It seems that when Mark hung up on Uncle Charlie, he missed out on a very important message.
Chapter Thirteen – Logical Reasoning
Here I come
And I'm somehow scared
- Sheryl Crow, Real Gone
Starbucks was playing jazzy Christmas music. As Kate waited for her drink, she mused over the coming holiday. She would probably drive down to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with her parents. Cousins and siblings and grandparents would fill the house on Christmas afternoon for the ritual dinner and present exchange. Last year, Kate had attempted to get out of the quiet Christmas Eve with her folks. But that night when she sat down in front of her fake tree, alone in her house—well, she didn't want to live through that ever again. Her mother's hovering and her father's long speeches were tiring, but loneliness was another matter entirely.
"Tall chai tea latte!" said the barista, putting her drink down in front of her. Kate said a quiet thank you, taking the cup and going to sit. Dr. Cooper and Arthur were at a table, talking about their plans. Arthur had agreed to go to England with the professor right after Christmas. Really the decision was simple, since Arthur wanted to go back and Dr. Cooper had offered to pay for his expenses.
Kate sat in the empty chair, holding the cup to her mouth. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the spiced aroma. Somehow her cares slipped away, and all that mattered was the warmth of the cup in her hand and the caressing scent of the tea. She took a little sip, not minding that it was scalding hot. "I love this tea," she said to Dr. Cooper and Arthur. "It's like drinking Christmas."
Dr. Cooper shook his head, reaching for his black coffee. "Tea isn't nearly strong enough. It's just water and herbs."
"I can't believe you bought black coffee at Starbucks," Kate teased. "There are so many other choices!"
"Precisely," he said, tipping his cup towards her. "America offers the consumer far too many choices. I will take the simple route any day." He took a sip of his drink. "But if you're going to complain about someone's choice of drink, complain to Arthur. He is the one who ordered water."
Kate glanced at Arthur. "Are you sure that's all you want?"
"Positive," he answered, smiling a little. He looked very tired.
"Well, guess who stopped in my office this morning?" Dr. Cooper asked, taking a leather book out of his satchel.
Kate recognized it at once. "Mark?" she asked, astonished. "He gave you his mother's book?"
Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, Dr. Cooper opened the worn journal. "Yes, in fact. I was hardly less surprised. But he said that he wanted to know what was written in it, and he thought I'd be able to help. I promised to do my best, of course."
"Can you actually read that?" Kate asked.
"More or less," he said, his eyes scanning over the page. "I can catch a few words here and there, and then string it together." He fell silent, reading quietly to himself.
Kate turned to Arthur. "So, besides going to England, what are you going to do over the break?"
Shrugging, he sipped at his water. "Dr. Cooper mentioned that he would like to teach me to read. I've never been much for scholarly work, but I would like to give it a go."
"Do you think you'll like reading?" Kate asked.
"It will help me adjust faster, I think," Arthur said. "In time, I will probably learn to like it."
They sat in silence for a few minutes, both staring out the window while Dr. Cooper read the journal. Kate was just about to ask Arthur what he would find useful as a Christmas present, when Dr. Cooper choked on his coffee. Coughing, he grabbed a napkin and dabbed at his face.
"Are you okay?" Arthur asked.
"Yes, yes," Dr. Cooper answered, waving them aside. He was staring at the page. "I'm not sure I read this right. If I read it to you, can you translate, King Arthur?" Arthur agreed, and Dr. Cooper began reading aloud. His voice quivered with suppressed excitement. The vague interest in Arthur's eyes changed to surprise, and then to excitement. Kate felt very much like a third wheel, but she bided her time.
Dr. Cooper set down the book, pushing up his glasses and leaning forward. "Does it say what I think it does?"
Arthur was already standing. "We must find him!" He turned to Kate. "He is the reason I'm here—I know it. He will be able to help me get back."
"Would someone please explain what is going on?" Kate asked, staying seated.
Dr. Cooper began, "It says that Mark—"
"—Is descended from Merlin," Arthur finished.
Glancing from one to the other, Kate wondered if she was the only one at the table who still had common sense. "What does the journal say exactly, Dr. Cooper?"
"The beginning is a note from Mark's mother," Dr. Cooper said, retrieving the journal and scanning the pages again. "She says that after his father's death, they are no longer safe, and she is not assured that she will be able to tell him this when he is of age. So she has copied this journal from a family heirloom, and hopes that when the time is right he will be able to understand it. Then she says that a long time ago, there was a wizard named Merlin—that he lived and breathed, and had a son. Mark and his family are part of his lineage. She puts in a side note with something about Sir Isaac Newton—that he was one of them, and something went wrong with his magic, and so he went insane? It's not altogether clear to me…"
"Dr. Cooper," Arthur said impatiently. He looked toward the door.
"Right, right," Dr. Cooper said. "Anyway, the point is that some of these children of Merlin can use magic. Most of them can only do small things, and many choose not to utilize it at all. But there is a family legend that claims a descendant will be born who is every bit as powerful as Merlin. For this reason, a copy—or the original—of this book has been passed to the first child in every family. Mark and his mother and his uncle are apparently all that is left of the line, and the uncle has the original manuscript. She also mentions something about abstaining from any man-made medication or stimulants. Something about a—a 'scinnlác.' Not sure what that is."
Arthur was barely keeping himself at the table. "'Scinnlác' means an act of magic, or frenzy. Please, may we go? I must speak with Mark."
"He's left for England already, I think," Kate said. The disappointment in Arthur's face made her blurt, "But perhaps he's still at the Waters' house saying goodbye. We could check there, I suppose."
She had not finished speaking before Arthur made for the door. Dr. Cooper was right behind him. Rolling her eyes a little, Kate followed them.
Once she was backing out of her parking place, she asked Dr. Cooper, "How come you didn't read that passage before, when Mark first met with you about the translation work?"
"Heh," Dr. Cooper grunted, looking embarrassed. "I may have gotten a little carried away in my enthusiasm. If I recall correctly, he didn't exactly give me the book when we met the first time. I might have taken awhile explaining the forms of Old English and the pronunciation and, uh, run out of time to look at the work itself."
"Ah," said Kate, amused. She paused, and then lowered her voice, "But, Dr. Cooper, there must be some mistake—or else it's just a family joke. This can't actually be real."
With a surprised look, Dr. Cooper asked, "Well, why not?"
"Because—because it's a myth," Kate sputtered, taken aback. "You know that."
"He's certainly not a myth," Dr. Cooper said, glancing in the back. Arthur was sitting in one of the side seats, staring out the window intently.
"No, but he isn't King Arthur either," Kate said under her breath.
"Then who is he?"
"I don't know!"
Dr. Cooper folded his hands over the book in his lap. "He is not insane. Ill, perhaps, but quite assured of himself, and quite reasonable. If he is not insane, we must believe him—and I think there are other reasons that make believing him not quite so outrageous as you seem to think. He knows Arthurian legend better than anyone I've met—yet he cannot read. He understands Old English perfectly, a language which you either teach yourself or learn in graduate school—and even then, only when you are training to be a medievalist. With a sword, he is a master. In hunting, he can manage with meager weapons. Our modern world is a wonder to him, but he fits in with a timeless grace."
"If he's King Arthur, why can he speak Modern English?" Kate whispered. "Why is he here at all? In America, of all places!"
"As to the latter, who knows? Perhaps he's right, and it's another game of Merlin's." Dr. Cooper shrugged. "But as to the first, that's quite easy. He's been around in some form or another for almost two thousand years. That's plenty of time to learn all sorts of languages."
Kate shook her head, but did not argue. It was pointless to debate with a professor when the man was sure he had it all figured out. She pulled into the Waters' driveway, and got out of the car. There was a hope deep in her heart that Mark had already left. If he was at the house, he would definitely be overwhelmed by Arthur's questions and Dr. Cooper's enthusiasm.
Mrs. Waters opened the door when Kate knocked. She was a middle aged woman, with bleached blond hair and a friendly smile. "Good afternoon, Kate!" she said. Her eyes fell on the other two, and she looked confused. "And… Dr. Cooper… if I'm correct?"
"Pleasure to meet you again, madam," he said. He nodded to his right. "This is our friend, King Arthur. We were wondering if Mark was here? I've found something quite surprising in the journal he left me." Dr. Cooper showed the journal to her.
With an uncertain glance at Arthur, Mrs. Waters answered, "No, I'm afraid Mark is already gone. He left about five hours ago for Atlanta. His flight should be taking off any moment."
Kate stole a glance at Arthur. His shoulders were slumped, the disappointment evident in his face. From inside the house, Kate heard Mrs. Waters' phone ringing. "I'm sorry we missed him," Kate said. In an attempt to show she didn't want to keep Mrs. Waters from answering the call, Kate took a little step backwards.
"He'll be gone to England soon, then?" Arthur asked.
The woman nodded. Her phone was still ringing, but she didn't seem to notice. "He lands in Heathrow—in London, that is—at about one-thirty local time, I think."
In the background, Kate heard the answering machine pick up. The recorded voices began, "Hello, this is the Waters' house." Mrs. Waters kept talking about how she was sorry they hadn't gotten to see Mark before he left. "Leave a message for Michael, Julie or Mark, and we'll call you back. Have a blessed day!"
There was a beep. Kate opened her mouth to say goodbye, but the tone of the message cut her off.
It was a man—his voice cracked, but it was urgent. "Do not let Mark come home!" he yelled over the message machine. "Do not let him get on that plane! Keep him there for the holidays—just don't let him come home! They will kill—" There was a muffled sound.
Mrs. Waters sprang for the phone. A loud pop rang through the house. Then the screech of a dead call. The message machine beeped off, and the recording ceased.
Air rushed back into Kate's lungs, and she realized that she was gripping something. She looked down, and found her hand clasped tightly in Arthur's. He was standing behind her, his other hand on her shoulder.
Frantically, Mrs. Waters grabbed the phone and dialed. "It's a dead number," she said, turning back to them and dialing again. "That was Mark's uncle—Charlie." She held the phone up to her ear, biting her lip as she waited. "Mark's cell went straight to voicemail. He must have turned it off already." She left a message, asking Mark to call her as soon as he could and not to go back to his house.
They stood silently for a moment after she hung up.
"You said that there was an original copy of the journal, owned by the uncle?" Arthur said slowly, looking at Dr. Cooper. The professor nodded, looking a bit sick. Arthur took a deep breath, and turned Kate to face him. "I must go after him."
"What? No, absolutely not." Kate shook her head, squeezing his hand. "We'll call the police in London, or get a message to Mark—but there's no way you can get to London yourself. And what would you do once you were there?"
"Kate, one of my visions—it was of a man in a shop, somewhere in London. There were other men there, and they found an old book. I'd swear it was the original copy of Mark's journal. It's proof," he said, trying to convince her. "I am supposed to help Mark. That's why I am here. I have to go."
Dr. Cooper stepped beside Arthur. "I agree."
Kate gawked at him. "What?"
"It seems the king and the boy are connected somehow," Dr. Cooper said. "I can pay for his ticket. I had the money budgeted for both our flights, which should cover him." The professor turned to Arthur. "Unfortunately I can't join you right off—it's the middle of finals week, and the students will be very put out if I don't get their grades back to them."
"You're both—" insane wobbled on the edge of her lip, but she stopped herself. She had promised. She'd sworn she would trust Arthur.
It was clear she could not stop their crazy scheme. Between one heartbeat and the next, Kate knew: She had to go with Arthur. Closing her eyes, she sighed between her teeth. Here goes Christmas presents. Here's to overreacting.
Arthur's hand pressed hers a little. "I have to do this," he said, gently. "Mark is in danger, and I cannot rest until I know I have done all I can for him."
"I understand," Kate said. She glanced up at him, and mustered a smile. "I am coming, too."