Activity 1 European-Lit
Activity 1 European-Lit
Activity 1 European-Lit
(excerpt)
by Alan Fenton
On the summit of a hill in the county of Somerset stands a solitary church tower, bearing
witness to the ferocity of nature and of man. It is all that survives of two churches that once
stood here. The first was destroyed by an earthquake, the second by the command of Henry
the Eight. As sunset approaches, subtle details of stone and lichen, archway and niche,
buttress and embrasure, are lost in the deepening shadows. Silhouetted against the evening
sky the stark stone mass of the tower dominates the soft contours of the landscape, uniting
earth and heaven.
A few yards from the base of the tower, on a mound that marks the crest of the Tor two
motionless figures stand, one taller than the other. Seen from the valley below, their dark
shapes loom, remote and mysterious. There is a haunting and powerful aura about them, as
if they were not people but primeval monoliths or statues of pagan gods in an ancient
burial ground. In some strange way they are beings apart, belonging not to the present
time, but to time itself.
The hill is otherwise deserted, as are the woods at its foot and the countryside beyond.
The red ball of the sun sinks below the horizon, the west wind that has gusted all day is
suddenly stilled. Not a sound, not even a breath of air, disturbs the silence. Nothing stirs. In
this hushed moment, the earth and all the planets that only an instant before wheeled
round the sun, seem to hang motionless in space.
Slowly the taller figures raises his hand, as if to release the world from its spell, then
touches the boy lightly on the shoulder. ‘Shall we go? It’s getting late.’
They begin the descent. ‘Tell me more about him.’ says the boy.
‘He was a great leader,’ his older companion responds. ‘King of Britain, as they called it
then. When he came to the throne the country was under constant attack by its enemies,
both from outside and within.’
Down the steep track they jolt, each for a time absorbed in his own thoughts, the boy’s head
buzzing with questions.
‘But what exactly did he do?’
‘The world had gone mad. The king tried to bring it back to its senses, and restore meaning
to people’s lives. He wanted to give them courage and hope for the future. But to do that he
first had to impose order on chaos.’
“How do you mean, impose?’
The man nods approvingly. ‘You are right to question that word. He questioned it too. The
thought of using force troubled him. But after much heart searching he decided that if
mankind was to be saved, he had no other choice. He was given the power to do it, you see,
power so formidable that many thought he had been sent to earth by God, or even that he
himself was a divine being.’
‘And was he?’
‘No.’
‘So he was just an ordinary man?’
A brief silence. ‘He was a man, but no ordinary man. When he was young he found it hard to
believe he had a special destiny. He wanted to lead a fun life and have a happy time, just as
most people do. But as he grew older he came to understand that he was not the same as
other men, and that the road he would have to take would be a different one.’
‘Because of the power he had?’
‘Yes. And because of the way he chose to use it.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Other men would have used it for selfish ends, but not him. He decided to fight the forces
of darkness and chaos. He was a brave and cunning warrior; but he was also much more
than that, a philosopher and a visionary, a wise and humane individual, gallant, just and
honourable. Those who ruled by terror feared him. Those whom they terrorised,
worshipped him. And in return he loved and honoured them, the ordinary men and women.
He had a dream, a dream that one day the meek really would inherit the earth. But he knew
they could only do it with his help.’
‘Was there no one else they could turn to?’
‘No one else whom good men and women would follow, no other leader who had the
courage and strength of character to meet the challenge. Not that he was the only one who
saw the world descending into chaos; there were leaders in other lands who feared for the
future but were too weak, or too corrupt, or simply too afraid to act. As everything around
them disintegrated, resigned to self-destruction, accepting that mankind was doomed. They
had abandoned all hope of changing anything; they no longer cared what happened. But he
cared. He did everything in his power to create a new world for mankind, a world based on
love and respect and justice.’
‘And did he succeed?’
‘For a while. Until things started to go wrong.’
The boy is impatient. ‘But how? Why? I want to know everything.’
‘It’s a long story. Are you sure you want to hear it?’ asks the man, teasing his young friend.
‘You know I do!’
A loving hand rests lightly on the boy’s head. ‘Then you shall.’
A mole of thought furrows the boy’s brow. ‘Is it just a story? or was there really such a
person?’
‘There was,’ says the man, adding tantalisingly, ‘and may be again.’ The boy looks puzzled.
‘There are those who say that if ever he is needed, he will come again.’
The boy’s eyes shine. ‘What will he do?
In the twilight the first star shows itself. A pale silver of moon floats above the horizon.
‘Now there’s a question,’ the man says softly. ‘What will he do…? Well now, I imagine he
will try to save mankind, just as he did all those centuries ago. Lord knows, we need saving.’
The boy nods in acknowledgement, though scarcely understanding.
‘You never told me his name.’
‘You know it already.’
‘I do?’
‘From the story books.’
the boy stands still and looks up at his beloved mentor, puzzled.
The man looks fondly down. ‘You want a clue?’
‘Yes.’
‘You have the same name as that king.’
For a second or two the wide eyes dream, catching the starlight, then suddenly sparkle as
he laughs with delight. ‘Oh, that king!’ On an impulse he cups his hands around his mouth
and shatters the silence, crying out the name at the top of his voice. ‘Arthur!’
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2. What is the theme of the story Call of Destiny?
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