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    Archetypes Alive in King Arthur's Camelot
    Archetypes Alive in King Arthur's Camelot
    Archetypes Alive in King Arthur's Camelot
    Ebook70 pages1 hour

    Archetypes Alive in King Arthur's Camelot

    By Mary Jo Kelly Wilhelm

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    About this ebook

    From the opening of the story:

    The basis for this story was Storyfest Journey’s seventh journey to Camelot. Individuals quickly became archetypes. Myths supplanted history. Facts became fiction. Any resemblance to archetypes is intentional.

    Prologue

    Ordinarily, we would pick people up in Exeter at the Rougemont Hotel and drive by coach to Hatherleigh village where we stayed at The George Hotel. For a week Storyfest Journeys would explore Devon, Cornwall and Somerset, looking for the story of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. Then, we would drive back to Exeter.
    But this was our seventh year, and seven is a number of fullness and completion. We could not have returned so many times to the same places and stories without nudging the sleeping forces.
    How shall I tell you what happened?
    “Begin at the beginning and go to the end,” said Bob, my husband and The Storyteller.

    The Story

    Harry, our coach driver, a Devon man, drove into Exeter from Hatherleigh. Harry was tall and fair and looked like he had two small red apples placed on each cheekbone. Harry lived in the village of Winkleigh, his wife’s village. His wife was a cook for a boys school and she looked like a whole bushel of apples formed into a person. Lumpy, she was, and sweet, with a certain tartness.
    Harry appreciated women. He would talk to me, giving me his full attention. But when I felt his attention had drifted, I had only to look around to see a shapely young woman nearby. His face would be smiling.
    Harry pulled his Jonkheere coach in front of The Rougemont Hotel. He was a careful man, a measuring man, having been a carpenter on Dartmoor before becoming a coach driver.
    How many have you this time?” he asked in his soft Devon voice.
    “Thirteen,” I replied.
    “A right number,” he said. “Be careful, then. And how many women?” he asked, offhandedly.
    “Eleven,” I said.
    “Oh, aye,” he said. I saw him smile to himself.
    Exeter is a very old port city on the River Exe, which empties into the English Channel. The Romans had chased the Dumnonii tribe from this site in 46 AD. The Roman fort and barracks, the baths and the shops lay deep in the foundation of this very modern looking city. For Exeter was modern, having been rebuilt after extensive bombing by the Germans in the Last Great War.
    There were many layers of history to be explored in Exeter, but we were too busy. Our Camelot group were scattered about The Rougemont Hotel in the center of the town on top of a hill. We had to gather them. We did not know then what forces were gathering for our Seventh Year in Camelot.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMary Jo Kelly Wilhelm
    Release dateJan 28, 2011
    ISBN9781458145475
    Archetypes Alive in King Arthur's Camelot
    Author

    Mary Jo Kelly Wilhelm

    I am the Captain's daughter.

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      Book preview

      Archetypes Alive in King Arthur's Camelot - Mary Jo Kelly Wilhelm

      Archetypes Alive

      in King Arthur's Camelot

      by

      Mary Jo Kelly Wilhelm

      * * * * * *

      Smashwords Edition

      Published by

      Mary Joe Kelly Wilhelm on Smashwords

      Archetypes Alive in King Arthur's Camelot

      Copyright 2001-2011 by Mary Jo Kelly Wilhelm

      All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

      Smashwords Edition License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

      * * * * *

      *****

      An Apology

      The basis for this story was Storyfest Journey’s seventh journey to Camelot. Individuals quickly became archetypes. Myths supplanted history. Facts became fiction. Any resemblance to archetypes is intentional.

      Prologue

      Ordinarily, we would pick people up in Exeter at the Rougemont Hotel and drive by coach to Hatherleigh village where we stayed at The George Hotel. For a week Storyfest Journeys would explore Devon, Cornwall and Somerset, looking for the story of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. Then, we would drive back to Exeter.

      But this was our seventh year, and seven is a number of fullness and completion. We could not have returned so many times to the same places and stories without nudging the sleeping forces.

      How shall I tell you what happened?

      Begin at the beginning and go to the end, said Bob, my husband and The Storyteller.

      The Story

      Harry, our coach driver, a Devon man, drove into Exeter from Hatherleigh. Harry was tall and fair and looked like he had two small red apples placed on each cheekbone. Harry lived in the village of Winkleigh, his wife’s village. His wife was a cook for a boys school and she looked like a whole bushel of apples formed into a person. Lumpy, she was, and sweet, with a certain tartness.

      Harry appreciated women. He would talk to me, giving me his full attention. But when I felt his attention had drifted, I had only to look around to see a shapely young woman nearby. His face would be smiling.

      Harry pulled his Jonkheere coach in front of The Rougemont Hotel. He was a careful man, a measuring man, having been a carpenter on Dartmoor before becoming a coach driver.

      How many have you this time?" he asked in his soft Devon voice.

      Thirteen, I replied.

      A right number, he said. Be careful, then. And how many women? he asked, offhandedly.

      Eleven, I said.

      Oh, aye, he said. I saw him smile to himself.

      Exeter is a very old port city on the River Exe, which empties into the English Channel. The Romans had chased the Dumnonii tribe from this site in 46 AD. The Roman fort and barracks, the baths and the shops lay deep in the foundation of this very modern looking city. For Exeter was modern, having been rebuilt after extensive bombing by the Germans in the Last Great War.

      There were many layers of history to be explored in Exeter, but we were too busy. Our Camelot group were scattered about The Rougemont Hotel in the center of the town on top of a hill. We had to gather them. We did not know then what forces were gathering for our Seventh Year in Camelot.

      Nicodemus came to us first. Dr. Wilhelm, he said to The Storyteller. Dr. Kelly, he said to me. I am Dr. Nicodemus Nimble, he said and held out his hand.

      Dr. Nicodemus Nimble was a slight man who looked like he stepped out of Edwardian England. He wore a navy blue raincoat, with a muffler, and carried a box camera. He wore tiny glasses, had a wispy beard, and he seemed a man with a mission.

      I assume that everyone is here, he said, peremptorily. I don’t like to wait. With that he climbed on the bus and took the best seat, in front, across from the bus driver.

      Our seat, sorry, I called.

      He moved to the other side just in back of the driver and looked out the wide expanse of window. Nicodemus was a traveler, accustomed to moving, to being flexible and easy when on the road. Up to a point.

      Nicodemus had walked along the Great Wall of China. He had followed the military route of Hammurabi and his elephants from Africa over the Alps on their march to destroy Rome. He had walked the mountains and rivers of John Buchan’s Scotland. Nicodemus was a brilliant man whose consuming quest was escape from the present time and place to the journey to the far away lands of the Past.

      Dr. Nicodemus was by profession a medical doctor. The specialty he had chosen was Pathology. He would bring his intense intelligence to bear upon the mystery of cells and the diagnosis of disease. He was very well known for his deductive powers. He was sent slides

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