The Book of Joby (90 page)

“I . . . I can’t,” Joby heard Ben whisper.

But Joby knew to whom the Cup was coming, and distantly remembered that he had been frightened of it once, ought to be frightened of it still, perhaps. He hadn’t been to church in years, but that didn’t seem to matter now. Only the longing and the joy were real—possessing every inch of him. As it came to rest before his face, Joby’s hands swam forward, as if through water, to grasp the Cup and pull it toward his lips. And then—

He sat sheltered between his parents’ backyard fence and the hedge that grew against it, a crimson cape draped across his child’s shoulders. Between his small boy’s hands, the book lay open, its delicious scent rising like the hot draft from a bakery, the cool, earthy damp of a primeval forest, the incense of a great cathedral.

“My King, I would serve you with my life,” he whispered with a reverent joy long forgotten. “Only name the quest.”

And in that instant, every detail of his childhood mission, every joy and sorrow, victory and mistake he’d known in all the intervening years rushed up from those pages in a torrent of recall, not just known, but understood with impossible clarity. And amidst this nearly unendurable rush of more than memory, Gypsy’s face appeared, looking up in surprise and unbridled delight.

“I’d have never even tried, except for you,” Gypsy said.

“Gypsy!” Joby said, filled with joy at seeing him. “I thought they killed you!”

“You got somethin’ real special, man,” Gypsy said. “I mean it.” Though his face still seemed as near, Gypsy’s voice was growing pale and distant. “You got heart, man. Don’t forget it, Joby. . . . Heart.”

“Wait!” Joby called. “Don’t go yet!” Then grief hit him like a slap of cold water.

Joby gasped and dropped the Cup. It didn’t fall but hovered on the air before him as he struggled to understand all he’d just experienced. To his profound dismay, he was already losing nearly all of what he had momentarily grasped so clearly. He reached out for the Cup again, but though it still seemed close, he couldn’t reach it. He stretched his arms out farther, but the Cup began to move toward Ben.

“I can’t,”
Ben choked again.
“Oh God, I . . . I didn’t know . . .”

“Ben, take it,” Joby said with sudden urgency, afraid that if Ben failed to share in this experience, it would separate them forever. “Don’t be scared. It’s wonderful!”

“I never believed!”
Ben groaned, still shying from the Cup.
“I never—”

“It doesn’t matter!” Joby urged. “Just take it!”

“He’s right,” Jake said quietly, standing calmly at Ben’s shoulder. “The Cup has made this choice, not you. Have courage. Trust.”

Rocking on his knees like a frightened child, Ben reached up at last as if to grasp a red-hot brand, and seized the Cup in both his hands, but before he could bring it to his lips his eyes flew wide, and he seemed to freeze. Joby watched in anxious fascination, wondering if that were how he, himself, had looked when he had touched it. He waited, silently willing his friend to raise the Cup and drink, but Ben remained mesmerized by something only he could see, then cried out as if in grief, and, to Joby’s great distress, began to sob without restraint.

Joby wanted to go and shake him, make him drink, but his knees had taken root and his voice had been removed. He could only kneel helplessly, and watch Ben suffer.

Finally, as if it took great strength, Ben turned his head to look at Joby.

“Oh . . .
My Lord,
” he groaned. “What have we done . . . again?”

Still unable to rise or speak, Joby longed to help his friend, his brother, his . . . Some fleeting insight went through him like a bolt, then vanished. He pursued the feeling, certain that he ought to understand, but not a trace remained. When he looked again, Ben was no longer sobbing, but kneeling over the Cup, eyes closed, seeming as utterly at peace as he had seemed distraught before.

“With all my heart,” Ben whispered gravely, eyes still closed. Then, with a radiant smile, he said again, “With all my heart . . . I will.”

At last, he raised the Cup, and took a hearty swallow.

And it was gone.

The light, the music, the Cup itself—all vanished in an instant.

Joby found that he could move again, but before he could so much as speak, Ben opened his eyes and turned to stare at Joby with such unfathomable joy and sadness and affection that Joby could only stare back in wonder, unsure if this were even still the friend he’d always known.

“I just feel like there must have been some reason,” Joby pressed as they were finishing the light supper Father Crombie had prepared after returning, or, in Crombie’s case, being returned, from the momentous gathering at Burl Creek. “I had it in my hands and didn’t drink? It makes no sense. I thought I had.”

“You mustn’t keep trying to assign meaning to that fact, Joby,” Father Crombie assured him. “It came all that way to find you of its own accord! Such a thing is unprecedented in all my years here. You held it in your hands. It spoke to you. Can you not see what
that alone
suggests about your worthiness?”

Ben listened with deeply mixed emotions. Crombie was right, of course, but, for once, Ben understood and shared Joby’s disappointment. It had quickly become clear that Joby had been shown none of what the Cup had shown to Ben about who the two of them and Laura really were—or had been once, at least. Would Joby have known also, if he’d put the chalice to his lips and drunk as Ben had? There was no way to know, but though Ben now felt sadly isolated from his friend and more than friend of several lifetimes, he was reluctant to tell Joby something of such gravity when the Grail had chosen not to.

“What you must understand, Joby,” Father Crombie continued, “is that the Grail is not just a sacred object, bestowed as some kind of reward or badge of honor. It is imbued with life itself, mind, will, and even temperament. If anything, it seems to function as a teacher, or a catalyst, existing to provide extraordinary intervention at extraordinary moments, and seeming to understand what’s needed far better than even those who have the need. If nothing else, you can be sure it came to give you some great gift tonight, not just to deprive you of a drink.” The old priest smiled.

“I know,” Joby said contritely, “and I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. There’s nothing in my life this hasn’t changed, and I’ve been thinking about what I’m supposed to do now. I mean, there must be something, or why did this happen?”

“Love deeply,” Father Crombie replied. “Live fully and well. If you have some destiny beyond that, you’ll likely find it soonest by pursuing those two basic goals.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Joby said, “but I’ve also been thinking about what we came to ask you when we were kids.” Ben was pleased to notice that the self-scorn that had once accompanied the topic was completely absent now. “I mean, if it’s all real; God, the devil, the Grail even, then, do you think that dream I had was more than just . . . Was I really supposed to fight the devil somehow?”

“We are all fighting the devil somehow.” Crombie smiled. “Even those who seem mean or sinful are often struggling desperately against Lucifer’s influence in their lives. I have no reason to assume that you are an exception.”

Joby ducked his head self-consciously. “I guess Swami had a . . . premonition or something that I was going to be . . . well, needed somehow, to help protect Taubolt. What you said, about how Taubolt’s borders broke down when I showed up; I was thinking maybe that wasn’t something I caused, but something I was sent to . . . to fix, you know?”

“I will trust you with the truth, my friend.” Crombie smiled. “I am always very skeptical of assumptions about what God intends, even for myself, much less for others. I would suggest, therefore, that until you see some very clear task before you, and know with great conviction that it is truly and undeniably yours, you should be content with the two endeavors I just mentioned. Loving deeply and living well will prove challenging enough, I think, if those tasks are taken seriously.”

Ben could not help smiling at how well the old man knew Joby, and how wisely he employed that knowledge. Joby had always been eager to rush off to battle before nailing down the fort at home. . . . Or had that been Arthur?

“I’ve a little something in the kitchen for dessert, I think,” said Father Crombie, rising slowly from his chair.

“I can get it,” Joby said, rising as Ben did the same. “Just tell me where to look.”

“No, no. Sit down, both of you,” Crombie said with gruff amusement. “If I wanted to be fussed over in my own home, I’d have left the priesthood years ago and gotten married.” His grin widened as he turned to totter toward the kitchen. “I’ve been carried everywhere I went tonight. Makes me feel quite useless.”

In fact, it seemed to Ben that Crombie was walking more easily than usual tonight. He wondered if the Grail’s visit had benefited more than just himself and Joby.

When the priest had gone, Joby looked uncertainly at Ben, and said, “So . . . you seem to have come to better terms with all this.”

Ben didn’t have to ask what Joby meant.“Guess I put on quite a show, huh?”

Joby shrugged. “You did kind of surprise me. I mean, I’ve never seen you so . . .”

“Panicked?” Ben suggested ruefully.

“Yeah.” Joby grinned. “That would be the word, I guess.”

Ben nodded pensively. “Tonight was . . . I’ve always wished the world were a little stranger, Joby—more magical—ever since we were kids. But . . . until tonight, I never really thought it could be. I’ve made it through some tight spots in my life by sticking to the facts. For a while, once, I worked with this outfit guiding backpack trips for guys with more money than sense sometimes. I was good at putting imagination aside when things got hairy, and sticking to what was
real.
I s’pose that’s why I’ve been so impatient with you sometimes, Joby. I always thought if you’d just learn to deal with the real world, instead of all this . . . subjective stuff, things would be easier for everyone. Then, tonight, those facts I’ve always been so sure of just burned down and blew away.” He looked Joby squarely in the eye. “I owe you some pretty big apologies, Joby. I’ve got no more idea what’s real now than you do. Maybe I never did.”

Joby shook his head. “That real world of yours has been just what I needed at the worst times in my life, Ben. You owe me nothing.”

“Thanks,” Ben said, “for understanding.”

“You’re still not gonna tell me what you saw, huh?” Joby asked.

“Persistent, aren’t you,” Ben said, suddenly unable to look Joby in the eyes. He knew he couldn’t dodge the question forever, but still had no idea what to say. “I learned some things about who I really am,” he tried. “And . . . that’s all I’m ready to say yet. Okay?”

Joby searched his face as if trying to guess the rest. “Is there some reason why you think I shouldn’t know?” Joby pressed. “Something you think might hurt me?”

Ben suppressed an urge to roll his eyes. Two days ago, he’d have been scornful of such a typical “Joby” take on things, but Ben couldn’t kid himself about how he’d have felt if Joby had been the one to drink from that cup, and he had not. “I did learn something about you, actually,” Ben said.

“I thought so,” Joby said grimly, clearly braced to hear the worst.