The Call of Destiny (The Return of Arthur Book 1) (8 page)

Margot sidled up to him. ‘Don’t be cruel,’ she
murmured ‘Uther, darling.’

He felt himself being drawn
into those darkly beautiful eyes. ‘My God, Margot, you really are bewitching.’
He shook his head ruefully. ‘And when it comes to a pretty face, like most men
I’m a fool.’

Margot hooked her fingers
inside the waistband of his trousers and pulled him close. Standing on tiptoe,
she closed her eyes and put her mouth up to be kissed. For a moment Uther saw
nothing but rosebud lips. He bent down. But then, an instant before their lips
met, he shook himself, and the spell was broken.

‘But not that big a fool,’ he muttered.

At the start of the Easter holidays the Hughes
family drove to the Devon coast for a long weekend. Hector woke early, opening
the door of their caravan onto a perfect spring day, the blue sky unblemished
by a single cloud, the air fresh with the smell of the ocean. Elizabeth was
still asleep. Not wanting to disturb her, Hector woke the two boys quietly, and
took them for a walk, leaving a note for Elizabeth to say they would be back in
an hour or two. As they followed the narrow track that ran the length of the
cliffs, Hector stopped, squinted his eyes and pointed.

‘Way up there. That tiny
speck. See it?’ ‘What is it, dad?’ asked Keir.

‘It’s a golden eagle.’

Arthur was impressed. ‘Wow! Can it see us?’

Hector nodded. ‘It can see a
mouse in the long grass.’ Above them a skylark warbled its timorous song.

‘It’s following us,’ said Arthur.

Indeed it seemed to be, for as
they walked the bird kept pace with them, its tiny wings fluttering in a
frenzied blur, hovering and darting by turns, trilling nervously, almost as if
it were warning them. Hector shielded his eyes from the sun as he searched the
sky. The eagle had disappeared. A breeze ruffled a patch of ocean and then
died, leaving it smooth again. A mile or two out, a cargo ship moved slowly
past, heading out into the Atlantic. For a few moments they watched it from the
cliff edge. Far below, the beach curved in a long crescent between two
promontories. For most of its length it was deep in shadow, but at the
north-western tip the sand glistened like gold in the morning sunlight.

There was not a sound to be
heard, nothing stirred, not a mouse, not a blade of grass. The silence was
eerie. Hector felt a sudden sharp stab of fear in his stomach. In that instant
the light of the sun was blocked out as the eagle stooped in an almost vertical
dive, its curved beak and deadly talons reaching down towards Hector’s face.
Convinced he was about to be torn to pieces, he tried to run, tripped and fell
heavily. Fearful that his sons might also be attacked by the wild bird, he
shouted to them to take cover. But there was no cover, only fields of long
grass stretching in either direction as far as the eye could see. In shock,
scarcely knowing what he was doing, Hector staggered to his feet. Sky, cliffs
and fields spun round him, his knees folded, his head fell back and he
collapsed, dazed and bewildered.

Keir ran to his father. ‘Dad, are you alright?’

Hector shook his head to clear
it. ‘Fine, fine. Help me up, Keir. Let’s get the hell out of here before
someone gets hurt.’ But then, looking up, there was the eagle circling a few
hundred feet up. ‘Stand still,’ he told Keir. Somewhere he had heard that an
eagle only attacks a moving prey.

Arthur was walking slowly
along the track some way behind them, shielding his eyes from the sun. He too
was watching the great bird circling lower and lower. Keir ducked down, making
little moaning noises, trembling with fear. Hector crouched by him. ‘Don’t
move, son, whatever you do.’ He called out to Arthur. ‘Art! Stay where you
are!’

The eagle hovered directly
overhead, so close that Hector could see its fierce yellow eyes gleaming in the
sunlight. Clasping Keir protectively, he shielded the frightened boy’s head
with his hands, certain the bird was about to attack again. Suddenly Arthur was
running inland through the long grass, shouting at the top of his voice. For
God’s sake, what was he doing!

Hector watched helplessly as the eagle banked
and dropped like a stone on Arthur who froze, not moving a muscle. The murderous
talons were inches from his face, but at the last second the great bird braked
effortlessly, its tail feathers brushing Arthur’s head, then sped away inches
from the ground, wings shadowing the long grass. Over the sea it lifted and
soared into the blue sky until once more it was a tiny speck high above them.

Again a menacing silence.
Never in his whole life had Hector been so afraid. Where was the eagle now? Had
it given up and flown away? He peered at the sky, but the sun was in his eyes
and he could see nothing. And then, dear God, there it was, circling lazily
overhead, round and round and round, as though it were taunting them. He
shouted across to Arthur, ‘Lie down, Art! Cover your head!’ But the warning
came too late, for like a thunderbolt the eagle dropped again on Arthur, and
this time it seemed nothing could save him. A split-second before the steely
talons struck, Arthur flinched. A razor-sharp claw slashed his face.

Hector cowered, expecting to
see his son torn to pieces. But to his amazement, instead of administering the
coup
de grace
, the eagle hovered directly over Arthur’s head, stroking the air
serenely with its massive wings before folding them and landing on his
shoulder. There it stood, shifting its weight from one foot to the other, head
turning from side to side, yellow

eyes peering angrily about.
And Arthur, showing not a trace of fear, stroked the eagle’s breast feathers.
The eagle opened its wings and spread them over Arthur. Moments later it lifted
itself a few feet in the air, circled him three times, uttering a sonorous cry,
Kluee! Kluee! Kluee
!, banked left, then right, climbed steeply into the
sun and disappeared from view.

Hector ran to Arthur and
anxiously examined his face. The left cheek was bleeding but miraculously the
eagle’s talons seemed only to have inflicted a superficial wound.

‘We must get that seen to right away.’

‘What’s all the fuss about?’ said Keir. ‘It’s
only a scratch.’

Hector frowned. ‘Let’s go, boys. That face
needs dressing, Arthur.’

Keir shoved Arthur in the
chest. ‘Serves you right for being such a sissy.’

‘I’m not a sissy.’ ‘You are.
Coward!’

Tears of anger stung Arthur’s
eyes. ‘I’m not a coward, I’m not.’

‘Yes you are. You ran away.’

‘That’s enough, Keir,’ said Hector sternly.

Although Keir did have a point.
Arthur’s taking off like that had certainly provoked the eagle to attack him.
The boy had panicked but who could blame him? He was only nine years old.

‘You nearly had us killed.’

‘Leave him alone, Keir,’ said Hector sternly.

Keir fumed and muttered all
the way back. Arthur, never unhappy for long, threw stones and chased
butterflies. Walking quickly to the caravan, Hector silently thanked God,
though he was far from being a religious man. More than once he laid his arms
on his sons’ shoulders and told them how much he loved them. Arthur was
obviously too young to understand what terrible danger he had been in. Even so,
it was astonishing how relaxed he was.

Her usual unruffled and
efficient self, Elizabeth rushed Arthur to the local hospital where his cheek
was dressed and he was given an anti-tetanus shot. The doctor warned him he
would have a small scar on his left cheek that most probably would never
completely disappear. Keir sulked, disgusted at the attention being paid to his
younger brother. Arthur remained quietly unconcerned about the whole business.

The more Hector thought about
what had happened, the more puzzled he was. There were questions in his mind,
questions he had no answer to. How to explain the eagle’s behaviour? Why had
this wild creature attacked them in the first place? And why had it perched on
Arthur’s shoulder like some domestic pet? Elizabeth needed no explanations, and
would not hear a word against Arthur. ‘Arthur is special,’ she said, as she
often did. ‘It could all have turned out very differently. All I care about is
that you and the boys are safe. That’s quite enough for me.’

But it was not enough for
Hector; for him everything had to make sense. He had always been an earthbound
man, a man who believed only in what he could see and touch. Sometimes he
allowed himself to believe in abstract concepts, but these were chiefly related
to scientific theories which, in his considered opinion, had been irrefutably
proven. Having nagged for days at the problem, he finally came up with a theory
that provided the only rational explanation of the events of that extraordinary
morning. Waiting till the boys were back at school, he went to see Merlin at
his cottage. It was always worth hearing what Merlin had to say on any subject
– not that he would be able to find any flaw in Hector’s reasoning. All the
time he was recounting the story of the eagle, he had the strangest feeling
that Merlin already knew it. But if he did, he said nothing, listening
carefully to every word.

‘An amazing experience,’ said
Merlin when Hector had finished. ‘I imagine you have a logical explanation?’

Hector preened. ‘As a matter
of fact, I do.’ ‘And that is?’

‘Sex.’

‘You don’t say,’ said Merlin dryly.

‘Remember, it is spring.
Making the assumption that the eagle was female, I would say that from a few
thousand feet up she got confused, and mistook Arthur for a potential mate. I
know it may sound far-fetched but I have heard of such things. On taking a
closer look, she discovered her mistake and flew off. That’s all there was to
it.’

Merlin’s expression was
inscrutable. ‘You agree?’ asked Hector.

‘I am not an expert on the mating habits of
eagles,’ said Merlin, ‘but your theory sounds logical enough.’

Hector was clearly delighted
to receive what sounded like the great man’s imprimatur.

‘There is only one problem,’
said Merlin. ‘What’s that?’

‘If you are right, then the
normal neutral relationship between man and raptor was distorted by a random
eruption of hormones. That would mean that everything that happened was due to
chance.’

‘I’m sure it was,’ said
Hector, for that is what he wanted to believe.

‘It might well have been,’
said Merlin, ‘had the eagle swooped only once and then flown away. But it did
not. It attacked three times. One mistake – possible. Two – highly unlikely.
Three – inconceivable.’

Hector looked crestfallen.

‘Also, each time the eagle
stooped, it did something different. The first time, it attacked you. That
could have been sheer chance, I grant you. But the second time, it attacked
Arthur. And the third time again.’ Those penetrating eyes focused on Hector.
‘Why was that, do you think?’

‘That’s easy. Because Arthur
took fright and ran. He became a moving target. He provoked the eagle.’

Merlin nodded. ‘Very plausible.’

Hector beamed. Merlin was
beginning to come round to his point of view.

‘Another question,’ said
Merlin thoughtfully. ‘Why did the eagle scratch Arthur’s face the second time?
Why not the first time?’

‘Maybe it tried to and
missed.’ ‘An eagle does not miss.’

‘This one did.’

‘Very well, let’s suppose I am
wrong. Let’s say it did miss the first time. What about the second time? Why
did it only scratch

Arthur’s face when it could easily have
inflicted much greater injury, or perhaps even killed him had it wanted to? Was
that chance too?’

Hector shook his head in
bewilderment; instead of taking his hand and guiding him to
terra firma
,
Merlin was leading him into a quagmire. He was beginning to wish he had never
come. ‘If the whole thing wasn’t chance, what else could it have been?’

‘A test, perhaps?’ suggested Merlin.

A puzzled frown. ‘What kind of test?’

‘A test of Arthur’s courage and
resourcefulness.’

What was Merlin getting at? ‘I
don’t follow you,’ said Hector irritably. ‘Whose test? And what for?’

The two men faced each other
across the table in Merlin’s kitchen. Hector’s mug of tea was warm in his
hands, the table solid under his elbows, the floor stone, the furniture pine,
and everything around him as commonplace as could be. He had come here for an
explanation as ordinary and accessible as Merlin’s kitchen. What he was getting
was anything but.

It was as if Merlin had read
his thoughts. ‘What is it you want from me?’ he asked.

Hector sipped his tea. His own
theory was weak, far-fetched, one he would like to believe in but couldn’t.
What he needed from Merlin was a rational explanation of that extraordinary and
disturbing encounter with the eagle.

‘Reassurance.’

Merlin smiled. ‘I’ll do my
best.’ He moved over to the hob, returned with the pot and refilled their mugs.

‘The first time the eagle attacked you, what
happened?’

Hector closed his eyes,
reliving the scene; and so terrifying was it that even here and now in Merlin’s
kitchen it was all he could do not to shield his face from the predator’s
murderous talons. ‘I stumbled and fell. I nearly passed out. Keir ran over to
see if I was alright.’

‘And Arthur?’

‘Art was behind us on the track, looking up at
the sky.’ ‘What happened next?’

Why all the questions? ‘Where
is all this leading?’ ‘Bear with me, Hector,’ said Merlin gently.

‘The eagle appeared again and
started to circle. I was sure it was going to attack me.’

Merlin leaned forward, eyes
bright, every muscle in his body tense. ‘You were sure it was going to attack
you. Not Arthur.’ ‘No. It had attacked me once, and it was directly over me
again.’

A satisfied nod. ‘What did you do?’

Hector clasped his hands
together to stop them shaking. ‘I told the boys not to move. Then I saw Arthur
running in the long grass and shouting like a maniac.’

Merlin bounced with
excitement. Hector had never seen him so animated. ‘He left the track and ran
into the field?’

‘Yes.’

Merlin leaned back in his
chair and sighed a contented sigh. ‘And when the eagle attacked him, what did
he do?’

‘One moment he was running
away in blind panic, the next he was turned to stone. I suppose he was
paralysed with fear.’ ‘You think so?’ Merlin’s eyebrows arched. ‘What happened
then?’