A King in Time

A King in Time

A Novel by Mary Enck

in Collaboration with David Gutscher

Cadbury, England – Spring 2100

CHAPTER 1

The tranquil English landscape embracing Arthur seemed to dissolve as a mighty gust of wind threw him to the ground and forced his head into contact with one of the nearby Standing Stones. A brilliant flash of light surrounded him, followed by a grinding sound from beneath the Earth.

“What the Devil was that?”

He groaned and sat up taking in deep breaths of the sweet fragrance of the hills. He turned and surveyed what lay before him. It remained just as it had always been in the numerous times he visited this spot. Since the Romans built their roads across the old straight track, all that remained was grass growing in a patchwork on their pathways. It was free of rumbling vibrations from man made conveyances.

A frown sat on Arthur's brow as he stood again. A brisk wind pulled at his coat and tumbled fair hair across his blue eyes. It was gentle compared to the sudden maverick blast of air that had knocked him off his feet. His head ached from the impact with the stone. Except for an occasional birdsong in the distance, silent beauty once again soothed his senses. The rolling hills rose on all sides above the lesser one where he stood. Arthur loved the ancient stones and trees that came long before such things as buildings with skeletons of steel were in the minds of men. Yes. This was the spot he wanted. Prince Arthur intended to rebuild Camelot.

As often happens in the country, a fine mist crept toward him like a gray wolf with its belly close to the Earth. It roamed in the valley and up the incline where he looked in wonder at the veil of white laced with shadows. It was then a voice penetrated his thoughts,

"Good day to ye, young man."

Arthur turned quickly and saw an elderly man emerge out of the encroaching fog. He wore a cloak thrown over one shoulder to give him free use of his arms, for he carried a long walking stick that he used to aid him as he made his way up the hill. In spite of a slight limp, he seemed robust for his age.

Startled, Arthur quickly regained his composure and smiled.

"I say. I did not realize there would be anyone about. Do you live near here?"

"Yes. Yes, I have always lived near here. I see you have come at last. You even look the same." A smile brightened the old man's face. He looked to Arthur as if he considered him to be his dearest friend.

"The same as whom? Have we met?” He waited while the older man came near. “I'm most sorry. I can't recall having the pleasure of meeting you.”

"Oh you will. You will. It takes a bit to find the memories. Your time comes again, and this time events will go differently. I promise to see to that."

Arthur felt rather impatient at the riddles. He put aside thoughts of possible danger; and continued to speak in a casual relaxed way.

"I'm grateful for your concern. Just who do you think I am and what do you think you can do to help me?"

"Why, you are Arthur, of course. King of England!"

Arthur smiled. "Well, you have the name right, but I'm not King yet, at least not for a while."

"Nonsense! You have always been King of England. You were born for it. I was there then and I am here now. You will see."

He seemed so sincere, Arthur felt comfortable talking with him. He could not deny the fire he saw in his eyes as though he really believed what he said.

“Since the early days, my great-grandfather King William, told me of the legend of my namesake, King Arthur, and the adventures of the Knights of the Roundtable after the Roman occupation. It was my favorite story as a child. Since then I have studied it well to learn from the wisdom of that great king. I believe with all my heart that Arthur Pendragon indeed reigned over that rugged part of England that was Cornwall.”

The old man just stood there leaning on his staff and smiling as if he already knew all that Arthur was telling him.

It would have been easy enough for him to see Arthur's likeness in all the publications in the country. All his life media coverage of the activities of the Royal Family made it common for any countryman to recognize him. Perhaps he should be more careful about eluding his bodyguards so he could travel around alone.

Arthur turned and indicated an outcropping of stones that lay to one side of the crest of the hill. He walked toward it without looking back.

"Come sit with me and take a short rest. The air grows damp and chill but I would like to speak with you further."

When he glanced back to where the old man had been standing, he was gone. Arthur whirled around and looked in every direction. The fog seemed to have swallowed him.

"Are you there? I wanted to talk with you."

There was no response. He knew he would have to leave or it would become difficult to find his way back to the road. As he walked down the path, the old man's voice called to him from far away.

"We will meet again soon, Arthur."