If I Could Tell It

Arthur

I think that the worst decision I have ever made was telling anyone about there. It did not matter whether in America or Britain, either way, it was terrible judgement on my part and as I stare back at my rather pathetically younger years I have no idea what I thought to have gained from telling anyone. Maybe it was attention, as my father quite firmly believed. Or that I was quite certainly insane and because I was insane I did not know not to tell others of my insanity. I think it was because I was lonely, so utterly lonely. I had no one to commiserate with, none that I knew that were like me: stuck between two places, both almost unheard by the other.

The thing that I found the most peculiar about people’s aversion to believing me, or even pitying me, was their complete lack of sympathy in that area as opposed to everything else. People were so utterly emotional and tolerant of most everything-especially American people, except for certain things it seemed. I very much regret telling who I did about there for this reason. I believed that they would try to help me with it or at the least feel sorry for me, but instead they told me that I was making it up. That the only reason I would say it was for attention. Really, all I wanted was someone to talk to about it. One soul that would understand, so that maybe, maybe I would not be so alone in the bleak cross section between two times.

I never told Ty about there; instead, I wanted to keep our friendship purely without supernatural pollution or non-American aspects. Also, judging from his demeanor, he just seemed as if he would not understand quite as well. He would probably just think I was kidding.

After our mishap with the high schoolers in the general store, I decided that I needed to commit myself more to American culture in order to not stand out too much. I searched up a list of all the acceptable contractions in the English language on my laptop, and I found out that “pot” was actually a drug called Marijuana, which were green leaves that had the ability to deplete people’s awareness through being a depressant. I was determined not to make such a fool out of myself again.

It was not so hard to adapt to American culture, as one may think. Because it was all around me, it was almost a forced immersion and I realized that I was probably trying harder not to fall in step with the culture than I would need to in order to become involved with it. I found that as soon as I let go of my “different” origins while I was here I fit in better too.

I had less worries here. I had no imposing kingship, no terrible father, no dead mother, and no constant pressure to be the best and most adept at all the things I did. I was just Arthur. Not prince Arthur of Camelot heir to the high king of Britain. Not Arthur, who is not good enough to carry the Pendragon name. Not Arthur, the poor boy who was probably cursed by a pixie at birth and now is so completely insane that he will likely lead our country into a state of turmoil and ruin.

I liked here. I liked America. It was more suited to my thoughts and my interests I suppose. Even though I knew that no one would ever come to understand or believe me in my insanity of here and there, I still felt much more comfortable here. I was not a failure, in fact I often received the best scores in the seventh grade in pre-algebra, and the coach asked my foster parents to sign me up to play football all year round like Ty did and they let me. I could do my drawings instead of be lectured by Father Patricius about my lack of ability to successfully be fluent in Latin. This was where I belonged.

Not to say that there were not things I did not like about there either. I liked Lancelot, after all, he was my best friend. I liked that people were less particular about things, if you happened to accidentally do something imperfect it was generally forgotten, unless that was just a characteristic of my nobility and therefore my rank-given respect. I suppose if you mis-used someone’s title, such as calling them earl when they were duke they might be fairly upset, but in America, such as I found out from Ty, if you called someone colored or Negro instead of African American people would be very offended or Mexican instead of Latino. And none of these titles were really even titles, it was just an extremely complicated system to be “politically correct”.

Colorado Springs, America, 2009

My seventh grade year finished out fine, uneventfully, if you will. I made ‘A’s in all my classes and I went out for track and received second place on our team in the shot put. I even turned in one of my drawings, one of a bright blue house with white trim and a metal roof, to the school art show fundraiser and someone bought it for twenty-five dollars. Band went well and I signed up to play again in eighth grade, I enjoyed most of the members’ company because most of them seemed more focus on school than trivial things.

I found out that Miss Karote did not whack her students with a stick due to the number of tallies they had, unlike Ty and Helix had lead me to believe. Rather, the number showed up on the bottom of your report card at the end of the year along with a note from your dominant teacher about your behavior. I had three tallies at the end of the year, and the Ector’s seemed proud of this, even though I had still obviously been caught misbehaving three times which was utterly imperfect. Although, compared with Ty’s whopping sixty-two marks, I suppose I should not complain so much.

Summertime in America was two things: Hot and Dry. Or maybe that was just Colorado. There, summertime was warm and soft, and it smelled of dew, honey, and sweaty men. Here, it smelled of freshly cut grass, untempted air, and food sizzling on a barbeque. American summer was like a fast moving train that began its journey the day school let out and found its destination when the new school year began. While on this journey, everything moved so quickly, yet so lazily, that it seems as if time has stopped in an unannounced dimension where one day fades quietly into the next and nights are like long blinks of wide eyes.

Camelot, Britain, 646

I went back to Viviane every other day after our first meeting.

That day the patrol eventually got itself back in order, however by that time it was much too late to finish the patrol without staying the night, and we did not have the proper supplies for that so we headed home and decided to do the planned journey the next day. Kay and Bedivere said nothing to me on the way back. Lionel noticed this and simply said and did nothing to either of the two parties.

Lancelot and I settled that Merlin should live in a very tall, unused tower at the western end of the palace. We had always called the tower the “Wizard’s Tower” after all. This was because the only things that lived in it were rats and some unusually large spiders and my father always said that people with magic were no good. The three of us just went up the long spiral staircase that lead up to it one day with brooms in hand and we swept away all the cobwebs and dust and unknown, dead furry creatures.

Gawain, we found stumbling out of the city tavern during a trip into town on a journey to find a new belt for Lancelot.

“Is that…?” Lancelot asked me as we meandered along the dirt road, every so often leaping out of the way of trampling horse hooves.

I squinted to get a better look, as I mentioned before, it seemed my eyesight was not as good as other’s. As we came closer a dark mass began to form into a shock of wavy black hair. Light skin began to mold into chiseled features and deep black eyes. The oversized black tunic that he always wore flowed around his body like water. A silver dagger glittered at his hip, I wondered where he had gotten it from.

“Gawain.” I affirmed and we walked quietly up to his side.

Gawain said that the owner of the tavern had offered him a room to reside in in exchange for his help around the facilities and his retrieving things for him. Gawain had agreed and had been staying in the inn for a good month and a half, since my father’s men had taken back Cadbury Castle that awful night.

We had told Gawain about Merlin and he did not seem so interested and enthusiastic about us meeting a Druid than one may have thought. In fact, the only thing he really seemed interested in talking about was himself. Apparently he had slain a Griffin with only the dagger at his side that he had stolen from Saxon invaders. The men in the tavern had been so amazed when Gawain had regaled him with his tales of valor. A thirteen year old boy slaying a Griffin was a most impressive story. It was all I could do to keep my mouth shut about how I had killed the dragon the year before, when I was only twelve, I might add.

As for Viviane.

I cared about Viviane more than I had ever cared for anyone in my life. She felt like the breath in my lungs and the blood in my veins. What I continued to fight for, to live for, to please her. To simply talk with her, or stare at her beautiful face and vibrant body.

“What is living on the isle of Avalon like?” I asked her one afternoon as we sat on the white pebbles shore together and stared out into the misty abyss of the lake.

“It is very quiet.” She said thoughtfully and cocked her head in the way that she always did. I smiled at this. It had been three months since we had first seen each other and we had learnt each other’s habits fairly well. “People do not like to talk so much.”

“Oh.” I looked out at a weeping willow tree that was gracing the surface of the water with its drooping branches. I wondered if maybe they only did not like to talk to Viviane because of her strangeness. I felt that people did that to me sometimes. “I am sorry.”

“It can be very peaceful…” She trailed off, almost having said her piece as a question. “What is it like living in that big castle?”

“Well I…” I played with a stone in my hand and then threw it out to the lake as hard as I could. “There are much too many people, and they all expect too many things from me. They also...I think they that something is wrong with me.”

“I think I know what you mean.” She gave a half hearted smile and gazed out to the island and her home. “You know Arthur…I” She looked at me very closely. “I do not think anything is wrong with you.”

I grinned and tried to force my smile down and look serious. It did not work so well however and her thoughtful features melted into happiness as mine had done.

“In fact, I think things are quite right with you.” She told me and her foggy blue eyes met mine. I lost myself in her eyes. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and bring her into my chest and hold her. I wanted her to be mine, so I could be with her forever.

I settled on grabbing her hand and savoring the way its coolness was absorbed into my own, much bigger palm. It was like electricity, her touch. Great flashing bolts of white lightning jolting up through my fingertips and the lines on my palm all shooting at light speed to my heart, heating my core and bringing strength to my muscles. All from holding her hand. If only more could happen.

That day when I held Viviane’s hand Lancelot, Merlin, and I brought our supper, more of a snack, bread, cheese, and watered down wine, wrapped in a cloth, to the palace gardens.

We sat down in a small grassy area that was hidden with overgrown was bushes. Lancelot spread the cloth and the food out and I ate hungrily.

“You do know that training was canceled today for that trial right?” Lancelot asked me as he observed the amount of food I was scarfing down.

“Mhmm.” I said through a mouthful of bread. “I ran six miles today.”

“Where to?” He asked. I had not told them about Viviane, instead always finding excuses to scamper off to Avalon, such as training being canceled.

“Avalon.” I said absentmindedly and took a drink of wine from our shared wineskein.

Merlin scowled at me. “What were you doing there?”

“Visiting someone.” I said simply.

Merlin continue to shoot nasty looks at me. He asked. “And who, on Avalon would be willing to commune with you?”

I felt the sudden urge to put him in his place. I remembered his adoration of her. “Viviane.”

His eyes flared with anger. “As if Viviane would even consider spending time with the son of Uther Pendragon.”

It was my turn to expel upon Merlin my wicked glare.

Lancelot defended me. “You know it is not his fault.”

Merlin said nothing and continued to silently curse me with his eyes.

We ate silently for the rest of dinner. Then we went to our respective chambers and processed the events from the day.

I laid in bed and stared up at the white canopy above me. A chill ran through my body even though it was summer and I pulled the furs and wool blankets past my stomach and my chest to my chin.

I thought about Viviane. I wanted her to be here with me. I wanted her to be with me forever.

Near Colorado Springs, America, 2009

Riding down a raging river on a plastic circle inflated with air from my lungs was a new experience altogether.

Ty, Helix, and I had all managed to get thirty dollars from our parents, my foster parents, might I add, and we had gone down to the big department store and purchased black and red inner tubes. Then Miss Marion had driven us down to the mountain river in the woods and had told us to make sure not to hurt ourselves. She changed into a lavender swimsuit, set up a blue lawn chair, slathered herself with suntan lotion and set out to sunbathe with a couple other women who were supervising younger children playing in the shallows of the river.

“Are you guys sure this is a good idea?” I asked as I looked tentatively at the flowing water in my green swim shorts, holding the inner tube in the crook of my left arm. The hot Colorado sun beat down on my bare back and I enjoyed the golden light upon me. Swimming in the still waters of lakes and pools was one thing, swimming against the current of a river was something completely different.

“’Course.” Ty assured me. “Been doing it since I was six.”

That sounded kind of like Ty telling me that he had broken into the graveyard thousands of times.

“He’s right Arthur.” Helix agreed. “We’ll be fine. Long as you can swim you’ll be okay.”

Well I could swim alright but I still was not sure of myself. The current looked awfully fast and the water awfully deep.

“Come on.” Ty said to us and stepped into the shallows of the river. I swallowed and followed Helix and him up to my knees. I set the inner tube on the surface and it was pulled with the current so I had to hold it tightly. The current tugged at the amount of blonde leg hair that had developed on me and I shivered for a moment even though the water was not cold and the air must have been above ninety.

Ty and Helix began to walk further out into the water while I stayed with my feet planted. I was afraid that the current would knock me over or sweep me away. Then I would be forced under the cool liquid and the world would slowly begin to fade above me as I gradually was unable to breathe. The thought of wading any farther out frankly scared me.

“What are you waiting for bro?” Helix called to me.

Arthur, you tackled the leader of the Saxons, you fight with some of the best soldiers that ever lived. You killed a dragon for goodness sake! Granted, all of that was there, but the point remains, you can get the heck out in that river and you will not die!

“Coming!” I called out to him.

I began to wade out, I shivered again as the water rose above my hips and over my navel. Thankfully, I had grown an inch or so in the last month and I stood a bit taller than the two other boys so when the water came to their necks it only came to the top of my chest.

We held the inflated plastic rings in front of us. I asked. “How do we get up on them now?”

“You just gotta jump.” Ty informed me and with that he sprung up from the bottom and landed on his stomach on the side of the ring. Ty and I laughed at his funny appearance. I grabbed the inner tube to keep it from being pulled away while he situated himself.

“You get up next Arthur.” Helix commanded me. For some reason his commanding me bothered me slightly, I said nothing of it.

“Okay.” I answered and I jumped up and grabbed the opposite side of the ring while Helix held it for me. The sunbaked plastic was hot on my abdomen in contrast to the cool water.

Then Helix jumped onto his own ring and then we were at the mercy of the current. Fear shot through me quickly, what if we were to collide into those sharp rocks on the other shore? What if we were tipped over and something like a branch were to hold us under water so that we would not breath the air again? I tensed as I ran through various bad possibilities in my head. While I did this, Helix and Ty screamed in excitement as the river hurled us down itself like a great self-propelling road.

I held on tight to the thick plastic of the inner tube and kept my eyes wide, ready to fend off any possible dangers.

“Where do we get off?” I asked my companions after we had been riding for about seven painstaking minutes.

“Just up here!” Ty yelled to me and pointed to a shore that looked as if it was covered in gray sand. “Then we can go again! This time with stunts!”

“Yeah…” I looked at the water that was carrying me quickly forward.

“You just gotta jump on off!” Ty informed us and hopped off into the water.

I took a deep breath and slid off of the warm plastic. The coolness and thickness of the water shocked me and a jolt went through my body as I was completely submerged. My hair flowed all around my head. I had to get to the surface, I could not breathe. I struggled with frantic movements to reach the surface, I caught the inner tube and I panted. My hair was slicked down the sides of my face. I was alright.

We all kicked our inner tubes to the shore then and I sat on the dry gray sand for a few minutes, sighing. I decided I did not like the water.