The Book of Joby by Mark J. Ferrari Page B

leave this room. That is a sacred oath, Joby.”
    After his embarrassing interview with Father Morgan, Joby had given considerable thought to making his questions sound less foolish.
    “I have this book about Camelot and King Arthur,” Joby began apprehensively, “and I wanted to ask if you think Camelot is a real place anybody could get to.”
    Looking neither surprised nor amused, Father Crombie thought for a moment, then said, “I do believe in Camelot, Joby. But I suspect it can only be reached these days through the dreams and intentions of good men and women like yourself.”
    Though not what he’d hoped for, the answer fit Joby’s own experience.
    “So, it’s not real anymore?”
    The priest looked startled. “Of course it is!”
    “But you just said . . . What do you mean?” Joby asked.
    Father Crombie put a hand to his chin in thought, then grinned. “Is money real?”
    Both boys nodded, looking slightly confused.
    “See?” Father Crombie beamed. “You both say yes. Yet money doesn’t exist any more than Camelot does.”
    “What?” Benjamin said. “
Everybody’s
got money.”
    “Do they?” Father Crombie asked with twinkling eyes.
    Benjamin reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumbled dollar bill. “Look!”
    “Is
that
money?” Father Crombie asked, as if he knew a joke they hadn’t got yet. He rose to snatch a sheet of paper from the nearby countertop, and held it up for them to see.
ST. ALBEE’S PRIORY CHURCH BULLETIN
was printed in large green letters across the top. The rest was columns of black type. “What about this, Benjamin? Is
this
money?”
    “No, Father,” Benjamin said, beginning to look worried.
    “Why not?” the priest insisted. “It’s paper just like yours. It’s even got green and black ink on it. It’s bigger, but that should only make it worth more, shouldn’t it?”
    “But . . . you know it’s just a church bulletin, Father Crombie!” Benjamin protested.
    “Yes, I do,” he smiled, “but the only thing that makes
your
little sheet of paper
money,
and mine worthless, is that everyone
believes
they’re different
here
and
here.
” He pointed first at his head, then at his chest. “Money is the biggest fairy tale you ever heard! Yet, just because we all
believe
in it, money is, sadly, more real to many people these days than you or I are.”
    Joby sort of got what he meant, but he couldn’t see what it had to do with Camelot, and said so.
    “Yes, well . . . what I mean to say, Joby, is that, just because a place like Camelot exists only in our minds and hearts at present, doesn’t mean it isn’t real, or that it can’t be as solid as this church someday. If everyone believed in it as you do, Joby, it would soon be at least as real as money.” He smiled. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful!”
    “You mean, Camelot could come back?” Joby asked excitedly. “Like King Arthur’s s’posed to?”
    “Oh, I’m sure it could,” Father Crombie sighed, “if only people dreamed more wisely.”
    Joby fell silent, eyes wide but hardly seeing. As if a door had opened inside him, the whole quest suddenly made sense! Maybe Arthur had sent him to bring Camelot back—and the devil didn’t want that! That would explain why Arthur couldn’t help him ’til he won and why Camelot was doomed if he failed. Revelation surged through Joby like a heady explosion!
    “Are you well, child?” Father Crombie asked, leaning forward in concern.
    “Yes,” Joby said. “I just . . . What if the devil didn’t want Camelot to come back?”
    “I’m sure he wouldn’t,” Father Crombie said, still looking oddly at Joby. “It’s an interesting question, though. What makes you ask it?”
    Filled with his own fierce purpose now, Joby ignored Father Crombie’s question, and asked his own instead. “Father Morgan already told us that to fight the devil I had to make sure I never took anything from him, even a piece of bread, no matter how hungry I was. Do you