The Hunt for Excalibur

5 The Walking Gem

In Edinburgh, David Purdue was sipping Cristal along with a small handful of relic hunters, such as himself. They called themselves many things other that, though. Some called themselves antique dealers, others preferred ‘collector’ or ‘custodian’, but Purdue called a spade a spade. He referred to himself as relict hunter and explorer, regardless of the sensitivity of the company he was in.

Bedecked in his favorite tuxedo, Purdue kept a keen eye on the guests of the bi-annual Euphrates Society Auction. A few new faces surfaced, but he had not attended in four years, leaving him feeling the stranger for the most part.

“Good evening, Mr. Purdue,” a lady’s voice greeted.

He turned to face a short, friendly beauty in a silver dress that dazzled the eye. Her eyes were pristine as a glass of mineral water and her hair draped down to the small of her back, almost as silver as her raiment. The odd, but fetching appearance of the lady instantly instilled a warm admiration, and Purdue turned his body entirely to face her.

“Good evening, my dear,” he smiled.

“My name is Ava Somerset, from London Bridge Collectables,” she introduced herself cordially. “My brother and I run the business together, but tonight he has allowed me to represent our little establishment. I am a huge admirer of your collection, and have read the books written by your colleagues on some of the expeditions you have lead. Fascinating.”

“Why, thank you, Miss Somerset?” he asked reluctantly.

“Yes, but you may call me Ava. It would be an honor,” she smiled coyly.

“Let me get you a glass of champagne, my dear,” Purdue offered in his usual suave manner. He summoned a waiter with a tray full of glimmering glasses and elected one for the lovely Ava.

“Thank you, Mr. Purdue. Are you here to bid tonight or are you putting some of your relics on the board?” she asked, lolling her head to one side.

“Call me Dave,” he winked. His pale blue eyes explored Ava rapidly, finding her most agreeable. “Actually, I am just here to see if anything,” he paused dramatically, “wets my appetite, as it were.”

She caught on quickly, but pretended not to notice his charms. Remaining unfazed and quiet, she silently urged him to continue.

“We will see what the night delivers,” he smiled, scanning the small party of people in lavish dress, suited to the opulent mansion of the host, a man called Matheson. Purdue had been absent long enough not to know the latest patrons of the Euphrates Society, and Matheson was unfamiliar to him, apart from having the reputation of excellent swordsman and benefactor of antiquities. Purdue laid his eyes on Ava’s haunting face and asked, “What about you? Are you auctioning off or purchasing some new stock for your business?”

“Auctioning off. We have too many pieces in our inventory, so Bernard, my brother,” she added sweetly, “wants to empty out the stores of the pieces that have been there too long without selling.”

“Cutting bait,” Purdue nodded. “That is a good rule of thumb, otherwise things have a tendency to lose their value, in my opinion.” He could not help but quietly assess the statement as pertinent to the people he had been dealing with over the last five to ten years. In comparison to earlier years, Purdue’s circles have grown increasingly smaller and more private, which was safer, for one.

“Yes,” Ava agreed, “we used to take on just about every piece that promised to be even remotely lucrative, but we soon found out that that is a quick way to bankruptcy. So, now we only buy what is guaranteed to be a big seller. Fewer goods, higher fees with less paperwork per hit, you know?”

“Good thinking,” he said. “I am much the same, only hoarding what is truly exemplary. Leave the rest for the packs of scavengers, I say.”

Ava chuckled heartily. It was a giggle of substance, because it contained a meaning. Purdue knew it was not just a response to be polite, but a wordless commentary.

“You do not agree?” he asked.

“I do. I do,” she replied sincerely, her eyes still gleaming with amusement. “I just found your comment a little ironic.”

“How so?” Purdue pressed.

Her eyes rolled playfully as she smiled. “Well, you are David Purdue, a well known man of… means.”

“So?” he persisted, growing slightly wary of her response.

“You surely do not really think you have anything in common with humble merchants such as me and Bernard, do you?” she snickered. Her hand rested gently on Purdue’s forearm. “By no means do I mean to insult you, Dave, but come on. You do not have to cut bait for financial reasons, as we do. That is all. That is what I found amusing and now I look like an arsehole, right?”

Purdue was delighted with the woman who looked like some blue-blooded duchess and sounded like an unpretentious housewife.

“You look splendid, my dear, and may I say, far from any arsehole I have ever seen,” he replied, pursing his lips playfully. As Ava laughed, Purdue added, “I do understand why you would see it that way, though. You are correct in your assumptions, but that does not mean that I cannot see the value in small hoards for more money per sale, you know.”

Her laughter diminished gradually as she composed herself once more. “I know,” she conceded. “It was just so out of place to see you as a peer, and not some high lord of the relic world, talking along with us peasants.”

“Oh, come now,” he laughed. “Do you own a mirror? Have you seen the intimidating beauty you wield, my dear? Do not ever sell yourself short.”

“Thank you, Dave,” she replied gracefully.

“Which pieces are yours, then?” Purdue asked, making a mental note to buy at least two items from Ava’s inventory list, even if they held absolutely no value. He was not compelled to do so because of the lady’s stunning allure, but because his sharp Lombard Street senses told him that her business was in need of patronage.

Knowing what he was up to, Ava eagerly took his program from him and carefully reached into his blazer. She pulled the gilded Fifth Avenue roller ball from his inner pocket.

“How did you know that was there?” he frowned in pleasant surprise.

“Mrs. Appleby,” she grinned as she opened the program. Mrs. Appleby had been the administrator of the event since 1984, so she knew the habits of most of the regulars, such as where Scottish billionaires keep their pens.

“Of course,” he smiled, shaking his head. He watched Ava mark four items on the list for auction as he sipped more champagne and listened to the low hum of the murmuring crowd in the marble room. “As luck would have it, drawing room and dining room had recently suffered fire damage,” Purdue informed her as he perused the markings. “Good thing that you have brought my attention to the table you are selling there. My dining room rose wood has made it into my hearth after the fire, so I shall be needing something authentically antique to replace it.”

“Isn’t that uncanny?” she winked and dipped into a curtsy. “As legend goes, this table’s provenance had passed through the hands of people like Roger Lancelyn Green, Louis XV of Bourbon and Franz von Papen. However, its origin is unknown, and dates back to the Middle Ages.”

Purdue nodded as she spoke, paying attention to the names she dropped while assessing the truth in her words. He did not care where the table came from, nor did he give a damn who had owned it before. All he wanted to do was to support Ava and her venture.

“No honey smearing needed in this transaction, my dear,” he finally said.

“But it is the truth. It has been dated by an assessor of great integrity, Louistown Appraisals…” she tried to assert.

“I believe you, my dear Ava,” he insisted with a reassuring hand on her shoulder, “and therefore you have no need to polish the presentation of the item. I want it. I shall have it. That is how I transact.”

She stared at the avant-garde relic collector with even more approbation as before. He was everything she had heard he was, to her surprise. David Purdue was not only charming to a fault, but he knew how to play with words, as it was evident what he meant by his resolute declaration. Ava and Purdue shared a moment of staring at one another that lasted a wee second too long for conventional conversation, but it was interrupted by an announcement.

On the low stage of the converted ballroom, their host, Mr. Matheson, opened the proceedings with a short speech, welcoming the guests and assuring everyone of absolute discretion during the bidding battle to come. Purdue extended a bent arm to the silver-haired Ava Somerset and she happily hooked her arm in his as they strolled to their seats for the evening’s antiques auction.