What Dwells Between Heaven and Earth

The Youth in Camelot

His mother had been worried about how he would fare on his journey to Camelot. Once within the city walls, she was certain he would be safe; Camelot was known for its prosperity and contentment, and crime was low. Outside its formidable fortress, however, the wilderness is untamed, and all sorts of beings, both human and beast, lurk waiting for hapless wanderers to prey upon. Merlin was by no means the toughest of his age, and with his childish face and lanky form, he would present a much more attractive target to bandits and thieves.

Merlin had simply laughed. He had tales of young boys off to save princesses stuck in his head from all the books he read. In between his chores and helping both his mother and his village, Merlin would often curl up with such a fairy tale. They interested him much more than the Bible, which recounts each story with a strong emphasis on some lesson or other that Merlin had little desire to learn. Besides, Christians hated sorcerers. They thought sorcerers were the work of the Devil. Even if the Bible was the Word of God, and there were indeed good lessons to be learned, Merlin would have had enough of that going to church every Sunday. Why read the Bible if the pastor was going to read it later anyway? The folktales were much more interesting. There were dragons and goblins and princesses that practiced magic and witches that could be defeated by courage and valor. Such tales were colorful and distinctive, closer to his adventurous heart. How many such tales told of youths like himself, born of humble families, going off to the wide, unknown world? How different were they from Merlin?

And of course, there was the fact that Merlin possessed magic. Folktale heroes have survived with far worse odds.

He had cheerfully packed his things, whistling old village tunes, while his mother kept thinking of one thing and then another for him to bring. Extra clothes, some trinkets from his childhood that he barely touched, bowls, spoons, bread and meat for his journey, apples to keep the healers away, a cross to ward off evil, garlic to do the same, until Merlin was certain that the weight of his belongings would kill him long before any bandit would.

His mother was so silly! He was going to Camelot. The richest, most beautiful place in the world, an economic center of the world. It had everything from music and art to crafts and tools. Mothers will be mothers, though, and Merlin loved his. The only concern the boy had was how his mother would live while he was with Gaius. A woman living by herself was by no means simple. He would not be able to lift heavy things for her while in Camelot, nor do the chores that required a man's strength. His friends would have to help take care of her while he was away.

So the cheerful youth went on his way, toward the gleaming walls of Camelot. He traveled for some days in peace, and the woods were quiet and serene. At nights he made a campfire with his mind and smelled the earth and wood. He had no idea what he would be facing, but the unknown excited him. Whoever this Gaius was, he lived in the castle in Camelot, near the King and Crown Prince. There was sure to be much adventure there! He could hardly wait.

Then one afternoon, he approached the gates. In the front stood several guards. They wore the armor of the kingdom and looked upon him with a fierce gaze.

" Passport?" Said one of the guards, as Merlin approached.

The youth blinked in surprise, apprehension lacing his tones as he replied, " Uh...I don't know what that is."

The guard groaned. " What's your name, lad?"

" Merlin Emrys."

" What is your business in Camelot?"

Uncertain, the boy opted for the truth. " I'm here to visit a family friend, Gaius."

" Pfft." The guard scoffed. " Here to visit a friend? We can't just let anyone in, brat. Get out of here."

Merlin blinked, realizing that he had just encountered an obstacle he had no idea how to overcome. " But I have to enter. He's expecting me. Please, I've been traveling for days..."

" Oy." Said another guard, one who looked even sterner than the first, but his words ended up working in Merlin's favor. " Look at him, Brun. He's no spy, nor is he a troublemaker. That's one good honest face on him, and the lad's obviously telling the truth. Those rural folk don't know the system. Give him some slack and let him pass."

" Hmph!" Said the first guard. " Oh very well. But mind what you do. Any funny business from you, and we throw you out on your rear. Understood?"

Sufficiently frightened, Merlin nodded. " Yes, sir."

" Get moving." The guard inclined his head. " Mind you, we were being nice. Next time you come visit your friend, bring a bloody passport."

Merlin was intimidated, but not enough to restrain himself from asking, " If you please, sir, what is a passport?"

" Ask the friend Gaius you're visiting. Hard to explain here." Said the guard. " Everyone in Camelot knows what it is. At least those worth their weight. Would even be able to show it to you in person. We don't have any on us."

" Thank you." Bewildered, Merlin went in.

Instantly, the boy was struck by the atmosphere of the city. There were colors and noise everywhere, people in large crowds bustling about. Everywhere he looked, there was activity. Jugglers on the street, street musicians, painters offering to paint portraits, bakeries selling goods and providing samples. Merlin glanced around, amazed. This was nothing like his village, where days were mostly quiet and broken only by the sound of wind rustling the grass or birds singing. Here there was barely any patch of grass, street and pavement covered the ground, and tall, beautiful buildings loomed overhead in their graceful architecture, each of them as beautiful as the little church in his village. Several cityfolk passed him by without paying attention to him. He looked at their clothes, noting their improved quality. There he was, a fool from a rural village, in the middle of the richest city in the world, the culture pouring from every brick in the walls and every elegant window. He glanced at his own tunics, reflected on his education, and felt a little abashed.

He started walking, paying attention to everything he saw. The shops, the clothing stores, the vendors on the streets. In the distance he could see the roof of the castle, tall and majestic, and corrected his path so he was headed there. In the meantime, he continued looking about.

Upon the walls, there was a poster. Curious about what it said, Merlin moved closer to read.

NOTICE

ALL SORCERERS AND BEINGS OF MAGIC MUST BE REPORTED TO THE KING.

PRACTICE OF SORCERY IS ILLEGAL IN CAMELOT AND WILL BE PUNISHED WITH DEATH.

AIDERS OF SORCERERS AND CREATURES OF MAGIC WILL BE NAMED THEIR ACCOMPLICES AND PUNISHED WITH DEATH.

ORDER FROM THE KING OF CAMELOT.

He blinked once, read it again, and blinked once more. In a swift rush, his earlier cheer and wonder faded into dread. For the first time, Merlin felt afraid.

ooooo

" Yes!" Arthur did his best to keep his excitement suppressed, but it was hard to do so when there was just...so much of it. He grinned toothily at his comrades. " Let's go have some fun!"

It was rare for the prince to have so many hours to himself in one day. Usually his days were taken up by training, studying, and other princely duties. King Uther kept a tight leash over his son, ensuring that the young man would have everything he needed to one day inherit the throne. For the most part, Arthur could not complain. He knew his father's intentions and appreciated them. There were worse fathers than Uther, and worse kings still. From time to time, however, he still liked to break rules. Harmless ones though. Like staying in the castle grounds instead of running around the streets pretending to be an anonymous noble. One time he did actually dress up as a servant, but he did not enjoy himself as much. He was too use to the deference of a prince, and being as ignored as he had been was irritating. Still, he knew better than to gallivant about as a prince. His father would never let him hear the end of it, not to mention there were times when Arthur would like to forget about that for a while.

So now he was sneaking out with his friends to see some sights in the city.

" Where to?" Asked one of his companions. " Where to first?"

" Let's just wander a bit." Said Arthur. " It's been a while since we came out. Maybe there are some new stores that opened."

The civilians of Camelot knew to give the well-clad youths a wide berth. They presented a formidable lot. Arthur was a skilled fighter, tall and strong with a good build, and any one of his friends could pummel a thief to the ground. Pickpockets had long since learned to give them distance, and beggars know to avoid tainting the air they breathed. Almost as soon as they stepped into the market district, however, a homeless, ragged man hobbled in front of them, hair and beard in disarray, a horrid stench emanating from his clothes, and hands outstretched in a universal plea.

" Please, noble sirs," The man's voice cracked and reeked of alcohol, " I've been starving for days. Just a little change to spare? Please sirs?"

Disgusted, Arthur kicked him in the chin. " Out of my way, you disgusting, inebriate filth!" He cried. " I won't spare a spit for the likes of you!"

The man toppled over, crying out in shock. Arthur grimaced and turned away. When he was young he had innocently thought that beggars were unfortunate people who had fallen on hard times. It was not until later when he learned that most beggars had been gamblers. Camelot was a thriving, wealthy city. Honest men find honest work. Those who could not work because of illness were taken care of by the King's programs. There should be no beggars on the streets, no orphans or ragamuffins or pickpockets. The only reason they would be out and about was because they were criminals.

Arthur hated criminals. They tarnish Camelot's good name. There was simply no good reason, in his mind, that anyone should turn to crime. If they wanted help, Camelot provided. These fiends simply wanted their lifestyle, one that harms others and brings suffering. Too bad he could not simply arrest beggars. Uther had laws against unwarranted arrests. Still fuming, he nearly walked into the youth who seemed to materialize in front of him, but the young man was not looking at him.

" Are you hurt?" He asked the beggar. Lanky form, tall but thin, a childish face with fair skin and short, dark hair. On his back was a bag, lumpy and stuffed. He wore the clothing of a peasant farmer. He reached out toward the lowly man and helped him to his feet. Arthur watched in stunned surprise, as the boy's thin hand reached into the folds of his tunics and pulled out several coins.

" Here." Said the youth. " Buy yourself something to eat."

" Thank you," The beggar bowed his head fervently, " Thank you, kind lad. God bless you."

Arthur's senses were returning. He folded his arms as the beggar hobbled away. " He's only going to gamble it away. Or spend it on alcohol. You did notice his breath, did you not?"

In retrospect, he probably should never have stooped so low as to talk to a peasant commoner. The boy turned to face him, eyes clear and defiant, a sharp blue color like the cerulean skies. There was an eerie ethereal quality about the youth that made Arthur wonder if he was some kind of angel descended to help the beggar.

" He may. He may not." The boy replied. His less than eloquent accent clashed with his sophisticated diction. " How he spends my coins is none of my concern once I gave it to him. Either way, I lose a few coins, and I commit an act of kindness. Why should I be defensively selfish just because he might be dishonest? I make no assumptions. But thank you sir, for your counsel."

He bowed, clearly aware of Arthur's possible status, and disappeared into the crowd before Arthur could even think to reply.

For a moment, the prince stood with his companions, at a loss. Then, abruptly, Arthur was struck with a realization. Whoever that peasant boy was, he was no ordinary youth. Arthur had just met someone who might be truly remarkable.

Or maybe the prince was just very impressed.

Either way, Arthur was not letting this young man go without at least finding out his name and identity.

" That boy..." He began. " Have any of you ever seen him before?"

" No sir." Of course not. His companions might wade through the streets more than Arthur, but they would hardly pay attention to other civilians enough to remember their faces.

Arthur shifted. Brief as his day in the city had been, it was the most interesting he could ever remember. The Crown Prince was not about to let it go to waste.

" Come. We're heading back. I want to find that boy."