‘We are about to be interrupted,’ he said. ‘Gontal is coming, with an entourage. He is playing the Lord already. He must have heard you’re here and undoubtedly wants to examine you. When you meet him you will see why I am worried about Willdon falling into his hands. Do you think you could put on a show for him?’
‘A what?’
‘Seem grand beyond measure. Quote things he has never heard of. Unsettle him with the power and extent of your learning, rather as you do me.’
‘I unsettle you?’
‘Certainly you do.’
Rosalind shook her head. ‘I will do what I can to help, of course. But I am hardly dressed properly for impressing people.’
As Henary predicted, Gontal made an entrance. Opening the door and walking through it was not good enough; rather two servants entered first, opened both sides of the double doors and stood until he had progressed through in silence. Then they walked backwards, closing the doors as they left and leaving him alone with Henary and Rosalind. He regarded her with curiosity and some suspicion. She responded with what she hoped was indifference.
Gontal was short and fat; what little hair he had was lank and his face was red and shiny. He walked with short steps that gave an air of absurdity to his attempt at grandeur.
‘I have heard much about you in the past day, young lady,’ he said with an avuncular smile as he sat on a chair, ‘and it is a pleasure—’
‘I have heard nothing of you. Pray, introduce yourself in the proper fashion,’ Rosalind interrupted, raising a disdainful eyebrow, ‘and I do not recall that I gave you permission to sit.’
With a fine mixture of surprise and annoyance, Gontal hesitated, then reluctantly levered himself up and spent the next few minutes going through the appropriate introductions.
Rosalind inclined her head at the end. ‘I am pleased to see you are fat,’ she said absently, addressing the mirror on the wall. ‘For, as Caesar said, “Let me have men about me that are fat; sleek-headed men think too much: such men are dangerous.” You know your Shakespeare, of course? Act 1, scene 2?’
‘Certainly,’ he said quickly, ‘naturally I do.’
‘Good,’ she said. ‘There are many who neither appreciate the beauty of his poetry nor yet the force of his morality. I look forward to a discussion with you at some stage. On Hamlet, perhaps, or Elvis.’
‘It will be a pleasure to have a conversation with a lady of so great knowledge,’ he replied nervously. ‘But I came simply to welcome you to Willdon, and alas have no time for such discussions now. I do hope I can excuse myself, as I have a meeting I have to go to.’
‘Ah,’ she replied, wagging her finger at him disapprovingly. ‘You must never begin a sentence with “But”. It is a conjunction, don’t you know. As such, it must join two parts of a sentence. It cannot, therefore, start one, for if it does then it fails to fulfil its proper function. Nor should you say “I hope I can excuse myself”. You are asking my permission, not stating your capabilities. It should be “I hope I may be allowed”, employing “may” as an auxiliary verb, followed by an infinitive. Finally, you should never end a sentence or other statement with a participle. That is vulgar. You must say “I have a meeting to which I must go.” For, as Great-aunt Jessie said, “A place for everything, and everything in its place.” That applies to grammar as well as life. As you have legs, I imagine you can go and, as far as I am concerned, you may do so.’
When the chastened Gontal had retreated through the door and the two were alone once more, there was a long silence before Henary said, ‘When I said unsettle him, I didn’t mean frighten him to death, poor fellow.’
‘Don’t be silly. I was talking nonsense. I’m sure I got that quote wrong too.’
‘Who are you, Rosalind? Where are you from?’
Rosalind looked at him seriously. ‘It’s more where you are from that concerns me,’ she replied. ‘Let me try to explain. Jay says that you are the wisest man he has ever known, the most thoughtful, the most reasonable and the kindest. Catherine says the same.’
‘That is generous of them both, although the sort of thing one would expect from a student about his teacher.’
‘No. He really thinks it, and I know he’s right. So I will tell you a story which will knock your socks off.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Which you will not believe, is what I mean. Nonetheless, I want you to understand that I am going to tell you the truth. The absolute, total, complete truth. Now, are you capable of believing me? Tell me truly, because it is really important.’
‘I will do my best.’
‘Good. Well,’ she said, taking a deep breath. ‘Here goes. I do not come from this world.’
‘I know that,’ Henary said. ‘You must have journeyed far...’
‘No. I don’t mean that. I don’t know I’ve travelled at all. I mean what I say. I live in a town which has fifty thousand people living in it. The city of London has eight million. We travel by car, or train. Some people fly through the air in aeroplanes, travelling at hundreds of miles an hour. Soldiers have guns, not swords. We buy our food in shops, all sealed in tins. We have a queen and a prime minister. We watch the television and listen to the radio. We have Christmas and birthdays and the North Pole. The weather is rotten. We have bicycles. We have French prep and the cotton industry is centred in Manchester. We don’t have a Story. Don’t you see? It’s a different world, and I got here by walking through a lump of old iron in someone’s cellar. And if you think that’s bad, I haven’t even started yet.’
‘Then continue.’
‘All this place here, this place you call Anterwold. It all seems to come from someone’s head. Professor Lytten. He’s a friend of mine. I think he invented this. He made it up out of books he’s read, and here it is. There’s a bit of Robin Hood and a bit of Ulysses, and heaven only knows what else. You know when I turned up when Jay was eleven, and he thought I was a fairy?’
‘Yes.’
‘Professor Lytten wrote that. He put it in his story, and then it went and happened. Maybe the other way round. And Willdon. He dreamt it up. And you. I know Jay is right about you. I know you are wise and thoughtful. Do you know how? Because Professor Lytten needed a wise man to understand better than the others. So he wrote in his notebook: “Henary. The greatest scholar of his generation.” He invented you. Probably after a few hours in the pub with his friends. You even look like him. Let me put it bluntly. You are all just characters in a story.’
Rosalind stopped there, quite breathless, to see what effect she had had. As she spoke, the creeping feeling had come over her that this was no way to win friends. How would she feel if someone told her something like that?
To her astonishment, Henary went down onto his knees, covered his face with his thick, heavy hands and began weeping so hard that his body shook.
‘I am so sorry!’ she exclaimed. ‘That was terribly rude of me.’
Henary dried his eyes and slowly recovered himself. Once he trusted himself to speak once more, he swallowed hard and recited, ‘“When the Herald reveals the Story, the Story is near its end.”’
‘Eh?’
‘It comes from the Tales of Perplexity, parts of the narrative which no one has ever been able to understand and so are excluded from the canon of truth. Mystical, prophetic or simple lunacy, no one knows, though there are many opinions.’
Henary was talking like a man who had just had the worst shock of his life. ‘The trouble is, I never believed any of it, you see; all my life I have set myself against the idea of prophecy. But I found this manuscript which describes a boy seeing a fairy. The one I got you to look at. I thought it merely curious until I came across Jay and realised his account fitted it exactly. Then it talked of you appearing again, and you did.