I knew these mythical animals were called ‘yales,’ and contrary to what humans think, they actually did exist. They lived in Avalon. This made me start wondering what other surprises Viviane had kept from me when enrolling me here.
I followed Galahad into a courtyard where, again, I was amazed at the majesty of this monument built more than five hundred years earlier. Its extremely varied and elaborate architecture made a person feel so humble! In the northwest corner stood the chapel with its dominating tower. I walked through the First Court slowly, a bit crushed by all these symbols of ancestral tradition defending the values of culture and intelligence.
The director was waiting for us in his office. He seemed delighted to make my acquaintance, and presented himself as a friend of my grandmother, but I took his effusions with a grain of salt, knowing that the main reason he considered Viviane his friend was her extremely generous yearly donation.
After some chit-chat, he sent for a guardian, who accompanied us to my lodgings. There, Galahad explained to me that he would be staying in a room he’d rented close to the university, and that he counted on finding a discreet spot where we could continue my training. He gave me his phone number and then left me alone to unpack and get settled.
A few hundred miles from there, Melora had just arrived in Paris and was about to enter Lycée Henri IV with her mother Gliton at her side. The school took in students from sixth to twelfth grade.
She stood on the sidewalk in front of the blue entry door, fumbling nervously with her pendant. Her fingers shook a little. She was conscious that once she entered this establishment, she wouldn’t be going home for a long time. It had been difficult to leave her old school in the middle of her studies, and the years she was to spend here seemed an eternity. From then on, the dormitory would be her ‘home sweet home.’
She thought of her friend Gabriel for a second, and felt sad. Would she ever see him again? She couldn’t understand why he hadn’t come to say goodbye before he’d left for England. What had she done to offend him?
He’s just a jerk and a loser, that’s all! she thought angrily.
“You be very careful, darling, and call me every night,” her mother said.
“Don’t worry, mom, I know how to take care of myself now,” Melora assured her, then after kissing her affectionately on the cheek, she strode confidently through the blue door into her new school.
Gliton watched her go with a worried look on her face.
I woke up the next morning feeling a bit groggy. Suddenly I remembered where I was, and I sat up straight and looked around the room to get my bearings. Thanks to Viviane, it was close to the college, spacious and clean. There was nothing fancy about the décor, though; an ancient fireplace framed by empty bookcases faced my bed, a coffee table on a rug in the middle of the room and a large desk where I’d already set up my Mac, eager to start my research. Along with two leather armchairs, that was the extent of the furniture – an attempt to make the room a bit cozier that didn’t really succeed.
I jumped out of bed and put on some sweatpants I’d tossed onto one of the chairs, then left to take a walk along the Cam river, which is lined with giant weeping willows. I wanted to take advantage of this early hour to drink up the atmosphere of the place before breakfast.
I quickly discovered that Cambridge was a town untouched by time, a mix of city and countryside. A pleasant place to live. I watched with envy the canoeists gracefully handling long poles to scull their little flat-bottomed boats toward the Bridge of Sighs, which spanned the river to link the university buildings on both sides.
Back in my room, I showered and went down to eat. Other students were already seated at the tables and looked at me with curiosity. That made me uncomfortable, so I decided to cut breakfast short and get a coffee in St John’s Street before meeting my tutor. Knowing he would accompany me throughout my university studies made me feel a little anxious about our appointment, and I hoped he wouldn’t be too surprised or doubtful of me when he heard about my academic qualities.
I waited for him back inside the dining hall, pacing up and down by the college bar, an animated spot where students could meet around a cup of coffee or tea at big tables equipped with outlets for their laptops. Everything here facilitated exchanges between students, but also pressed home the fact that they were here at Cambridge to study.
“Gabriel?”
I turned around and found myself face to face with a friendly-looking man, whose clothes couldn’t have been more ‘classic intellectual.’ His beige raincoat and leather briefcase left no more doubts. He appraised me, smiling, his eyes bordered with crow’s feet. His hair was graying at the temples, and lent him the air of someone with a certain amount of life experience.
“I’m Professor Deen,” he said, holding out his hand.
Feeling more confident now, I shook it and introduced myself.
He observed me, saying, “The director told me you were young. I’ve had many gifted students during my career but never with capabilities such as yours. I saw your test results, and I’m really excited to work with a student of your caliber.”
I reddened slightly at his compliments, not being used to anything like that in Comper, where I was the sole student and my instructors considered my aptitude completely normal.
After a bit of small talk, he counseled me as to the seminars and courses I would have to take, and the books and essays I would need to study. Then, after a moment of reflection, he decided to bring me to St John’s Old Library, explaining that it would be the best spot to start exploring the campus. Cambridge’s rarest and most beautiful literary works were to be found there, he said.
Along the way, I tried to glean some information about the manuscript I was looking for, but seeing as how I’d just arrived, it felt awkward talking about my interest for this one book without raising suspicion. So I changed tack, explaining that I had a special interest in medieval poetry. For the moment, I would avoid mentioning my research about the priest Benoit. I had already located Benoit’s church during my morning walk, and as soon as my schedule permitted, I planned to go and look around it.
We entered the library. Tall Neo-gothic windows lit up forty or so ornate oak bookcases filling each side of the library. The place looked like a cathedral with its soaring carved-wood ceiling and stained-glass window. Professor Deen made his exit after introducing me to a librarian and setting up a meeting for one week later to review the work he’d asked me to do in the interim.
I walked down the aisle between the many bookcases, all filled with ancient leather-bound books, and suddenly became aware of the amplitude of the task before me. It would take up many months to come.
May 2013
Cambridge, England
What, are you going to spend the whole day in the library?” Henry demanded.
“I’m almost finished,” I mumbled.
Seven months had passed since my twentieth birthday, and he was as ready as ever to grab me by the elbow and carry me off on his nocturnal pursuits. We had become close friends since the day I’d gotten him out of a tight spot with a certain Bryan, a rather pugnacious crewmember of the college’s rowing team. Their differences in height and heft was so clear that I’d intervened to keep Henry out of the hospital. Not entirely without risk to me because I had to unveil a part of my personality. As brawny as Bryan was, I could have beat him easily, but I didn’t want to display my combat skills. At twenty, I was pretty heavily built myself, and as to muscular development, Bryan had nothing on me – week after week, I’d been training with Galahad, and I was in top condition.
After two or three punches that I had no trouble countering, I decided to use magic to calm him down. The obedience spell was easy to perform on humans but I used it only when necessary. I didn’t want to force people to do what I wanted them to do. It just seemed unfair. They could not fend off a spell like this, contrary to an Avalonian, who was entirely immune to it.
Now Bryan had a reputation as a
lady’s man. Considered a fairly handsome man, the university girls often flirted with him, but that day, I forced him to give up, humiliating him in front of the crowd of students gathered around.
When he got his full senses back, he stared at me with hatred. I had made an enemy of Bryan. I took that as a warning, and after this incident, I remained on my guard, especially since I had joined the rowing club he was a member of. That hadn’t helped the situation.
As soon as Henry came into my room, he started lecturing me about being too serious: “It’s not against the law to take a little time out. You’re either in the library, or rowing practice or who knows where. There are fun things in life, too, you know!”
“Like what?”
“Like what?” he repeated, rolling his eyes. “Like girls, parties, having a drink with your friends…!”
“I can’t. The Boat Race is in a month, so I have to stay in top shape. I want our team to win this time. Oxford won last year.”
“But that’s only a boating competition, after all, and you’re only a substitute,” blustered Henry. “What are your chances to participate? Plus, you’re always in top shape – it’s as if fatigue never has a chance with you.”
“That’s because I’m careful.”
“Liar…”
He looked me straight in the eyes. I started feeling uneasy and I decided to capitulate so as to not awaken any suspicions, which he seemed to be starting to have.
“You can come have a drink with your best friend, no?”
I ran my hand through my hair and took on a resigned look. “Okay, you win. I’ll come this evening.”
Henry got his smile back. “You see, that wasn’t so hard!”
I replied with a groan. Before leaving, he said, “I’ll see you at dinner.”
It’s true that since entering school more than three years before, I’d hardly taken the time to make friends with the other students. While pursuing my regular studies, I’d been searching for my grandfather’s book of spells.
My mentor, Professor Deen, had always been quite involved in my university cursus but by this time, I considered him a close ally. Mathematician, physicist and noted astrologer, he had eventually come to treat me as his equal, especially since last year, when I had earned my Master of Sciences. Impressed by my intelligence, he was now helping me study for my doctorate, which I counted on getting next year.
Earning these diplomas in such a short time was practically impossible, a feat that had saddled me with the label of ‘gifted’ by my professors. They even chose me for a prize in scholarship.
With all that, I could have ended up on the borders of society, but my commitment to my rowing team and to my tutoring club for students in difficulty helped me acquire the respect of other students and even a certain popularity. I went out from time to time, but my closest relations remained Henry and Professor Deen. I had to recognize the fact that I probably seemed like a very boring guy.
When I entered the spacious dining hall where the St John’s students gathered every evening, Henry called me over to his table.
Before sitting down with him, I looked around fondly at the black and gold woodwork, which made the 400-year-old hall seem impressively high, at the heraldic stained-glass windows and the royal coats-of-arms proudly displayed at the back, at the students wearing their obligatory black gowns that lent a solemn atmosphere to the room. Silence suddenly fell and I took my place, for the evening prayers were about to be said. Afterwards, the quiet hum of conversation started back up.
“Ready to party?” Henry said, all smiles.
“Totally,” I drawled.
“Let’s meet at the Eagle then – you remember? Across from St Bene’t church?”
I knew only too well where the church was, as my research for Merlin’s manuscript often brought me there.
A student at our table attracted everyone’s attention right then by crying out, “Eh guys, we’re gonna have the honor of Gabriel’s presence tonight!”
“Apparently so,” I said grumpily.
I was not glad of the attention, and then another took it up: “I think there’s gonna be some shenanigans tonight…”
A hilarious rumble rose up at our table, immediately repressed by the director asking for calm. A few tables away, I noticed Bryan staring at me coldly, and had the feeling that tonight’s party was not going to be all relaxation.
I left after dinner to change, then went out. The roads were still busy at this hour. From the corner of a street, I saw the red sign marked with an eagle. The pub was packed, but I had no difficulty finding Henry on a barstool deep in discussion with three young students from Girton College.
“Gabriel!” Henry exclaimed. “Girls, I’d like to introduce my friend Gabriel Dymas. We’re best friends, never apart.”
His declaration left me wondering, which he noticed. With a jerk of his head and a lifted eyebrow, he implored me not to dispute anything, and the three women welcomed me with cooing greetings and fluttering eyelashes. One of them, rather pretty, gave me a smoldering look and a ravishing smile.
“You know, we’ve been talking about you for ages at Girton,” she said with a simper. “You’re quite the mystery man – we never see you around Cambridge. Luckily we can attend rowing practice, otherwise how would we ever get your attention?”
The other two nodded, grinning. I felt ill at ease, as I’d never even noticed them, and their faces were not at all familiar. I didn’t have the courage to tell them that though. Not that girls didn’t interest me! Like all young men, I had had a few experiences.
Embarrassed, I cleared my throat before replying, “Yeah… It’s nice of you to come and encourage me…”
I became even more self-conscious then, so when all the women looked away from us as the rowing team noisily entered the pub, I felt relieved, even though Bryan was with them.
I leaned close to Henry and demanded, “What’s all this drama about?”
“Not everyone has the same…presence as you do, and some of us have to do whatever we can to attract women!” he confessed, looking ashamed. “Since you’ve got the goods, I was simply taking advantage of it, but only a little.”
I rolled my eyes, and was about to roundly berate him when Bryan called out to me.
“Hey Gabriel! So you’ve decided to join our group. We have to celebrate that as it deserves…”
Some giggling could be heard from behind him.
“I propose a little challenge.”
Everyone agreed enthusiastically. Making quite a commotion, the students raised their mugs up toward the ceiling, which was covered with autographs of WWII pilots. A dozen mugs were soon lined up on the bar, and I got the gist of his ‘challenge.’
“Listen, we don’t have to…”
Bryan jubilated, taking my hesitation for fear. “Oh, the sight of that brings you down a peg, eh Gabriel?”
But fear was not the cause. Alcohol had no effect on me, as my body merely assimilated it as an illness and instantly healed me. I could not become drunk, so he had no chance.
“I just don’t want you to be angry when I win,” I explained.
Bryan regarded me with suspicion an instant, then broke into laughter, followed by the whole entourage.
“Don’t worry about me. I think I’m much better trained than you at this game.”
He handed me the first mug and took one for himself. One of his crewmates gave the sign to go, and the others chimed in, some cheering for Bryan, some for me. I heard Henry and the young women loudly encouraging me as we gulped down our beers.
Bryan finished first, and slammed his mug down on the bar, screaming victory. His devoted supporters cheered. Then I saw the bartender plunge shots of whisky into the next two beers. The game was ramping up. Bryan grabbed them and handed me one, and to the hysterical whoops of the group, we swallowed our second mugs, finishing in a tie, which gave my supporters hope.
Drunk, not with beer but by the festive ambiance, I entered into the gam
e, silencing the inner voice warning me to stop by telling it that a little lesson never did anyone harm. And I didn’t want to be “Gabriel the Heir” that evening, but simply Gabriel the student.
The third mug went down, identical to the second. I felt Bryan weakening and I pulled ahead. At the fourth glass, he started swaying back and forth. The assembly was in a trance. After the fifth, Bryan turned green and the barman had just time enough to hand him a bucket. The crowd laughed at him, and when I slammed my mug down on the counter, my fans declared me the winner. Two of Bryan’s friends were helping him get outside for some fresh air.
The rest of the evening passed with everyone in a good mood. As students and athletes, we were so solicited the entire day, and worked so hard, that it did us good to enjoy a drink and relax. I watched the others talking and laughing together, but finally decided it was time for me to go home.
It wasn’t very late, but the streets were deserted, and the cool air and the silence were refreshing after that animated party.
As I walked, my thoughts drifted back to my research, and to the enigma I’d come up against, engraved in a paver in the floor of St Bene’t church. I had been able to find it easily thanks to the manuscript I’d found in the old library, written by Benoit. Unfortunately, I had not been able to get any further since then, desperately stuck on that paradox, and had decided to talk to Professor Deen about my investigations. Of course, I took care not to unveil my history, and I presented my work as a preparation to writing a memoire toward my degree, pretending to be passionate about the subject. As usual, Deen had reacted enthusiastically, and was now giving me a considerable amount of help.
Heirs of Avalon: The passage Page 7
