by J. R. Rain
“No,” I said.
“What do you mean ‘no’?”
“I mean, no, I’m not going anywhere until someone tells me what the hell is going on, and let’s start with you.” I pointed at Arthur.
He acknowledged me with a nod and a grin. I had a feeling that whoever he was, he was having a heck of a good time. “What would you like to know, old chap?” he asked, eyes twinkling.
“Who are you?”
“I believe we’ve been properly introduced,” he said pleasantly enough, cocking his head slightly to one side and smiling. His eyes kept twinkling.
I looked over at Marion. She looked impatiently down at her watch. I looked back at Arthur. I said, “No, we haven’t. Marion introduced you as King Arthur. That, to me, doesn’t sound like a proper introduction. That, to me, sounds like an insane introduction.”
“Insane or not, I’m known by many names to many different people, but King Arthur, in this context, will certainly do.”
“No, it won’t do,” I insisted, looking back at Marion. “And you can look at your watch all you want, woman, but I’m not moving until I have some answers.”
“Woman?” she said, and I couldn’t tell if she sounded pissed or amused. Arthur, on the other hand, was having the time of his life.
Marion was about to speak again—and the flashing in her eyes told me she was, in fact, pissed—but Arthur (or the man who called himself Arthur) placed a gentle hand on her forearm, quelling her. He smiled at me so warmly that I nearly forgot why I was irritated in the first place. He said, “What answers do you seek, my friend?”
I took some air. Oh, yeah. Now I remembered. “Why the hell were you in the woods naked last night? Seriously. I’m mean, what the hell was that all about?”
“The hell,” said Arthur, pausing, seemingly testing the word. He frowned, made a face. Apparently, it had tasted bad. “I’m not entirely sure you will accept my answers, my good man.”
“Try me, my good man.”
He studied me some more, then nodded. “Okay, then. Last night, in the woods, not very far from where we first met, I was re-born in the flesh.”
I looked at him. He looked at me. I looked at Marion. She looked at her watch. I looked back at Arthur.
“What?” I said.
“Is there any chance we can explain this to you on the way, James?” asked Marion, making a small movement toward the door.
“On the way to where?” I asked.
“To get my sword, of course,” said Arthur.
“Of course,” I said. “I mean, no. Definitely not. I’m not going anywhere until I know what the heck this is all about.” I pointed at Arthur. “Until I know what the heck you’re talking about.”
“I see,” he said.
“What do you mean re-born?” I asked. I noted the alarm in my voice.
“Sometimes a spirit can choose to be born again, fully incarnated. I made that choice to be here now to aid you on your quest.”
“That makes no sense to me,” I said. I stood. “I’m calling the police.”
“James,” said Marion sharply. “You will do no such thing. Sit your butt down.”
I sat. Glumly. My mind was going a thousand different directions at once. Hell, ten thousand. “What quest?” I heard myself asking.
“For the Holy Grail, of course,” said Arthur. “Why else do you think you’re here, in Glastonbury, my home? To order orange juice in English pubs?” He winked.
Marion giggled; I felt sick.
“This doesn’t make sense.”
“Only because the concepts are new to you, James,” said the man who would be king.
“That King Arthur was reborn in a park? I have a feeling that wouldn’t make sense to anyone,” I countered.
“Anyone who was not initiated,” said Arthur.
“Am I on drugs? Did someone slip me a roofie?”
“What’s he talking about, Marion?” asked Arthur.
“He thinks he might have unwilling partaken in a hallucinogenic substance.”
Arthur clapped his hands. “Oh, yes, the merry root!”
I rolled my eyes. This wasn’t happening. “You’re King Arthur?” I asked.
“The one and only.”
“Then how is it that you speak modern English, complete with modern vernacular and idioms and...everything?”
“I speak many tongues,” he said easily. “But this is something you will just have to accept on faith.”
“Faith? You’re avoiding the question,” I said.
“No, James. I’m just suggesting that you won’t accept the real reason.”
“Try me.”
“I’ve already tried you once,” he said.
“Then try me again.”
“The real reason I can speak your modern vernacular is that I choose to speak it. Just like I choose this body.”
“You’re right, I don’t get it.”
“James,” said Marion. “Those spirits who can manifest fully in the flesh are often considered ascended masters.”
“Ascended what?”
“Ascended masters are highly evolved spirits,” said Marion. “Those who do not die. Or rather, those who cheat death.”
“Those who do not choose death,” Arthur corrected.
“I have a headache,” I said.
Marion went on. “Ascended masters are spiritually enlightened beings who in past incarnations were ordinary humans, or even kings of , but who have undergone a process of spiritual transformation. Ascended Masters have learned the lessons of life during their many incarnations, gained mastery over the limitations of the earth planes, balanced their karma, and fulfilled their divine plan. Ascended Masters become a source of unconditional love to all life, and serve as the teachers of mankind from the realms of spirit.”
As she spoke, Arthur closed his eyes and seemed to have gone into a trance. He gave no indication that she was speaking of him, or those like him. Myself, I might have blushed, if any of it were true.
Marion continued, “Ascended Masters help others realize their potential, to eventually attain their own ascension and thus move forward in spiritual evolution beyond this planet. Ascended Masters remain attentive to the spiritual needs of humanity, and act to inspire and motivate its spiritual growth. They have achieved the highest desires of their soul. They have, in fact, achieved mastery of the soul. Such masters can come here for a specific purpose. Usually their purpose is to help us. And thus, they remember their purpose, unlike us.”
“Unlike us? What does that mean?”
Arthur answered, “It means you are put on this earth with no memory of who you truly are or why you are here.”
“And who am I?”
“You are many things, James. It is up to you to decide that which best expresses who you are.”
“Who I am,” I said simply. “Is a writer.”
“Very well. Then be the best writer you can be. Embrace it and love it, and in the process help your fellow man find and discover their true purpose.”
“I already do that,” I said, somehow getting caught up in the madness. “I love helping people reach for their dreams. My friends call me the Great Motivator.”
“I know,” said Arthur.
“You know what?” I asked.
“I know you are a great motivator, James. But you are also a writer who often doubts his own talents. Doubting yourself is doubting God.”
“Guys, we’re getting off the subject—” began Marion.
“Wait,” I said, holding up a finger. “How am I doubting God if I doubt my own writing skills?”
“Because God has given you the ability to do anything you want, to be whoever you want. By doubting yourself, you are doubting the abilities God has given you. And thus, you are doubting the power of God.”
“Then explain my dreams.”
“Your dreams,” said Arthur, “are your own soul’s gentle reminders that you still have another purpose here.”
“And what is
my purpose?”
“That is for you to decide.”
“But it has something to do with the Holy Grail?”
“Oh, most definitely. That, and saving the world.”
“Saving the world?” I said.
“Yes.”
I took in some air. “Fine. And why are you here?” I asked him.
“Why, to help you find the Holy Grail, my boy,” said Arthur. “After all, I’m the one who hid it.”
And he winked at me again.
Chapter Fourteen
I was silent.
The hotel, however, wasn’t so silent. Showers were running, people were talking, floorboards were creaking. The sun was shining through the parted curtains. On the surface, it was just another morning. Below the surface, something very, very strange was happening to me.
“So do I have your full support, my friend?” asked Arthur.
Marion looked up, hopeful. But I wasn’t ready. Not yet.
“Look, can we go back to the part about you being re-born. Help me understand this. What do you mean by re-born?”
“Prior to yesterday, James, I was not of this earth,” said Arthur. “I was in spirit.”
My head was hurting. I needed my morning Starbucks. Bad. “And then you just appeared?” I said.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“It’s easy, James. It is nothing more than a slowing of energy.”
“A slowing of energy?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re here to help us find the Holy Grail?”
“I came because you drew me here, James.”
“You guys are nuts,” I said.
Marion turned on me. Apparently she took exception to being called names. Probably, as a psychic, she was tired of people calling her everything from a charlatan to a freak. “Is it nuts that you’re here now, in Glastonbury of all places? Is it nuts that you dream of the Holy Grail? Is it nuts that I have in my bag your slightly better-than-average first novel?”
“First of all, ouch. And second of all: Yes! Maybe it is nuts. Maybe I’m the one who’s nuts, maybe I’m dream—”
Marion reached for my arm again, and I sprang back.
“Okay, fine!” I said, my voice rising to near hysterical levels. “So I’m not dreaming. He’s an ascended master. He’s here for a specific purpose. We’re all here for purposes. Hell, the whole damn world is here for a purpose.”
“Your purpose,” said Arthur gently, “is to express the greatest vision of who you are. In this case, I suspect, the greatest vision of who you are is to write a book that helps change the world.”
I sucked in air, forced myself to calm down. “So is my purpose to chronicle these events, this search for the Holy Grail?”
“If you so choose.”
“It’s my choice?”
“Everything is your choice, old chap. It was your choice to come here to Glastonbury in the first place, was it not?”
“Hardly. My dreams were rather persistent.”
“Many people ignore their dreams, along with many other signs, as well. You, my friend, chose not to ignore. Bully for you.”
“Fine. Bully for me.” I looked at Arthur. “And so your purpose is to help us find the Holy Grail.”
“One of my purposes, yes.”
“And you really are King Arthur?”
He stood from the love seat and bowed deeply. “King Arthur,” he said. “At your service.”
Chapter Fifteen
Marion stood as well.
As she did so, the crazy, not-so-naked guy who just might be King Arthur, held out his hand rather chivalrously and helped her to her feet. She smiled up at him with some serious puppy love in her eyes. My heart sank.
Great, my dream girl has the hots for King Arthur. What the hell chance did I have?
“So are you with us?” she said, turning to me.
“Can we at least get some breakfast?”
She rolled her eyes and took Arthur’s hand and led him through the hotel suite toward the door. She called back over her shoulder:
“There’s no time, James. C’mon, hurry!”
“I knew you were going to say that,” I said and looked down at my bare feet. “Wait, I have to put my shoes on!”
But they were already gone.
* * *
I pulled my socks and shoes on and dashed after them. The seam of one of my socks was crooked. I hate when that happens.
They were just exiting the hotel and stepping into the bright sunshine of the late morning sun when I caught up to them. Gone was the rain and most of the clouds. Although giving off little heat, the sun was shining furiously.
The three of us merged with a throng of pedestrian traffic along a busy sidewalk. As we did so, I suddenly had a damn good question:
“Hey, if you’re really King Arthur, then why not lead us straight to the Grail?”
Arthur, who was a few inches taller than me, glanced back over his shoulder. There was a bemused expression on his handsome face. “And just what do you think I’m doing?”
“Then why not just, you know, make it appear? After all, you just appeared.”
Supposedly, I wanted to add. We moved past an outdoor cafe; I eyed the steaming dishes longingly.
“And where would the fun be in that?” he asked jovially.
I blinked. That caught me off guard. “You’re here for fun?”
“Sure,” he said. “Why are you here?”
I thought about that. Yeah, my dreams had been pretty persistent, but the idea of coming to England to pursue them had certainly been an intriguing one.
I nodded. “Yeah, I guess I’m here because I thought it would be fun.”
He laughed. “Life is supposed to be fun, lad. You are supposed to enjoy yourself. It is only you humans who have made things so difficult.”
You humans? Okay, that sounded weird.
“I’m buying a scone,” I said when we came upon a bakery. I didn’t check to see if they stopped or not. I didn’t care. I was hungry and I was getting a scone and a coffee, and that was that.
But stop they did, and Marion even put in an order for both she and Arthur, who excitedly picked out something dripping with chocolate icing. I think it was a cinnamon roll, but with all the icing, it was hard to tell. Anyway, I was reminded of a kid in a candy shop.
I paid for everyone, although Marion had her wallet out and was hunting for some money. While she hunted, I handed the young lady behind the counter a few pounds and told her to keep the change. In actuality, I had no idea how much I had just given her, nor did I care.
Back in the sunlight, Arthur was already making a mess of things. Chocolate icing covered his lips and hands; Marion giggled and used a napkin to clean him up.
Damn. Lost her. To King Arthur, no less.
But did you ever have her?
Nope. Not even close.
I couldn’t feel too bad. After all, they seemed to make a very nice couple, and they seemed very comfortable around each other. Very natural. Granted, I would have loved to have been on the receiving end of that napkin, but life goes on, right?
On the move, I ate my scone and drank my coffee, and when I spilled a little of both down the front of my shirt, I didn’t see Marion running over with a napkin. Granted, Arthur was still making a royal mess of himself (no pun intended) and needed Marion’s help, but whatever.
Maybe being freshly re-born had its downside: clumsiness. Maybe getting used to one’s new physical body took some time.
Lord, what am I saying?
I had no idea. I had no idea what I believed, or what was going on. But something strange was going on here. Something worth looking into, even if my next stop was a looney bin.
Ah, what the hell. I didn’t fly halfway around the world just to go home again, right? And what better way to explore Glastonbury than with King Arthur himself?
Right?
Yes, the same King Arthur who was currently sucking a massive chocolate st
ain out of his souvenir sweatshirt.
Lord, help me.
Chapter Sixteen
The sunshine was short-lived.
The sky quickly filled with clouds and a sharp wind followed. Tree leaves scuttled across the cobblestone sidewalks, and those with the forethought to bring a jacket, zipped them up tightly with glee. Marion was the only one in our group wearing a jacket. Psychics always think ahead.
I was cold but didn’t complain. And if I got cold enough I could always pop into a souvenir shop and get an I Heart Glastonbury jacket.
I was walking behind the two of them. As much as it pained me to admit, they really did make a good couple; that is, if they were in fact a couple at all.
Now explain to me how could you be born one day, and have the prettiest girl in the land the next?
Maybe if you were King Arthur, you could.
King Arthur?
Really?
I think I was jealous of the naked guy who wasn’t naked any more. The naked guy who might just be the greatest king Britain has ever seen.
Or its greatest nut job.
Either way, Marion was hanging onto his arm as if he were a buoy in turbulent seas. For her, maybe he was. Even now, from behind them, I could see her struggling for breath. She was sick. Very sick, and my heart went out to her, and suddenly I wanted her happy no matter who she was with.
King Arthur made her happy.
Good for him.
Lucky bastard.
“So where are we going?” I asked, but the moment the words left my mouth I saw the answer: there, before us in a crowded outdoor marketplace, was a long line of smiling, happy people.
And why wouldn’t they be smiling? After all, they were waiting in line for a chance to remove history’s most coveted sword:
Excalibur.
* * *
We got in line, too.
I had to admit that I was a bit intrigued. Was Excalibur really in there? Could the naked guy who was no longer naked actually pull it free? So far, no one else had been able to remove it.
