The Future King: Logres (38 page)

As she turned to leave he panicked. ‘Wait!’

She halted. Now she was standing in direct contact with the rain. ‘What?’

‘I wanted to ask you something.’

‘Can’t you wait until we’re inside? It’s freezing out here.’

‘It won’t take a moment.’

‘What is it?’

He struggled over his words. Gwenhwyfar realised she had never seen
him so flustered before. Slowly, she began to understand what it was he wanted.
It couldn’t be, could it?

‘I… I…’

Stammering was never a good sign. She was about to turn around again,
but her attempt to escape only forced him to blurt it out.

‘Will you go out with me?’

She froze, suddenly afraid. Why did he have to ask?

‘Gwen?’

Reluctantly, she turned to face him. His hair was lank, his shoulders
drenched. He stared at her earnestly and in his eyes she felt she witnessed
something people rarely saw.

‘I know you’re supposed to be seeing Arthur—’

‘
Am
seeing Arthur,’ she
corrected.

‘I know, but… after Saturday… and I’ve liked you for some time now,
but I didn’t know what to do about it, or if you liked me… but after… I thought
you might…’

A sharp emotion whipped through her stomach. What was it? Nerves…
anxiety? Her heart was pounding and the sensation felt akin to fear. She
laughed inwardly at herself. Now Arthur had something to be upset about. Though
why should it reflect on her if Lancelot felt this way?

‘Lance…’ she began softly, ‘I have a
boyfriend
. I can’t just forget that.’

The disappointment on his face was heartbreaking. ‘But Saturday…’

‘I was afraid on Saturday. And I was drunk.’ The drizzle turned to
cold needles as a stronger wind cut between them. She winced. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘You’re not even the slightest bit interested?’ he asked hopelessly.

‘I like Arthur.’ She felt odd saying it to him, and folded her arms
across her chest.

‘But I like you,’ he argued.

‘Sorry, Lance. I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m flattered,
but no, I can’t go out with you.’

He soon withdrew, and shrugged carelessly. ‘Right,’ he murmured.
‘Whatever. Just thought I’d check. Guess I misunderstood.’

‘We can still be friends though, right?’ she probed in an effort to
cheer him.

He shook his head, his shoulders drooping. ‘Whatever, Gwen.’ He
expelled a rough sigh. ‘Yeah, I guess we can still be friends.’

She tried to dispel the guilt creeping within her. ‘Come on. Let’s go
and find the others. Gavin will be wondering where I got to.’ She turned to
briskly ascend the hill. Half-heartedly, Lancelot followed.

They both received strange looks when they returned together,
drenched from the rain. Eager to put some distance between them, Gwenhwyfar
positioned herself at the far end of the table, shedding her coat and dragging
her fingers through her wet hair.

‘Where have you two been?’ Gavin asked. He eyed Lancelot with
concern. ‘Swimming?’

‘Yes, actually,’ Gwenhwyfar replied lightly. ‘It’s like walking
around underwater out there, isn’t it Lance?’ Lancelot sat staring into the
crowd. ‘Freezing too,’ Gwenhwyfar continued, ‘I’ll probably catch a cold.’

‘You’d better not,’ Viola remarked. ‘Remember when you made me
promise to take you to any modelling parties? Well, I just heard from my agency.
I have to go to a preview party for that new make-up product. You know,
Bare Make-up
? It’s next Saturday in
London. You’re my plus one, if you’re up for it.’

‘Of course I’m up for it!’ Gwenhwyfar exclaimed. ‘Where is it?’

‘Some club in Mayfair. We’ll have to catch the last train home, but
it should be fun.’

‘If it’s in a club, how are you going to get in?’ interrupted Gavin.

‘It’s a private party. I just have to take a calling card to show the
bouncer.’

‘Jealous,’ remarked Tom.

‘You can come to the next one,’ Viola promised, grinning. ‘I’ll let
you know if I see anyone famous.’

Gwenhwyfar’s eyes slunk across the table to Lancelot. He looked back,
and she averted her gaze as if scalded. As her friends changed the subject she
retreated into her thoughts and mindlessly stared out of the water-stained
windows. Silence surrounded her. Gwenhwyfar didn’t see Arthur stride into the
cafeteria, as wet as an otter; nor did she notice him hasten straight to the
table he usually went to great lengths to avoid. She started in surprise when
suddenly he was there, towering above her.

‘Arthur?’

He deliberated for a moment, but then he held out his hand. As soon
as Gwenhwyfar grasped it she was tugged to her feet.

The tables erupted into a chorus of whooping as he stooped down and
caught her firmly on her lips. Surprised, she relaxed into him, her chest
expanding with joy. He broke away for a moment, lust darkening his eyes.
Eagerly he kissed her again, deeper this time, holding her close.

The cheering died, and the jeering started. Bliss embraced her. His
lips were soft and warm, just as she had expected, and they fit against hers
perfectly. She welcomed his tongue with her own, touching, tasting. After a
perpetuity, she was finally released. Gwenhwyfar felt a sudden rush of cold air.
Abruptly, Arthur abandoned her.

The cafeteria erupted into roars of laughter.

‘What?’ She sat down quickly, her cheeks a furious shade of red. Tom
was in hysterics.

‘What was that about?’ Viola asked, amused.

‘I have no idea,’ Gwenhwyfar remarked, still in shock.

‘Well, at least he’s kissed you now,’ teased Gavin, pressing his chin
into his knuckles. ‘Ask and you shall receive.’

She tasted where Arthur’s lips had touched. Had he been trying to
make some sort of point? It hadn’t felt like it. Warmth flooded her, and she
smiled.

‘It’s quite cute, really,’ Viola mused. ‘When he left he was blushing
and everything. I think he really likes you, Gwen.’

Gwenhwyfar thought so too. Euphoric, she surveyed the table. There
was something missing, the lack of a biting comment that was expressed whenever
someone mentioned the name Arthur. Her eyes fell to where Lancelot had been
sitting, and her insides turned to frost.

‘Where’s Lance?’

‘He left,’ Gavin remarked.

‘When?’

He shrugged. ‘After Arthur showed up.’

Suddenly she felt terrible. Her eyes scanned the hall again and then
slipped to the door. Blood seemed to pulse in her ears with each thud of her
heart. He was nowhere in sight. Deflated from her moment with Arthur, she began
to worry about how she could rectify the damage caused to Lancelot’s feelings,
and then fretted over the fact that she cared.

Tristan

Taking advantage of
her
impeccable attendance record, Gwenhwyfar had conned her parents into
thinking she was unwell. She was only able to sneak out of the house by chance,
as her mother had scheduled a last-minute shopping trip with a new acquaintance
and would not be home for several hours. The trains were running late and the Underground
was congested, but she managed to make it to South Kensington in good time. The
museum’s security nearly turned it into a wasted trip, however, and when she
was finally let into the main exhibition hall she was desperately late.

She waited by the foot of the Tyrannosaurus Rex, trying not to look
too suspicious. A boy soon approached her, eying her apprehensively. ‘Omega
Iota Eta?’ She nodded. ‘From
Free
Countries
?’ the boy continued. He looked similar in age to Isolde, and
spoke with a Cornish lilt.

‘Gwen,’ she expelled, holding out a hand for him to shake. ‘And you
are?’

‘Tristan,’ the lanky boy replied. He had long, stalk-like limbs and a
clear complexion with tawny brown skin. He wore his full curling hair loose,
and was dressed in a grey jacket, old blue pullover and worn jeans. Gwenhwyfar
smiled.

‘Thanks for taking the time to meet me here. Sorry I’m late. The
trains were a nightmare, and I’m supposed to be in school.’ She looked to the
displays, and then up at him. ‘Have you eaten?’ Tristan shook his head. ‘We’ll
go to the café, then.’

They walked in silence, past the great panda now extinct in the wild
for many years, and the polar bear, a species long absent from the Arctic. The
food hall was still busy for lunch. They queued for hot drinks and found a
small table in the corner. Once seated, Tristan produced a lunchbox and ripped
it open, clearly ravenous.

‘Do you mind?’

‘No,’ Gwenhwyfar said, removing her coat and hat. ‘Go for it.’

He unwrapped a sandwich and took a healthy bite. ‘So how does this
work?’ he asked, chewing.

‘I see if you have any questions regarding
Free Countries
, and then you decide if you’d like to join.’ Like Isolde,
she had brought a notebook. She fished for it in her bag.

‘Questions?’ He frowned, his dark eyes watching her closely.

‘And I ask you a few things, too.’ She flipped open the book and
produced her favourite pen. ‘So,’ Gwenhwyfar began, trying to sound
authoritative, ‘why do you want to join
Free
Countries
?’

He shrugged unhelpfully, as she had done. ‘I don’t know. I just saw
the flyer and found the website.’ She scribbled it down. ‘I think George
Milton’s an idiot, and you seem to be against him.’

‘We’re not just against Milton,’ Gwenhwyfar remarked. She un-crumpled
the short manifesto that she’d brought with her and held it as a point of
reference. ‘We have other policies, too.’

‘Such as?’

She took him through the full list of what
Free Countries
was about, but it didn’t seem as if he was really
listening. He was too busy wolfing down his yoghurt. ‘Does that all make
sense?’ Gwenhwyfar asked afterwards, taking a sip of her hot chocolate.

‘I suppose,’ he murmured.

‘You don’t have any questions?’

Tristan shrugged and rattled his spoon around in the emptied pot. ‘It
all sounds pretty straightforward. So what happens if I join?’

‘I tell the person who recruited me, and they pass the message on to
the guy in charge, the Alpha. I suppose you’ve already guessed that we have
code names, indicating what rank we are. You’ll get one too, and then when
another member wants to join
Free
Countries
, you’ll be contacted by me and told to go and meet them, just like
I came to meet you. You’ll also get an information pack with further details
.
Most orders come through in code,
though I
did
get an indirect one once
in the form of a flyer. They sent it to everyone. You know, about the—’
she leant forwards to whisper, ‘—Mobilisation March.’

He frowned at her. ‘The what?’

She refrained from elaborating, fearing she had already said too
much. ‘Just something political
Free
Countries
wanted me to get involved in. It doesn’t matter. What
does
matter is that you’ll be sent the
translation for the code with your information pack. You’ll have to decode it
to learn it. I’m still trying to figure it out myself.’

‘So you’ve been with
Free
Countries
for how long?’

She shrugged. ‘About two months.’

His brows knotted. ‘Is that all?’

She didn’t really know what to say to that. The noise from the café seemed
to amplify. ‘I know it’s not been long, but so far I’m glad I joined. I feel
like I’m a part of something, doing something worthwhile, you know?’

He bit into an apple. Gwenhwyfar glanced to the large clock displayed
on the opposite wall.

‘So what happens after I get the information pack?’

‘You wait for the instructions to come through. I’m not sure about
that part, really,’ she admitted. ‘All I know is they’re waiting until they get
enough people recruited, and then they’ll make a move.’

‘What kind of move?’

‘I don’t know. We have to wait until we get a message from the Alpha
.
He’ll tell us what to do. We can still
be politically active in our own time and go to things like protests,’ Gwenhwyfar
added, ‘but that would be separate from
Free
Countries
, unless they specify otherwise. Oh, and it’s like a grapevine,’
she suddenly remembered. ‘You’ll only be in contact with me, and the person you
recruit. News travels from member to member, until the information reaches the
person at the top, or the person at the bottom.’

He seemed to think this over for a while.

‘The person who recruited me is very nice,’ she added in an effort to
convince him. ‘I think it’s legitimate. Obviously there’s a risk involved, but
as far as objectives go I think we’re just gathering members until we have
enough people to stand against Milton and the New Nationals,’ she considered.

‘How many members are there?’ asked Tristan.

‘I’m not sure. Isol—the girl who recruited me seemed to think
it was at least five thousand.’

He dropped the apple core back into his lunch box. ‘That many?’

‘She thinks so,’ Gwenhwyfar nodded. ‘But I’m not so sure.’

‘And that’s not enough to “make a stand” with?’

All she could do was shrug. How was she supposed to know what it was
that the Alpha
intended? ‘I think
they’re probably aiming for at least twice that.’

‘That’s a lot of people,’ Tristan murmured.

‘Most of them are citizens of Scotland, Wales or Ireland. Or like
you,’ she concocted, ‘from Cornwall. They want independence from Milton.’

‘Don’t tell me you’re in league with the
Celtic Rebels
?’

She smiled, and shook her head. ‘I asked that, too. There may be
things that
Free Countries
agree
with, as far as the separatists go, but they definitely disagree with their
methods.
Free Countries
has nothing
to do with the border struggles in Ireland and Scotland.’

He propped his ankle on his knee and observed her closely. ‘So what
made a schoolgirl like you join? Do you want independence, too?’

‘Like I said, it’s good to be part of something. Independence from
England can’t be a bad thing: Scotland and Wales are perfectly capable of going
it alone.’ She flicked the ends of her hair over her shoulder with freshly
painted nails.

‘How old are you?’ he queried.

‘Seventeen,’ she lied. He clearly didn’t believe her. ‘Why, how old
are you?’

‘Eighteen.’

‘Are you going to university next year?’

‘If I get a scholarship,’ he said.

Their detour led to another drawn-out silence. Gwenhwyfar’s eyes
returned to the clock.

‘I have to go,’ Tristan declared, rising.

She jumped up, and gathered her coat and hat. ‘Are you interested,
then?’ She fell into step beside him. ‘In joining
Free Countries
?’

He stuffed his lunch box back into his bag, and struggled to get the
straps around his shoulders. ‘I suppose. Yeah, why not? I’ll join.’

She felt a strong sense of accomplishment. ‘Great, that’s perfect.
You won’t regret it.’ The panda and polar bear passed them once again.
Gwenhwyfar glanced at a poorly stuffed lion, snarling at them from beyond the
glass. ‘I’ll give you your code name and let the Alpha know you’re joining. An
information pack should arrive shortly.’ She pulled the sheet from her bag that
revealed both their codenames, and followed him through to the main hall.

‘How will they know where to send the pack?’ he frowned.

She hadn’t thought of that. They paused by one of the grand archways,
and she handed him the crumpled paper.

‘What’s this?’

‘Your code name, it’s the one under mine. Hold it up to the light.’

He read
Omega Iota Theta
,
and then returned it to her. He glanced to an older man who strode past them,
bound for the Tyrannosaurus Rex.

‘I have to go.’

‘Wait! I should give you my number.’ Gwenhwyfar ripped off a corner from
the codenames, and scribbled it down against the wall. ‘Text me yours so we can
keep in touch.’

Nodding, he stuffed the note into his trouser pocket. ‘I will. I
really have to go.’

‘No problem.’ She followed him slowly, forging a route to the door.
‘Thanks for meeting me here. We’ll contact you in a few weeks.’

He offered a quick, discreet wave, and then joined the small group of
college students gathering at the centre of the entrance hall. Feeling rather
pleased with herself, Gwenhwyfar exited the building and fished for her mobile
as she hurried down the museum road. She had to get home, and fast, before her
mother returned. It didn’t take long for her call to be answered. She ducked
into a doorway to let the rushing Londoners past.

‘Isolde? It’s Gwen. I just met the new guy, and he’s in.’

Her walks to school were twinned with Arthur’s, but she could not
convince him to share her break times, even though he seemed to get on well
with Gavin at The Round Table. December was creeping up on them, showing no
sign of a snowy reprieve from the constant drizzle. The miserable weather
lingered on well into the fourth week of November, making times of recess humid
and unpleasant in an overly crowded canteen.

Their Science room smelt of old sawdust. Wet shoes produced a chorus
of squeaks on the metal bars supporting tables and chairs, a baritone of
conversation turning it into a clamour. Gwenhwyfar pulled at the zip of her
bag, opening the damp canvas to find her books still dry inside. Beside her,
Arthur did the same. Students removed raincoats and shook out umbrellas. Mrs
Paxton was shouting.

‘Settle down, please!’ she bellowed, snapping a wooden ruler against
her desk. ‘We’ll be revising the syllabus today, given that your Level Fours
are fast approaching. By the end of the term I want you
all
to have structured a revision plan for over the holidays,
because January will be here faster than you know it!’ She printed “Level Fours”
across the board. They were the two words that now commenced every lesson.

‘So I was thinking.’ Arthur tugged the lid off his pen and neatly
inscribed the date. ‘How about you come over to my house this weekend? We might
have to eat with my grandmother, but we could go out and see another film
afterwards. What do you think?’

She recalled the last time she had been there. Though his cat,
Lionel, had been more than welcoming, the atmosphere with his grandmother had
been fraught, particularly as Arthur kept having to remind her who their guest
was. ‘There is another film out that looks quite good,’ she agreed. ‘But wait,
I can’t! I promised Viola I’d go to her modelling party with her. It’s the first
one she’s been invited to. She’s really nervous about it.’

Arthur frowned. ‘Never mind, we can always do it some other time.’