Benton and the Wonderful Lamp

(An Ingenie-ous story of an ingenie-ous mountie)

Long ago and far away in an arctic country there dwelt a simple living youth who was blessed with the gifts of generosity, kindness, loyalty, politeness and wisdom. He was also extremely handsome. Living with his grandparents on the edge of the tundra, he was often alone but not lonely. He read books from his grandparents' Travelling Library, spent time with the hens and huskies and roamed the tundra observing the lemmings, siksiks, whales, foxes, seals and wolves. He knew the difference between a caribou and a fox track and could identify all the types of berries that ripened in the fall: paurngait, kablait, kingmiignait. He knew their names and could pronounce them well. He enjoyed the sounds as he rolled the odd combination of vowels and consonants around in his mouth. He loved to fish for arctic Char with his kakivaak in the icy water.

His childhood passed mostly without incident apart from when, at age six, his mother mysteriously died.

Our young hero loved reading, and he loved to dream. Each Spring, as he watched the caribou migrate to the calving grounds, he would dream of the warm south and the wonders there. During the long arctic nights his favourite book to read by the fire was about the Mounted Police Force. His father was a mountie but he rarely saw him. He longed for the time when he too could join the force and follow in the footsteps of the father he admired. To that end he studied hard and diligently; learnt CPR, gained a St John Ambulance certificate and took a typing course by correspondance until he was accepted as a cadet in Regina.

This noble youth could not contain his excitement and as the time for his departure neared he frantically searched the cabin in which he lived for articles of his father's uniform. He was rewarded when his grandma located an old worn Sam Browne belt which the cadet to be polished lovingly with wax, buffing up the buckles till they gleamed. The young man squinted at his reflection and grinned. Life could only get better. He might even receive a posting near his father when his training was over.

The evening before he was due to leave he had a sleepless night, which for this active youth, was rare. He was beginning to have misgivings. Although he was excited, he was also anxious about the changes he would face going to live in a city after spending so long in small places like Inuvik, Alert and Tuktoyuktuk. Would his experiences in the wilds of the northern territories be adequate preparation for life in law enforcement in Regina ? He had studied the map; Sasketchewan seemed so far away from all that was familiar to him.

It was late evening when the youth stepped down from the train carriage in Regina, his backpack hanging with all his personal belongings. He was overwhelmed by the number of people, many of them were young men and women about to embark on an exciting career.

He paused on the platform to breathe in the warm air. This was going to be his home for the next 26 weeks. As he jostled his way out of the station an older man bumped into him, then grabbed him by the shoulders and exclaimed, " It's you...what are you doing in Regina ? Oh, I expect you do not recognise your great uncle Jacob. I have been travelling throughout the east for many years. Have you time for a chat? Tell me how are your grandparents ?"

Taken aback the young man was dumbstruck. He did not recognise the man at all and it was minutes before he found his voice. He tried to shrug off the man's grip as he answered, " I'm sorry I don't remember you. My grandfather passed away 3 years ago but my grandmother is very well. I am about to commence cadet training for the RCMP."

At this the old man's grey eyes lit up. " A mountie eh, very useful. Indeed. You probably want to get settled in now so meet me on Saturday at the Welcome Bar, 2pm. The address is on the card- we can talk more of family then."

With that he shoved a small card into the youth's pocket and disappeared into the crowd before he could thank him. He shook his head, city people were very strange, and he had never heard his grandparents mention a relative named Jacob.

The young cadet settled in well to the disciplined academy life and, although he found it different to life in the far north, he enjoyed the rigorous physical training, the lectures, the role playing and the debates. It all served to stretch him, emotionally, physically and intellectually. He was a personable character and made friends quickly with a couple of other cadets from the Territories. His first Saturday found him at 2pm fulfilling his promise to meet his great uncle. He was cautious about this meeting, he was unsure what to expect. He had mentioned the man in a letter to his grandmother but had yet to receive a reply.

Jacob was already seated in the cafe sipping at a strong espresso coffee. His great nephew ordered tea and sat opposite waiting for the older man to speak first.

"I expect you are finding the city strange and crowded."

The young man nodded his reply.

"Then I will take you on a tour and show you the wonders of modern living as soon as you finish your drink. "

And so they sat in silence until Jacob paid the bill and they left. He guided him through the city, pointing out stores and food outlets, bars, night clubs, used car lots, parking lots; all places the northerner had rarely seen . The cadet was awed by all he saw. They visited galleries, museums, even the library. All the while Jacob chatted as if to a favourite nephew so much the youth barely had chance to make any contribution. Gradually Jacob led his nephew into the suburbs pointing out the oddities of modern day living; trailers, carefully tended yards, recycling cans.

Before long they were out in the countryside and on the edge of the forest. The cadet hesitated a little, puzzled, but Jacob encouraged him, "I want to show you something wondrous. Gather some sticks for a fire, boy"

Bentondid as he was bid, albeit reluctantly, then crouched by the blazing fire to hear what the old man had to say. Jacob threw some powder onto the flames, "Watch." He muttered in a language the youth, who was conversant in Inuit dialects as well as Cantonese, English and French, did not recognise. Suddenly the earth shook and a gaping chasm opened close by. The nephew gasped in alarm; was he dreaming, or was it an earthquake ? Surely Sasketchewan was not on a fault line. The opening revealed a large stone and inset in it was a large brass ring. "Pull up the stone until you see some steps then descend as far as the door. On the other side of the door you will find a beautiful Palace. Pass through the first three halls until in the fourth you see a lamp hanging in the corner. Bring the lamp to me." He paused to give him a small ring. "Wear this to keep you from harm; it is a family heirloom." He slipped the ring onto the cadet's finger.

The young man was curious, none of the books he had ever read had prepared him for this sort of occurence. Urban life was certainly promising to be very different from his isolated chilhood. His grandmother in her pep talks had never mentioned hidden palaces and stones under the ground. He shrugged and grasped the ring in the stone tightly.

The long stone staircase appeared as expected and he cautiously descended. He then followed the long dimly lit corridor into a hallway full of treasures; rubies, sapphires, emeralds. Never having been interested in material wealth he carried on through to a second hall filled with gold and silver. This too he passed through without a moment's hesitation until in the third hall he gasped at the sight of a hundred shelves filled with books of a thousand cultures. His eyes widened in pleasure at the sight. Here was knowledge beyond his wildest dreams. More books than he could read in his lifetime. He picked one leather bound volume off the first shelf and lowering himself to the dusty floor began to read, "I began my travels, where I purpose to end them, viz. at the city of London..."

Time passed unoticed so absorbed was he in Daniel Defoe's travels, he forgot the command of his uncle to find the lamp.

Outside Jacob was waiting impatiently, what was the boy doing in there ? He called loudly for some minutes until on seeing the top of the youth's head he called, "Give me the lamp now." The younger man was more astute than one might at first suspect having noticed the avaricious glint in Jacob's eyes.

"It is fastened to my belt. Wait till I'm out of here." He was so weighted down with books that he was having difficulty climbing the stairs.

Jacob flew into a rage and shouted even louder, "Boy, give me the lamp, now !" But the cadet was so busy struggling with his load of books he could not obey.

The old man was furious, he threw a handful of powder onto the still burning fire and intoned some mysterious words. The cadet looked up from his position on the staircase to see the exit from the cave slowly closing. He dropped the books and ran the remaining few steps to the top and attempted to push himself through the crack. He was not strong enough, it was useless. He sank to the ground and suppressed a feeling of panic. This was no worse than when he and Innussiq were trapped in a bear cave for two days. Of course then they had with them water and pemmican and the company of each other. It had been quite an exciting adventure. This time he was alone and, he searched his pockets, no supplies worth noting, just his compass, a present from his grandma, and the tuning fork his mother had left him. Maybe there was another way out.

With this thought to cheer him, the cadet leapt up from where he had been slumped against the wall and took the stairs three at a time until he was at the door of the palace. His heart sank at the discovery that the door was shut. He was a prisoner.

He sat down again and rested his head in his hands as he replayed all the survival techniques he had ever read about through his mind. None seemed applicable to this situation. Perhaps the old man would relent and send someone to release him. He shook his head at the unlikelihood of this possibility. Why had the old man done this to him, especially as he had shown such kindness in giving him a ring?

As these thoughts passed through his head he unconsciously rubbed the gold ring on his finger. There was a flash of light which temporarily blinded him. When his vision finally cleared he saw before him the strangest creature. It was perhaps, five metres tall, (the boy could not be precise as the apparition was hovering in the air) had the build of a sumo wrestler, was completely hairless and magnificently bejewelled. The monster seemed as bemused as he was. It looked around the cave then turned its gaze downwards to where our hero looked up with confidence.
" I am the slave of the ring," it intoned melodiously. "Whatever you bid, I will obey."

The cadet could hardly believe his luck. He pinched himself sharply to make sure he was still awake. Yes, all this was real enough. Running a tongue along his dry lips he slowly replied, "Take me out of here, back to the woods, please...sir."

The huge man lifted him up very gently and flew up through the stonework to where he deposited him on the grassy floor close to where the stone had been and where the fire had died to a warm glowing mound of embers. Straightening his uniform the youth turned to kindly thank his benefactor only to discover he had silently vanished. He would have dismissed it all as a remarkable dream were it not for the small old lamp hanging from his belt and the gold ring still on his finger.

He made his way back to the city through the dark and quiet streets until he reached his barracks just before dawn. Sliding exhausted into his small Mountie bed he fell asleep without even having the strength to remove his clothes. The following Monday he was unsurprised to learn in a letter from his grandmother that there had never been anyone in the family called Jacob.

It was many years later that Benton Fraser RCMP had cause to recall the strange occurences of his first week as a Cadet. He still had the lamp, it went with him on every posting. The ring he had buried outside his father's cabin, judging it far too dangerous an item to have around. He kept the lamp as a memory of a strange event, lest it should fade into a dream..

As he had grown older he had become accustomed to the unusual, he often saw things others couldn't, hear things not audible to the ears of his fellow Mounties. And, he was also aware that he could jump further, climb higher, fall greater distances, survive lower temperatures, hold his breath longer than any one else he knew. Activities that could seriously maim or kill other men left him unharmed. He seemed to lead a charmed existence.

Charmed that is in all areas except personal relationships with women. His one serious love affair had ended in a complete disaster. He frequently wished for better judgement in his choice of women. Somewhere, he felt, there was a woman he could love cherish and trust without being hurt, but he was afraid to get involved. Victoria had done that to him, damaged him, possibly beyond repair.

So here he was in his mid thirties standing guard outside the Canadian Consulate in Chicago, no family, exiled from his homeland and only one true friend in the world apart from his wolf, contemplating the loneliness of his existence, and at last, questioning it too. His mind wandered (as it often seemed to these days when he was standing stiffly at attention trying to ignore the stares of tourists, or the unwanted attention of Chicago's youngest generation) to his superior officer, Margaret Thatcher.

She puzzled him. She set him the most demeaning tasks imaginable yet he was unable to resent her. He had noticed that if he stared very hard into her beautiful eyes she would look away, and he was frequently catching her in the act of whipping her glasses off her nose. Very strange behaviour indeed. He was aware that there was an attraction but was unsure if she would return his affections. He was finding it very difficult to fathom the motivations of women. Of this one woman.

His one attempt to ask his father's advice had been fruitless, Fraser senior had even less experience than his son. Even his relationship with Caroline had been odd. As Benton had recently discovered, his father had often slept with the dogs.

Maybe he should try and get to know her better. Ask her out for a meal. No he couldn't do that. Since his appartment had burnt down he had been living at the Consulate and the cooking facilities therein were less than adequate. Maybe he could take her to a picture show? No, he shrugged then rubbed his finger along his eyebrow, an idiosyncrasy of his adopted whenever anything puzzled him. How could he get closer to this woman? In the absence of fatherly advice who could he turn to? Certainly not Ray who just pined after his ex wife and whose chat up lines left a lot to be desired too.

He let his mind wander, to a tree opposite which was in blossom, an acer negundo, if he was not mistaken. There was a bird visible in the branches, possibly a sparrow hopping from twig to twig. How Benton envied that bird its uncomplicated life. What decisions did birds have to make ? They never felt loneliness; the need for companionship did not figure in sparrow psychology. He sighed, you're getting maudlin, Benton. Count your blessings. One; good health. Two; a fulfilling career.Three;...three, an old lamp on the window ledge.

Now why did he think of that lamp after all this time? One of the few things he had managed to rescue from the embers of his immolated former home had been that lamp. It was battered and tarnished and dulled by smoke and flames but he had resisted polishing it for fear of conjuring the genie. He had done that accidently soon after he had acquired it and had felt compelled to wish for something, anything to soothe the doleful look on the genie's face when it had witnessed its new master. If he remembered correctly, the creature had wept when Benton told it he had no desires. To appease it he had wished to be the best of the Mounted: strong, honest and valiant. He recalled now that the genie had told him that whenever he wore the Mountie's Stetson he would be invulnerable and would be able to fulfil his Mountie duties in an unparallelled manner. Why had he forgotten that until now? The price he had paid for that protection had been to live a life of loneliness. Worse still, he had only just realised that he was lonely. If he wasn't careful he was going to be the last of a breed in several ways.

Resolution gripped Benton with an implacable hand and would not let go. He had made up his mind. He would march up to her office, walk confidently in and invite her out to a restaurant of her choosing. He could do this. He was a Mountie. The chiming of the church bell interrupted his thoughts, his shift was at an end. Was his resolution beginning to falter ?

He entered the building and climbed the stairs. They seemed high to Benton who had also become aware of a coldness in his stomach. He was unable to locate the source of his fear as he stood trembling outside her door. Why was this so difficult? She was only a woman after all, he had faced worse especially since teaming up with Ray. Yes, that was it, she was a woman and she was his superior officer too. He let his hand fall from the doorknob and turned back to his own room. He was disappointed in himself, he felt he had let himself down. This was a time to seek out his father. Benton hoped the elder mountie would be there in the tardis like extension to his room, and thankfully he was.

"Try the lamp son "

"Dad, what on earth do you mean ?"

"I mean get that genie to give you a more... " Fraser Senior waved a hand as he searched for a tactful word,"winning way with women. Rub the lamp!"

With that he returned to the books he referred to as his "accounts" though Benton had yet to figure out what need a dead mountie had of money. If his father was to be believed, the afterlife was certainly nothing like any of the major religions would have us think.

Fraser picked up the lamp from its resting place against the window. He studied it for a moment as he tried to put off the inevitable. He was not used to stalling, he would have to just do it, rub the thing and get it over with, like pulling off a band aid from a sensitive area. He shuddered as he gave the dull metal a tentative rub. It was just as horrendous an experience as he'd anticipated. A huge puff of acrid smoke errupted from the spout sending Benton into a coughing spasm as his pristine lungs tried to cope with the polluted air. His eyes watered and the momentary blindness he suffered as a result of the blinding flash of white light that followed was a mercy. It meant that the Mountie was spared the repulsive sight of a huge genie squeezing itself clumsily out of the narrow confines of its prison. He was also coughing too much to notice the sickening moans and groans issuing from the creature's distorted mouth. By the time Fraser's vision and lungs had cleared the genie had regained a respectable appearance and was straightening its crumpled clothes as best it could under the circumstances.

It raised a massive ringed jewelled hand to its mouth, cleared its throat, and began in a sonorous voice its well rehearsed recitation.

"IamthegenieofthelampIamyourslaveandwilldoanythingyoubidmaster."

With that he whisked off a feathered turban and bowed very low. Benton was too stunned to answer straight away so the genie raised its head from its respectful bow and waited expectantly for its master's command. Its master was suffering from a blank mind at that moment. When his power of speech returned several moments later, Benton replied. "I would like to have a ..." how had his father put it? "A winning way with women. Well with Margaret really. Yes, just with her, with Margaret."

"Is that all ?" boomed the genie, disappointed.

"Yes, thankyou kindly...er...sir."

"You are really not experienced at this master thing are you?" Impossible as it may seem the genie's voice had got even louder. Benton put his hands over his ears, fearing a migraine.

"Understood." he replied not knowing what else to say. The genie was obviously disappointed in him.

Again.

"No wealth beyond your wildest dreams? No harem of gorgeous princesses? No emerald clad palaces? No magic carpet? No huge tables groaning under the weight of a banquet so vast it could feed a small African nation for six years?"

Fraser shook his head and wished the genie would give him the winning ways and get back in its lamp.

"Your wish is my command...master."

Benton was sure that last word had been said in a disdainful tone. Nevertheless he thanked the genie kindly once more as it diminished in size and returned through the spout into the lamp.

Fraser took a deep breath and tugged his uniform into place. He looked in a mirror to check there were no hairs out of place and straightened his Sam Browne Belt. "Do I feel different?" He asked himself as he searched his drawers for some cologne. When would these "winning ways" manifest themselves? And how would he recognise them when they did?

He shrugged carelessly.

Who cares? I have to talk to Margaret. I have to make her an offer she cannot refuse.

"Come in," Margaret responded in her usual gruff manner to the strong knock at her door. She did not look up from her paper work as the visitor entered. "Yes?" she welcomed in a sharp tone.

"Sir," a confident deep voice replied compelling her to drop the pen, whip off her glasses and look up into the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen on any human being. She cleared her throat aware that she was reddening.

Before she could get in a barbed retort he continued, "I am aware that there is an attraction between us which I am sure has not gone unnoticed by you. So I am asking you to accompany me to dinner this evening at a restaurant of your choice. We can share the cost if you wish. I am quite happy to phone round a few restaurants to get samples of their menus if you would prefer."

Margaret was unable to repress a snicker. What had come over the tongue tied mountie? The man who could not hold a coherent conversation with any woman who made a pass at him? She sobered up as she remembered that she had waited for this moment for months. As his superior officer she had felt unable to make the first move. It had become a stand off. He was too shy to make the first move himself and so their relationship had stagnated. Who was she kidding, there was no relationship. And now this.

"Sir?" his voice begged a response. "Should I book a table for eight pm ?"

There was only one answer and she gave it. "Yes, Constable. Eight will be fine and I leave the choice to you."

Still totally bemused she watched as he gave her a jaunty salute, turned on his heel and marched to the door where he paused to give her a parting shot: "By the way, although Dorothy Parker maintained that men don't make passes at girls who wear glasses, believe me, yours only add to your allure." With that he closed the door with a flourish.

Margaret stared down at the articles in question and realised that she had twisted them into a mangled piece of metal. He really liked her glasses? She hoped she could find her spare pair at home. Too stunned to continue her work she merely sat for twenty minutes lost in thought. Had the Mountie really asked her out on a date? What had come over him? What on earth was she going to wear?

Despite her fears that Benton would become tongue tied at the meal or that the evening would in some way turn into an utter disaster, Margaret found herself having a wonderful time. Fraser was witty, charming, attentive and even flirtatious. The man truly had hidden depths. As the meal progressed they relaxed in each others company till by dessert they were content to remain silent and just gaze into each others eyes and wonder. She even managed to forget that he was her inferior for long enough to share a tender goodnight kiss when he walked her to her door. Watching him go was difficult, she only just managed to resist calling to his retreating back,"Don't go, stay with me." But years of training were too hard to overcome and so she went to bed alone.

As we are told, the path of true love does not run smooth, but for Benton and Margaret the first hurdle had been overcome and they came to care even more about each other. Margaret was continually amazed at Fraser's new found confidence. She even managed to persuade him to move in with her though she could not stop him from sleeping in his bedroll on the floor. He found her luxurious water bed far too soft and warm. Loathe though she was to admit it, the red long johns really suited him. She could almost consider getting some for herself. She also had to accommodate Diefenbaker in her house but considered that a small sacrifice. After all she had gained the most desirable man in Chicago. That was worth the dog hairs, the lupine smell and the early morning runs. In fact she was amazed at how easily she managed to fit her schedule around them both. If one thing marred her happiness it was the regret that they had not followed their instincts sooner. Through pride and foolishness they had lost valuable time in each other's company and her biological clock was ticking faster every day.

The days passed blissfully into weeks for the two lovers, they were inseperable. On guard duty Benton thought only of Meg, impatiently counting the seconds until his shift ended. Margaret spent too much time at her window, trying to get a glimpse of red serge. When the pressure got too bad she would invent an errand for herself so that she could leave the building and just stand and admire her beloved tall, black haired, well proportioned Mountie.

The weeks turned into months and Margaret found herself pregnant, Benton was delighted. Their happiness complete, life just could not get better.

However it could get worse.