The Hunt for Excalibur

20 Getting Acquainted

Throughout the front of the mansion, merriment prevailed as the group sat down around the enormous old table for a five course dinner and drinks. Lillian had prepared an Eastern menu, predominantly, that filled the house with a wonderful odor. Around Purdue’s Round Table, the conversations jumped around world affairs, football, weather and fashion, until Nina grew impatient with waiting.

During one of the especially long pauses in banter, she took her chance to bring up the subject of history. Not her brand of history, but historical artifacts. After all, she was in the company of experts.

“By the way, Purdue, did you have a look at the photo’s I sent you?” she asked nonchalantly, taking a sip of her whiskey. Purdue was seated right beside her, so she could have intended to ask him solely, but the others heard her question. Purdue’s face lit up, having forgotten about the images he had meant to ask Ava and Bernard about.

“Oh, my!” he chuckled. “Forgive me. I was meaning to delve a bit deeper into that and it completely slipped my mind.” He looked at Ava, sitting on his other arm. “Could you or your brother please enlighten us about the sheath I showed you?”

‘Brother?’ Nina raved in her thoughts. ‘Great news! He is not spoken for.’

Bernard beamed as he leaned forward on his elbows. Ava allowed him to babble on about the subject, since she knew he wished to impress the sexy little historian. Besides, she was done with dealing in antiques after the Purdue purchase. As far as she was concerned, she had no desire to bother with the business anymore.

“Funny you should ask, Nina,” Bernard cooed. “I happen to know a bit about that piece. May I see it, please? It would be easier to evaluate in the flesh, so to speak.”

“Oh, I do not have it, I’m afraid,” she shrugged. Bernard felt his body tense up. This was not what he wanted, or needed, to hear. This meant that he would have to resort to ugly things. This meant that he would have to abduct, torture and kill the beautiful dark-haired woman he found so intriguing. He had to procure the scabbard or else it was his hide.

“You do not? Then how did you take pictures of it?” he said abruptly, without intent to be rude. Frustration was to blame. Nina did not like his tone, but she gave him the benefit of the doubt, that perhaps she misinterpreted his response as curt.

“Well, Bernard, I trust that you are aware that people take pictures of say, the Eiffel Tower or Stonehenge, without taking it home with them,” she snapped back in a confusing tone that could be anything from a quip to condescension. Ava scoffed and smiled at Nina. She relished the sarcastic humor of the Scottish brunette, especially when applied to Bernard.

“I like her,” Ava muttered to Sam’s amusement.

“I like her too,” he winked, sharing a little giggle with Purdue’s demarcated conquest.

“No need to be so aggressive, my lady,” Bernard charmed forth, ignoring the blow. “It is just that I can tell you more about the inscriptions and value if I could hold it in my hands, you see? Feel the leather, check the stitching, condition, and so forth.”

“I understand,” she yielded. “But in truth I was just curious. That is all. Since it does not belong to me, I was not able to hold it for appraisal. Besides, I was not told that I would be in the company of such pertinent wisdom. I am sorry.”

“Can I see the pictures? Seems that I am the only one who has not seen them,” Sam requested.

“Sure,” Nina smiled. She located the images on her phone gallery and passed it on to him.

Sam scrutinized the sheath, nodding and pouting his lower lip to display how impressed he was. “It is clearly extremely old. Look at the craftsmanship. Handmade. I like it. Where did you see it, Nina?”

“Yes, I was about to ask too,” Bernard played innocent. “Where did you get to behold such a wonderful relic?”

“A boy brought it to show and tell during History Week, you know, the thing I was involved in at Gracewill?” she shared, primarily addressing Purdue.

“Oh yes, the primary school in Glasgow,” Purdue recalled.

“Aye,” she affirmed.

“What would make any parent allow such a magnificent heirloom to be taken to school for a petty oral presentation?” Bernard scowled. “It is sacrilege.”

“Heirloom?” Nina asked. “How did you know it was an heirloom?”

Bernard had already said too much, but he figured it would not betray his intentions to elucidate a bit more about the scabbard. “If this is the piece I think it is… as I obviously cannot see it for real… it has a remarkable provenance,” Bernard started dramatically, while Purdue poured the last 2009 Balthazar for the ladies. Sam’s large fingers explored the etchings in the table as he listened to the antiques expert, while Ava gawked at Sam’s hands and the deceiving grace with which he moved them.

Bernard’s features sharpened in the glow of Purdue’s enormous hearth fire as he engaged all around the table. “The story is fascinating, but not what you would expect. This sheath, known as ‘Warkadur’, derived from the Welsh warchodwr, meaning ‘keeper’ or ‘custodian’, is a good eight centuries old.”

“Good God,” Nina gasped. “Must be worth a fortune.”

“Priceless,” Sam amended her statement.

Bernard nodded. “Exactly, Sam, which is the reason for its infamy. However, what makes this relic especially priceless is the fact that it is reputed to be the scabbard of Excalibur.” He allowed the information to sink for his audience, for dramatic effect.

“The Excalibur?” Sam asked.

“Yes, although, as you all know, Arthurian legend is much like Lovecraftian Mythos — conceived in fiction,” Bernard continued. “Yet, still, to the enlightened minds of science and history, such mythologies are completely plausible and even thought to originate from some point of actuality.”

Purdue’s eyes lit up. “Do you mean to tell me that this is the sheath of the sword that inspired Caliburn?”

“Caliburn?” Ava frowned.

“The original name of Excalibur, which was eventually derived from Welsh, I believe?” Nina explained. “But then, if the sheath exists, where is Excalibur?”

Bernard’s mouth stretched wide at the question, because he knew he had the historian and her friends hooked. “That, my dear Nina, is the question.”

Purdue motioned to Charles to bring more wine and pour. He intended to sit glued to Bernard’s tellings, and wished to keep his guests equally oiled. Charles nodded elegantly and obliged, while the stranger in black proceeded. “You see, the actual sword, speculated as being the genuine Caliburnus Geoffrey of Monmouth wrote about, seemed to have vanished last during World War II.”

“Wait. What?” Nina asked. “You mean to tell me that Excalibur was out there all this time and nobody ever knew about it?”

“Oh, many people knew about it,” Sam chimed in, having previously heard about the sword’s existence from the myriad of investigations he had conducted into international theft cartels. “On and off, throughout at least the 17^th and 18^th Centuries, the sword of Britain’s Sovereignty has been said to have belonged to lairds and generals from the Shetlands to Plymouth.”

“That is true,” Bernard agreed, taking a good sip of liquid fire from Purdue’s scotch bottle. “And during World War II it briefly belonged to someone in… guess?”

Ava rolled her eyes. “Oh God, when I hear Second World War, all I can guess is Nazis?”

Her brother clicked his fingers and pointed at Ava. “Give Ava the prize.”

“Of course,” Purdue chuckled. “I suppose Himmler had a finger in that pie?”

“Doubt it,” Nina said casually. “It was Hermann Göring that had a boner for arts, mostly. My money is on him.”

Bernard grinned at the banter between the collector and the historian, but they were both wrong, and he was happy to fill them in. After all, if he played his cards right, he would not have to kill them yet. If Purdue and Nina were deep enough into the exploration of the existence of Excalibur, he could use them to do the dirty work for him before he disposed of them. Certainly, Purdue was an explorer and relic hunter with unrivalled resources and funding.

After all the finds Purdue had been involved in, including conquering the Vault of Hercules and locating the Medusa Stone, finding Excalibur would not be a problem for a man of his devices. Major Rian could wait.

Bernard Somerset could get the proverbial two birds here, if he enticed his audience enough. If he could get his hands on Warkadur, he would be protected from any onslaught while he sought out Excalibur. After that, Major Rian would not be able to harm him. What was to keep him from keeping the sword and scabbard for himself?