Simon Green - A Hard Day's Knight

I didn’t say anything, but I thought I had a pretty good idea of who this Grand Master might be. Though how he was still round was a mystery to me. I met Sir Kae, Arthur’s stepbrother, back in the sixth century; sometime after the final battle of Logres. In fact, I bashed his head in with his own spiked mace after he disfigured my Suzie. Hopefully, he didn’t still bear a grudge after all these years.

“How is it that your Grand Master is still alive?” I said finally. “I don’t remember any immortal knights in Arthur’s Court.”

Another knight stepped forward, to stand beside Sir Gareth. “Those are our secrets. Ours to know, not yours.”

“Allow me to introduce Sir Roland,” said Sir Gareth. “Hardcore traditionalist, doughty fighter, and a real pain in the arse when it comes to getting your paper-work in on time.”

There was a brief chuckle amongst the other knights, quickly dying away as Sir Roland looked back at them. He carefully lifted off his steel helm and tucked it firmly under one arm, revealing the face of a man in his fifties with close-cropped grey hair, cold grey eyes, and a steady gaze. He looked hard used by life, with deep lines etched into his face, but a small smile kept appearing at the corners of his mouth as though it couldn’t quite help itself. There was a sense of barely suppressed energy about the man, of a need for battle or just plain violence, to soothe his inner fires.

“I can’t believe the Lady gave Excalibur to a jumped-up thug like you, Taylor,” Sir Roland said briskly. “Oh yes, boy, I know all about you.”

“He has a subscription to the Night Times ,” said Sir Gareth. “And the Unnatural Inquirer .”

“John Taylor, a man who has warred with angels, battled with immortals, and meddled in more ethically dubious areas than is good for any one man,” said Sir Roland. “You choose your enemies well, boy, but your friends are little better. Is it true you and Shotgun Suzie are an item now?”

“Yes,” I said, taken aback.

Sir Roland smiled his brief smile. “Well. Never saw that one coming. You have consorted with gods and immortals, the dead and the undead, and worst of all, you spent time with that despicable sorcerer, Merlin Satanspawn.”

“He wasn’t that bad,” I said. “Well, actually, he was ... but he had his redeeming qualities. And he did go to his final rest rescuing the Nightside from destruction.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing,” said Sir Roland.

“We’re not going to get along, are we?” I said.

“Who knows?” said Sir Roland, suddenly all bluff and cheerful. “Early days yet! Now, if you really have got Excalibur ... show it to us.”

“That is why I’m here,” I said.

I reached up over my shoulder, taking my time about it. The knights’ eyes followed my every move. I grasped the invisible hilt and drew Excalibur from its invisible scabbard with one easy move. The sword flashed into life between us, the golden blade filling the air with its glorious light. It was as though the sun had come down amongst us, to bless us with its life. The sword blazed more brightly in the castle hall than it ever had in the Nightside, as though it was back where it belonged. As though it had finally come home. And one by one, amidst a soft clattering of armour, the last and greatest of all the knights in the world slowly lowered themselves onto one knee, to bow their heads to that most ancient and honourable blade, Excalibur. I stood before them, holding the sword, and never felt less worthy in my life.

I have done good things and bad, great things and terrible, but nothing that justified bearing a sword like Excalibur.

I put the sword away, and the golden light snapped off in a moment. The knights slowly got back onto their feet again, with a rather louder clattering of armour and a certain amount of leaning on each other for support. Sir Gareth and Sir Roland looked at each other, then at me. They both looked a bit dazed, as though someone had sneaked up and hit them both a good one while they weren’t looking.

“It’s certainly Excalibur,” said Sir Gareth. “No doubt about that.”

“To be blessed by its presence, after so many years ...” Sir Roland frowned and fixed me with a stern look. “How did you get your hands on such a sword?”

I took a certain amount of pleasure in telling him, and a little bit more in watching Sir Roland’s face turn an unhealthy shade of purple. His hands clenched the air before him as though he couldn’t decide whether to grab the sword away from me, or settle for choking the life out of me on general principles. Sir Gareth looked very much like he wanted to go off on his own somewhere and have an extended fit of the giggles. The other knights gave every impression of being stunned speechless.

“In the post?” Sir Roland said finally, veins bulging in his neck. “You’re supposed to have the holy blade bestowed on you by the Lady of the Lake, not simply dropped on your doorstep, wrapped in brown paper!”

“Well,” I said lightly, “that’s the Nightside for you.”

“Would you like to take some of your little blue pills, Roland?” murmured Sir Gareth.

“I could spit soot,” Sir Roland said bitterly. “All these years I dreamed of the holy blade returning to us in glory, to the order where it belongs, but this ... this ... this is what comes of watching too much television! Excalibur, in the hands of a private eye!”

“You like television,” said Sir Gareth. “You never miss Strictly Come Dancing .”

“Entertaining though this is,” I said, “it would help if someone here would take the time to explain exactly what Excalibur is and what makes it so important. I’m guessing it’s not because the sword comes with its own built-in night-light. Someone told me ... that it’s not what we think it is. And it never was. And while we’re on the subject: who or what is the Lady of the Lake? I did do some research before I came here, and I couldn’t find two books that would agree on the subject. The best guess seemed to be that she might have been Vivienne Le Fae, sister to the more infamous Morgan Le Fae.”

“No,” Sir Gareth said immediately. “Not even close. That’s what comes of historians who love a good story; they always want everything to tie up neatly. The Lady, and the sword, are much older than that. Older than human history, older than the Fae, old as the land itself. All the other great artefacts and symbols of Arthur’s reign were Christian in nature. We’d only recently put our pagan past behind us, in the sixth century, and we saw Christian significance in everything. And, of course, there was the Holy Grail ...”

“Do you have it?” I said.

“No,” said Sir Roland, and he sounded honestly regretful. “The Grand Master has forbidden any of the order to go questing for it. He still believes that was what broke up the original Round Table ...”

“The Lady,” I said. “And the sword ...”

“They both predate Christianity,” said Sir Gareth. “By quite a while. The Lady of the Lake is Gaea. Mother Earth herself. And the sword is her will made manifest in the world. To wield Excalibur is to take the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

“Hold everything,” I said. “Gaea? As in, the whole world, personified? She’s real?”

“You’re from the Nightside,” said Sir Gareth. “Are you really having trouble getting your head round such a simple concept?”

I really was. Even after everything I’d seen and done, to know for a fact that the world we all lived on was alive and aware ...

“Given all the damage we as a species have done to her, I’m amazed she’s still talking to us,” I said, finally.

“She doesn’t, much,” said Sir Gareth. “But she’ll want to speak to you.”