The Book of Joby (6 page)

Joby did beat him, and when the two men had finished laughing and impugning each other’s character, they sat their horses quietly in the spreading shadow of a giant old cypress, gazing at the beach below. Well-formed waves stood up and filled with light, like walls of brilliant jade, then tumbled down in creamy gouts of pure white foam, rolling in to spread across the sand before hissing back into the bay.

“You neglected to say what was forfeit if I lost that race,” Arthur observed.

“I neglected to think of anything,” Joby replied.

“You are truly not much suited to the business of reward, my friend. It is wise to look after one’s own interests, I think—at least a little. No one else is likely to.”

“This is all I want. . . . All I’ll ever want,” Joby murmured at last, still gazing at the sun-blazed bay and the dark-cliffed, wood-crowned headlands beyond. “To breathe this air, and gaze at all that lies about us here. There is no fairer prize.”

“Lovely, yes,” Arthur replied. “But is it good?”

“Of course, My Lord,” Joby said, wondering if the question were some trick. “How could this be anything but good?”

Just then, an osprey plunged like thunder into the river mouth, and rose again to flap heavily inland toward its nest, a silver fish hanging in its talons.

“Death just came to some hapless creature there,” Arthur replied. “Life
and
death go on all around us here. The fragrant wood smoke we smell bespeaks the end of some fair tree even as it warms some cheerful hearth. Are you certain all you see is good?”

“As I am certain of anything, My Lord,” Joby answered. Then understanding dawned. “And you think this evil that I am to confront will be as easily recognized?”

“Nay,” Arthur conceded, “though one may learn to know it as certainly, if not as easily. Still, perhaps it was unkind to conjure such dark clouds just when you had let them clear. See? The sun leans down at last to kiss the water. Let us ride out farther, you and I, and watch their embrace.”

Moments later, they stood together upon the western-most cliff top, gazing out at one small band of fog poised above the farthest horizon. As the sun fell behind it, its edges burned like molten gold, and elusive rays of peach and salmon, powder blue, and palest yellow stretched briefly up into the lavender sky.

As stars began to bloom above twilight’s fire-red, green, and cobalt bands, Arthur broke their long silence. “At the worst of times, friend Joby, I look most keenly for whatever beauty may be near at hand, and drink as deeply as I can. I cannot recommend such drafts highly enough for those who would learn to recognize evil, and remain proof against it. Feed your heart, Joby. I trust
your heart
more than I trust the wisest head in Camelot. . . . Now come. At the castle they will think us drowned or kidnapped by now. You will have a meal fit to your courage, and a night of peaceful sleep in our finest chambers.”

They had barely entered the castle when Arthur was scolded off to some too long neglected urgency by a flock of long-suffering advisers, leaving Joby to wander on his own until the service of dinner in Arthur’s hall.

“My congratulations, Sir, on such a
lovely
presentation,” Lucifer fawned as God looked up from Joby’s bed. “
Stunning
use of landscape! But, lovely as they are, spun glass castles are so easily fractured. Just a little tap is all it takes at times. . . . Goodness!” he enthused, glancing theatrically at the Donald Duck wall clock over Joby’s bed. “Is it my turn? So soon?”

Knowing the old stick would never stoop to take the bait, Lucifer plunged into Joby’s dream without waiting for the Creator to reply.

Joby found himself on a balcony overlooking a moonlit rose garden, distant merriment still audible within the palace behind him. The banquet had been grand . . . he thought . . . well, rather vague actually, but definitely grand . . . he was fairly sure. A breath drawn in appreciation of fragrant yellow roses that climbed the trellis from below became yet another sigh. Each sigh had been longer than the last that night.

“That sounded rather laden with care,” offered a grave voice behind him.

Joby whirled to find a tall figure standing in shadow at the balcony’s far end.

“I . . . I thought I was alone,” Joby stammered, disconcerted. Then, “I beg pardon. That is rude greeting, but I was—”

“Please!” insisted the other, stepping out into the moonlight. “It is
I
who must apologize, lurking in the shadows so. I was here when you came out, and did not know whether to disturb you or merely keep my peace until you’d gone. Stupid of me really.”

The stranger’s voluminous robes were rich with velvet and gems, his silver-templed mane swept back regally, his brows thick and wise above icy blue eyes so penetrating, even by moonlight, that the strong compulsion to stare into them was quickly at war with an equally uncomfortable urge to look swiftly away.

“I’m at a loss,” Joby said. “You seem familiar, but I cannot summon your name.”

“I am not easily summoned,” the other said, smiling at some private joke with a look so shrewd that Joby knew suddenly who he must be.

“Would you be the king’s adviser, Merlin?”

“Why . . . yes! That’s exactly who I am,” the man said, seeming first surprised, then pleased. “How perceptive of you to guess. Most don’t, you know; by design actually. I am often more useful to the king
un
recognized.” Merlin waved the matter away with an ingratiating smile. “Be at ease, Sir Joby. I well understand how preoccupied you must be given the perilous quest you have undertaken. And I must say, I am well pleased with the king’s excellent choice of champions. I have long been an admirer of yours myself.”

Joby’s eyes widened. “You know of my quest?”

Merlin offered a self-deprecating smile. “Who
would
know, if not the king’s
highest
adviser?”

“Well, yes. Of course.” Joby blushed. “I . . . I am deeply flattered by your esteem, though I would take even greater comfort in knowing what, precisely, I am such an excellent choice
for.
”

“Perhaps I can assist you then,” Merlin replied.

“I would be deeply in your debt,” Joby sighed. “But the king has made it plain that I may be told nothing of my ordeal beforehand.”

“Not by himself,” Merlin said, smiling. “That
is
one of the conditions laid upon him in this matter. But not all are subject to such restrictions. Myself, for instance.”

“
You
can tell me what this concerns?” Joby blurted out. “It is allowed?”

“I can,” Merlin smiled, “and it is. Ask what you will.”

“Thank God we meet!” Joby crowed.

“Indeed.” Merlin smiled again.

“Well, to begin, with whom must I contend?”

Merlin’s smile vanished. He seemed almost to shrink in upon himself. “You demand the cruelest answer first. Are you steeled to hear it, Sir Joby?”

Joby nodded, though Merlin’s expression sent shivers down his spine.

“Evil itself, Sir Joby,” Merlin whispered, as if afraid to speak the words aloud. “God’s own enemy.”

Joby felt his mouth fall slowly open. “Surely . . . you cannot mean—”

“The devil,” Merlin said more resolutely. “You are sent on your king’s behalf to oppose the devil himself. May God and all his angels go with you.”

“How . . . how can a mere man . . . defeat the
devil
?” Joby murmured in dismay.

“I cannot say,” Merlin sympathized. “But it must be possible, or Arthur would not have sent you, would he? He loves you deeply . . . does he not?”

No longer trusting his legs, Joby turned to lean against the balustrade. “If I fail . . .,” he said miserably, “all is lost. . . . For Arthur. For Camelot. That is what he said. . . . But how can I hope to succeed?”

“Now, now, Sir Joby!” Merlin protested. “Despair at the very beginning can lead to nothing good! You must not fail, and so you shan’t! Come, walk with me in the garden below, and I will arm you with what advice I may. What say you,
brave
Sir Joby? Will you not entertain some
little
portion of the hope both I and Arthur place in you?”

Abashed, Joby gazed down at the flagstones. “You are right, Merlin. I . . . I am deeply ashamed to have wilted so before the first faint breath of battle. I
will
succeed, for my lord, Arthur, and now for you as well!”

“That’s better!” Merlin laughed. “I should be honored to have any part in the outcome of your trial! Come! Let us away to the garden!”

Merlin took Joby’s arm like an old uncle, already advising as they stepped into the torch-lit corridor.

“Vigilance must be your cornerstone, Sir Joby. The enemy you face will exploit every weakness you expose, leverage any smallest flaw, so you must steel yourself to offer him none! This may seem impossible at first, but those who claim that perfection is unattainable are weak and lazy men who care only to justify their own poor quality. You
can
attain it, Sir Joby. But there must be
nothing
you are unprepared to sacrifice. Not even your own heart!
Especially
your own heart. God’s own Son laid down His very life. You must be prepared to do no less.”

Merlin turned to face Joby at the garden’s entrance. “Sir Joby, believe me when I say that no one wants to see this fight won more earnestly than I do.
Nor has anyone greater confidence in you than I have. In you I find nothing but hope for victory.”

“I thank heaven for your candor,” Joby replied. “The truths you speak are grim, but I would rather face any doom fully illuminated than concealed in shadows. You have greatly steadied my resolve, Merlin. If it is the end of my life that I am pledged to, then for Arthur’s sake, so be it.”

Merlin nodded sagely. “If you are steadfast, you will not fail to realize my brightest hopes for you. I
feel
it, sir! I
feel it
! Come now,” he smiled, turning toward the garden door, “let us put such sad concerns aside, and revel in the scent of roses while we may.”

“Of course, the trick is knowing precisely where that tap must be administered,” Lucifer chortled, looking up in turn from Joby’s bed.

“Shall we finish?” Gabriel asked flatly.

“Has no one here any sense of
humor
?” Lucifer protested sadly.

“If our solemn ritual seems a laughing matter to you,” Gabriel said, “it can yet be declared null and void.”

“Heaven forbid,” Lucifer drawled. “By all means, continue.”