The Future King: Logres (31 page)

He shook his head, rejecting her attitude out of hand.

‘There may be another way to help. Contacting people online can be
traced.’

‘It can also be hidden.’

‘And it can be meddled with. The New Nationals love planting illegal
material and fabricating browser histories. They do it all the time.’ Her eyes
went glassy with anger, and she shook her head. ‘If this is true, then it’s
horrific
. But don’t let your anger make
you do something rash that won’t help.’

The table fell silent. Bedivere seemed to have forgotten about his
food, but after a moment pushed his fork through it, his mind detached from the
action. Gwenhwyfar thought of the little boy who had gone missing. Had he been
sent to a centre? She didn’t even know what they looked like, and with an
abruptness that made her feel cold, realised that she had never even seen one.

It was Tuesday, and first period was over. Arthur joined Morgan the
moment she came out of their French room.

‘Morgan—! I was wondering if we could talk.’

She didn’t stop for him. ‘Don’t you have Science next?’

‘I wanted to see if you’ve asked Lance about the club yet.’ He followed
her as she strode down the hall. ‘Because I really think it’s a bad idea.’

‘You do, do you?’ Morgan scowled. ‘Who should I invite instead, then?
Any suggestions?’

He tried to think of someone she might like, but drew a blank. ‘Viola?’

‘
Viola
?’ she repeated.
‘Viola’s never even spoken to me before. Why should I ask her? Though I don’t
know, maybe
Gwen’s
got a cousin,’ she
bit. ‘What happened to us being friends?’

He was taken aback. ‘We are friends, Morgan.’

‘Oh really? Then why don’t we sit together at lunch?’

‘Because! I’ve been busy. I’ve been spending a lot of time with
Marvin. Besides, aren’t you sitting with Hattie now?’

‘So what if I am?’ she huffed. ‘I’m not an idiot. I know that Gwen
doesn’t want you spending time with me. What happened to us going to London
together again?’

‘We will!’ He studied her profile. ‘And we can sit together tomorrow
if you like. Are you doing anything?’

‘Yes. Asking Lancelot if he wants to join our club,’ she remarked
sourly. Their pace quickened, and they hurried down the stairs at the end of
the Languages corridor. ‘I can’t do then, anyway,’ Morgan added. ‘I’m meeting
Percy. You know, in Year Twelve. He’s a sixth former.’

Arthur felt a twinge of jealousy. He knew who Percy was. Everyone
loved him. ‘I didn’t know you were interested in those types,’ he said,
suddenly distracted.

‘What types?’

‘Popular types.’

‘He’s not popular,’ she contested.

‘Yes he is. He’s the most popular guy in school.’

There was a flicker of something in her eyes, and her face softened.
‘I’m free Saturday. We could do something then? If Gwen doesn’t mind, of
course.’

‘I could always see if she wants to come with us.’

‘That’s probably not a good idea.’

‘Why not?’ They passed the practice rooms. The closed doors leaked
the sound of a piano and a wavering note sung by an unbroken voice.

‘Because,’ Morgan declared, ‘she obviously doesn’t like me. So I’m
sorry if I don’t think your plan to turn us into
best friends
will work. I have to get to class,’ she stated sharply,
‘and so should you.’

Arthur stopped at the doors to the courtyard of the Drama studios and
held them open for a string of year sevens. ‘But what about Lance?’ he shouted.
Morgan strode on, and didn’t look back.

He was late to Science. Mrs Paxton called him out as he tried to
sneak in unnoticed, and as punishment he was forced to sit next to the known
goody-two-shoes of the class, Chris; a small freckled boy with blonde hair who
rarely said a word to anyone.

‘Why were you so late?’ Gwenhwyfar asked him once the bell expelled them
for break. Mrs Paxton shut and locked the door behind them, and then hurried
off to the staff room. ‘You’re usually the first one here.’

‘I was trying to convince Morgan not to invite Lance to the club,’ he
admitted. ‘She’s adamant, though.’

‘It probably won’t do as much harm as you think,’ she said as they
walked to the stairwell. ‘Marvin wouldn’t allow it if he thought Lance was a
risk. Morgan can invite who she likes.’

‘She’s just doing it to annoy me.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘Because she only said she wanted to invite Lance once she knew I was
inviting you. She thinks you don’t like her.’

Gwenhwyfar said nothing to this, but as Arthur followed her down the
stairs she seemed to think over something. ‘Does it annoy you? That Morgan’s
inviting him?’

‘It annoys me that anyone’s inviting him.’

‘But I don’t get why Morgan would invite Lance just to upset you,’
she said. ‘I mean—if she’s just a friend, she shouldn’t care who you
invite.’ They came into the old entrance hall by the medical room, and paused.
‘She knows that you’re not interested in her, right?’

‘You think she’s jealous?’

‘Isn’t she?’

He didn’t know what to say to that. Gwenhwyfar looked towards the
blue double doors that led out into the car park, and shifted from foot to foot.

‘So have you thought any more about joining?’

‘Do I have to decide now? It’s not till Friday. I’m still thinking
about it.’

‘What’s there to think about?’

She turned away from him, and together they pushed their way out into
the car park. In daylight Arthur noticed her make-up seemed thicker than usual.
Her eyes were heavily bruised with eyeliner. ‘I just find it odd. An afterschool
club at a teacher’s house… is it even allowed?’

‘Technically? No. But Ravioli wouldn’t let him set one up here. Not
in a million years.’

‘And it’s just you, Marvin, Morgan and Bedivere?’

‘And Gavin, I should imagine. Bedivere’s supposed to be asking him.’

‘And Lance.’ She chewed her lip thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know. I mean,
I’d like to, but I’m not sure if I’ll have time at the moment.’

‘Why not?’

‘I’ve got a lot going on. My… my mum’s going through something, and I
feel I need to be there to support her.’ She looked down at her feet and paused
by the tennis courts. ‘I don’t suppose you can hold onto my invitation?’

‘Is she all right?’

Gwenhwyfar nodded. ‘She’s fine, it’s just stress. My dad’s not in
much—he’s working.’

‘Next week then, maybe,’ he suggested. ‘But if you change your mind,
let me know.’

‘Thanks, I will.’ She turned to leave. ‘You’re seeing Marvin?’

‘Yeah, I said I would.’ He frowned. ‘Do you want me to stay with
you?’

She shook her head. ‘It’s fine. I’ll see you later? You know where to
find me.’

She left. The car park was emptying now as students moved on to
inhabit the fields and cafeteria. Knowing that he would be thrown out if he got
caught by the Prefects or staff on patrol, Arthur hurried into New Wormelow and
headed to his tutor room, where he hoped to find Marvin waiting for him with
his latest read.

Knights

Friday the eleventh of
October was a grey day, with a
heavy mist that broke into a thick curtain of drizzle. By the time Arthur made
it to Marvin’s house he was drenched, his hair hanging in flat locks and his
wool coat beaded with rain.

‘Arthur!’ Marvin exclaimed, opening the door. ‘Come in, come in!
Dreadful weather, isn’t it?’

Rudolph greeted him like an old friend as he was ushered into the
hallway. The stag’s glassy eyes followed him about the room. ‘Good day?’ he
asked, shaking off his greatcoat and spraying the hallway with rainwater.

‘Very,’ Marvin said, excitably. ‘I’m looking forward to welcoming our
new members. I’ve even got a bottle out. Shall we?’ He took away his coat to
hang it up, and then rejoined Arthur in the study. ‘Did you determine if Gwen is
coming?’

‘She’s having to miss it, this week. Her mum’s not well. She’s asked if
we can hang on to her invite. Do you mind?’

‘She’s your invitee, so that’s entirely up to you.’ Uncorking the
bottle of red, Marvin filled five of the six glasses already set on the table.
‘I feel I should allocate seats, really. You’ve all been seat hopping too much.
It unnerves me, being a teacher and all.’ Grinning, he handed Arthur a glass,
and then the two toasted each other briefly.

‘I have to say, I’m feeling a little unsure about this,’ Arthur
admitted, taking a small sip. ‘I hope we’re not making a mistake.’

‘This group was always going to expand. It may as well be sooner
rather than later.’ The doorbell sounded. ‘That’ll be them. Would you mind?’

Arthur set his glass down and moved into the hall. When he opened the
door Morgan was standing before him, sodden. She hurried inside, shedding her
coat immediately.

‘Percy!’ Marvin exclaimed, appearing behind Arthur with a merry
smile. ‘Glad you could join us. I trust Morgan’s filled you in?’

He was of average height; slender, with a round handsome face framed
by sable, curling hair. It was his eyes that all the girls at school went on
about, however; his brilliant blue, twinkling eyes, and as he moved to shake
Marvin’s hand they glinted joyously.

‘Mr Caledonensis! Still putting crazy ideas into your students’ heads?’
He turned to Morgan, and looked at her far too fondly for Arthur’s liking. ‘I
used to be in his History class. I didn’t do well. There’s a reason I gave it a
miss for my Level Fives.’

‘Don’t worry, your record of being my worst student has long since been
surpassed,’ Marvin chuckled, showing him into the study. ‘But I
do
hear you’ve found your calling.
Particularly good at Psychology, am I right?’

As Morgan went in after them, Arthur caught her by the arm.

‘You brought him?’

She looked at him with confusion. ‘Marvin said we could bring who we
liked this week.’

‘I thought you were bringing Lance?’

‘He seemed to have a problem with it. I thought you’d be pleased.
It’s not like you wanted him here.’

‘No, I didn’t want him to know. I’d rather he didn’t know about The
Round Table and wasn’t here, than him knowing and
not
being here. Him
not
being here means he has no reason to keep quiet.’

‘You should give him more credit,’ Morgan insisted, pulling her elbow
away. She walked stiffly into the study, and pointedly sat next to Percy, who
looked to Marvin in surprise.

‘We’re having wine?’ he asked.

‘If there are no objections.’ Marvin handed them each a glass. When
Morgan politely declined, Arthur took it for her. ‘It’s good to have you with
us, Percy. We should probably wait with introductions until Bedivere—ah,
there he is now.’

He put his glass down and went to answer the door, leaving the three
of them in an awkward silence. Soon they were rejoined, and after a quick
introduction Marvin announced a toast, his extravagant words celebrating their
newfound camaraderie. Their glasses clinked and tastes were taken of the red.
For Gavin the wine went down well, but Percy winced at the initial potency and
laughed, coughing.

‘I am glad you’re all here,’ Marvin said once they were gathered at
the table. ‘As it is, we’re still missing a member, but she’ll hopefully be
joining us next week.’

‘Gwen?’ Gavin asked. Marvin nodded. ‘Where is she now?’

‘Her mum’s not well,’ Arthur excused. ‘She’s looking after her.’

‘She hasn’t said anything about her mum being ill,’ Gavin remarked
with concern. ‘When did you hear this?’

‘Tuesday.’

Percy eyed the group, eager to be included. ‘Who’s Gwen?’

‘She’s in our year,’ Gavin said.

‘You’re all year elevens?’

‘You’re the odd one out,’ Morgan told him with a smile.

‘We would have all been year elevens, had Lancelot said yes,’ Arthur
remarked.

‘You invited Lance?’ Gavin asked, surprised.

‘Morgan did, but apparently it’s not his thing.’

‘It’s completely his thing,’ Gavin contested. ‘Maybe you’d know that,
if you knew him better.’

‘Boys! Let’s not argue, hmm? I don’t think any of us were expecting
Lancelot to give up his Friday evenings to join us. Let’s not worry over the
whys
. The important thing is we have
Percy with us, who is very keen on world affairs—’ Marvin glanced to
Percy, ‘—
current
world affairs,
at least,’ he corrected.

Unruffled, Percy grinned.

‘Now,’ Marvin said, ‘let’s begin.’

The first fifteen minutes passed slowly for Arthur, as Marvin
repeated much of what he already knew. Gavin and Percy said little to begin
with, but listened to their host closely, neither one of them quite sure what
to make of him. It was about forty minutes and one bottle of red into their session
when the topic heated up. Marvin struck his hand against the polished table,
making those nearest him jump.

‘Do you think that the New Nationals won’t come for you if you vote
for them? Yes, at first they might not; but when they’ve come for your friends,
your siblings and your parents, who will be left to save you? What makes you
think you can complain about your loss of rights, if you fail to prevent
injustice from happening to others?’

Arthur drew his eyes away from Marvin the moment that he looked at
him. Bedivere was frowning, as if he wasn’t quite sure whether or not to take him
seriously, while Gavin watched Marvin’s every move.

‘Doing nothing about an injustice done to another can be as damaging
as the injustice itself,’ Morgan dared. Percy looked to her uncomfortably, his
eyes stopping on Arthur in the process.

‘Exactly!’ Marvin declared loudly. ‘Morgan has it! Why
would
an individual or an institution stop
abusing their power unless people hold them to account?’

‘But who would help you?’ As Marvin’s eyes fell hard on Percy, he
shifted. ‘I mean, if
one
person
stands up for something they deem to be an injustice, and no one else stands
with them, it’s pointless. You can’t stand against something alone.’

‘True,’ Marvin agreed. ‘The old saying
“United we stand, divided we fall” comes to mind. This is probably
why the world is in such a state in the first place. At the first sign of
hardship everyone turns insular.
My
country.
My
resources.
My
money.
Their
fault. Division like this can only end in one way. What
happens when one person perceives another to have more than them?’

‘They covet what the other person has,’ Bedivere suggested, his
wineglass half empty. ‘They go to war.’

Marvin nodded violently. ‘War, yes! The near-rebellion of 2033 is a
good example of that. The poor becoming dissatisfied with how much the rich
elite had. But who wins wars, I ask you?’

‘The rich?’ Arthur volunteered.

‘The rich, yes: those with the most resources. Here, at home,
instability is rife, even though the New Nationals don’t want you to believe
it. We have “enemies” abroad: we must
stand
together
. It is a delicate lie ready to collapse. That is why the government
is tightening its hold.’

There was a moment’s breather. Marvin sat down, but hung on the
table, his hands linked before him as if in prayer.

‘Is this why surveillance is so prevalent now?’ Bedivere inquired.

‘I wouldn’t say that it’s any more prevalent than it was twenty years
ago,’ Gavin answered. ‘More intelligent, however…? I would say it is.’

‘What do you mean?’

He leant forwards into the round table, evoking a creak from the
polished woodwork. ‘Surveillance has long been in a new age. It’s very clever
of the government to let those being watched to do the recording for them; from
smart glasses to texts and emails and cameras in phones, right down to your
latest status update, where you are and how you’re feeling. All you’d need to
do is replace every social networking branding with that of the New Nationals.
Who would post all of their personal information on NewNational-connect.com?’

Marvin pointed to Gavin with a strange light in his eyes, amusement
perhaps, or pride; Arthur found it impossible to tell. ‘Interesting point,
Gavin! Bedivere was right to introduce you to us.
Very
interesting.’

‘But how can the government get away with such a blatant invasion of
privacy?’ Morgan asked, her brow creased in distress. ‘Surely everyone would be
furious if they knew?’

‘I am afraid, Morgan, that such knowledge is usually met with
bemusement. Of course, one can see the humour in one’s government trawling
through an individual’s private and often trivial emails; but these people are
missing the point. No one should be reading what you’re up to in an email meant
only for the recipient; no one should be creating a file on you about your
sexual orientation or political leanings. What these people don’t understand,
is that though
currently
their lives
remain unaffected, there is nothing to stop this, or any government, from using
activity collected from your computer as a means to prosecute or blackmail you,
or from planting something that provides them with a good reason to ship you
off to Halkirk. People who say if you’ve nothing to hide, you’ve nothing to
fear are, quite frankly, idiots.’

‘But how can they
justify
it?’

‘In our society, surveillance of the collective is justified by the
need to find terrorists. What terrorism consists of is entirely subjective to
the government in power at the time,’ Gavin interjected, gesticulating his
point calmly. ‘When a government begins to sift through the individual’s
private correspondence, however, that government openly declares that you, the
individual, have something to hide, and that you, the individual, have
something to fear.’

‘I don’t get it,’ Bedivere complained.

‘From this,’ Gavin continued, ‘we can conclude that ultimately, in
the eyes of the government,
you
are
the terrorist.’

‘No,’ Morgan objected, ‘a terrorist is someone who causes mass harm
and distress to civilians for an extreme cause.’

‘And so it should be. But when you know that your own government also
brands peaceful environmental campaigners and human rights watchmen as
extremists
, you begin to wonder where
they draw their boundaries.’ Marvin sucked his wine-stained lip. ‘But this
takes us back to the age-old question, doesn’t it? Which is more important?
Liberty, or safety? As Lincoln pointed out, those who do sacrifice freedom for
security ultimately end up with neither.’

His grey irises settled on them each, and he waved his hand with indifference.

‘According to the New Nationals, Arthur is a “terrorist”. Arthur uses
the Dark Net to investigate New National corrections applied to the local
press. Percy is a “terrorist” because Percy supports—albeit
secretly—
Rightswatch
. Still
signing all those petitions, Percy?’

Percy nodded, but said nothing.

‘I am a “terrorist” because I am sitting here, providing you all with
extremist ideas. And you are here, willingly, listening to me. But what
determines who is and who isn’t? It’s not some unilateral law. Language is very
particular, but as far as the New Nationals are concerned, the term “terrorist”
can, and has been, applied in the broadest of senses.’