The Awakening: A Prologue

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He woke up in dark. At first he thought he was blind, but slowly he got used to the darkness and the tiny streak of light which came through the roof was enough for him to see his surroundings. He didn’t recognize anything. And suddenly, he realized he didn’t even know who he was.
He couldn’t remember his name. No memories of the past could be reached, no matter how hard he tried. He breathed in deeply.

Calm down.

He needed to start from smaller things. He got up from the bed. There was almost no furniture beside it, just an empty chair on the other side of the room. Was this how homes were supposed to look? Something told him it wasn’t, though he couldn’t picture any home at all.
The only source of light was coming from the roof. Was this some kind of a basement? The word just came to him, and it almost felt like a vague memory. Was it possible for him to climb up?
The roof wasn’t tall. He could easily reach it with his hands. He came to the source of light, and he realized it was a trapdoor. He pushed it, and it opened easily. So, he wasn’t some kind of a prisoner.
He took the chair, put it underneath the opening, and climbed out. No, he wasn’t a prisoner. He was being kept safe. He wasn’t sure how he knew that, but he was certain it was true.

Am I really safe?

He was now in another small room, but it wasn’t dark. The sun came in through the windows. He looked outside. He was surrounded by nothing but grass and trees. He was being kept safe. Far from everyone. No one should be able to find him.

But why?

This room was also almost entirely unfurnished. Just an old couch. But there was a door, and it led to the bathroom.

How did he remember that?

Yes, it was a bathroom. Small but clean. Obviously, someone came here. Watched over him. He could almost picture a face, but it was blurry. He looked at himself in the mirror. And then it came to him.
The blurry image was of a woman. He still couldn’t remember her name. But he remembered how he came here. And he knew he had to wait for a few minutes, and the rest will come as well.

He remembered the pain.
He remembered crawling here, and he remembered her, finding him.
He remembered the blue light.
He remembered how peaceful it felt.
And, finally, he remembered who he was.

He was the Lord of the Underground. And he came back to finish what he had once started.

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Do you remember those East and West stories of mine? Well, they never left my mind completely. I’m changing the concept and making them into a novel. Maybe… Anyway, this is where it all starts. 😉

Image courtesy of Pixabay.com.

The Prince’s Friend

A little snippet from my novel that is always in the making but never finished. XD It’s an introduction to some characters you’ve never met before…

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Prince Edward had one true friend, which was more than many could hope for. William was not of noble blood, but his great-great-grandfather was a great soldier, a hero, and because of him the Cornwell family was always welcome at Court.
William had a lot to be proud of, but Edward never heard him brag. He did not care much for his heroic ancestor. He learned how to fight, of course, because he didn’t seem to have another choice. He was a skilled swordsman and rider from an early age and was now a member of the royal guard. Still, he never became a knight, which was a disappointment to his parents. It was not the kind of life he wanted to live. He knew that noble causes were just causes, without the misleading epithet.

“Tell me about your great-great-grandfather!” Edward would ask him. “Tell me how he fought and what a great hero he was!”

“Why are you so interested in those stories?” William seemed almost angry when Edward insisted.

“Of course I’m interested! Was he very brave? How big was his sword? Did he slay many enemies?” Edward was always impatient and was not used to his wishes being unanswered. He loved the stories about heroic knights and powerful warriors, and considered them a source of greatest inspiration. He wanted to be like them and never feel fear.

“I don’t want to talk about that. It’s boring. And half of it is made up anyway”, William responded with a frown on his face.

“Oh, no! It’s all real! I don’t understand how you are not intrigued by it. People say there were even dragons involved!” Edward looked very immature next to his friend.

William was not convinced that the story about dragons was true, even though his father was among those who claimed that at the very and of the battle, dragons really appeared and many soldiers were drowned in their breath of fire.

“You must be very proud of him”, said Edward calmly once he was aware that William would not answer him.

“Why would I be proud? Those were his actions, not mine”, William hissed through his teeth.

“But he is your ancestor. And he killed so many enemies”, Edward could not understand his friend’s reaction. He did not want to fight and he regretted starting this conversation. He would, however, repeat the same mistake many times again.

“You keep repeating that word – enemy. But were the people my presumably heroic ancestor killed really his enemies? Did they really do him any harm? I think they weren’t guilty of anything. They were only doing what they were told. And so was my great-great-grandfather. They listened to the orders, and I don’t think there is anything heroic about that”, William sulked.

Edward thought about his friend’s words. He was impressed how smart William was. He could never see things the way his friend did. Still, Edward was not convinced that William was right.
At the time this conversation took place, the boys were fourteen years old and they have already developed their personalities and attitudes. Edward was easily influenced by others, not because he was stupid, but because he was insecure. He listened to other people and found them more eloquent and wiser than himself. There was no harm in listening to others, he thought. It would help him become a better king one day. It would enable him to make his own decisions. When he thought about himself, Edward always pictured a little boy who still had a lot to learn. One day, he would also be wise, but not yet, not just yet…

Two Sentence Story: Crow

Eisla always walked with the crow on her shoulder, and they whispered to each other, like old friends.
Soon, people started to call the crow Eisla, and Eisla was nicknamed Crow.

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These sentences are actually from a novel I’m writing, and, for some reason I can’t really explain, I like them very, very much, so I thought they might stand on their own.

Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

The Tournament

I’ve been neglecting my blog AND my novel lately… So, now, I’m going to share a small part of my novel on my blog in order to make some progress on both sides. How sneaky of me!

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On the first day of the tournament, there were no fights. It was the day when several short contests took place, and even the common people were allowed to participate in some of them. The most prestigious of the contests was archery, and many noblemen came with their finest bows and arrows to show their skills. The winner was a certain Sir Adlard, who hit the target time and time again with enviable precision.

The gallery where the king and queen were seated was raised on a platform higher than the rest of the auditorium, covered with a luxurious green curtain and decorated in golden reliefs. On each side of the gallery were the seats reserved for those chosen by the king and queen to be in their company. On the right side sat the Norrington family, as many times before, and on the left the Count of Ashire and his daughter, for the first time ever. It was also Evelyn’s first time attending the tournament. She sat next to Prince Edward, and she shared her impressions with him, asking him what the rules of each competition were.

The second day was the day of single combat. Evelyn did not find it as attractive, even though it was a competition for those of the higher rank and a more important one. It was not allowed to keep harming the opponent once he was down, but there was still a lot of blood on the ground, and many knights suffered serious injuries. Once again, Sir Adlard proved to be the best competitor.

On the third day, Edward’s seat was empty. Evelyn was greeted by William Cornwell.

“His Highness has told me to be in your service today, Lady Evelyn, since he won’t be able to spend time with you. He’s already preparing for the tournament.”

“I thank you for that. It is nice to meet you again, Sir William”, she bowed lightly.

“I’m not a knight, my lady”, he said.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was certain you were a knight. You look like one.”

“And how do knights look like, my lady?” his response confused her a little.

“Well I guess they look like you”, she chuckled.

William had never found a lady to be so sincerely charming. She nodded to him and took a seat next to her father. William was to remain close to them, and he stood next to Evelyn as her protector, still like a statue.

The trumpets announced the beginning of the tournament. Knights shined in strong armours, with bright shields and long spears. Soon, they would climb on their horses, take their places, one on each side of the terrain. They would then run towards each other and try to hit the opponent with the spear and push him from the horse. Evelyn was still unable to see Edward. The price would surely not appear among the first contestants, since he was the one everyone thought would win.

The first clash was over quickly. One of the knights managed to push the other from the horse in the first try. The defeated knight fell to the ground, with only his pride hurt.

It was the other round which made Evelyn feel uneasy. A knight’s spear struck his opponent dangerously, but he managed to remain on his horse. The knights ran towards each other again, but the injured knight could hardy hold his spear and he suffered another blow. Still, he did not withdraw. The third strike was too much for him, however, and he fell from his horse. He remained on the ground.

“Oh, no! He’s not dead, is he?” Evelyn asked but no one could give her a reply.

The fallen knight’s squire approached his master and slowly removed his helmet. There was blood on the knight’s face. The squire tried to wake him up, but the knight remained unresponsive. He was taken from the terrain so that the tournament could be continued.

“I don’t think he’s dead. I think I saw him breathing”, her father responded.

“That only means he is not dead yet”, William said, obviously displeased with the entire tournament. “But he might as well recover completely. It’s hard to tell.”

“Why does His Higness participate in the tournament?” Evelyn asked, scared for Edward’s well-being. “He doesn’t have to.”

“He just really likes it”, William smiled. “You shouldn’t worry, my lady. His Highness knows what he’s doing. He was never badly hurt.”

The time for the prince to compete came before Evelyn was ready for it. Several knights were injured, and her fear only grew. Edward rode into the terrain confidently. He was the only one who had a pearl white horse. The emblem of the royal family was carved into his shield.

Evelyn wanted to close her eyes, but she thought it would be disrespectful. She could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

The knights clashed, and Edward’s opponent fell to the ground. The prince raised his spear in victory. Evelyn could breathe again.

As the tournament progressed, it was obvious that the best competitors were the prince and Sir Adlard. In the end, it all came to the two of them. Sir Adlard was on his auburn horse, upright and motionless. His face was hidden behind the helmet, and he seemed almost as an inhuman, mythical apparition. The prince’s white horse took its place on the opposite side of the terrain, equally tranquil, as if nothing was about to happen. Evelyn watched Edward as his fingers gripped the heavy spear and lifted it parallel to the horse’s body, just above the tip of its ears. She then turned to see Sir Adlard, who took the same pose.

The sound of the trumpet never sounded so threatening. Evelyn knew that she should not be doubting the Prince’s skills, but she had seen him insecure at times, close to falling from the horse. Sir Adlard defeated all of his opponents with such ease that she could not banish the feeling of immense danger approaching.

Prince Edward and Sir Adlard rushed towards each other so swiftly that Evelyn had barely the time to think about what was happening. She didn’t close her eyes. She focused on the centre of the terrain. Metal spears clashed, producing a loud, piercing clang followed by deep echo. Nothing happened. Both competitors were on their horses, riding slowly to the opposite side of the terrain. They had to face one another again.

The other clash resonated in a deeper, more sombre echo. Edward’s spear scraped the ground, but he managed to keep it in his hand. He was hit hard. While Sir Adlard rode back to his place, the Prince just stood there, on the middle of the terrain, holding his hand to his chest. Evelyn could see a dent in Edward’s armour. She wondered how badly he was hurt, but all she could do was sit and wait. She wasn’t sure if she was glad that Edward gathered all his strength and approached his position. She just wanted everything to end, end before tragedy strikes.

The two competitors ran towards each other for the third time. Evelyn wanted to look away but she couldn’t. There was no echo this time, and the clash was followed by a loud thud. The auburn horse reared, but it didn’t move from where it stood. The white horse kept running forward, disobeying the commands of its rider, and then suddenly stopped. Edward almost lost his balance. He held onto the horse with only one hand, while the other throbbed in pain as he tried not to drop the spear. This was in vain, and the spear fell to the ground. The only thing Edward could do was to look back to see what had happened to his opponent. The white horse soon regained its calm and turned obediently towards the centre of the terrain. Next to his horse’s hooves, lay Sir Adlard.

“His Highness, Prince Edward, is the champion!” the words sounded otherworldly.

Edward took off his helmet and raised his hand in victory. It was his time to be proud. He proved to everyone that he was worthy of becoming the king. He felt he was ready for it.

He looked after Evelyn. She raised from her seat and applauded. He wasn’t aware just how happy she was that the tournament was over, and how much she feared for his well-being. But he saw that she was smiling. Her face was shining with happiness.

It was the queen’s duty to bestow the champion’s coronal on the winners head. Edward rode to the royal gallery and greeted his mother with a wide smile. He bowed lightly and she put the coronal on his head. He raised his eyes and looked for hers. His mother was proud and smiling. He then looked at his father, a bit fearful. The king nodded, as if Edward only did what was expected of him, which made the future king feel like a young prince again. But he quickly gathered his thoughts. He was a champion and he should act like one! It was his time to rejoice.

Edward trotted around the terrain, noticing that Sir Adlard managed to raise and was slowly limping towards the crowd. He didn’t seem very proud now, and it made Edward feel great and powerful. After he did a full circle and greeted the entire audience, Edward was once again next to the royal gallery. His eyes met Evelyn’s. He was now close enough to see that they had teared up. He approached her and she came to greet him. They were aware that entire audience was staring at them, but it didn’t matter. Edward took off his coronal and put it on Evelyn’s black hair. The audience fell silent.

“You look like a fairy”, he smiled. “This is not just my victory. It is ours.”

William smiled at his friend’s words. He had never seen Edward act like that, never had he paid so much attention to a lady before. Maybe Edward’s decision to marry Lady Evelyn was not so crazy after all. He still felt it was rash, but he allowed himself believe that maybe they really were meant for each other.

Edward kept his gaze for a while, and Evelyn looked back at him. He then rode back to the terrain, saluting to the audience time and time again. They loved him. They worshipped him. He did it!

Learning and Thinking with the Help of Fiction

I’ve recently read two really great books and I wanted to mention them on my blog, so, in the end, I decided the best thing to do was to talk about them together. After all, they have something in common.

The first book is Honour by Elif Shafak, which I already mentioned in an award post. The book actually deals with quite a lot of topics, but the central theme is an honour murder about which the reader learnes in the first chapter and is held in the grip of its imminence. The novel depicts everything that lead to the murder, for the most part the way of life in Kurdish villlages in Turkey, and all that followed. Since certain characters leave Turkey for London, it also explores the issues of living in a culture different than your own and the danger of being influenced by extremists. This is presented in a way which doesn’t propagate anything, but only opens the door of understanding and gives the reader something to think about. The story is spread through three generations, and it follows multiple points of view, but it never gets confusing. The characters seem very real, and the language is gorgeous. Even though the main event of the novel is an honour murder, and at points it gets very sad, the reader cannot help but notice just how beautifully Elif Shafak writes. And even though the novel is sad, I didn’t find it depressing – in the end, it’s even hopeful. After reading it, I immediately decided that I would read more of Shafak’s novels in the future.

The other book I want to talk about is Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. This one is, I think, quite well-known. The novel follows two Nigerian characters, Ifemelu and Obinze, and is at first sight a love story. Except that it is not really a love story. The book deals with immigration, culture, social classes, and most of all with the issue of race. In comparison to Honour, which touches on similar topics, Americanah is much more factual, especially the parts presented through Ifemelu’s point of view since, after moving to USA, she starts a blog about her experiences as a “Non-American Black”, as she puts it.  A lot can be learned about Nigeria from this book, just like Honour gives an insight of rural Turkey. And just as in Honour, the characters in Americanah are very real and believable. Even though both books were a pleasure to read, they also made me think and taught me a lot. And isn’t that the best combination one could wish for?

Even though I liked Honour a little bit more, I’m aware that’s just a case of personal preference, and I would recommend both books with equal vigour. But most of all, I would recommend reading books about the issues or cultures you may not be as familiar with. There are so many books like that out there. I can add another example – The Golem and the Djinni, a book about which I wrote before. (see the post HERE)

Learn about the world you live in as much as you can! Happy reading! 🙂

Evelyn

I haven’t posted a new short story for a while, and that’s because I’ve been working on my novel. So, I thought I should share with you the first chapter. It may not be the best one, and it might eventually be changed a little bit, but I found it was the most suitable one to publish. Everybody, meet one of the main characters, Evelyn!

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The window was open, but light draught barely entered the room. It was warm, even though the sun was approaching its descent under the horizon. Everything was quiet, except for the crickets, chirping somewhere in the distance. Evelyn was reading, cosy in the sofa on the side of the bed, enveloped by the long sleeves of her gown. A grey cat curled next to her feet and slept peacefully. She allowed the book pages to take her to distant worlds she could never know and to make her life interesting and full of surprises since, in reality, it was nothing like that. She connected with the characters easily, felt all of their emotions, lived through all of their adventures, worried when they faced adversities. Once she would start reading, it was hard for Evelyn to let go of her book and it hardly left her arms, but at the same time she hated reaching the final words and saying goodbye to what for a while felt like a real part of her life. That was why she liked to write. She wrote poems to bare her soul and stories to live through.

Not everyone could understand her unusual needs, and therefore nobody knew about them, except for her father. But he didn’t understand either. Evelyn’s mother did, while she was alive, before Evelyn was left alone with the strict manners of her father. Her mother knew what it meant not to be free.

The Baron of Ashire was not a bad man. He was just a man of his time. He frowned each time he saw Evelyn with a book, let alone an inked feather in her hands. He used to say that it would be better if she’d never learned to decipher the words from those accursed black symbols. Literacy was not on the list of his priorities. It angered him that Evelyn was not interested in the normal things. He felt embarrassed. In his own way, he wanted what was best for his daughter, which meant that he was determined to make her embody his clear vision of a proper lady. After all, that was what was expected of her – to fit in. The baron knew that society looked askance at deviations.

He was now mostly worried by her disregard of the very thought of marriage. Her youth would not last her much longer and her beauty would soon fade away. The baron was a respectable man, but he was not uncommonly wealthy. Evelyn’s beauty was what he put his hopes on. And now, to the baron’s great fortune, she was given an opportunity to shine and make something of herself. He would not allow anything to go wrong.

“Always with a book in your hands”, his deep voice was saturnine and strict, even though he wasn’t particularly disgruntled. He just wanted her to know how important today was.

“Father”, Evelyn raised from her sofa and instinctively adjusted her gown. Father wanted her to at all times look presentable.

She waited for the onslaught of remarks, but they remained unsaid, as if father thought he would make a better impression if he kept her in suspense. And maybe he wasn’t angry at all. When he wanted them to, his words were sharp glass debris, at times cutting her deeply, and sometimes just scraping her skin, but always hurting all the same. The silence suddenly became heavy and dense, and the droning noise made by crickets seemed much louder.

“You know you should be getting ready. We were invited to the royal ball! This is not some nonsense like your books! I even got you a dress”, the Baron of Ashire finally started with his deprecation.

“I’ll be ready father, there’s still enough time”, Evelyn said humbly, allowing her voice to take just a mildly brash note.

“Other girls would appreciate this honour…” mumbled the baron as he left his daughter’s room, showing thus his disappointment.

The room was now quiet again, and the chirping from the outside became unbearably loud, as if the crickets were sensing the approach of some kind of mysterious danger, and were now screaming their warnings in despair. Evelyn was gripped by a sense of unrest. She closed the window to muffle the horrible voices, with a swift but somewhat clumsy movement, as if she needed to defend herself. The window, however, could not save Evelyn from everything. She had to get ready for the ball if she didn’t want to suffer through another discussion with her father. His words always found a way to make her feel worthless, but it was a sentiment she was now used to. Inside of her, insurgency started to grow. Why can her father order her around whenever it pleases him? Why can’t she be the tailor of her own life? She hated posh balls and being surrounded by stately noblemen. At times, she was saddened by her deep loneliness, but she took comfort in the company of her cuddly cat, named Daisy. Father didn’t like the cat. He couldn’t understand the purpose of that creature in his home. Several times he tried to kick her out in the street, but Evelyn fought fiercely for Daisy to stay, until he finally gave up. What Evelyn didn’t realize was that her father’s attitude towards Daisy changed on the day her mother died. The baron knew he couldn’t comfort his daughter, but he tried at least not to hurt her even more. He never shared these thoughts with her.

Evelyn did not want to hurt her father either. She wondered whether she was the one who was wrong, the one with a problem. She could never fit the strict social frames, not even when she tried to, while everybody else did it with ease. When she thought about her life, she would always come to the conclusion that there was no reason for her to complain. She was born in a wealthy, respectable family which was the golden key that opened all doors. Many are less fortunate and have to make painful sacrifices only to survive. She was given all she needed, served on a silver platter. She resented being spoon-fed, but she couldn’t help it. Sometimes, she felt like she was being held under the water and slowly drowned, trying hard to fight for breath. It happened mostly when she was surrounded by a crowd of people. People never suited her and after some time and many acquaintances made, she knew it was no use trying. Yes, she certainly had a problem. And it wasn’t even caused by the fact that she was only ever surrounded by the nobility. She fit nowhere, as she found out on a walk with her parents which went all wrong.

Little Evelyn sometimes got so enthralled by the images which appeared in her head that she would forget to pay attention to the surrounding reality. It took her a long time to learn to keep her lack of attention under control. She would get involved in a flurry of strange thought, creating in her head a world of her own, filled with somewhat silly characters. They knew her secret desires and were always willing to talk about the book she was reading. Sometimes she told them she wanted to change the ending. Evelyn always found the endings particularly interesting since she never knew how to finish her own stories. She didn’t want to destroy the lives of the characters she’d created and loved dearly. Even the bad ones had a story to tell. But at the same time, she never liked when serious books ended like children’s tales. Evelyn felt like there are no truly happy endings in life. Even after the last page, life goes on. No one speaks of what comes next. What happens to the princess after she marries her prince? The rest of their lives won’t necessarily be happy. After all, the real end of everybody’s story is death, and death is such a horrible thing to write about. In the end, Evelyn’s stories were always left unfinished.

Since she was a child, Evelyn feared the future. For her, however, the future was not something unpredictable. She knew exactly what was expected of her, which seemed to her more horrible than vagueness. Her life would not be like one from a book. She would have to marry whomever her father found as an appropriate suitor. She would bear his children. He would not appreciate her unusual nature or her books. Her cat would die and he would not allow a new one. She would be lost in bleak monotony. Evelyn was aware that she could not avoid this future easily, but she was determined to hold tight to any possible straw of escape and do her best to at least postpone the inevitable.

Lost in such, or similar thoughts, young Evelyn lost her parents during the famous walk – or they lost her. She started to look around in panic, searching, but she couldn’t see them. Terrified, Evelyn looked at every face which passed her. Grey, bleak expressions made her even more scared. And then, there were the falsely smiling ones which resembled theatre masks. These were even more frightening.

Evelyn walked in an undetermined direction, just to keep moving and to create an illusion of getting towards someone or something that could help her. From the corner of her eye she noticed a pair of children. She wouldn’t normally turn to face them, but she was intrigued by their gleeful shouting. The girl was probably around Evelyn’s age, wearing a dingy brown dress which reached the ground in frowsy drapes. Her hair was down, disorderly but free. The boy was a bit younger than the girl, and even more covered in dust. They didn’t mind playing in the dirty street, trampled by countless shoes. They didn’t worry about their clothes or the almost black fingernails. And as unpresentable as they were, Evelyn found them beautiful in their freedom and childish disregard.

The girl noticed Evelyn staring and directed her piercing gaze at Evelyn’s eyes. Evelyn looked down, as if she hoped it would make her invisible.

“What are you looking at?” shouted the girl at Evelyn.

“Nothing… I’m just… Looking for someone”, Evelyn found it hard to articulate the words.

“You can’t play with us”, the boy said. “You are one of those in nice dresses. You can’t get dirty. My mom says those like you don’t ever play.”

Evelyn had to admit the boy was right. It seemed as if he felt a bit sorry for her, and even the girl didn’t look hostile anymore.

“Do you even know how to play?” the girl asked.

Evelyn did not know how to respond. She was scared. Those children were so different from her. As much as she wanted to talk to them, the words got stuck in her throat and she couldn’t speak. She looked at them in awe. They were elusive deities and she was just a weak little girl. In the end, she did the only thing she could to save herself. She ran.

Soon afterwards, she met her mother’s caring arms. Evelyn was safe, but quite sad. She knew she would never be able be herself around other people. She was born into a world of nobility in which the social norms determined how you should behave and what you should think. Maybe that was why she was so scared of those children. Maybe the social rules she so disliked suited her after all. Evelyn was trapped between the two worlds, not belonging to any of them.

Evelyn could hear the crickets through the closed window glass. She sighed deeply and closed her book.

Review: “The Sword in the Stone” and Pacifism

“The Sword in the Stone” is the first book of T.H. White’s novel The Once and Future King, a retelling of Arthurian legends. As someone who is really fond of these kind of legends, I just had to pick it up. Finally.

First, I want to say something about the style. Some aspects of the story are explained and described in terms which did not exist in the Middle Ages – for example, the Badger speaks about his doctoral dissertation, which I found amusing. And really, mostly this is quite humorous, and it worked great. Sometimes, though, I wanted to be dragged into the world of king Arthur and this prevented me a little bit. However, I did find some references quite interesting as they referred to our time in a critical way, which gives another aspect to the novel. I also liked some references to the medieval tradition, for example Robin Hood appears in the novel. I especially liked how maid Marion was portrayed.

Now, let’s talk about the story. “The Sword in the Stone” part follows young Arthur’s childhood and education, the times when he was still called Wart. Wart is raised by Sir Ector and lives in the shadow of his son, Kay. Since Kay is Sir Ector’s real son, he’s supposed to become a knight, and Wart his squire. Wart wishes he could be a knight, but accepts his destiny. However, the boys’ tutor Merlyn pays much more attention to Wart.

Throughout the book, Merlyn gives Wart some life lessons and transforms him into different animals. By learning about the ways in which the animals live, Wart learns about the world in general. And here comes the part that I found most enjoyable. It’s easy for a book about knight and chivalry to portray fights and war as something interesting and almost good. However, T.H. White turns this around. For example, this is how a goose reacted when Wart asked her if geese have wars against other geese.

“What a horrible mind you must have! You have no right to say such things! And of course there are sentries.There are jer-falcons and the peregrines, aren’t there:the foxes and the ermines and the humans with their nets? These are natural enemies. But what creature would be so low as to go about in bands, to murder others of its own blood?” …

“I like fighting,” said the Wart. “It is knightly.”

“Because you’re a baby.”

Arthur is quite naive in the beginning. He looks up to the knights, who act funny and whose tournaments look like jokes – which is also a nice comment on violence. He also looks up to Kay, the boy he grew up with, even though Kay is vain and not kind to him. The author stresses this himself, and makes sure that the reader is aware of Wart’s naivety:

The Wart continued to be stupid, fond of Kay, and interested in birds.

Several years later, Wart has a conversation about fighting with the Badger, in which the Badger also says how humans wage war against each other, and how they are feared by all animals. Wart says that he would like to be a knight, go to war and show his courage. He also says that the ants fight against each other. And in the end, the Badger then puts everything in the right perspective:

“Which did you like best,” he asked, “the ants or the wild geese?”

The chapter ends here, but to the reader it’s obvious that Wart didn’t really like the ants, and that he enjoyed his time with the geese.

Silly Wart will become the great king Arthur, which is shown in the end, when he manages to draw the sward from the stone. To do this, he had to use all the knowledge he gained from Merlyn and the animals. II think this shows that he has the ability to grow and become wise. In the beginning of the second book (I’ve read only three chapters so far) Wart is still not completely changed, but Merlyn still teaches him the same values.

“(…) What is all this chivalry, anyway? It simply means being rich enough to have a castle and a suit of armour, and then, when you have them, you make the Saxon people do what you like. The only risk you run is of getting a few bruises if you happen to come across another knight. (…) All the barons can slice the poor people about as much as they want, and it is a day’s work to hurt each other, an the result is that the country is devastated. Might is Right, that’s the motto.

I really like Merlyn’s words and criticism, and it will be interesting to see how Arthur’s character will develop.

I will post another review once I finish the entire book. I’m really excited to see how it progresses. 🙂