Page 34 of The Tartan Thesis

Arthur’s Seat is beautiful. A massive sweep of grass and volcanic rock rising above the city and dwarfing Holyrood Palace below. Even from here at its base, the crags loom overhead, the green slopes climbing steeply toward the summit. I visited Scotland once before I moved here and hiked to the top of the Seat with some friends. The views of the city were incredible, Edinburgh spread out in gray stone and church spires all the way to the sea. But I had forgotten how impressive the view of the hill is from ground level.

My awe is shattered by a loud boom.

The sound cracks through the air so suddenly that I jump and yelp, my shoulders jerking up toward my ears. A flock of birds bursts from a tree nearby, wheeling into the sky.

Around me, a few other people flinch or laugh nervously, looking around to figure out what just happened. Maeve is laughing as she walks toward me.

“Never heard the One o’Clock Gun before?” she asks, chuckling as she hugs me. I’d heard about the cannon fired at one p.m. from Edinburgh Castle every day except Sunday. I just wasn’t expecting it to be quite that loud.

“I’ve heard it from farther off,” I say, shaking my head, rubbing one ear. “Can’t imagine what it sounds like up at the castle. Their ears must be ringing.”

“I imagine that’s why Torin wanted to meet right now,” she says with a wicked grin, “to see how jumpy you are.”

“Did he jump?”

I turn and see Torin walking toward us with Isla as Maeve says, “Yup, big ol’ scaredy-cat, this one. It’s not even that loud from here.” She pokes me in the ribs, sending me squirming away.

Torin’s smile is smug. “Damn, I really wanted to see that. That’s what I get for being late, I guess.”

We all exchange hellos and hugs, and I turn back to the hills above us. “Alright, Torin. School me on Arthur’s Seat.”

He lights up instantly, slipping into what I’m already recognizing as his teacher voice, launching into an explanation of the hill’s geography, history, and probable origin of its name. I smile at his excitement and listen intently. Even the things he deems “touristy” still apparently merit a decent amount of space in his brain.

“So it might have been named after Arthur, the legendary king of England?” I ask, already knowing exactly how this will go.

“Aye… but also no,” Torin says, gearing up for a lecture. “Arthur of legend first appeared in Y Gododdin, a Welsh poem, and if it was based on a real person, he would’ve been a Celt, not an Anglo-Saxon, and therefore not English. The original texts describe his battles and victories over Anglo invaders, and all the mythology that’s come along since then has been propaganda to turn native stories into tools for the conquerors. He’s often described as being blond-haired, blue-eyed, and Christian, but if Arthur existed at all, he was a ruddy-faced pagan. And I doubt he upheld a code of chivalry.”

“The blond-haired, blue-eyed version doesn’t seem so bad. Probably tall and muscular. Charming as all get out. You’d probably like him if you gave him a chance.” I grin at him.

“Are you taking the piss?” he asks with a smirk.

“Yeah, I actually took a course on Arthurian Legend in undergrad. It’s just fun to wind you up.”

Torin rolls his eyes. “Well, the best part about the English version was when the French took over the story and had Lancelot cuck the blond Arthur.”

“Didn’t know you were into that kind of thing, but good to know,” I say, my gaze locking with his.

His eyes go wide. “No, I didn’t—I wasn’t—”

He turns his reddening face to Maeve and Isla, clearly looking for a way out. Unfortunately for him, they’re both standing with their arms crossed, grinning like they’ve just stumbled onto the best entertainment of the day.

“Do you two need some privacy?” Isla asks.

Maeve snorts. “I mean, neither of us mind if you flirt in public, but if you need to get a room at some point, please let us know.”

Now I’m blushing, too. The idea of some alone time with Torin outside of the gym is… appealing. “That won’t be necessary. We’re just having a little fun.”

“Fine, then,” Maeve says, twining her arm around Isla’s and guiding her toward the palace gates. “Let’s go see Holyroodhouse. Plenty of bedrooms in there if you need one.”

I glance at Torin. He’s still blushing, but there’s something new in his expression. Curiosity mixed with something I can’t quite work out. I smile and nod toward our classmates. “Shall we?”

We follow behind Maeve and Isla across the gravel path. They’re leaning in close to each other, whispering and occasionally looking back at us. I pretend not to notice, but Torin asks, “What do you think they’re saying?”

“Oh, I’m sure they’re talking about us,” I say. “Didn’t you know? If two gay men meet each other, they’re contractually obligated to fall in love.”

“People who think that are almost as annoying as people who think Arthur was an Anglo-Saxon,” Torin says with a smirk.

At the ticket booth, I step forward and pull out my card before anyone else can reach their wallets.