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The King’s Perspective
By: C.W. Blaine ()
/darthyoshi
This original work of fiction is © 2001 by C.W. Blaine and may not be archived, reproduced or posted without the express permission of the author. For more information or to submit questions or comments, please refer to the e-mail address above.
“And what is it that so preoccupies your time, young man, that you would spend the day here in these woods, speaking to trees and rocks,” the old man said as he slowly approached the red-haired boy. He kept his balance through the use of a walking stick, which gave the impression of lameness. That, as many things about this man were, was a ruse.
The boy, closer to manhood than he wash childhood, turned slowly. There was a frustrated look on his face that did nothing to hide the reddened eyes. “How dare you speak to me in such a tone!”
The old man chuckled as he approached and took a seat on a rock near the boy. “How dare you speak to your elders in such a voice! Have you no manners, boy?”
“Do you not know to whom you are speaking to?” the lad asked, apparently shocked that there was someone in the entire county who was not aware of his identity. “Surely you don’t, for your mocking tone paints you as a fool, old man!”
“A fool, you say,” the old man said, rubbing his chin. “I don’t think I’ve been called a fool for quite some time.” There was a pause as the younger speaker seemed to try and come up with a retort. Before he could reply, however, the older man began again. “You still have yet to answer my question; why is it you speak to nature? Perhaps you are a druid…”
“The devil take your tongue, fool! I am a Christian man, not some heretic! Concern yourself with your own affairs and leave me be,” the boy shouted, pointing towards the way the old man had arrived.
“And who would you be to order me so?” The old man glanced down at the large sword resting against a tree stump. “Will you take your sword and strike me down if I do not obey? Should I fear for my life?”
The boy took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. His face began to return to its normal color. “No…I apologize, old man; my behavior has shamed me…again.”
“Am I to take it you have mad an ass of yourself some other time today?”
The boy chuckled. “That’s quite a tongue you have, ancient one.”
A hurt look overcame the face of the old man. “Now I am ancient; do I grow so old so quickly before your young eyes?”
The boy got up, still smiling. He walked over to the sword and picked it up. He couldn’t hold it with one arm, so he held it in a two-handed grip. His stance was not that of a warrior, however, but more like someone who has watched warriors for afar. “Do you recognize this blade, you fossil? Only a fool would not and since I have already determined that you must indeed be one, I will tell you its name. Behold Excalibur, sword of kings!”
The man seemed unimpressed and even suppressed a yawn. “Why do you have it?”
The boy began to sputter, in absolute denial. “I withdrew it from the sacred stone, as the prophecy foretold!”
Again the blank look. “Prophecy?”
“The prophecy of the sword in the stone! By God, how dim are you?”
The old man pursed his lips. “I must be very dim, since I cannot fathom why someone who speaks to the air is holding the sword of kings.”
The boy lowered the sword, letting the tip dig into the soft ground. “I wasn’t speaking to the air, or the trees or the birds! I was voicing my thoughts out loud! You cannot even begin to understand the weight that has been placed upon my shoulders.”
Reaching into his pocket, the old man produced a shiny red apple and held it out to the boy. For a second, the boy hesitated, and then accepted the fruit with a nod of gratitude. Another one was produced and the two began to eat. “Perhaps if you told me what it is that you must discuss so loudly with yourself, I could offer an opinion.”
The boy nearly spit his bite of apple out. “Now you believe that I am the one who is foolish if you think I will discuss kingly business with the village idiot!”
“Kingly business, eh? So, am I to assume that you are the king of some county or district? Perhaps you are lord of these woods? I must confess you have raised my curiosity, oh great king of trees.”
The boy rolled his eyes. “You truly do not understand anything, do you? The king of Britannia can only wield the sword Excalibur. I am Arthur, king of the whole of the land.”
A nod. “I’ve never heard of you.”
Arthur wiped his face with his hand in frustration. “I am the son of Uther Pendragon, perhaps you have heard of him?”
“Oh yes,” the old man smiled with recognition. “Now I remember Uther.”
“Yes, and I am his son, so I learned this morning. Now I have to live up to his memory and unite the kingdom.”
“Quite a task for one so young,” the old man lamented. “Perhaps you should abdicate the throne.”
Arthur finished his apple and threw the core down. “That, unfortunately, is not a valid option, fool. I’ve become a rallying point for the common man, now I must do battle against those lords and barons who will not swear fealty to me.”
“Battle? King for less than a day and you are already at war? Not a very good start if you ask me.”
“Nobody asked you, you grizzled thing! Don’t you see, I have to follow in my father’s footsteps and defeat my enemies?”
The old man again reached into the pocket of his cloak and pulled out a wineskin. Arthur raised an eyebrow, but accepted the skin. “As I understand it, boy king, Uther did not become king through battle, but by uniting the feuding warlords under a common banner.”
Arthur took a deep swig from the wineskin. When he had finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “They will not listen to me! I am a knave, a boy! They expected to be united under a warrior, so a warrior I must be.”
The old man took the wineskin back and put it back in his cloak without drinking from it. “Does it matter what one expects from a king as opposed to what you get?”
“What in God’s name is that supposed to mean?” Arthur asked.
“You appear to be in a quandary about what the perception of a king is,” the old man began, his voice taking on a scholarly tone. “You believe that you need to become a leader in the mold of what other, lesser leaders say you have to be; but at the same time, you wish to be like your father, undoubtedly the most successful king of Britain. Therefore, you would rather waste away your time here, in the seclusion of these woods, instead of facing the problem directly.” The old man leaned closer. “Stop trying to be like failed rulers and start acting like a successful one.”
“And, pray tell, what is it I should be doing?” Arthur questioned. “What is it that a king is supposed to do when his lords fight amongst themselves? Does he not have a duty to take up arms in defense of those who support him?”
The old man shrugged and then stood up. “Is that what you wish to do?’
Arthur put his head down and he shuffled his feet. “No. As king, it is my duty to unite the people, to build Britain into a power, a place where all of its peoples are safe and protected. It serves no purpose to kill those I need to make this come about.”
“Is this what others have done in the past?”
Arthur looked up. “I suppose not. “
“A true king must know when to fight and when not to; the true test of leadership is resisting the easy path in favor of the way that benefits everyone. True, young king, if you take up that sword and strike down your enemies, you will be hailed as a great and powerful warrior.”
Arthur looked sheepishly at the old man. “And if I don’t take up the sword…if I follow my heart and try to deal with warriors through diplomacy? I could end up dead…”
The old man nodded and took a step closer to the king. Arthur could smell the man; he had the odor of pines, not at all unpleasant. “Is it not better to die trying to bring about peace than to live by bringing about war? War decimates the innocent and it is tearing this island apart. Would you be king over a ravaged land?”
A sureness seemed to overtake the king. “No…you are right, even if you are a fool! I have wasted too much time here, sounding out my thoughts, trying to justify the bloodshed I thought I couldn’t avoid. I will speak and I will speak as the king. If they will not respect me now, I cannot expect them to respect me when Britain needs them. I may have to surrender some pride…”
“But is it not worth it to have a kingdom joined in brotherhood?”
“A place where might does not make right!” Arthur cried, lifting Excalibur with one arm, straight into the air. “Yes! The path to peace must start with me, and by Excalibur and God as my witness, it shall be done!” Arthur looked at the old man, an expression of joy in his eyes. “Thank you, kind sir, for opening my eyes to my own foolishness! Once I have secured the peace, I invite you to attend my court. Perhaps there will be a place for you there in the kitchens!”
Merlin, the former Grand Advisor to Uther Pendragon and Master mage of the Britains, bowed his head, a wry smile upon his face. “I shall make it a point to visit you, my king. I’m sure the kitchens would be a place worthy of my talents.”
Arthur smiled and gave a yelp and then, Excalibur in his hand, started running down the path towards his steed and into history.