The Seeing Stone (26 page)

W
HERE HAVE YOU BEEN?” MY FATHER DEMANDED
as soon as I opened the hall door.

“With Lankin.”

“Lankin! Why?”

“Gatty says he won't let Jankin marry her. Never! I thought I could persuade him to change his mind.”

“You should have been in the Yard,” my father said.

“I know, but…”

“No!” said my father. “Sons obey their fathers. Squires obey their lords.”

“I'm sorry, father.”

My father held out his hands to the fire, and then he rubbed them together. “It was brave of you, certainly,” he said. “How is Lankin?”

“Very stubborn,” I said. “And very bitter. He says Hum will go to hell.”

“What about his wrist?” my father asked.

“I think it's rotting. His whole hut stinks.”

“Well,” said my father, “a messenger rode in for you.”

“For me?”

“From Lord Stephen. We looked for you everywhere.”

My heart began to patter. “He hasn't changed his mind, has he?”

“Well…yes, Arthur,” my father replied. “In a way, he has.”

“No!” I cried.

“But not in the way you fear,” my father said calmly. “No! Lord Stephen wants you to go into service with him at once.”

“At once?”

“You remember that friar, Fulk, who came here and preached the crusade?”

“Of course,” I said.

“Well, Arthur, Lord Stephen has decided to take the Cross.”

“Father!” I cried.

“Yes, and he has asked my permission to take you with him.”

My father put his right hand through my arm, and for a while we paced round and round the hall.

“He wants you to ride over in three days' time,” he said. “It will cost us a great deal, of course. You'll need a whole suit of armor to be made for you, but I think Sir William will pay for that. And then you'll need a new mount.”

“What's wrong with Pip?”

“Nothing,” said my father. “But he's no warhorse. He couldn't carry you to the gates of Jerusalem. But first things first! You must talk to your mother about your clothing. Will's making a chest for you, and Ruth will help you to pack it.”

“My longbow?” I cried.

“I want Will to cut you a new set of arrows,” my father said, “and they can be sent after you. Lord Stephen will have plenty of practice-swords and lances and shields.”

“But I wanted to see Lady Alice,” I said, “and Grace, and you said I should talk to Sir William.”

“There's no time for that now,” said my father.

Then I thought of my lost mother…Does she want to know about me?

“And I wanted…” I began.

“It can't be helped,” said my father. “Anyhow, I wouldn't be surprised if you met Sir William on crusade. Adventure and the land oversea burn in his blood. Do you remember how he challenged Serle and me to go with him?”

“I remember what the friar said.”

“Yes,” said my father. “The pope's indulgence. No matter how terrible a man's crime, he will be pardoned without penance if he dies in combat during the crusade, or serves in God's army for one year.”

My father said no more, and I said nothing, but we each knew what the other was thinking.

“Three days!” I cried. “But I promised Gatty.”

“What?” asked my father.

At that moment, my mother came half-running in from the kitchen, followed by Sian. “Arthur!” she cried. “My crusader son!” The she opened her arms and pulled me to her, and hugged me tightly.

“I can't breathe,” I said.

“No!” said Sian loudly.

“What, Sian?” said my father.

“I say Arthur can't go,” she announced. “Serle can!”

“Now!” said my father. “There's a great deal to do. Clothes…your longbow…the arrows…I'll arrange for an armorer to ride over to Holt and measure you up, and I'll talk to Lord Stephen about the horse.”

“Merlin,” I said. “I need to talk to him.”

“Slim's waiting for you,” my mother said, “and you can choose whatever you like for dinner tomorrow.”

“A meat tile,” I cried. “Chicken and crayfish and millet.”

“And I'll ask Oliver to say prayers for you,” my father said, “with everyone in church. Then you can say your goodbyes.”

“Serle!” I cried. “I was going to ask him everything. About Lord Stephen: what he's like and what he'll expect of me. And I wanted to explain…Have you told him?”

“I have,” said my father, “and there'll be time for you to talk to him. Some things you can do, some you can't. But first, Arthur, before you do anything…Are you listening?”

“Yes, father.”

“Step into yourself. Make sense of everything. Take the hounds, now, while it's still light, and climb Tumber Hill. Stand right on the top, and stare out in every direction. Then, when you come down again, you'll be ready.”

“Thank you, father,” I said. And I bowed to him and my mother.

G
ATTY,” I SAID. “YOU KNOW I PROMISED WE'D GO BEFORE
Easter?“

“The fair?” said Gatty.

“Yes.”

“And the stream,” said Gatty.

“I know,” I said. “But I can't. Lord Stephen has sent a messenger, and I'm to ride over to Holt in three days' time.”

Gatty slowly pushed out her lower lip.

“I wanted us to go,” I said.

“Tomorrow, then?” said Gatty.

“I can't!” I cried. “There's so much to do. But one day we will go, Gatty. I promise you.”

Gatty brushed the curls off her forehead.

“You remember that friar who preached the crusade? Lord Stephen and I are joining the crusade.”

Gatty looked at me under her eyelashes, and they were trembling. “Jerusalem,” she said in a desolate, faraway voice, as if she were naming something that had been lost to her forever.

“Oh, Gatty!” I cried.

“Don't matter,” said Gatty quietly, and she took a step back from me. “Jankin says you went down and talked to Lankin.”

“Yes.”

“What about?”

“You. You and Jankin.”

“You went down for me?”

“Yes, Gatty.”

“Here comes Serle,” Gatty said. “I'll be going, anyhow.”

Then Gatty tossed her head and her curls danced. I watched her as she walked away.

“I'll see you before I go,” I called out.

“Saying your goodbyes?” said Serle, and he raised his eyebrows.

“Serle! Our father's told you.”

“Yes.”

“And you know Lord Stephen's taking the Cross?”

“So everything's all right for you.”

“Not for me,” I cried. “For you, Serle. You said I was a cuckoo and that I was trying to push you out. But it's not like that. You'll inherit Caldicot. All of it.”

“Sir William's a wealthy man,” Serle said in his sharp voice, “much richer than his younger brother. Tom will inherit Gortanore, but you'll take the second manor at Catmole and that's larger than this one.”

“But there's enough for both of us,” I said, “and for Tom as well. Isn't than a good thing?”

Serle said nothing.

“What about Tanwen?” I asked. “If you had told me, I would have helped if I could.”

Again Serle said nothing.

“Can't she stay here? I asked. “It's your baby too.”

Serle shook his head. “My father wants her to go away,” he said.

“But what do you want?” I asked.

“It doesn't matter what I want,” Serle said in a flat voice. “I don't know, anyway.”

“Serle,” I said. “We're not blood-brothers. We're cousins. There's nothing for us to argue about. Can't we make peace before I go?”

“It's all right for you,” Serle said again, and very bitterly.

“How is it all right for me?” I replied in a loud voice. “How would you like Sir William for a father? How would you like not to know who your mother is, or where she is? All you think about is yourself.”

Then I turned away from Serle. I took long strides, with Tempest and Storm leaping beside me. I ran. I raced past the fishpond and the orchard, the copper beech. Then the hill slope began to tug at my calves and thighs and I had to slow down. I was panting, and the snow was almost as deep as my forefinger. There is no quick way to reach the top of Tumber Hill.

He was already there, sitting on a large rock.

“Merlin!” I cried. “I need to talk to you.”

“I suppose you do,” said Merlin.

“You're in the stone,” I panted.

“Ah,” said Merlin. “So you've found me.”

I flopped down beside him.

“Sit on this rock,” said Merlin, and he shuffled along it to make room for me.

“You're the hooded man,” I said. “Aren't you?”

“But who are you?” asked Merlin. “And who are you to be? That's what matters.”

For a while we sat on the high hill, and the bright sky around us breathed and shimmered and flowered.

“I am Arthur the king!” I said. “And I'm squire-in-waiting to Lord Stephen. I'm the foster son of Sir John and Lady Helen de Caldicot. I have two fathers, two mothers…My life here! My life in the stone! What does it all mean?”

“What do you think it means?” asked Merlin.

“My stone's smoky, or it fizzes, but then its eye opens. It shows me part of what's going to happen, or has already happened, and it takes me on amazing journeys. I don't know why.”

I remembered then what my father had told me, and looked north and south, even farther than the New Year bonfires. I looked west into dark and shining Wales.

“Merlin,” I said, “my stone has shown me dragons fighting and burning passion and magic and argument, wise words and foul plots, great kindness, cruelty. It's showing me what's best and worst, and right and wrong, and I'm part of it.”

“And that's not enough?” asked Merlin.

“Well, I think it's showing me I'm on a quest, but I don't know exactly where.”

“And by the time you find out,” Merlin said, “you'll have grown into your name.”

“That's what Sir Pellinore told me,” I cried. “In the forest.”

“He did, yes,” Merlin replied. “And I said that anyone without a quest is lost to himself.”

“I see,” I said.

“You're beginning to,” said Merlin, smiling and unsmiling. “So, then. You'll take your stone with you.”

O
F COURSE I'LL TAKE IT WITH ME!

My wolf-skull. Moon-bruise. Heart of Caldicot. It is my life, part of it. My seeing stone.

When will I sit in this window seat again? With my knees up, my ink-perch beside me. A cream page on my lap. With this quill.

Downstairs, everyone is asleep. The hall's furry with warmth and thick breathing. But this writing-room, it is corpse-cold. I think I can hear the music of the North Star.

Listen! Its voice is the clean, sharp voice of the white-faced girl who sang for us at Christmas. Ice and fire! That's what the star is singing. The song of my king-self, and of a squire setting out for Jerusalem.