In the swim of things....
Greer Watson

The previous winter, the grassy sward beyond the Clubhouse had, in one area, developed a boggy patch as the snow melted.  For a time, the spring sun had dried it; but, as summer heightened, the area once again muddied mysteriously before sinking overnight and filling with water.  The Clubhouse now had a pond.  Whatever fed it, a gentle current drained out through a stream that flowed into the uncharted distance following the same route as last summer’s river—though without elephants.

Evidently, thought Alexander, this land is like the house itself—responsive to the activities of the community; for, of course, he (like the other characters) was well aware that a Summer Challenge was in progress, and that this year’s prompt was “swim”.  Perhaps not the most tactful of prompts:  most of the Ancients thought of fresh water primarily as something to cut wine and wash clothes (albeit not at the same time).

The Secretary had insisted that, if the children were to go near the pond, they had to learn to swim; and Alexias—who had more experience of staying afloat than most of them—had two of his sons and young King Alexander merrily paddling in the shallows.  He could stand easily at that depth, with a hand ready to keep up their chins.  Thalia had brought out a folding chair and sat spinning thread, with the babies at her feet and their oldest daughter and Charis firmly on land under her eye.

Alexander avoided the little family group.  Skirting clear of the rushes, he headed down along the stream.  A little path had been trodden under the trees; and he followed it, for once without the usual guards trailing him.  It was a quiet walk, with the odd scurry and bird call:  he rarely got such peace.

When the stream turned sharply at a large rock, Alexander was surprised to see it widen slightly:  there must be another hollow.  And a boy.  Older than the children in the pond, he was perhaps thirteen or so, clearly an εφηβος.  He swam well, crossing the swimming hole diagonally with the current and then working his way back.  A young Triton, thought Alexander.  A golden boy, lightly tanned from the sun, paler on his body.  His hair was dark with the water, but would be some lightish shade when dry.  Clearly no young Persian training with his forces; nor were the features Greek, either.  Perhaps, thought Alexander, he comes from one of the Modern novels.

He hung back, watching the boy.  After a while, the regular laps struck him as being more than play.   Could he be training in some way?  Perhaps, in the Modern books, they had competitions for swimming—races in the water, as well as on land.

As he watched, the boy paused, treading water and looking up at the sun.  Then he turned and headed downstream, fading from sight in the sun dazzle, leaving the best stretch of water he’d ever found on the river to return—unknowing—to his own book in time for tea.

Alexander looked thoughtfully at the waterhole, wondering whether maybe, if his own young self were to come to this place, he might learn to swim like the children back at the pond.  All skill was worth learning.  And yet….  No, he thought, I doubt if I have the control to persuade my boy-self to visit this place.  Certainly, I have no memory of it.  Even if I were to, I could not return with a skill I have always lacked:  if so, I would now possess it!—and I do not.

It is not canon, he thought.  The Author was quite clear on the matter.  It should not be possible to circumvent her intent.  No mortal can thwart the will of the gods, even one who is the son of a god; and no character may challenge the will of the Author, not even I.

These invitations and interviews are written purely for entertainment, and as a tribute to the creator of the characters and author of the books, Mary Renault.   No copyright infringement is intended.

The story, “ITOW – In the swim of things….”, was posted to maryrenaultfics on 24 August 2010 by greerwatson.