The Calling

Francis walked into the foyer of the guest house and looked around the expanse of space before him. He stood unsure where he should go or what he should do. His hand fingered the large red book which he had signed the previous night and his eyes drifted over the empty pages and he noted that his signature was prominent and conspicuous by its loneliness on the page. He studied the wooden lined walls until finally fell on a small wooden stand with a plethora of pamphlets advertising various locations across the area. Gaudy images and letters designed to enticed the reader beckoned toward him and offered trips to Lands’ End and Newquay as well as offers of shopping in Bude and the picturesque Dartmoor, but as his eyes scanned over the leaflets they rested on a particular pamphlet displaying an image of a half ruined castle sitting amongst green scenery, overlooking the sea. Slowly he pulled the leaflet from the wooden stand and fingered the paper, looking over the images as pictures flashed through his mind. He could see the ruined building staring out of the paper in his hand, while in his head he could see images of flags flying from the turrets and ramparts, he could see figures dressed in armour riding horses in and out of the castle, he could see lords and ladies strolling through the grounds surrounding the castle.

“The castle is beautiful this time of year...” a voice broke his daydream and he focused on the source of the voice. He blinked as Gwen walked through the sunlight streaming through the window from the other room and he could feel the start of a smile trace over his face.

“Morning...” he whispered as he leant forward to kiss her as she approached.

“Whoa...whoa...whoa...tiger” she said hurriedly placing her hands upon his chest and gently pushed him away.

“What?” he commented confused over her actions, “I thought...” he stammered as he looked at her, “last night...”

“Look honey” she smiled as she spoke, “last was fun” she said, refusing to meet his gaze, “but that’s all it was...fun. It meant nothing” she finally looked at him and smiled. “I have a boyfriend okay, last night was good...don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed it...God I enjoyed it, but that’s all it was a piece of fun nothing more, nothing less just fun”

“Then why” Francis spread his arms and shook his head in desperation.

“I don’t know” she admitted, “it was something I wanted” she ran her hand across his body, tracing his chest down to his stomach and finally his groin. “and I usually get what I want...” he could feel a stirring in his groin as her hand rested over the front of his trousers and she whispered hotly into his ear, before she planted a kiss on his cheek and flounced away into the adjoining room. She giggled slightly and paused in the doorway and looked back at him, “you want some breakfast lover” she cooed, “you might need to keep your strength up, just in case” she winked and disappeared through the door leaving Francis alone in the foyer of the building. He stood for a moment conscious that the bulge in his trousers was evident and straightened his clothing before following her into the larger room.

The room was empty as he stepped through the doorway and his eyes searched the room for evidence of Gwen. He could smell her perfume lingering in the center of the room as he stood looking around the small ring of tables scattered across the floor. He walked across the floor, picking his way through the tables until he came to a stop at the large stone fireplace standing at the end of the room. He stared at the scabbard hanging over the fireplace and his fingers reached out for the object, tracing the brass adornments that ran along the spine of the antique. He allowed his fingers to run along the swirls and legends which decorated the black leather casing.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Francis turned to face the landlord of the public house and nodded dumbly as the larger man walked across the floor with a menu tucked firmly under his arm. “It’s only a replica of course...but I like it” Francis could see the man’s eyes glaze over as he stared at the object hanging from its moorings over the fireplace.

“It’s very good” breathed Francis returning his gaze to the scabbard.

“Yes it is isn’t it” replied the landlord passing a menu to the younger man. “Breakfast?” he asked and for the first time since his arrival he smiled at Francis and he continued to stare at the scabbard. “Son...”

“What...oh...sorry...” stammered Francis, “I was lost in its...” he struggled to find the words as he spoke.

“I know what you mean” the landlord said kindly, “it draws you in... it’s this place” he waved around as he spoke, “I don’t mean the pub, the whole town. It has a magic...” He turned and walked into the kitchen, “Gwen will be out in a moment to take your order” he called as he walked away. Francis stood alone in the room staring into his reflection distorted through the brass of the scabbard, lost in his own thoughts.

“Its exact” he whispered to himself as he stared at the object hanging from the wall and immediately wondered how he knew.

“Come to me...” He spun around and faced the woman from his dreams standing in the center of the room amidst the tables. She raised her hands toward him and small traces of water dripped from her arms, “you must come to me” she urged through moist lips.

“I don’t understand” he called back, “what do you want?”

The woman stood staring at him for a moment, water seeping from her body and spreading a damp space where she stood. “Come to me...” she said again.

“I’m here” he whimpered, “I’ve done what you wanted...I followed your voice here. Now what?”

“You must come to me...” her eyes danced past Francis and stared into the scabbard as she spoke. Francis turned to look at the replica as he followed her eye line.

“Is this it?” he asked, “is this what you want?” he yelled, turning back...to an empty room. The woman had gone, only a wet puddle lay on the carpet to show she had ever been there. He stood for a moment feeling foolish at his outburst and placed his hands on each side of his head and pushed at his skull as the itch of her voice remained inside his mind.

“Come to me” the whisper echoed through his brain and reverberated through his soul and he could feel the beginning of tears to well up in his eyes. He glanced around the empty room and ran through the tables toward the exit to the public house and out into the street beyond, allowing the fresh morning air to sweep over his body. He gulped hungrily at the air and took great swathes of air into his lungs as the voice still echoed through his mind. “Come to me...” it was relentless in its persistence, “Come to me...”

Gwen watched as Francis sped out of the pub and stood by the kitchen door staring at the main door of the pub at his departure. She frowned as the door slammed shut behind him and sighed inwardly, perhaps last night wasn’t such a good idea after all if this was how he would react she thought to herself. Her eyes strayed over the empty tables and she frowned as they rested on a dark patch in the center of the room. Slowly Gwen picked her way forward through the maze of tables until she stood over the blemish on the carpet. She gazed at the patch and lowered herself to the floor, where she reached out and placed her hand on the carpet. “Wet...” she murmured as her hand played over the damp patch swelling on the floor and she glanced toward the closed door of the pub. “Dad!” she called, “I’m just popping out for a moment...back soon”. She stood and followed the path taken by Francis only moments before and stood on the threshold of the pub and scanned the street for traces of their young visitor.

She scanned the street and found Francis sitting on a bench by the edge of the road, staring out over the expansive beach and into the distance where the waves rolled over the edge of the sand and crashed onto the beach. “Hey!” she called, but found herself shouting at shadows as he ignored her calls. “Hey!” she tried again, walking along the road toward the wooden bench on the promenade. She sighed and could feel the frustration rising within her as he sat staring across the expansive beach. “Hey...ignorant” she said as she lowered herself roughly next to him on the wooden bench.

He turned and looked at her, “Sorry...” he said slowly, “I didn’t hear”

She could see his eyes were blurred and reddened from the marks of tears which stained his face. “If this is about last night...” she started.

“It’s nothing to do with you!” he snapped, immediately regretting his words. “Sorry...I didn’t mean to snap” he apologized, “I just have some shit going on”

She looked at him for a moment before speaking, “Why did you leave like that?” she asked, “I mean that quickly” Francis shrugged at her question and turned to face the ocean once again. Gwen sighed loudly allowing Francis to hear her frustration, “if it’s about the carpet...” he looked at her sharply, “its easily cleaned”

“It’s not the carpet!”

“Dad won’t be angry...accidents happen”

“I said it’s not about the carpet!” he snapped again.

“Whatever you spilled...”

“Look...it’s not the fucking carpet!” his voice grated her as he shouted over the distant sounds of the waves.

She raised her hands in mock defense, “Look...I was just saying” she said.

“I’m sorry...”

“Again...”

“Yes” he smiled as he spoke, “again”

“That’s better” she said softly, “you have a beautiful smile...don’t hide it” Francis blushed as she spoke and looked down toward his feet, looking at his marked trainers. She smiled at his discomfort and placed a hand on his. Francis looked at her hand and returned her smile, then gazed off into the distance once again. “Penny for them?” she enquired.

“What...”

“Your thoughts...penny for them”

He looked at her for a moment and found himself lost in her eyes, his mind briefly drifting back to the night before...the hotel room...the encounter...“I didn’t mean to come here” he admitted as he looked into her eyes.

“Didn’t think so” she said, “you don’t look the sort...” a confused look flashed over his face which caused her to laugh out loud at the look of bemusement which flirted with his emotions. “The only people to come here are usually history enthusiasts and usually with an obsession with the myth” she indicated the castle in the distance.

“King Arthur...” he murmured.

“Yeah...good old King Arthur!” she mocked, “Tintagel Castle...his birthplace!” she slapped her hand against her leg and laughed, “Fucking rubbish!”

“Why?”

She looked at him and smiled, “You don’t believe in this shit do you?” she said and looked at him as he sat there dumbly staring back at her. “You do!” she giggled, “You believe in all of this...you actually buy this rubbish”

“How do you know its rubbish?” his question struck her for a moment as though she had never considered it for a moment and she thought.

“It has to be...doesn’t it?” she said eventually. “I mean...an ancient King, born to lead the Britons who will one-day rise again when Britain needs him...come on” she laughed again and gazed over the beach into the distance.

“What about the romance of it”

“How much do you know about the story?” she asked.

Francis shrugged, “Only what I’ve seen in films” he admitted.

“Only what you’ve seen in films” she mocked, “I’ve been brought up on this shit all my life” she said, “How Arthur lead the Britons into battle against god only knows what and the tales of Mordred and the rest of it...” she waved around her expansively, “Dad’s obsessed with the bloody story...” she laughed with sadness toying at her heart, “Christ he even named me Guinevere”

They sat for a moment in silence as they stared into the distance, each one fighting their own demons. “I was called here...” Francis said eventually. Gwen looked at him and he matched her gaze. “I was called here” he repeated to her unspoken question.

“By who?” she asked.

“I don’t know...” he admitted, “I was called here by someone...I don’t know who and I don’t know why but I was called to this place” his gaze tracked away from her and eventually rested on the castle perched on the cliff tops in the distance.

“Go on” she said softly, watching his movements and following his vision to the castle.

“I kept hearing a voice...in my head” he said gazing through the tree line, “a woman’s voice. She kept telling me to come here...to this place” he glanced at her and smiled as she returned his gaze. “over and over...she would call to me telling me to come here. Then I would have the dreams. The visions...Knights and battles, Arthur and Mordred...Merlin and a woman...Morgan” he struggled as he fought back the fears of his admission, “all the time they were calling me here” Gwen watched as tears were welling in his eyes as he spoke, and she could see the pain in his face and with a sudden realization she understood his pain and his commitment to his story. “The water in the pub...it was her, she was there” he said, “calling to me...calling me there” Francis pointed into the distance toward the castle. “Camelot...”