Awake King Arthur

Chapter 1

IN BRITAIN, OFF THE northern coast of a land now called Wales, is a small island where no man has walked for decades. Deep in the woods, at the foot of a craggy hill, a rock tumbles from a pile of fallen slate which has sealed a cave for well over a thousand years. It clatters stonily for a moment then the forest quiet returns once more.

Arthur screamed.

SOMEONE’S MOVING IN next door!"

Ryan’s dreams scattered as his wife, Julie, burst into the bedroom. She crossed quickly to the window and threw back the curtains. Sunlight filled the room, robbing Ryan of any chance of a Sunday morning lie-in. He turned quickly in the bed and pulled the duvet over his head in vampiric mimicry - an effort to shut out the evil rays.

Urgh... he groaned.

We have new neighbours at last! It’s about time someone tidied that garden. And maybe they’ll have some little pussies for Salt and Pepper to play with.

Mmm...

JULIE HELD UP THE WINDOW netting and watched Taffy, the man who had been resident next door for the last two weeks. Julie could tell who it was, even from this distance – she’d never known anyone else walk that way.  Must be some congenital disease, she reasoned.

Birdlike, that was it; he walked like a bird. He lifted his left foot twelve inches from the pavement – toe pointing down as if about test the water in a swimming pool before taking the plunge – and stepped. He then repeated the action with his right foot.

As his figure expanded in the window she could make out his beige cords, the hems turned up. He had orange twine threaded through the belt loops about his thin waist and then knotted in front. That man’s a hopeless case, no pride, she judged.

He took another of those peculiar steps and she smiled as he exposed a bare ankle – no socks! He turned and looked at her then, twisting his lips into a most nasty smile, and she let the curtain fall, stepping back, her heart hammering like a bass speaker.

Oh, my God, he’s seen me!

She backed slowly to the sofa, somehow still afraid he could see her through the brickwork, and very nearly sat on Pepper. He narrowly missed being pulped by her fat backside. Luckily, her cry had woken him from his shallow slumber. She snatched him up.

You’ll protect me won’t you, Pepps? I don’t like him; I don’t like him at all.

She sat, crushing Pepper to her bosom, as Salt looked on, tail slowly snaking to and fro, and waited for the knock on the door, which didn’t come – yet.

IT WAS SUNDAY NIGHT on Lee Road, an almost respectable neighbourhood, where council houses and ex-council houses intermingled. Julie and Ryan owned theirs and, though they would never speak it aloud to the neighbours, they felt rather superior about the fact. The old Welsh git who had just moved in next-door, well, his was a council house.

It was eleven o’clock, or thereabouts. Julie and Ryan had been in bed, and asleep, for well over an hour. Slam! Slam! Slam!

Oh, my God, what’s that? Julie sat up beside Ryan, erect as a fence-post.

Okay, wake up, you lowlife bastards! That’s some greeting for a new neighbour! Send your cats round to crap on me doorstep? Get your arses out of bed and come and clean up your animals’ mess now, or you’ll be sorry!

What is that loony Taff raving about?

Ryan shook his head to clear the drowsiness, climbed out of bed, and moved to the open window. He pulled aside the net curtain and peered out. At first, he saw nothing; the front door was obscured by the porch canopy.

What does he want? asked Julie in a sleep-thickened croak.

Shh! That’s what I’m trying to find out, Ryan hissed. He rubbed his eyes and leaned further out the window. All he could see was the top of a bald man’s head, a few strands of hair endeavouring to shield it from the street lamps urine-coloured glow, and then the man disappeared once more beneath the canopy.

Slam! Slam! Slam!

Come on, come on. Don’t think you can wait me out, I’m a very patient man.

Who the bloody hell do you think you are and what’s going on? asked Ryan.

Your cats - that’s what’s been going on ... been going on my drive, and on my garden. Lovely little piles of cat cack they are too, if that’s your thing. But it isn’t mine, so come and clear it away, unless you want a to-do.

Ryan gave a grunt, Okay, okay, I’m coming down.

Well, what is it? asked Julie, when Ryan pulled his head back in.

It’s that nutty Taff. Your cats have been dumping on his drive, and now I’ve got to go and clean it up.

Can’t it wait until morning?

No, it can’t. Not if you want to avoid a to-do.

WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO?

Julie jumped as if she’d been slapped on the backside. Turning from her gardening, she found herself confronted by her new neighbour.

Hello, Mr Merlin! She tried to sound cheery; although she remembered the commotion of the night before, she was prepared to remain civil.

I’m so sorry about the little messages my Salt... or Pepper, left on your driveway. A most unfortunate way to welcome you to the neighbourhood, Mr ... uh ... anyway, I hope it won’t happen again.

It already has.

The neighbour cocked his head to one side, but remained silent, while she fought for something to say. She could think of nothing. Then, finally, he spoke again.

And I’ve decided what I will do, he said, answering her earlier question. If they can’t eat, they can’t shit. Don’t worry about it happening again ... it won’t.

He took a small, translucent polythene bag from his blazer pocket. He held it between thumb and forefinger, and gave it a delicate jog in Julie’s face.

This is one of your cats’ little messages, but before I return it, I’ll take a little for myself.

He opened the bag and pressed two fingers into its contents, then put the same two fingers into his mouth. She watched in revulsion and struggled to keep her stomach contents in their rightful place. He removed the fingers, complete with a string of saliva, which clung to his stubbled chin, dangling like a liquid stalactite.

Enjoy your gardening, he chuckled. He handed her the bag and left her, alone and confused. She tried to continue with her gardening, but she couldn’t get the neighbour off her mind, so went back into the house.

Settled on the sofa she tried to watch some TV. Pepper hopped onto her lap, but instead of making his usual nest in her skirt, preferred to tug at it with his claws, while Salt sat between her slippered feet and snaked his tail in anger.

Oh, will you two settle down? Let Mummy watch her program, will you?

But they wouldn’t. Salt continued to tap Julie’s foot with an anxious paw, while Pepper just wouldn’t stay still, but toured around her body as if she were a funfair ride.

Okay, okay. Anything for a quiet life, she said. You’re like a pair of kids, always wanting something.

As soon as she stood it was as if the cats had read her mind; they raced ahead of her into the kitchen. What Julie expected to see was two empty food bowls, yet both remained untouched. She bent down and picked up the one which read ‘Pepper’ and brought it to her nose. She sniffed ... That’s okay. She repeated the procedure with Salt’s dish. That one, too, was okay.

You’re just plain spoilt, both of you. Now, I’m missing Columbo.

She made once more for the living room, determined not to budge from the sofa. But it seemed the cats had a different idea. They sat on the floor in front of her and, though she did her best to ignore them, she found she could not concentrate on her program.

She prodded Pepper with a delicate toe to shift him. His paw shot out, claws extended, and sliced through skin and stocking alike.

You little..! she exclaimed and in a knee jerk reflex kicked Pepper hard enough to send both cats scurrying out of the room. She jumped up and slammed the door behind them. What a day. I'm heading for a nervous breakdown.

WHEN RYAN CAME HOME from work she was already there to meet him.

What a day I've— he started.

What a day you've had? You wait and hear what I've had to put up with. First, it was that nasty man next door. He put cat poo in his mouth! It was vile. Then Salt and Pepper have been acting schizoid. Pepper actually scratched me, Ryan; I had to call the doctor out for a tetanus injection.

This is the last thing I need, complained Ryan, sounding tired. Right, that's it. I've had enough being civil ... been doing that all day with sodding customers. I'm going to sort that cranky Welsh git. We own this house and I'll not have this behaviour from a council tenant. I'm going round there right now. And he did, still carrying his case of kitchenware samples.

He passed his neighbour's camper van; caked in so much dirt you could grow cannabis plants on it. Some wit had even written 'Camper Van Beethoven' along its side. It must have been some time ago, as another skin of soil had started to veneer over the letters. Also on the drive was a filthy sky-blue upturned rowing boat, bearing the legend 'Tender to Bobbin.' If it was ‘tender to bobbin', Ryan thought, it must be having serious withdrawal symptoms by now.

He rapped hard on his neighbour's front door. Hello! Hello! he shouted in staccato.

The door swung open and the old man stood there, his eyes fixed on Ryan's sample case.

Can't you read? asked the old man. He pointed at a sticker on the door. No salesmen. That means you. Now, bog off.  There was no anger, or malice in his voice; he could have been a bobby telling a busker to move on.

Ryan didn't have a bad temper, just a slow-burning one, with a stick of dynamite at the end, but he was rattled by the old man's confidence, else he wouldn't have remained silent for as long as he did.  Then, his anger returned - revitalised. His cheeks flushed and before he could check himself, his hand shot out and shoved his neighbour hard on the shoulder.

Bollocks to you and your drive, Boyo, he spat through lips twisted in rage, and shoved his neighbour again. If you ever threaten me, shove, or my wife, shove, or those bloody cats, shove, I'll ram all the cat shit in the street into your toothless gob! shove. The last shove dumped the old man onto his scrawny backside.

He smiled up from the tarmac and murmured, Oh dear, fisticuffs on Lee Road. Now you really have gone too far and I can't say I'm sorry. The old man lifted a hand from the driveway; something dark-brown and unwholesome stuck to it. Lordy, there really is too much of this stuff about. You could do with losing a few pounds of lard, Mr ... uh... we never did get as far as names, did we? Ah, well, too late now, eh? Still, I think we understand each other.

He brought his hand to his lips and licked the turd that clung to it. He gave Ryan another face-splitting smile. "I think I can smell your dinner, Mr. ... uh ...you must be hungry. Anyway, bon appetit – and, goodbye."

What the hell is wrong with you? asked an uncomprehending Ryan before walking away. He'd already decided the man was loony tunes and that he’d already wasted too much time talking to him. I'll be writing to the council about you. You're not safe out on the street unsupervised. He gave his neighbour one final hateful look and reentered his own house.

The old man was still sitting on the tarmac, smiling back at him. "I say again, bon appetit," he called after Ryan and gave a foppish wave.

Ryan slammed the door shut and shouted, What's for lunch, Love? I'm starved.

THE CAULIFLOWER-CHEESE, Belinda McCarthorse's vegetarian sausages - Ryan hadn't eaten meat for eighteen years - and broad beans looked great on the plate set before him at the kitchen table, while Julie washed up, but he just couldn't eat any of it. His mouth filled with water like an automatic washing machine, and his stomach rumbled like a distant train, yet every time he lifted a forkful of sausage, a floret of cheese-coated cauli, or even a single lonely bean to his eager lips, he would think of his neighbour with the cat turd, and heave.

Bugger it, Julie; I think I need a doctor. I feel like my guts are crawling with maggots. I need something in my belly, it's driving me mental.

I can phone Doctor Who-Watt for you, but I don't think it'll help. It's him next door; he's done to you what he did to my Salt and Pepper.

Ryan pushed his cold plate away and clutched his stomach as it cramped again. Pepper came into the room and padded up to him. The cat stood on its hind legs and gently placed his forepaws on Ryan's thigh, then without warning, the claws extended and penetrated deep into his skin.

Ryan yelped like a kicked mongrel dog.  He jumped up and threw a slap at the cat, but it wouldn’t let go. He grabbed the kettle and poured. It was mere good fortune for Pepper the water was cold, but it did the trick.

Ryan! Don't hurt him, please, don't hurt my baby! Julie cried out.

Christ, I had to. The bloody thing's rabid, said Ryan, close to tears as he clutched his leg.

It's not his fault, she defended the cat, and bent over to lay a soothing hand upon its quivering body, but received only a psychotic hiss in reply. It's that horrible old man next door, Ryan. I know it is.

I'll have to go and see him again, Ryan said. He pressed his empty stomach in a bid to quell a rumble which could be measured on the Richter scale, before my guts start to eat me from the inside out.

RYAN DIDN'T KNOCK THIS time, but banged with a balled fist; he didn’t care about the possibility of breaking the glass. The old man opened the door, still wearing his beige cords. He had a tiny floret of cauliflower adhered to the corner of his mouth. Sorry I was so long in answering, but I was in the middle of dinner. Cauliflower cheese and sausages - proper sausages, with meat - very nice too. Would you like some?

Ryan wasn't listening; he was too hungry to be interested in conversation. What’ve you done to me? Look, I'm sorry. We can sort this out, can’t we? Just let me eat something and I promise not to phone the council.

Oh, you can eat something, you just don't know what it is yet, said Merlin.

What? What is it? Ryan pleaded.

Well, OK then. It looks like you’ve learned your lesson. Salt and Pepper will cure you.

Salt and pepper? I can't eat salt and ... Salt and Pepper? The cats you mean? But, but, I'm a veg...

Merlin smiled at Ryan as if he knew this already. A dead veggie, that’s what you'll be. Just eat the bloody cats, and we'll all be happy. Tastes very much like rabbit, you know.

Can't you just let me have something to be going on with, just to ease the pain? asked Ryan.

Taffy pursed his lips and looked to the skies as if considering, then, No can do, neighbour, it's the cats or nothing.

Ryan was now too desperate to argue. If it was a choice between him and those sodding moggies, he would be breaking the winning tape first. He went straight to his garden shed and rooted out his circular saw.

One way to skin a cat, he muttered as stomach took over his mind.

Merlin was still smiling to himself when he started to close his front door. That’s when he heard Arthur's scream.

WHILE ARTHUR SLEPT

Life as an earthworm was a total contrast to his time as a leaf. While the leaf which had once been his body had now become one with the soil so Merlin fed upon himself. As he threaded his way through clod, clay and earth he had little need for thought; just constantly moving, feeding and breeding. There was reason for all this, more than being just another link in the food chain – but it would be millennia before that would be revealed.

He knew little of daylight. To be above ground was fraught with many dangers: hogs, badgers and birds, and he was in no hurry to be a meal.

But as the summer season approached the earth