Excerpt from A Man of Our Kind: Baby Merlin and his mother

Adhan, Merlin’s mother, is imprisoned in a tower, where she gives birth to him. This scene takes place as she is getting to know her son, who seems fiercely intelligent from the moment he is born. This is because he has been born with knowledge of everything that ever has happened or ever will happen, but as an infant with no experience, is unable to make sense of any of it. Rossa and Farah are the two midwives that attend Adhan while in the tower.

A few days later, Rossa arrived with paper and black crayons. The drawing materials brought back painful memories of Annis, but Adhan strove to separate them from what she remembered. She spent the day drawing, making sure to hide her pictures from the child, who was quite interested in what she was doing. His eyes stared at her back as she worked, her hands moving fluidly with the crayon for a time, then putting it down and smudging with her fingers. She would turn and see her son staring at her, little brow furrowed, and just smile. Then she would turn away to finish her drawing.

When she had finished three or four, the child was standing at the edge of his crib, craning his neck to see. Just as she was finishing one and had placed it at the bottom of her pile, taking care not to show him, she heard a loud bang. She turned to find the infant staring at her, irritation on his face. He took his hand and banged it on the side of the crib again. She laughed and turned away to continue her work. This brought even more furious banging from the child, causing Adhan to turn with a smile, chuckle, and raise a finger to her lips. 

Eventually the child turned away with arms crossed and stomped over to the far side of the crib. He sat without looking at her.

That night, when the midwives had gone, she brought Merlin to her bed and sat with him as she showed him the drawings she had made. First, she had drawn a man and woman, an adolescent, a young child, and an infant. And when she held the drawing up, she explained who each was, which the child seemed to follow with keen interest. On another page she had drawn a dog and a cat, on the third a horse, and on the fourth a black snake. She never had the knack for drawing, and the snake had large, crude arcs for scales and large, oversized yellow eyes.

On another page she had drawn an image of the forest and a deer and a few sparrows drinking from a pool. Another showed a barn and a pen containing pigs, some chickens and a few geese, a cow leaning its head in through the window. A third page showed a landscape with a castle in the distance, a king and queen, and a knight in armor. This page the child ripped out of her hand and held closely before his face.

His eyes stared back and forth over the image, as though having seen it before. She watched as he leaned in, narrowing his eyes, looking first at the king, then the castle, the queen and knight, then all around the drawing and back to the entire scene. To her astonishment, he laid the sheet between them on the bed and pointed to the castle. He looked up to her with eagerness.

“Castle,” she said.

His finger moved over to the man with the crown.

“King,” she said.

His eyes grew wide at the word. Then he turned to look into the open space, thinking intensely. He seemed to be working out a problem. Abruptly, he turned back and pointed to the woman.

“Queen,” said Adhan.

He looked at the drawing for a moment more, then pointed to the knight.

“Knight,” she said. “Knight in armor.”

The child looked intently at the figure. He had a crude helmet with a horizontal slit across it, face hidden.

“He has a helmet on over his head,” said Adhan. “It’s just a man under there, but he is wearing a helmet.” She made the motion of putting a helmet on her head.

The infant looked at her, then back at the drawing. He pointed at the knight and then at the queen.

Adhan did not understand what he meant. She leaned in closer, and he once again pointed at the knight, then at the queen.

“No,” she said, “the king and queen are together. They are married. And they live in the castle.” She then pointed to the castle.

The child furrowed his brow and stared at the picture even longer. When Adhan felt he was ready, she took it and put it at the back of her stack, then began to show the next picture. But she could not get far before he reached out both hands and would not be satisfied until she had once more given him the picture with the castle and king. He took it and placed it to the side.

She had more pictures of animals, more of the town and a lake nearby, and Blaise’s hermitage, and second to last was a picture of the owl sitting in the window of their room. Merlin also took this one from her and held it in both hands, staring with great concentration. Then he let fall one hand, turned his head, and pointed to the room.

“Yes,” she said, “that is this room.”

The child looked at it more intently, then looked around. He looked at the cradle in the drawing, then at his own cradle. He looked at the chair, the table, the window with the bars, and the simple wooden shutter open next to it. Then he pointed out the owl.

“Owl,” she said. “He came to visit us the other night.”

Merlin stared at the drawing, and he could see features of the owl, like the black dots across its white fur, and realized what it was.

“Actually, I think he came to see you,” said Adhan. 

The child put this page down on the bed as well but moved it over, careful not to cover the picture with the king and queen.

The last picture was of an infant sitting in its cradle. It had intense dark spots for eyes that seemed to be looking straight out off the paper, the blanket covering its legs.

The child seemed to be confused and, putting his finger into his mouth, leaned forward to stare.

“That’s you, Merlin,” said Adhan gently. The child looked more closely, so Adhan leaned forward and pointed at his chest. “You,” she repeated.

His eyes widened as he reared back and put both hands over his mouth. He gazed with fascination at the picture, eyes roving back and forth over it and taking in its every feature. Adhan watched in quiet delight.

The child looked at the picture, then leaned back and put both hands to his head, moving his fingers through his hair. Adhan did not understand. He rubbed his hair, then pointed behind them to the table. She still did not understand, so he did it again.

She rose, and from that angle, she could see the crayon on the table. She retrieved it, brought it back and sat back down on the bed.

The child reached up to rub his hair and then pointed at the head of the baby in the picture. Adhan put the paper down and drew a few hairs on its head.

He squealed in delight.

She drew a few more hairs and more, until it looked more like her baby. He smiled.

“Yes,” she said, “that looks more like you now.”

The child made her draw fingers on his hands, which she had just left as crude appendages, and made her add toes as well. Then he pointed to the second toe of his right foot, where the black claw had not fallen off yet, and Adhan added that too. Each addition made him more pleased, and soon the child was laughing with careless happiness. 

Then he grabbed a piece of paper himself, one of the earlier drawings, and turned it over, also grabbing the crayon. He turned and drew behind his back, looking over his shoulder every so often to ensure his mother couldn’t see. She did not try to look, but sat patiently, faint smile on her face.

He suddenly turned and presented his drawing to her. It was a woman with hair tied back and loose robes, sitting in a chair reading. It was crude and childlike, but obviously a drawing of her.

“Oh,” she said, “it’s me! That’s wonderful, Merlin.”

He held up a finger, then turned around again, drawing even more on the paper. He would look back over his shoulder periodically with a mischievous eye, and she would crane her neck, pretending to try to see. The baby smiled and worked away some more until he turned and held the drawing up to her. 

There was now a woman next to her, with a hand on her shoulder, wearing a covering on her hair and more formal robes. 

“Ah, that’s Rossa!” said Adhan. “How lovely.”

He held up his finger again and once more turned away to draw. She heard a strange rhythmic breathing and realized he was laughing. He drew gracefully for a moment, then his hand moved in quick, rough strokes. He turned his head to present a smiling face to her, then suddenly whirled to show his drawing.

There was another woman next to Rossa now. It was obviously Farah, but her eyes were angular and angry, hair askew, mouth drawn into an ugly sneer.

“Oh, Merlin!” his mother said, shaking her head but unable to suppress a smile. “Now that’s not nice at all.”