Iain Pears - Arcadia

‘I call before me Antros, friend of Pamarchon,’ he said loudly. Antros was shocked and came forward with the greatest reluctance.

‘I am under the special protection of Willdon,’ he said defiantly as he approached.

Lytten smiled. ‘I’m very glad to hear it,’ he said. ‘I would like to ask you a favour, if I may. I imagine that there are some of your merry band of outlaws carefully scattered around in case something goes wrong here, is that the case?’

Antros didn’t reply. ‘Please go and get them prepared,’ he said quietly. ‘Gontal is in a bad mood, and may soon be in a worse one. Can you tell me which of you is the best archer? It would be good to have someone who is calm and self-confident close by.’

‘I am easily the best,’ Antros said. ‘Better by far than even Pamarchon.’

‘Then you are my man. Now, I would like you to be ready for all eventualities. Settle yourself down in the bushes there.’ Lytten nodded towards his left. ‘Out of sight, if you please, but ready with your bow.’

‘To do what?’

‘You will know if you see it. Just do not be afraid, and trust your instincts. Go now.’

Antros bowed and walked swiftly out of the circle. The encounter had disturbed the crowd, which was now restless in a way which Lytten’s experienced ears knew was impatient, annoyed even. Time to take control properly.

‘Silence!’ he roared suddenly, and the noise shook the clearing like thunder.

Lytten stood up and spread out his arms, the red cloak billowing from the movement.

‘People of Anterwold! People of Willdon! Hear my words!’

Silence fell, absolute and total, as he gazed around him.

‘That’s no good,’ he said. ‘I do not intend to shout. You,’ he gestured to Catherine and Pamarchon, Henary and Jay and Gontal, ‘come and stand over there. Everyone else come closer. Yes, yes. Into the circle. Step over those stones. They are just stones, nothing more.’

Even so, they were reluctant. But soon enough one person stepped over and, emboldened, so did everyone else, then rushed forward until they were gathered around the stone tomb, looking up in awe at the figure standing on it.

‘Good. I will give you my decisions. They are final, not subject to any query. My words will be obeyed. They are the law, unbreakable and eternal.’ He spoke with magnificence and authority, rather like reading the rules of a final exam to a hall of students, but with much greater impact.

‘Firstly, stop looking at me like a bunch of sheep. You believe that I called the Story into being. So I did. It was to help you, not hinder you. To open your minds, not close them. I wish you to question, not obey. Doubt, not trust. That is the purpose of the Story, but you have missed the lesson, if Gontal is anything to go by.

‘It contains your past, I say. It does not contain your future. I have not written that. No one has, and from now on you will be the only people who can write it. Do not rely on words written by the long dead, as Gontal did in his speech. Erudition is no substitute for wisdom. Take what is good and useful in the Story, but do not treat it as a book of rules. Change it as you wish. You have the Story, but you also have your intelligence and humanity. Use all the gifts you have been given.

‘Now, Jay, student of Henary, step forward. Pamarchon, son of Isenwar. Oh — and Aliena, student of Rambert. Let’s have you as well.’

That caused another stir; no one could understand why they had been called, but Jay stepped forward and, after a moment, Aliena also emerged from the crowd, looking alarmed, and took her place beside him.

‘Might as well take care of the star-crossed lovers first, eh? That’s a quotation, by the way. Rosalind will explain it to you. Now, Pamarchon. What can we say of you? Despite Scholar Gontal’s efforts in your defence, I do not find you guilty, tempted though I am to punish his tediousness. I consider innocence to be a considerable failing on your part. You witnessed the injustices of your uncle but didn’t do nearly enough to stop them. I suspect your rather ridiculous deference to your family name always got in the way. Do stop going on about your lineage. It’s tiresome. I do not mean you should have killed Thenald, but I provided everything you needed to challenge him and you didn’t use it. Only when you were forced into the forest did you start to consider anew. Better late than never, but unimpressive. I hope you have learned your lesson, because it seems I am giving you Rosalind here, as beautiful and remarkable a woman as has ever lived, with a lineage that goes back through all of time. She bears a name bestowed by the greatest man in history, a giant among giants. She is, in that sense, the daughter of the gods. I am not entirely convinced you deserve her, but she says she loves you, for reasons which rather escape me, so make sure you earn that love every day of your life that remains. Otherwise, you’ll be in very big trouble, young man. If you mistreat her in any way you will discover what the wrath of heaven really means.’

Pamarchon bowed.

‘Right. That’s you sorted. Now, Aliena. I am pleased to see that you are as pretty as I hoped, or would be if you didn’t look such a grouch. Stop hitting Rambert, girl. He has been good to you. He is proud of you and loves you. You are his greatest achievement and he knows you will far surpass him. He accepts that, and it is no small thing in a proud man. You owe him gratitude, and the best way to repay him is to sing with a beauty that no one has ever heard before. He will accept it, if you stop using your skill to hurt him. Ask Rosalind about Ella Fitzgerald. You should worship her, not me.

‘In your case, Jay, your speech showed your best and worst sides. Lovely delivery, dramatic and theatrical; you spoke with your heart and ignored convention. Well done. But a bit loose on the finishing. You built up the audience beautifully — then left them hanging there. No conclusion; no dramatic unmasking at the end. If you are going to give a speech like that, it must come to a suitable climax. Who did it? Eh? The evidence is there, you know, although now I come to think of it, it is possible you do not know. Still, master the facts in future, please, and only then join them to the rhetoric. You will find the combination serves you well. Details, my boy. Details. The grand themes must always be married to a body of fact.

‘On the subject of marriage, I intended you for a terribly pleasant young girl in Hooke; you would have met her on your next visit. But I think, on reflection, that she is not for you. You need someone to keep you on your toes a bit more. It occurs to me that you and Aliena are soul mates. You don’t see it, I imagine, and you may not even like each other too much yet. But there we are. My mind is made up. You will each encourage the other, and stop each other getting sloppy. You need each other and will love each other as well. Take your time, though. You are both young. No hurry.’

He beamed at the stunned pair standing in front of him. ‘I’m beginning to enjoy this. Gontal! Step forward.’

Gontal, poor man, had already endured a hideous day, seeing all his hopes slowly being prised from his chubby fingers. He had given the speech of his life, and the one person he had hoped to impress had looked as though he was about to fall asleep. He had heard the drivel Jay had delivered, and seen the spirit nodding in approval. Still, the air of command bathing the circle was so strong that he did not even hesitate. He stepped forward and bowed, ignoring the disapproving look of Rosalind, who was standing beside the altar.

‘To you, Gontal, I apologise,’ Lytten said. ‘I should have fleshed you out. Not in body, as you are fat enough for two, but in spirit and character. I made you pompous and self-satisfied, but failed to add much depth to you. That was lazy of me; I’m afraid I just never got around to it. But I put enough in there for you to work on. Henary likes you despite everything, and he is a man to be trusted. I made you funny and cantankerous and intelligent. These are good qualities. Concentrate on them and give up the ambition. It does not suit you, and it has eaten you away a little. You would be a poor ruler of Willdon. Do you understand?’