory of the Chosen at the Gathering of Kings, because it was this event that had secured us all this place in paradise. It was to be performed in the evening, on the final day of the festival marking fifty years since the Chosen first set foot on Kila.

‘But the committee will only include our play in the program of acts to be performed for the Governor and Governess if you oversee the production, En Noah. Will you help us?'

As Ragan managed to put me on the spot in front of forty or so of my students, I was hardly going to say no. Not that I would have refused their request in any case; it was just Ragan's approach that bothered me. I had thought of taking her aside at the time to discuss my unease at her effrontery, but I assured myself that she was just a young girl excited by her project and so gave her the benefit of the doubt. Still, the line between innocent enthusiasm and premeditated manipulation ran very thin with this girl, for she certainly had an uncanny knack of getting her own way.

Noting this, I felt Ragan's little project — which she planned to co-write, co-produce, co-direct and star in — would prove very enlightening in regard to the shadow side of her nature.

 

So, instead of pursuing my soul-quest as I'd hoped, my time was suddenly filled with scriptwriting, casting, costuming, set building and mediating.

The biggest disputes came with the casting. I allowed Ragan a fair say in this, as she had written the script from my chronicles — virtually on her own — and had done a marvellous job if it. As her tutor, I must say she did me proud. Naturally, Ragan had cast herself as Tory, and one of the older and bigger students as Maelgwn.

‘But why can't I play Maelgwn?' Asher had protested stubbornly.

Ragan smiled as if oblivious to the fact that he only wanted to play that character so he could play the hero to her heroine. ‘I assumed you would want to play your father.' Ragan handed Asher his script. ‘Am I right?'

Asher looked to the script in his hands, perplexed. If he said no then he dishonoured his father, if he said yes then he would not be playing opposite Ragan, and that Neanderthal she had cast would get to kiss her every day at rehearsal instead of he. ‘You're not playing your mother's role,' Asher pointed out, to see what tack Rai used to get out of the same situation.

Ragan was not worried, having ready her retort. ‘I'd
love
to play a smaller role, as I have so much to do! But, who would you suggest could do justice to grandmother's role in my stead?'

Again Asher was perplexed — by his reckoning Ragan was the best at everything, so there wasn't anyone who could match her talent. ‘I could play Maelgwn with more conviction than you have ever dreamt of!' Asher raised his voice to Ragan for the first time ever and, in so doing, seized the attention of everyone in the auditorium.

My heart broke as the girl began to giggle. ‘Be serious, Asher.' She stepped back to look the young, medium-sized lad up and down. ‘Zecharia appears much more the part.'

‘Appearance has very little to do with character acting,' I pointed out, to Asher's great relief. ‘If there is some dispute, then let us audition the actors and then judge who best suits the role.'

‘An excellent suggestion, En Noah,' Asher declared, glaring at Ragan in challenge.

‘Alright.' Ragan inhaled deeply to swallow her pride and let me know that she considered this an unnecessary delay in the proceedings. ‘Let's audition then.' She
turned from Asher, disinterested in his stand; he was interfering with her schedule and that was not amusing. ‘Zecharia, you first.' She called the huge, strapping lad, who did look the part, up onto the stage with her.

As one would expect, Ragan gave her candidate ample support when reading her lines and acting her part, and although a little flat from reading the role cold, it was clear that Zecharia would make a fine Maelgwn. When it came to Asher's turn, however, Ragan's reading was flat and despondent. Still, the lad responded with enthusiasm and knowing my texts backward, as Ragan did, he tossed the script away and began to live the role. As Ragan was not to be upstaged by anyone, especially not Asher, she discarded the script also and threw herself into her character.

The match of wits and zeal was on. Ragan and Asher delivered their lines with gusto, each waiting for the other to slip up, which did not happen. At the end of their little scene, the spell they had cast on their breathless audience lifted and the applause seemed to indicate that we had found our two leading actors.

Despite the outstanding performance, Ragan was seething in the wake of her defeat. And as Asher approached to congratulate her, she exited the stage without comment.

Asher was crushed when he realised that instead of impressing Ragan as he'd hoped, she was more infuriated than ever.

As this seemed a good time, I called a break, whereupon the rest of the cast and crew quickly dispersed. As Asher made his way down from the stage,
many of the students congratulated him on his performance — even Zecharia graciously conceded defeat.

‘Thank you for the support, En Noah.' Asher finally made his way over to me, although his eyes were focused on stage right where Ragan could be heard thumping about, venting her annoyance by babbling to herself. ‘Still, I might have done better to accept the role given me.'

‘Fortune favours the brave,' I told him, which served to bring a smile to his face. ‘You were magnificent up there. I feel our Governor will be greatly moved by your performance … I was.'

The lad's face filled with utter delight. ‘I am greatly moved that you would say so, En Noah … that's very encouraging, thank you.'

‘The truth doesn't always have to hurt.' I slapped his shoulder and sent him off to lunch. The other students had already departed.

Once the auditorium was empty, I climbed the stairs onto the stage. ‘Ragan.' I called her out of the wings. She'd gone quiet and was hiding in the shadows.

The girl trudged out onto the stage as if knowing the extent of the forthcoming reprimand. ‘I realise I didn't handle that very well,' she began, reciting her version to me. ‘I know this is a team effort and that I shouldn't repress anybody's input or aspirations. I don't know what came over me, En Noah, but I apologise most sincerely for my behaviour.'

‘I accept your apology, Ragan,' I told her and she appeared most relieved to hear me say so. ‘And if you
use those exact words, I feel sure that Asher will graciously accept your apology also.'

Ragan became notably tenser as she turned to walk away. ‘I will do as you will, En Noah.'

This was not the reaction I had been hoping for. ‘You recited the wisdom of Tory Alexander very well today, Ragan … but the words mean nothing if you don't comprehend them.'

The rebuke shocked the girl back into facing me. ‘I do comprehend grandmother's wisdom and I live by it,' she defended herself, proudly.

‘Do you really?' I persisted. ‘Lead by example … the example you set today?' I shook my head in the negative. ‘The power of attitude?' There were at least two of Tory's philosophies that had slipped Ragan's mind this day. ‘Or how about … if you haven't got the courage to stand up and be a king, then never a king were you and never a king will you be. Your best friend made that stand today and you would despise him for it?' The look on Ragan's face told me I had made my point, but I drove it home just in case. ‘When this production is over and your moment in the limelight has passed, who will you celebrate your achievement with, Ragan?'

As tears had begun to well in her eyes, she gave a slight nod to indicate her understanding.

I had obviously said more than enough on the matter, and so, with an encouraging smile, I took my leave.

‘En Noah,' Rai called after me, with a sniffle.

I paused and turned back to hear her woes.

‘I hope this incident will not damage your opinion of me too much … I respect you more than any of my tutors and I want you to know that I shall do better.'

‘You're doing a marvellous job, Rai,' I responded light-heartedly. ‘You're young, that's all … you haven't yet learnt the dangers of allowing your personal affairs to interfere with your professional commitments.'

Ragan frowned, seemingly confused by my reply. ‘You think I was trying to make Asher jealous?' she scoffed and laughed at once.

This had not been my thought, but Ragan's accusation seemed to betray her true feelings for the lad. ‘Taking your friendship for granted was more what I meant, but each to his own,' I allowed.

Upon realising she had betrayed herself, Ragan folded her arms, frustrated.

Young love,
I thought to myself as I left her to brood.
Who can figure it?

 

To me, the production that was eating up all my free time seemed trivial in comparison to the work I should have been doing. But to the students involved in the project it was an invaluable bonding experience and a chance to explore the past and live the lives of the legends that they had so long admired.

My personal spiritual exploration flew straight out the window when every evening I arrived home completely exhausted from teaching classes through the day and working on the production in the early evenings. My weekends were also sacrificed and only when the play was ready to perform did I find any peace
whatsoever. Still, I was not on my own in that regard; just about everyone in the city had been working double time leading up to the festival.

 

It was a bright sunny morning that marked the beginning of the week-long celebration and holiday period in Chailida. From now until the big day, arts, crafts, tournaments, healing, feasting, family and friends would rule in our fair city. All of the Chosen Ones would return home before the week was out to commemorate our prosperous existence with kin and kindred souls.

Myself, I greatly looked forward to seeing my wife and sharing this well-earned rest from all duties. I expected her return at any time now, but Rebecca liked keeping the exact time of our reunion as a pleasant surprise; I liked this arrangement also.

I had actually spent the night at our private abode. This was a lovely sunny apartment located on the circular central island of Chailida. Our balcony overlooked the canal that separated the government island from the first island ring where the Purcell Institute and all the establishments for learning were located. Rebecca and I had been granted residency on the central island, as I was the historical advisor to the Governor. More often than not, when Rebecca was away, I slept in my chambers at the campus. Waking up in my marital bed this morning, I truly knew I was on vacation.

As this day represented my first leisure time in over a month, I had vowed to spend it taking my long
awaited journey into the past. A fruit breakfast in the sun put me in a suitably calm frame of mind from which to embark upon my quest of discovery.

‘Right.' I slapped my hands together in an attempt to raise my weary carcass from the clutches of my extremely comfortable outdoor setting.

A glorious laidback mood had descended upon the city. Many were still lazing about on their balconies in the late morning, and those who had managed to make it out and about strolled at a far more leisurely pace than usual. There did appear to be a fair amount of activity out on the fourth island ring, where the marketplace, harbour and docks were located. The faint sound of music wafted forth on the warm summer breeze and the tune seemed to capture the relaxed mood of the moment. In fact it was such a lovely day here on Kila that it seemed a crying shame to waste it in a meditation chamber, reliving a life in the Dark Ages of dismal old Briton.

Your devotion to duty is overwhelming,
I lectured myself sarcastically. As difficult as it was to drag myself out of the sun and into the shade and quiet of indoors, I made for our meditation chamber with an orb in hand.

It took some time for me to settle into a deep meditative state, but when I had, the past-life regression function of the chamber activated automatically. This program guided my mind via subliminal suggestion, back to the time I desired to relive — I had nominated the day Rhun had been crowned High King of the Britons.

Evidence of festive merriment bombarded my senses. The smell of a great feast filled my nostrils, as the riotous chatter and laughter of the gathering around me
increased from a murmur to a roar. The taste of spicy mead hung on my taste buds and the heart in my chest felt light and aflutter. The darkness behind my eyes rushed away and I joined Selwyn as he raised a goblet to toast the new High King of the allied kingdoms.

 

‘So be it!' Selwyn responded in accord with all those surrounding him and drank down a good portion of the mead in the goblet he held.

‘I have never known thee to have such a thirst, merlin,' Cai, the youngest Prince of Powys, commented in an aside to his tutor.

‘Drink inspires bravery, so they tell me … I could do with a little courage at present.' Selwyn did not look to his novice; his eyes were fixed on Kaileah, the Druidess of the Pictish warlord, Talorg. The Druidess was across the room, eyeing him with a solemn look of interest on her face.

‘Maybe she fancies thee,' Cai jeered his mentor, for the woman in question was greatly feared, and something of a mystery.

‘I hardly think so.' Selwyn emphasised his conclusion, having had some dealings with the woman in question. Kaileah was a good ten years younger than himself and seemed to have an agenda that was not of this world. Although tiny in stature, the holy woman projected such a dark and ominous presence that everyone bar her Lord remained wary of her, and Talorg liked it that way. Even in the midst of all this revelry, she seemed completely removed from it.

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