No Ordinary Men – Part IV
I never actually got an apology, though I wasn’t asking for one. Or needing one, to tell the truth. What I wanted, if I wanted anything, was an acknowledgment that I wasn’t trying to compromise Mom’s sovereignty. Failing that, merely abating the open accusations that I was trying to kill her children would have sufficed.
It took Cute Redhead several days to drop the subject. Meaning I was allowed to live. I heard about my maltreatment from a few other moms, confirming that the feat the young bucks had undertaken, peril and all, had made its way onto the Wife Network. Firmly threaded into the grapevine, the escapade (good word, Smith) would now become the stuff of legend. Fine.
I couldn’t have cared less. I had no agenda, save allowing the boys the opportunity they’d asked for. Because what they really wanted to do was be daring, dangerous, unbridled men. The ladder to the roof was nothing more than a stepping stone set out by the Universe in hopes of snaring the audacity of some young boy, and bid him, “climb up and stand tall, if you would dare.”
Some would say I’m injecting far too much. I’d say they’re not seeing things as they are.
Nevertheless, true to my attempt to afford Mom a way to appreciate what was truly in play, here’s another part of the story:
Ectorius and some of his men went off hunting just after midday, and returned at dusk with a dozen hares and as many pheasants. The larger game they had let go since we could neither eat it, nor take it with us.
While the men cleaned the game and made our supper, Ectorius described the wealth of game they had seen—casting his eyes now and again at the slopes of the mountain above us. At last he said, “Will they stay up there all night, do you think?”
“I expect so,” I answered. “It is too far to come down, and they cannot have reached the top yet.”
“I do not like thinking of them climbing up there in the dark.”
“They are sensible enough,” I assured him. “They will stop and rest for the night.”
“It is not their resting I am worried about,” Ectorius turned sharply and went about his chores.
I wondered at Merlin, for he seemed not at all concerned about the enterprise. Usually, he exercised the utmost care where Arthur’s safety was concerned. A little later, as the hares and pheasants were roasting on spits over the fire, I sought him at the streamside where he was filling waterskins and watering horses. I asked him about this and he simply replied, “Be at ease, Pelleas. I see no hurt in this place.”
“What have you seen?”
He stopped and stood, turning his eyes back to the mountain whose top was aflame with sunset’s crimson afterglow. He was silent for a moment, his eyes alight with the strange fire from the heights. “I have seen a mountain wearing a man’s name, and that name is Arthur.”
We waited all the through the next day, and Ectorius held his peace. But as night came on and a chill crept into the air, he stalked over to Merlin, hands on hips. “They have not returned.”
“No, they have not,” agreed Merlin.
“Something has happened.” He glanced uneasily up at the darkening mountainside, as if to see the boys clinging there. His mouth worked silently for a moment, then he burst forth: “Cai’s leg! Why the boy can hardly walk as it is—I should never have allowed them to go.”
“Peace, Ector. You have no cause to worry. They will return when they have done what they can do.”
“When they have broken their necks, you mean.”
“I do no think that likely.”
“More like than not!” Ectorius grumbled. But he said no more about it that night.
The next morning the boys had still not returned, and I began to feel Ectorius’ misgiving. Might Merlin be mistaken?
By midday Ectorius’ thin patience had worn through. He stormed silently around the camp, muttering under his breath. He respected Merlin enough not to insult him openly by insisting on going after the boys. But it was on his mind—and for all his great respect he would not wait another night.
Merlin pretended not to notice Ectorius’ acute discomfort. He occupied himself walking the valley and gathering those herbs that could not be found further north.
Finally, as the sun disappeared behind the rim of mountains surrounding Eryri, Ectorius decided to take matters into his own hands. He ordered four of his men to saddle their horses and made ready to begin the search.
“Think what you are doing,” Merlin told him equably.
“I have thought of nothing else all day!” Ectorius snapped.
“Let be, Ector. If you go after them now, you will steal their glory; they will know you did not trust them to succeed.”
“What if their broken bodies lie bleeding in a crevice up there? They could be dying.”
“Then let them die like the men they hoped they would one day become!” Merlin replied. “Ector,” he soothed, “trust me just a little longer.”
“I have trusted you altogether too long!” Ectorius cried. As deep as his love, so deep was his pain. I believe he held himself to blame for his son’s infirmity—the horse had been his own.
“If you cannot trust me, then trust the Good God. Patience, brother. You have borne your misgiving this long, bear it but a little longer.”
“It is a hard thing you are asking.”
“If they have not rejoined us by dawn, you need not lead the search, Ector; I will lead it.”
Ectorius shook his head and swore, but he accepted Merlin’s reassurance and stalked off to rescind the orders to his men.
Dusk came on apace. I think night always comes first to the high places of the world. There were stars already winking in Heaven’s firmament, though the sky still held the day’s light, when we sat down to our supper. The men talked loudly of hunting, trying to distract their lord from his unhappy thoughts.
Merlin heard the shout first.
-Arthur, Book Three of the Pendragon Cycle, by Stephen Lawhead
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[...] said it before here, “Some would say I’m injecting far too much. I’d say they’re not seeing things as they [...]
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