The Return of King Arthur and other alternate myths by David Flin

Author:David Flin [Flin, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: RO:SF
Publisher: Sea Lion Press
Published: 2018-12-02T00:00:00+00:00

HCI

It was just an ordinary village, not very different from hundreds just like it up and down the country. It sat alongside a river, with smaller houses close to the low-lying ground near the river, and larger houses further up the slight hill. An old stone church overlooked the village, quiet and peaceful in the warm morning sunlight.

The fields near the river flooded regularly, and the village was proud of its watercress. Not many young men were working in the fields, although it was high summer, and there was a lot of work that had to be done in the fields, and at the tiny fishing dock where the river flowed into the sea. But most of the young men had left for foreign fields, gone to do their bit.

While the men were away, and they’d been away for three long years now, those left behind got on with things as best they could. It was hard, but everyone had to do their bit.

Two people were familiar to everyone in the village, one loved and one feared. An old man delivered letters to the village. He delivered letters from the young men off at the Front, always gratefully received. A woman delivered portents of doom, the dreaded telegrams.

A child and his grandfather sat in the church yard, beneath the oak trees.

“Grandfather, why do you always plant an acorn when we come here?” The boy was six, and as inquisitive as only a six-year-old can be.

“Because a long time ago, when ships were made of oak, people knew that they would need oak trees to build the ships that protected the country, and so people planted acorns. They knew that they would never see the acorns grow, but that their grandsons would see the acorns become small trees, and their grandsons would see the small oaks become big oaks, and their sons would use those trees to make the warships that protected the country. That’s what England is built on.”

“Oak trees, grandfather?”

“No, not oak trees. Faith. The faith to plant an acorn, knowing that you’ll never see any good of it, but for the good of future generations. The faith that a legacy has to be passed on down the generations.”

The boy didn’t really understand, but he loved seeing the men in their uniforms when they came home from the Front, although they never talked about what the Front was like.

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