"She is correct in one sense, James. True, masters can routinely perform what many consider miracles. However, she seemed to imply that only masters can perform miracles, and that is not correct. Anyone can perform miracles. In fact, you are performing many miracles right now, as we speak."
"Not likely," I said.
"Is it not a miracle that life infuses the dust and clay that surrounds your bones?"
"Anyone can do that," I said. "It just happens. Most people, however, do not expect a fire to do their bidding. It's beyond their realm of - " I searched for a word, "expectations."
"And so it is," he said. "If they believe that. I would suggest for most people to not limit themselves. Ever."
Arthur lapsed into silence and began whistling a haunting tune, a tune that awakened something very old within me, the tattered fragments of a long-lost memory. Suddenly, in my mind's eye, I saw forested lands and verdant green hills; I saw distant castles and villagers dancing merrily around a roaring campfire. I ached for it. Longed for it. I knew this place; it had once been home. I was sure of it. How I knew this, I did not know. Where it was, I did not know. But I suspected it was close. Very close....
I took in some air and the memory faded. I felt weirdly homesick. After a moment, I found my voice. "But how did you do it? How did you make a fire go out and then come back?"
Arthur stopped whistling and nodded, as if he was waiting for this question. "First, I feel a deep connection with our Creator. I feel His love and strength and warmth course through me. I feel God in every cell of my body. And second, I thank Him for providing me with whatever I want."
"You thank Him before He gives it to you?" I said.
"Of course," said Arthur.
"And you thanked Him for putting out the fire?"
"Yes."
"And it just happened?"
"Yes."
"And you thanked Him for starting the fire again?"
"Yes."
"And it just happened?"
Arthur looked at me kindly and smiled deeply. "Yes, my friend. It just happened."
I took all of this in. It made sense on a very basic level, granted, but how did real people in their real lives put any of this to good use?
"And you're saying I could do that, too?" I asked.
"Of course," he said. "And the more you want something, the more you believe you will have it, the faster it will come."
"Sweet Jesus," I said.
"Yeah," said Arthur, "He is pretty sweet."
Chapter Twenty-seven
The tavern door swung open and a man and woman swept in out of the cold and sat opposite the central hearth, talking excitedly. I could only imagine what they were talking excitedly about. Dragons were, after all, big news. Bigger even than Charlie Sheen.
"Back to the dragon," I said.
Arthur nodded. "Yes, the dragon is from elsewhere, James. Much like those knights we fought in the streets."
"Elsewhere?"
"Yes."
"And where is elsewhere?"
"Another world," said Arthur, flipping his wrist absently. He seemed amused by the gesture and did it again, as if he was still getting used to his physical body. "Another world, another time."
"Then why are they here in our world at this time?" I asked.
"They were summoned," said Arthur. "By the man in black you saw earlier."
"And who is he?"
"A magician."
I had been about to take a sip from my cocoa, but stopped the mug halfway up to my lips. Some of it sloshed over the rim and made a brown and white foaming mess on the scarred wooden table.
I looked at Arthur.
He looked back at me.
I started shaking my head.
"No...." I said.
He winked. "Yes," he said. "That magician."
* * *
A single name appeared in my thoughts: Merlin.
I mulled the name over. Heck, I was mulling a lot over. If there was a land of Mull, I would surely be king.
Above the nearby rooftops, a section of the darkening sky glowed orange. Perhaps a fire. Perhaps the source of the sirens I had heard earlier. Dragon fire?
I had never seen the Disney movie "The Sword in the Stone," although I had read Steinbeck's little-known and wonderfully written The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights. I had never read Mallory's Le Morte d'Arthur, nor had I read Mary Stewart's classic trilogy plus one. But I had seen Richard Gere playing the role of Sir Lancelot in First Knight, and I was fairly certain I had seen King Arthur with Sean Connery. Granted, I had done some research on Glastonbury prior to coming here, and so I knew the "official" history of Arthur. But I realized then, as I sat there with Arthur reborn, that I had scant knowledge of Merlin himself. I knew Merlin had been a friend of Arthur's, a wizarding aide, so to speak. A confidant. And I seem to recall - and perhaps I had read this in Steinbeck's book - that Merlin was last seen trapped inside a magical tree, betrayed by the woman he loved. But I do not recall Merlin turning bad. Then again, with wizards, one never knew, right?
"You have surprising scant little knowledge of my old friend Merlin," said Arthur.
"And you know this how?" I asked, suddenly suspicious.
Marion said, "He's reading your aura, James. Even I can see the confusion surrounding you."
"I want to go home," I said.
"Those who want, never receive," said Arthur.
My head hurt again. "Um, what?" I asked.
"Instead of wanting, you must choose. You must proclaim. And then you must thank, and then you shall receive your heart's greatest and smallest desires."
"Then I choose to go home," I said, my voice rising. "I proclaim that I am going home. And thank you God for sending me home."
"Much better," said Arthur, grinning and sitting back. "So, then, why are you still here?"
"You tell me," I said.
"You are here," said Arthur, "because I suspect you truly don't want to leave."
"Oh, really?" I said.
"I suspect you want to see this adventure through to the end, James, even though you might be afraid now. I suspect you want to experience the thrill of the quest, and to see distant lands, and have the adventure of a lifetime. And, being a true bard at heart, I suspect you want to tell this tale to the world."
"I want," I said, "to go pee."
And I got up and left.
* * *
I did my business in a very small, archaic bathroom, and shortly found myself at the end of a slightly crooked hallway. The back door was open, and I stood there looking up into the rain as it drummed the lids of some nearby metal trashcans. I wondered what was really keeping me here in Glastonbury. I could easily leave now and try to forget I ever came here.