22
As they rode, Bull explained everything that had happened up to the point when he appeared from the trees on his charger.
“I didn’t have time to assess the situation accurately,” he explained, “or I might have acted less hastily and more rationally. All I saw was you standing against the tree with your hands tied and, near you, I saw a Porth with a sword who was getting ready to stab you. I couldn’t take any risks. All through our journey Turgoth kept urging me on, telling me that we had to hurry and that there was no time to waste. I have never seen a man so anxious and so misty-eyed. He seemed to be torn between remorse for his people and his desire to see you safe. ‘That girl must live,’ he kept saying, over and over again.
“His mood veered between wild optimism and terrible depression - which affected me too. There was nothing he wanted more than for us to save your life. The poor horse was exhausted from the extra weight, but we couldn’t allow it to slow down, even on the steepest hills. When the sun rose, although we were quite close to you, he kept wailing: ‘Bull, we’ve lost her. Rebecca is dead for sure.’ Then, I too, lost hope because he spoke with such conviction and such utter desolation. A few minutes later we found you. I didn’t understand why he was so sure that you were already dead.”
Rebecca told him her whole adventure from start to finish. “So Turgoth was right. They were supposed to execute me when the first rays of the sun became visible,” she said. “It was only because they were a few minutes late that you were able to save me.”
She then told Bull about what had happened at the King’s palace - how he had handed her the dagger and instructed her to kill him, and then again how he had left her sword in the living room on purpose, for her to murder him. And how he had given her time to think things over, in the hope that she would change her mind in time to save her own life.
“Tell me, Bull,” she said, “don’t you think Sharkans should have the same privileges as Orizons and that we should all share the Flame?”
Bull stayed quiet for a while, thinking of what to say. “The right thing,” he said eventually, “would be to share it. But that cannot be done now - not after so many wars and so much bloodshed. A bad beginning was made. The mythical gods shouldn’t have imposed such discrimination, but the damage is done now.”
“And you, Bull, why do you fight on our side in support of such an injustice? Especially since the Flame has no relevance to you?”
“I just found myself on this side. I had to belong somewhere. I like what I do. I don’t fight. The Creator decided that there should be no female Minotaurs and that I should not have children. That left me free to take care of the souls and minds of other children. What I do now is the best - the most interesting thing to do. Children are our hope. That’s the only answer I can give to your question.”
After a few more miles of galloping in thoughtful silence, Rebecca spoke again. “I should tell you, Bull, that when I knew I was seeing the world for the last time, I lost my courage. In that final moment, when I saw the sword coming towards me, I felt fear for the first time, as well as an intense longing for life. Maybe it was because of the sounds of birds and the warmth of the sun. I soon pulled myself together, but it was frightening. Maybe it was the hand of Fate that caused the delay of a few seconds and enabled you to save me. Have you ever been afraid in your life, Bull?”
“I’m not an Orizon,” he said. “I haven’t taken the Flame since it has no effect on mythical creatures, so yes, I lost my nerve once, thousands of years ago. It’s a long story. I may tell it to you one day, if you want. Don’t let it worry you though, that you were frightened. Remember that you’re human. There are weaknesses that are dealt with by the Flame when it first makes you an Orizon, but all the stress you’ve been through has weakened the Flame in you a little. As you grow up, you use up a lot of energy and almost exhaust the reserves of the Flame in you. That’s why you all need a second dose at this age when you become adults. This second dose usually lasts forever but if anyone ever expends a great deal of energy or, after many years, sees the necessity, he can get topped up. It’s like recharging a battery.”
***
It was almost noon when they reached Rebecca’s house. As soon as they heard the approaching hooves, her family rushed outside, overwhelmed by joy at the sight of Rebecca leaping down from the horse. Bull galloped away with no more than a simple ‘goodbye’ and a wave of his hand. He wanted to leave the family alone and he also knew that their inevitable gratitude would embarrass him.
Rebecca was almost suffocated in their embraces as they crowded around her but was overwhelmed by their joyful tears. Her mother wouldn’t let go of her as they steered her back inside.
Not long afterwards, the siren went off and Felicia appeared in the three-dimensional projector to announce the good news to the people of Utopia. She also informed them that the Ceremony of the Flame for Rebecca would take place the following day at six and that a big celebration would follow.
The inhabitants of Utopia poured out of their farms and made their way to the Fortress, thronging the streets. Some were on horseback and others on foot, yet all cheered at the news that Rebecca had killed one Sharkan general and disabled another and that Bull had slain three Porth generals. They saw it as a great victory for the forces of Good against Evil.
The family were summoned to the Princess’ house, where Felicia embraced and kissed Rebecca and they talked for several hours, especially about Turgoth’s breaking of the rules. On the return journey, Rebecca was cheered and applauded as a heroine by everyone she passed. Once they were back home, she told her family more about her adventures and asked a serious question:
“Please, can you tell me, Grandpa,” she asked, “why you went to Field Marshal Foster’s on the day of my abduction and why we didn’t all leave the house together?”
“Foster asked me to go and pick him up,” Tony replied, “so that we could go to Claudia’s house together. Her energy system was malfunctioning and she’d asked for his help. Foster knows a bit about it but not as much as I do. He’d tried to do a temporary repair job, but had made it much worse. Claudia was angry because she couldn’t use her house to prepare for the Ceremony. We went there together and I found that the problem was indeed serious, but not too serious for me, and it didn’t take me long to fix it. Then we all left for the Ceremony.”
Rebecca listened in silence. “Was it a coincidence that the family were called away just as her kidnappers were due to arrive,” she wondered, “and if not, was Field Marshal Foster involved?”
***
Later on, alone in her room, Rebecca had time to reflect on everything she had learned. She was pleased to think that she would never grow old and that the face she saw in the mirror would remain as it was forever. She would never have any wrinkles and her strength would never fail. This was all incredible, but comprehensible, unlike the idea of living forever unless she was killed, which was a concept that she was still finding hard to absorb.
She became lost in her thoughts, walking familiar routes past the school she had attended when she was little and other places that brought back childhood memories from England. She thought of the woods where she and her school friends used to play, one of her favourite spots - the refuge and the hideout of magical, carefree years. That was where the first stirrings of adulthood had begun - the secret crush on a friend from school or the neighbourhood - yeast to leaven lessons, games and parties. Waiting anxiously for a sign! The search and the child’s interpretation of a glance, a smile, a conversation, a movement.
“He looked at me...” “Did he smile at me?” “He spoke to me!”
The doubt! The loss of appetite... The drawing from a secret admirer left on the pencil case, exciting the imagination. The love letter from a mysterious stranger with the handwriting deliberately disguised. The triumphant entrance into adolescence. Flirtation. Kissing! The bell ringing happily. The colourful blossoms of love, so sweetly scented.
Her memories drifted into dreams as tiredness crept up to capture her. She could feel hot sands beneath her feet and around her were Bedouin tents, their colours bleached by a sun so bright she could see nothing clearly through the heat haze. It all seemed disconcertingly familiar and she found herself awake again, thinking of King Turgoth. He was a tough, yet sensitive child of the romantic desert, the sky, and nature. He favoured knowledge and reflection and was a profound analyst of life with original ideas and a subversive moral code of his own devising. He was a banner-bearer for the young - an implacable enemy of the diseased status quo and of rusty, outmoded ideas. She had to admit he was impressive, partly because of his dramatic voice that resonated experience and wisdom. He was wise and tough, inelegant but true.
She found herself imagining his face, his warm eyes, his well-built figure. The way he touched her...
“It must have been hard work for God to sculpt such a perfect man...” she said to herself as she drifted into a confused, but happy, sleep.