Chapter Twenty-seven

The tavern door swung open and a man and woman swept in out of the cold and sat opposite the central hearth, talking excitedly. I could only imagine what they were talking excitedly about. Dragons were, after all, big news. Bigger even than Charlie Sheen.

"Back to the dragon," I said.

Arthur nodded. "Yes, the dragon is from elsewhere, James. Much like those knights we fought in the streets."

"Elsewhere?"

"Yes."

"And where is elsewhere?"

"Another world," said Arthur, flipping his wrist absently. He seemed amused by the gesture and did it again, as if he was still getting used to his physical body. "Another world, another time."

"Then why are they here in our world at this time?" I asked.

"They were summoned," said Arthur. "By the man in black you saw earlier."

"And who is he?"

"A magician."

I had been about to take a sip from my cocoa, but stopped the mug halfway up to my lips. Some of it sloshed over the rim and made a brown and white foaming mess on the scarred wooden table.

I looked at Arthur.

He looked back at me.

I started shaking my head.

"No...." I said.

He winked. "Yes," he said. "That magician."

* * *

A single name appeared in my thoughts: Merlin.

I mulled the name over. Heck, I was mulling a lot over. If there was a land of Mull, I would surely be king.

Above the nearby rooftops, a section of the darkening sky glowed orange. Perhaps a fire. Perhaps the source of the sirens I had heard earlier. Dragon fire?

I had never seen the Disney movie "The Sword in the Stone," although I had read Steinbeck's little-known and wonderfully written The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights. I had never read Mallory's Le Morte d'Arthur, nor had I read Mary Stewart's classic trilogy plus one. But I had seen Richard Gere playing the role of Sir Lancelot in First Knight, and I was fairly certain I had seen King Arthur with Sean Connery. Granted, I had done some research on Glastonbury prior to coming here, and so I knew the "official" history of Arthur. But I realized then, as I sat there with Arthur reborn, that I had scant knowledge of Merlin himself. I knew Merlin had been a friend of Arthur's, a wizarding aide, so to speak. A confidant. And I seem to recall - and perhaps I had read this in Steinbeck's book - that Merlin was last seen trapped inside a magical tree, betrayed by the woman he loved. But I do not recall Merlin turning bad. Then again, with wizards, one never knew, right?

"You have surprising scant little knowledge of my old friend Merlin," said Arthur.

"And you know this how?" I asked, suddenly suspicious.

Marion said, "He's reading your aura, James. Even I can see the confusion surrounding you."

"I want to go home," I said.

"Those who want, never receive," said Arthur.

My head hurt again. "Um, what?" I asked.

"Instead of wanting, you must choose. You must proclaim. And then you must thank, and then you shall receive your heart's greatest and smallest desires."

"Then I choose to go home," I said, my voice rising. "I proclaim that I am going home. And thank you God for sending me home."

"Much better," said Arthur, grinning and sitting back. "So, then, why are you still here?"

"You tell me," I said.

"You are here," said Arthur, "because I suspect you truly don't want to leave."

"Oh, really?" I said.

"I suspect you want to see this adventure through to the end, James, even though you might be afraid now. I suspect you want to experience the thrill of the quest, and to see distant lands, and have the adventure of a lifetime. And, being a true bard at heart, I suspect you want to tell this tale to the world."

"I want," I said, "to go pee."

And I got up and left.

* * *

I did my business in a very small, archaic bathroom, and shortly found myself at the end of a slightly crooked hallway. The back door was open, and I stood there looking up into the rain as it drummed the lids of some nearby metal trashcans. I wondered what was really keeping me here in Glastonbury. I could easily leave now and try to forget I ever came here.

Try was the operative word here.

The stench of garbage was strong on the air. The rain was coming down harder, driving straight into the alley, pounding some of the smell into submission. Just some of it.

But Arthur was right, dammit. I indeed wanted to see this thing through to the end. I indeed wanted to see what my dreams were all about. I mean, how often does one get to traipse through England with King Arthur himself?

Yes, I wanted to see this through to the end, as long as it didn't kill me.

What had Arthur said about wanting?

Oh yeah, something about choosing.

And so, as I stood there with my face halfway out into the night, with a small wind making its way down the narrow alley, I silently proclaimed:

I choose to see this through to the end.

Now what the heck was I thinking?

Chapter Twenty-eight

"We need to leave soon, James," said Marion when I returned.

"I don't want to," I said. "Not yet. Please. I like it in here. It's warm and cozy and there's no one chasing us with swords. Besides, I'm just working up an appetite to try some of this sticky pudding." I pointed to the menu where there was a picture of something gooey covered in cream.

I reached for my hot cocoa, but it was gone.

"Sorry, old boy," said Arthur sheepishly, wiping his mouth. There was still some whipped cream in his mustache. "I assumed you didn't want it, and, well, we really should be going." He motioned to the table where the couple had been sitting. The table was now empty. "I'm fairly certain our friends here have reported us to the proper authorities."

"And why would they report us to the proper authorities?" I asked, except I knew the answer the moment the words left my mouth.

Arthur said, "No doubt a fair amount of people have reported seeing knights wielding swords." He pointed to his hip where Excalibur was hanging from the hammer loop of his cargo shorts. "We fit that description. At least the sword part."

"Maybe the authorities are too busy running down a fire-breathing dragon to worry about us."

"For now, the dragon is gone," said Arthur. "It served its purpose."

I blinked. "Its purpose?"

"Yes, to strike fear in the hearts of those who saw it. Fear is a valuable weapon for those who wish to control others."

"And Merlin seeks to control others?"

"Yes, apparently."

"Why?"

"That," said Arthur, "remains to be seen."

"You don't know?" I asked, surprised.

"I don't know everything, my friend. I am but a spirit, a soul, like yourself. Neither greater nor less."

"Just more highly evolved," piped in Marion.

"Oh, thank you for reminding me of that," I snapped at her. I turned back to Arthur. "So you know some things, but don't know others? That's convenient."

"Merlin's plan will be revealed to me at the appropriate time. Then again, it may not."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you may desire everything in the world, but you may not always be given everything in the world. That is the great paradox we talked about before. Appreciate the paradox, and appreciate what you are given, and always thank God for what you already have."

"And so you have not been given Merlin's plans?" I asked.

And for the first time - the very first time - I saw a dent in Arthur's invincibility. "No," he said, looking away. "I have not."

"And how do you know our friends over there called the police?" I asked, looking at Marion. "Did you read their auras?"

"No," said Marion. "I overheard one of them calling the operator."

"Oh," I said.

And, as if on cue, I heard the sound of approaching sirens.

"I suggest," said Arthur. "We find a back exit."