Simon Green - A Hard Day's Knight

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.”