A Hard Day's Knight

SEVEN Return of the King

“What do you mean, it’s not over yet?” said Suzie. “Who is there left to kill that needs killing?”

“We still have to find a way home,” I said, in that calm, kind, and very reasonable tone I happen to know drives her absolutely batshit. “The Door we came through doesn’t exist in this dimension, and my Portable Timeslip doesn’t work here.”

Suzie sniffed. “When in doubt, go to the top. Why don’t you ask Gaea? Maybe she could ... ring up her opposite number. Or something.”

“Full marks for optimism,” I murmured. “But any port in a storm ... I really don’t feel like walking home.”

“Not through all that mud,” said Suzie. I can never tell when she’s joking.

So we went over to Sinister Albion’s Gaea, and I bowed politely and explained the situation. Gaea started nodding half-way through and actually interrupted me before I could finish.

“I know who you are,” she said. “And how and why you came here. I know you because your world’s Gaea knows you. We’re all aspects of the same person, or personification. It’s complicated.”

“Really,” I said. “You do surprise me.”

“You want a slap?” said Gaea. “Then pipe down and pay attention. Of course I can get you home. All Earths are linked, on all kinds of levels. From the Dreamtime to the Chronoflow, you can always find some Door to open if you knock loudly enough. Ah ... It’s good to be back! I have been asleep for far too long, John Taylor, and you are responsible for waking me. It was the presence of Excalibur in this land that brought me back, you see, an Excalibur that wasn’t mine. I came here to investigate and found that you and your friends had already brought down Merlin Satanspawn and Morgan Le Fae, and set free all the trapped souls of this world. If I’d known it was that easy, I’d have done it myself centuries ago. Ah well ... Now that I’m back, I think I’ll stick round for a while to see what happens next. Stark and Julianne seem capable enough, and there’s a lot to be done. I am ... weakened by Merlin’s long centuries of abuse, but I am still Mother Earth, and all this land’s secrets are an open book to me.

“Now I have to talk to you, John Taylor, about the sword you carry, the Excalibur of your world. It was given to you because you have a destiny.”

It was my turn to interrupt her. “If you’re about to tell me that it is my duty to be King of the Nightside, you can forget it. I’ve already turned that down once. I didn’t want it then, and I don’t want it now.”

“Good,” said Gaea. “Because you’re not worthy.”

“You want a slap?” said Suzie. “Or failing that, two barrels of blessed and cursed ammo right between the eyes?”

“Please don’t upset the planetary personification,” I murmured. “Particularly one who’s about to provide us with a ride home.”

“Don’t get sassy with me, little miss,” said Gaea. “Or I’ll give you a period you’ll never forget.” She gave me her full attention. “You were given your special dispensation to bear Excalibur, for a time, because it is your duty and destiny to deliver the sword to King Arthur. The once-and-future King of your world. You get to do this because you are one of the few people who wouldn’t be tempted to hang on to the sword for yourself. You have already faced greater temptations and did not yield. You have no idea how rare that is.”

“All right,” I said. “Putting aside for the moment a whole bunch of questions and denials, why Arthur? And why now?”

“King Arthur is the only one who can stop the coming elf civil war,” said Gaea. “Which will quite definitely devastate your world, and destroy all of Humanity, when the elves use the Earth as their battle-field. Both sides have had centuries to prepare for this war; and they have more powerful weapons, both magical and scientific, than all of the human nations put together. The elves will tear your world apart, fighting over it. Only King Arthur can prevent this.”

I considered Gaea thoughtfully. “Wouldn’t the Gaea of my world prefer the elves in charge rather than Humanity? After all the ecological damage my people have done?”

“The elves would be worse,” Gaea said flatly. “The elves don’t have Humanity’s conscience or restraint.”

“We beat the elves before,” said Suzie.

“No, you didn’t,” Gaea said crushingly. “You outbred and outnumbered them. And you had the Droods on your side. They found the Sundered Lands for the elves, when asked to by the elves. By that time, they wanted to leave the Earth. There are lots of theories as to why, but nobody really knows. Not even my other self. In fact, some of the elves were so ... concerned, they hid themselves away in Shadows Fall, because they thought that would be safer. But the elves did not prosper, in either of their new homes, and now they wish to return and claim the Earth for themselves again. Whoever or whatever they might once have been afraid of, apparently that isn’t so any more.”

“I spy a small but subtle hole in the whole destiny thing,” I said. “How am I supposed to get Excalibur to King Arthur when nobody knows where he is? Even the London Knights don’t know, and if the London bloody Knights don’t know ...”

“Use your gift,” said Gaea. “Find him.”

“Ah,” I said. “Now why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because it’s all a wild goose chase?” said Suzie.

“There is still the problem of how we get home,” I said to Gaea, in my very best polite and respectful tone.

“Walk into my fountain,” said Gaea. “I am still the Lady of the Lake, and all waters are mine.”

She smiled at me, ignored Suzie, turned her back on us, and strode away to talk with Stark and Julianne. Suzie and I turned to look at the fountain through which Gaea arrived. It was still shooting a good twenty feet into the air, its cool clear waters bubbling noisily. There was an increasingly large area of clean marble floor round it. I hoped the Court had good drainage.

“It’s a fountain,” said Suzie. “Great big bubbly water thing. It doesn’t even look like a Doorway.”

“It’s not like we’re loaded down with options,” I said. “Maybe the Doorway’s behind the water.”

Suzie walked round it twice. “Not a sign.”

“You can be so literal, sometimes,” I said.

I walked into the fountain, and Suzie strode quickly along beside me, her head held high. I grabbed her by the hand, so that whatever happened we wouldn’t be separated, and barely had time to take a really deep breath before the water closed over both of us. My first thought was of how cool and refreshing the water felt after so long in the filth and stench of Sinister Albion, then the floor dropped out from under my feet, and I was falling helplessly. I clamped down hard on Suzie’s hand, and she held on to me just as tightly, but I couldn’t see her anywhere. There was nothing but the water, rushing past me as I fell and fell into endless depths. My lungs strained for air, and I hoped Suzie had thought to take a deep breath, too. We sank down and down, then suddenly, without actually changing direction, we were rising, forced up by the pressure of the rushing water, until finally Suzie and I broke the surface together. A low stone wall appeared before me, and I grabbed on to it with my free hand. Suzie was right there beside me, and we hung on to the wall together, gasping like beached fish. It was only then that I realised we were in the oracle wishing well, in the Mammon Emporium.

Suzie and I clung to the stone wall while the oracle made loud coughing and hacking noises and complained bitterly about frogs in its throat. My lungs were working overtime, my heart was hammering in my chest, and I was soaked right down to the skin; but still, it was good to be home. I grinned at Suzie, and she smiled briefly back. We’d survived another one.

“Where the hell have you been?” screeched the oracle. “And what in God’s good Earth have you been treading in? I’m never going to get this taste out of my mouth. And oh my God, it’s that woman again. You peed in me, you bitch! Just for that, I’m going to tell everyone who asks me about their future that they can be King of Everything if only they’ll kill you first.”

“One more nasty word out of you,” I said, “and I will have you filled up to the brim with concrete. The Mall owes me a favour.”

“Bully,” muttered the oracle.

After a while, Suzie and I hauled ourselves up and out of the wishing well, then stomped in circles round it, trying to wring the water out of our clothes. But you can’t really wring water out of a trench coat—or, indeed, black leathers. Besides which, despite our complete immersion in Gaea’s marvellous waters, our clothes were still incredibly filthy. And disgustingly smelly. The bottom half of my trench coat had turned a completely new and revolting colour, from dried blood and mud and other things I didn’t want to look at too closely. And I didn’t even want to think about what was squelching inside my shoes. Suzie’s leathers were caked in a kind of nasty-smelling crust, and she was leaving a trail behind her.

“We need a cleaner,” I said firmly. “I am not walking round the Nightside looking and smelling like this. Even Razor Eddie doesn’t smell this bad, and he sleeps in doorways. People would point and throw things.”

“Not twice, they wouldn’t,” said Suzie.

We ended up at Unconventional Solutions, a twenty-four-hour emergency cleaners that boasted it could handle absolutely anything, from dragon’s blood to Martian slime. If you can beat it down with a stick and wrestle it through the door, we can make it shine and sparkle! promised the sign over the door. So Suzie and I walked in, and a moment later, everyone else rushed out. It might have been because they recognised Suzie and me, or it might have been because of the smell, which was so intense it practically had its own colour. The girl trapped behind the counter, wearing a smart white outfit, and a badge that said HI! I’M TRACY, glared at both of us with open loathing.

“Well, thanks a whole bunch for the loss of custom. Though if I weren’t pinned behind this desk, I would also be legging it for the nearest horizon. What is that smell? It’s worse than the toilets at a vegetarian restaurant. It’s like tear gas! My eyes, my eyes ... What is that?”

“Trust me,” I said. “You really don’t want to know. Can you do anything with these clothes?”

Tracy sniffed loudly. “How about shooting them, then burying them at sea?”

“You do know who I am, don’t you?” said Suzie.

“Of course. They put warning posters about you all over the Mall.”

“You really want me to get cranky?”

“You wouldn’t like her when she’s cranky,” I said solemnly.

“Strip it all off and stick them in the bags provided,” Tracy said resignedly. “I suppose you want the Emergency Special Biohazard Deep Clean While You Wait service?”

“Sounds good to me,” I said.

Tracy pointed to the changing cubicles, and Suzie and I chose one each. Togetherness is all very well, but the smell was bad enough on its own. Combined together in a small space, it would probably have blown the door off the cubicle. I removed my trench coat with great care, looked at the state of the clothes underneath, gulped, and took it all off. I bundled everything up, being very careful what I touched, packed it into the black plastic garbage bag provided, slipped on the complimentary dressing gown, and stepped out of the cubicle. Suzie was already there waiting for me, with her own bulging bag. She was also wearing a dressing gown. Mine was a smart navy blue, hers was a shocking pink. She looked at me.

“One wrong word at this moment, and you will never see me naked again.”

“Perish the thought,” I said gallantly.

We took our bags over to the counter, and Tracy accepted them from us while wearing heavy-duty rubber gloves. She held the bags at arm’s length, pulled a variety of faces, none of them good, and glared at Suzie and me.

“Did you remember to empty everything out of the pockets?”

“Don’t worry about the trench coat,” I said. “It can take care of itself. Suzie?”

“I already removed the weapons,” said Suzie. “They’re in another bag, back in the cubicle. Don’t let anyone touch that bag if they like having all their fingers.”

Tracy slapped two customer numbers on the counter before us and disappeared out the back with the bags. There was a pause, followed by some loud if rather muffled bad language. Suzie and I moved away from the counter and went to sit in the chairs provided and read the nice magazines. I settled down with the Nightside edition of Empire, and read what Kim Newman had to say about the latest films: Butch Cassidy and the Cthulhu Kid, Clive Barker’s Transformers, and the rediscovered Orson Welles classic, his Batman movie, Citizen Wayne. Sometimes it’s nice to sit back, put your feet up, and enjoy a little light reading. Suzie had Which Magazine: Weapons of Mass Destruction, A Consumer’s Guide.

I could still feel Excalibur in its invisible scabbard on my back. Removing my clothes hadn’t disturbed it in the least.

Our clothes were back inside half an hour, spotlessly clean and impressively immaculate. My trench coat was so white it practically glowed, while someone had taken the time to polish every last bit of metal on Suzie’s outfit, from the rivets to the steel toe-caps to all the remaining bullets in her bandoliers. Suzie and I took our clothes back into the cubicles, and I soon emerged feeling like a new man. And able to breathe through my nose again. Suzie stepped out of her cubicle, fussing with the two bandoliers so they crossed right over her bosom. She never looks impressed with anything, on general principles, but she didn’t seem too displeased. Tracy beckoned us back to the counter and slapped the bill down before me. I took a look. I didn’t know numbers went that high. For a moment, I actually considered telling her to put all the filth back on. Instead, I shook my head and smiled condescendingly at Tracy.

“I have decided I don’t need to pay any of my bills in the Mammon Emporium. Partly because I am the new Walker, and if any establishment annoys me, I can have it shut down on moral health grounds. But mostly because I have recently saved this entire place from being blown up by a soulbomb, and if anyone gets stroppy, I can always bring back the Things from Outside and let the merchants deal with the bloody things. Any questions?”

“Go ahead,” said Tracy. “See if I care. They don’t pay me enough to deal with people like you.”

“There are no people like us,” said Suzie.

“Got that right,” I said.

Squeaky clean and utterly fragrant, Suzie and I made the long trip out of the Nightside and back into London Proper. Suzie insisted on accompanying me this time, and I didn’t have the heart to say no. She stuck close to me at all times, and though she wouldn’t give up any of her weapons, she at least kept her hands away from them. People gave us all kinds of funny looks as we strode down Oxford Street, but no-one actually said anything. They didn’t want to get involved. We finally came to a halt in front of where the Green Door wasn’t, and I struck an impressive pose.

“It’s me! I’m back! And I bear important news concerning Excalibur and King Arthur.” There was a long pause. The Green Door remained firmly absent. I scowled at the blank wall before me. “Come on! You know who I am!”

“Yes,” said a wary voice from nowhere. “We know who you are. But we also know who that is standing beside you. That’s Shotgun Suzie, isn’t it?”

“She’s with me!”

“I know. That’s the problem. I’ll have to check.”

The voice fell silent, and Suzie and I were left standing there, in the open on Oxford Street, for some time. People were starting to pay serious attention to us, and not because I was loudly berating an apparently empty stretch of wall. If anyone looked like they were getting too close, Suzie just looked at them, and they remembered they were needed somewhere else. Suzie’s always been good at that. The voice finally came back again, hovering on the air.

“You can both come in, but only as long as you agree to vouch for her behaviour; at all times and under all conditions.”

“I promise Suzie won’t kill anyone who doesn’t need killing,” I said.

The voice sighed loudly. “I told them this was a bad idea. I’m going to hide all the good china. Come on in, and remember to wipe your shoes.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about me,” said Suzie. “There will be special treats for you when we get home.”

The Green Door appeared before us and swung slowly open. Suzie and I passed through into Castle Inconnu, and the Door closed quickly behind us. A knight was waiting, in full armour, to guide us through the many stone corridors. Suzie looked about her unhurriedly, being deliberately not at all impressed, as usual. The knight took us by the quickest route, and maintained a steady pace. He didn’t bother us with questions, probably because Suzie kept looking thoughtfully at his armour, as though judging exactly how many shotgun blasts it would take to penetrate it. We finally ended up back in the Main Hall again. Sir Gareth and Sir Roland were waiting there for us, still in their full armour, with their helmets clasped under their arms. They nodded to me and gave Suzie a long, thoughtful look. She gave them her best hard look in return.

“So you’re Shotgun Suzie,” said Sir Roland. “The posters don’t do you justice. We’ve heard a lot about you. Did you really ... ?”

“Almost certainly,” I said. “Take that as read, so we can move on to more important matters. I have spoken with Gaea ...”

“And she has spoken to us,” said Sir Gareth. “You do get round, don’t you? It seems you are to give Excalibur to King Arthur, after waking him from his long sleep. You can imagine how that news has gone down here. We always assumed that duty would fall to one of us.”

“Yes, well, that’s life for you,” I said vaguely. “Now, I could use my gift to find him, but I can’t help feeling there are bound to be all kinds of difficulties. King Arthur wouldn’t have stayed hidden all this time unless he was protected by really heavy-duty defences. And a whole lot of psychic booby-traps. So I’m pretty sure I need to speak with your Grand Master first, and see what he knows, before I try anything.”

“Of course you do,” said Sir Gareth. “He is the oldest of us all and knows many things. You’d better come with me. If you’re really going to raise up the once-and-future King himself, you need to talk with the last surviving Knight of the Round Table.”

Sir Gareth led the way through the increasingly crowded corridors and meeting places that led to Castle Inconnu’s interior, where the knights and their families lived. The area presented quite a contrast to the far-more-austere outer layers. The interior was much more comfortable, with all modern comforts. Sir Gareth had a smile and a kind word for everyone, and they nodded cheerfully back. They hardly looked at Suzie and me. We passed through large open-plan rooms, full of men and women hard at work, and children playing in the corridors, and a roomful of teenagers with swords, practicing mock duels. They were really good at it.

“Not everyone here becomes a knight,” said Sir Gareth. “Only those most suited to it. It’s not for everyone. The rest work at maintaining the castle’s infrastructure. There’s a lot of work involved, keeping a place this size running smoothly. And we are completely up to date, where we need to be. Everyone here knows how to use a computer. Though someone always wants to take it that one step too far. A few years back, one young man spent far too much time watching American television, and began enthusing about the benefits of organised productivity. He drew up plans for cubicle farms, and efficiency officers, and piped Muzak. He works in the sewage-disposal area now, for the good of his soul, and he’ll stay there until he’s learned the error of his ways.”

Sir Gareth finally led us up a long, winding stair inside a tower, opened a locked door at the very top, and ushered Suzie and me into a richly appointed study, with walls of books, tables covered in computers and monitor screens, and one very big heavy-duty Victorian desk, covered with piles of paper. He sat down behind the desk and gestured for Suzie and me to make ourselves comfortable on the visitors’ chairs set out before the desk. They were surprisingly comfortable. I was also surprised that Sir Gareth’s chair didn’t collapse under the weight of his armour, but I supposed all chairs in the castle were heavily reinforced, as a matter of course. Sir Gareth looked at me thoughtfully.

“Are we waiting for someone?” I said. “Only I thought you were supposed to be taking us to meet the Grand Master of the London Knights?”

“I have,” said Sir Gareth. He moved his left hand in a certain gesture, and his illusion spell collapsed. The young and easy-going Sir Gareth disappeared, replaced by a much older man with a very familiar face. It was Kae, Arthur’s stepbrother, last seen by Suzie and me in the sixth-century Strangefellows. Kae grinned at us, his eyes cold and commanding.

“Were you really expecting someone else?”

A large, blocky man, Kae now wore a simple but expensively cut grey suit. But I knew that under the suit lay the functional, compact musculature that comes from constant hard use and testing rather than regular workouts in the gym. I knew, because I’d seen it at close range back in the sixth century, when he and I went head to head, and he did his best to kill me and Suzie. He had a square, blocky, almost brutal face, marked with scars that had healed crookedly. Sitting there behind his desk, he had an almost overwhelming air of authority; of a man who could enforce his decisions through sheer brute strength, if necessary. His smile seemed friendly enough, but his eyes were watchful.

“Where did your armour go?” I said, just to be saying something.

“It disappears with the illusion,” Kae said easily. “It’s only there when I need it these days. I prefer suits. Nothing like wearing plate armour for centuries to make you appreciate well-tailored clothing.”

“And what happened to Sir Gareth?” I said. “Is he ... real?”

“Real enough. He’s me. A more approachable me that I developed to deal with outsiders.” Kae grinned again. “So much less intimidating, you see. And it makes things easier for dealing with everyday matters. Even a knight bloodied in battle can still get surprisingly bashful and tongue-tied round a survivor from the original Round Table, a man who actually knew Arthur and grew up with him. So I pretend to be Sir Gareth, and everyone else pretends it isn’t me, and we all get along swimmingly.”

“What was Arthur like, as a child?” said Suzie.

“A real pain in the arse,” said Kae. “Always running after his older stepbrother, wanting to be involved in everything, and throwing major sulks when he was excluded. Best student I ever had, mind. I taught him everything he knows about fighting.”

He stopped for a moment, as one of his computers chirped politely, and he took time out to run through his latest e-mails and make notes.

“The work never stops. Though computers do make things easier. You have to keep up with the times, especially when you’ve lived through as many as I have.”

“How ... ?” I said.

“How did I become immortal? Ha! It’s a long story, but I think you’ll enjoy it. If only because it’s steeped in irony. I was made immortal by that bad old, mad old sorcerer, Merlin. All his idea. I never asked for it. I happened to be present at Strangefellows when Merlin died, and yes, John Taylor and Suzie Shooter, of course I remember you. You made quite an impression. Partly because not many have fought me and lived, but mostly because you bashed my head in with my own mace. Luckily for you, I don’t bear grudges.” He looked at Suzie. “I also remember destroying your face. I felt bad about that afterwards. I’m glad to see it’s been repaired. Anyway, the story ...

“After you left, I woke up to a splitting headache and a hell of a thirst. I found a bottle behind the bar, and only then noticed Merlin, dead in his chair, with his chest split open and his heart missing. Cheered me up no end. I still blamed him for betraying Arthur by not being there when he was needed, at Logres. I leaned over to spit in his dead face; and his eyes snapped open. I all but shit my britches. I jumped back and let out a yell they could have heard on the Moon. Merlin rose to his feet and smiled at me. He was dead, but he was moving. I never knew he could do that.

“But never forget: Merlin could remember the future as easily as he could the past. When he could be bothered. So it shouldn’t surprise any of us that he put a great many spells and protections in place to ensure he would still be able to take care of business, even after he was dead. I suppose I should really have got the hell out of there; but I was too angry with him. I still had so much to say ... So I stayed, and yelled at him, and he stood there and let me rant. He could be surprisingly understanding, sometimes. When I was finally finished, he nodded once, then told me Arthur’s story wasn’t over yet. And that I still had an important part to play in it.

“He used his magics to bring Arthur’s body to Strangefellows, from where it had been lying in state at Glastonbury. It just appeared before us, out of nowhere. Arthur had been dead for months, but he looked like he was only sleeping. You have to remember, we didn’t have much in the way of embalming, back in the sixth century. It was all burn them up or stick them in the ground, before the smell got too bad. Arthur should have been well on his way to rot and corruption. Instead, he looked like he might sit up and start talking at any moment. It was all part of Merlin’s advance preparations. He was the best of us all, said Merlin. How could I let death rob us of a man like him? I always knew he had a duty beyond the simple dream I gave him ... I had a Vision, you see; I saw Arthur leading an army made up of all of Humanity, in one great Final Battle against Evil ... I asked Merlin, Who is he fighting against? But if he knew, he wouldn’t say.”

Kae broke off there to look sharply at me. “Is this it? Are you bringing Excalibur to Arthur because the Final Battle is upon us?”

“Not as far as I know,” I said. “I’m just the messenger boy in all this. I haven’t seen any Signs ...”

“I can’t help noticing Arthur didn’t turn up during the Angel War,” said Susie. “Or the Lilith War ...”

“Far too small,” said Kae. “The London Knights fight bigger wars than that year in and year out ... that Humanity never knows of, of course. We deal in matters too great for even those high-and-mighty Droods. They’re only secret agents; we’re warriors.”

I had to ask. “Do the two of you ever disagree over who has responsibility, or jurisdiction?”

“We ... tend to operate in different areas,” said Kae. “Not entirely by accident. Now, on with the story. We’re finally getting to the good stuff. Merlin told me to pick up Arthur and follow him down into the cellar under Strangefellows. There wasn’t much there; a few barrels of beer, a still, hardly room to swing a cat. Which back in those days was a popular indoor sport. Merlin waved his hand, and suddenly there was a great stone cavern stretching out before us. Merlin looked at my face and laughed; and I didn’t care for the sound of it. The dead aren’t supposed to laugh.

“I was carrying Arthur in my arms, like a sleeping child, his head pressed against my breast. We might only have been stepbrothers, but Arthur always treated me as though I was his brother by blood, before and after he became King. Many better men than me had his ear; but he always listened to me. I looked after him while he was growing up; and he spent the rest of his life looking after me.

“Merlin had me lay Arthur down, to one side, then had me dig two graves. He could have conjured me up a spade, but no, I had to dig those graves with my bare hands. I don’t know how long it took. My fingers were raw and bloody by the end. And all the time I was working, Merlin was crouched down beside Arthur, whispering in his ear. One dead man talking to another. I couldn’t hear what he said.

“When the two graves were ready, I laid Arthur out in one while Merlin clambered down into the other. I covered Arthur over with dirt, crying as I said my good-byes to his sleeping face, and when it was done I patted the rough earth down with my bare bloody hands. And then I had to cover Merlin over. He grinned up at me the whole time, staring up at me with unblinking eyes. I thought I’d shit myself all over again.

“That was when he told me he’d made me immortal, so I could guard the secret until Arthur was needed again. Sometimes I think it was Merlin’s last gift; other times, his last curse. Merlin also set a geas on the bar Strangefellows, so that it would endure, and his descendents would run it forever, protecting the secret that lay beneath.”

“Okay,” I said, “Hold it right there. Merlin’s descendents . . . I’ve often wondered about that. He never had any children that I know of. Unless Nimue ...”

“Hardly,” said Kae. “But he did have a fling with an immortal called Carys Galloway, the Waking Beauty.” He paused to see if I recognised the name, but I had to shake my head. You can’t know everyone. “Anyway, she had a child by him, and this established a long line of descendents and bar owners, bound by the geas to Strangefellows, to serve Merlin’s will. Arrogant old bastard. Though of course the bar owners were only ever told of Merlin’s grave, not Arthur’s. No-one ever knew but me.”

“Alex is going to freak,” said Suzie.

“King Arthur,” I said. “The King Arthur, the Pendragon himself, is buried under Strangefellows? And always has been? I have no idea what to say to that.”

“I do,” said Suzie. “But it involves a whole bunch of really inappropriate language.”

“I started the rumour about Arthur being taken away to Avalon,” said Kae. “It’s a made-up name. Never was any such place. I didn’t want anyone looking for Arthur’s remains, particularly since it looked like he was only napping. I knew he wouldn’t have wanted to be worshipped and adored, his unchanging body a relic to be fought over by the various Church factions, as religious currency.”

“So ... is Arthur actually dead, or not?” said Suzie, who always liked to be certain about these things.

“Yes, and no,” said Kae. “Let’s say ... not all the way dead. Merlin put an old magical protection on Arthur; though he never told him, because he knew Arthur wouldn’t approve. Arthur always liked to say that for all he’d done, he was just a man. That any man could do what he’d done, if he’d only commit himself fully. That was what the Round Table was all about—to show we were all equal. What safer place could there be for Arthur to lie sleeping, than buried next to Merlin, who could still protect him even after he was dead? And, of course, Merlin’s sheer presence was still so powerful that it helped to hide Arthur’s. And, finally, who would look for King Arthur’s grave under a cheap and sleazy dive like Strangefellows?”

I looked at Suzie. “He’s got a point.” I turned back to Kae. “So now what?”

“Now,” said Kae, “we go back to the cellars under the bar and dig up Arthur. How else are you going to give him Excalibur?”

Except, Kae sat there, staring at nothing, making no move to get up. He seemed to be looking at something far away, perhaps far away in the past. It was only too easy to forget I was looking at a man fifteen hundred years old, with a lot of memories to look back on.

“After all these years,” he said finally. “Now the time has come, I’m still not sure I’m ready. I still feel guilty that I survived Logres when so many better men did not. That Arthur died, and I didn’t. I would have given my life for him.”

“He’s Arthur,” I said. “He knows that.”

One long and mostly uneventful journey later, we all ended up at Strangefellows bar. I had worried how Kae would react to the Nightside, him being Grand Master of the London Knights; but he seemed more amused than anything. Strangefellows looked rather better than the last time I’d seen it; Alex had cleaned up most of the damage. But the place was still pretty empty. There was no sign anywhere of Betty and Lucy Coltrane. A few customers had ventured back in. A handful of Burroughs Boys, out on the nod, being roughly gay and talking in cut-up sentences. An alien Grey and a Lizardoid, sitting opposite each other in a back booth, sharing their troubles over a bottle of Mother’s Ruination. And a couple of beat cops from some medieval city, waiting patiently for someone. They looked like they could punch their weight. The man had a scarred face and an eye patch, and a bloody big axe. The woman had long blonde hair in a plait that ended in a steel weight, and a really mean attitude. You get all sorts in Strangefellows.

The piped music was playing a selection of Marianne Faithfull numbers; always a sign that Alex Morrisey was in an even worse mood than usual.

Kae looked about him as I led the way to the long wooden bar at the end of the room. “Hasn’t changed that much since I was last here. Still a dive. And the ambience is just short of actually distressing. The whole place could use renovating. With a flame-thrower.”

By this time, we’d reached the bar. Alex glared at Kae. “I heard that! Would you like to say Hello to Mr. Really Big Stick, who lives behind the counter?”

“Ease off, Alex,” I said. “This is a London Knight in disguise.”

Alex smirked. “Well, colour me impressed. Nice suit. What does he want me to do, polish his helmet?”

“Yes,” said Kae. “This is one of Merlin’s line. He thought he had a sense of humour, too.”

“What is a London Knight doing here?” Alex said to me, ostentatiously ignoring Kae. “Bearing in mind that I’ve still got that nuclear suppository the Holy Sisters of Saint Strontium gave me, round the back somewhere.”

“Well,” I said, “it turns out it wasn’t only Merlin who was buried in the cellars under this place. King Arthur’s down there, too. And we are here to dig him up, so I can give him the sword Excalibur. Oh, and by the way, this is Kae, stepbrother to King Arthur, last surviving Knight of the Round Table.”

There isn’t much that can throw Alex, so I stood there and quietly enjoyed the way his jaw dropped, his eyes bulged, and he couldn’t get a word out to save his life. Suzie took the opportunity to lean over the bar and help herself to a bottle of gin.

“I should have been told!” Alex said, finally, and very loudly. “This is my bar! I had a right to know!”

“You were safer not knowing,” said Kae, entirely unmoved.

“Safer?” said Alex. “I live in the Nightside! I’ve had all Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse in here, playing bridge!”

“He has a point,” I said. “Don’t be upset, Alex. What we didn’t know, we couldn’t accidentally let slip, or be made to tell someone else.”

“Hell with that,” said Alex. “Do you have any idea how much money I could have made, running guided tours? Can you imagine how much tourists would have paid, to take photographs of each other, standing over Arthur’s grave? I could have been rich! Rich!”

“And that is why we didn’t tell you,” said Kae. “Or anyone else of your misbegotten line. You couldn’t be trusted. A secret can be kept by two men, but only if one of them is ignorant.”

“Did he just call me ignorant?” said Alex, dangerously.

“I’m sure he meant it in a nice way,” I said.

Alex sulked. “No-one gives a damn for the poor working-man.”

He finally calmed down and let us behind the bar. Suzie was still sucking noisily on her bottle of gin, but Alex had enough sense not to make a fuss. He opened the heavy trap-door that led down to the cellars and lit an old storm lantern he kept handy. Electricity doesn’t work down in the cellars. Something down there doesn’t like it. Alex held the lantern out over the stone steps leading down, but the pale amber light couldn’t penetrate the darkness below. Kae looked over his shoulder.

“Dark,” he said. “It was dark then, too. All those years ago. Merlin always did like the dark. Said it felt like home.”

Alex looked at me. “John ... What is he saying?”

“He buried Merlin and Arthur here, fifteen hundred years ago,” I said.

Alex surprised me by nodding. “What goes round, comes round. Let’s get this over with before my customers rob me blind in my absence.”

He led the way down the smooth stone steps, and we all went down after him, sticking close together to stay inside the circle of amber light. The steps seemed to descend a hell of a lot further into the impenetrable darkness than I was comfortable with. I had no idea how deep we were, under the bar, under the Nightside. The air was close and clammy, and there was an almost painful feeling of anticipation. Of something important, and significant, waiting to happen. Waiting to be brought back into the light after fifteen hundred years in the dark.

The steps finally gave out onto a packed-dirt floor. The bare earth was hard and dry as stone. I remembered Kae saying how he’d dug two graves out of this earth with his bare hands. A blue-white glare appeared slowly round us, coming from everywhere and nowhere. Alex put his lantern down at the foot of the steps and looked uncertainly about him. We were standing at the beginning of a great stone cavern, with an uncomfortably low ceiling. Hundreds of graves stretched away before us in more or less neat rows, just mounds of earth with simple, unadorned headstones.

“So many graves,” said Kae. “Since I was here last.”

“My family,” said Alex, quietly, bitterly. “Bound to the bar forever, to serve Merlin’s will.”

“Trust me,” said Kae. “I understand how you feel. Merlin always was a great one for doing what was necessary, and to hell with whoever got caught up in his plans. Even Arthur couldn’t escape Merlin’s designs, not even after he was dead. A man should be free of responsibilities after he’s dead.”

He led the way forward, looking this way and that, and finally stopped before two graves, neither of which had a headstone. One mound of earth had been broken open from within, the grave dirt thrown in all directions, from when Merlin had come out of his grave one last time, to face my mother, Lilith, in battle, and die his final death at her hands. The huge silver crucifix, which had been laid on his grave at some point in the past, to hold him in it, had been thrown carelessly to one side. We all stood at the side of the empty grave, looking down, as though we needed to be sure there was no-one in it. Everyone, except Kae. He only had eyes for the other grave.

“Merlin made sure that Arthur could not be brought back unless Excalibur was present,” he said finally. “He placed part of Arthur’s soul inside the blade, as a wizard or a witch might place his or her heart somewhere else, somewhere more secure ... That’s why Arthur couldn’t be completely killed at Logres. Though that bastard Mordred tried hard enough.”

“What did happen to Excalibur, after the battle?” I said.

“I took it,” said Kae. “To keep it safe. A sword like that could make anyone King, whether he was worthy or not, just by possessing it. I knew even then that only Arthur could be trusted with Excalibur. Several others had already picked it up off the battle-field; but none of them could hold on to it. They were not worthy. They all but burned their hands off touching the hilt. I wasn’t worthy, either, but I still picked the sword up and carried it off the battle-field, in my bare hands. It burned, how it burned ... but that was my penance. For surviving.

“The Lady of the Lake appeared to me then, in a vision, and called me to bring Excalibur to her at a nearby lake. I walked through thick mists to find it, and when I went back there sometime later, the mists were gone, and so was the lake. I threw the blade out over the still waters ... No hand came up to grasp it. The sword simply disappeared into the lake and was gone. Didn’t even leave a ripple behind it. The Lady had taken it back.” He smiled briefly. “Gaea always did have a soft spot for Arthur. While he lived, the King and the Land were one, each empowering the other. And since the sword was always Gaea’s, I like to think that all this time Arthur has been sleeping in her arms.”

I gave him a moment, then moved in beside him. “What do we do now? Call his name? Summon him back from the great beyond?”

“No,” said Kae. “No spells, no ceremonies. Give him the sword. When they are reunited, the King shall rise again.”

And yet still he hesitated, scowling thoughtfully down at the earth mound before him. “It’s so long since I last saw him. So many centuries, living on and on because Merlin required it of me, keeping the secret, building the London Knights to keep Arthur’s great dream alive. And now ... I wonder what he’ll think of me when he sees what I’ve done with all those years. If he’ll approve, or say I missed the whole point. But it doesn’t matter. This is what I have waited for. This is my duty; and I’ve always known my duty. I taught him how to be a warrior; and he taught me how to be a man. Let’s do it.”

Acting on Kae’s instructions, I drew Excalibur from its invisible scabbard on my back. Everyone made some kind of sound as the long, golden blade suddenly appeared, blazing brightly, driving back the dark in the cellars. I thrust the sword deep into the earth at the foot of the grave, and the blade seemed almost to drive on down, pulled by something rather than anything I did. I let go and stood back, and what was left of the blade pulsed with a fierce golden light. And then all the earth was suddenly gone from the grave, gone in a moment, leaving a long hole in the ground with a man stretched out in it. We all crowded forward to look. King Arthur lay peaceful and still, in his shining, spotless armour, his face calm and dignified. And then he opened his eyes and took a deep breath as though it was the most natural thing in the world. He stretched slowly and sat up, in one easy movement. And every one of us there knelt to him. Because some things are just the right thing to do.

Arthur stuck up one bare hand, and Kae grasped it with his and helped Arthur out of his grave. They stood together a while, looking at each other, legendary men, smiling easily. King Arthur was a big blocky man, in armour that gleamed like it had been polished, under heavy bear furs draped round his shoulders. His crown was a simple gold circlet set on his brow. He had a strong, hard, somewhat sad and reflective face, and there was about him a natural authority, a sense of solid and uncompromising honour; a simple goodness, strong and true. He was a man you would follow anywhere because wherever he was going, you knew it was the right way.

He pulled Excalibur from the earth as easily as he had once pulled it from an anvil on a stone, and the sword nestled into his hand as though it belonged there, and always had. The golden light blazed up joyously, filling the whole wide cavern; but now it was a warm, golden glow, with none of its previous fierceness. I felt the weight of the invisible scabbard disappear from my back and wasn’t in the least disappointed. A burden may be an honour, but it’s still a burden.

Excalibur was destined for great things, Earth-changing things, and I wanted nothing to do with any of it. I never even wanted to be a warrior, never mind a King.

Arthur hefted Excalibur as though it were just another sword, and, perhaps for him, it was. He put it away, the golden glow fading slowly away, and the sword in its scabbard hung openly on his hip. Arthur started to brush some grave dirt off him, and Kae immediately stepped forward to help. The rest of us slowly got up off our knees. Alex had actually taken off his beret, a rare sign of respect, and Suzie had put down her gin bottle. Arthur smiled on us all, started to address Kae in old Celtic, then stopped, looked down at Excalibur, and spoke again, in modern English.

“Kae,” he said. “Of course; who else? I always knew I could depend on you, brother. So is this it? The Final Battle?”

“Not ... as such,” said Kae.