The Hunt for Excalibur

6 Brian, the Inquisitive

It was day number three on Nina’s quick money week in Glasgow. The day was cold, but the sun promised a mild afternoon, which was good for hitting the pub after she had completed her school formalities for the day. Today she escorted the Primary 7 history class to the Glasgow University’s memorial chapel. It would have been far more enjoyable, had she not had to deal with the annoying anorexic teacher with the shrill voice.

Nina took her place alongside the girls of the class, folding her arms and listening to Miss April’s rendition of the Great War and its implications. As the first day, she could clearly feel the sensation of a stare, a feeling a sexy woman such as herself was all too familiar with. Again, as she turned her head, she noticed that it was the same young boy who had glared at her during that initial meeting in class at Gracewill Primary.

“This is the roll of honor of the men and women who died in the Great War, children,” Miss April yapped in the back of Nina’s attention, as she locked eyes with the peculiar child. He looked poor. The boy was skinny and frail and his sweater had two holes where the woolen thread had begun to unravel, but his eyes were sharp and attentive. Nina thought that the child looked very intelligent, but it was obvious that his mind was truant when it came to the school curriculum.

“Dr. Gould, would you like to add anything about Scotland’s involvement in the Great War?” Miss April suddenly asked, putting all eyes squarely on the historian at the most inconvenient time, when she was about to discover the reason for the boy’s stares. But she had to respond to the teacher, breaking the tether between her and the boy.

“Aye, certainly,” Nina smiled. “There are endless accounts of action, romance, fate and revenge in the records of wars and this one, World War I, was no exception.”

Miss April stood back and listened to her heroine telling stories about unknown people not named in history texts achieving great feats during such a trying time. The petite Nina pointed to one or two names on the honor roll and recounted the anecdotes she had prepared for the day’s outing. The boy could hardly see past the tall shoulders of his classmates, but he insisted on keeping his eyes on the equally small-framed historian.

His admiration was unquestionable. In the light of the chapel and its splendor, Dr. Gould looked like a divine creature to him. From where he stood, her big eyes were black as coal and her dark lipstick only made her words form more sweetly. Every syllable she uttered was perceived in slow motion by the child, even though he paid no mind to what she was actually saying. Nina noticed his incessant gazing, but she maintained her professionalism, taking care not to look directly at him. She would never admit it to herself, but he unnerved her. It was not that he glared at her with unwavering devotion that made her feel uncomfortable, but rather the way in which his attention was directed.

The child was not like some boys who took a shine to her. His looks were purposeful, as if he was recording her image. Finally, Nina had had enough and she promptly confronted him in order to lift his heavy concentration. Halting her lecture suddenly she looked right at the boy and addressed him.

“You, scruffy ginger over there,” she cried sternly, “what is your name?”

The class fell mute all of a sudden, having had no idea that Dr. Gould could be so assertive. They stared at the boy, some giggling at his embarrassment and others stepping away from him.

“Brian, Miss,” he answered. Unlike his eyes, his voice was timid and unsure.

“Brian,” Nina called out like a military commander, “you look very inquisitive.”

“Miss?” he stammered, unfamiliar with the big word she used.

“Inquisitive, Brian. It means to have questions, to be curious about things,” she clarified. “You look inquisitive to me.”

Miss April sported a frozen smile that contained a resounding what-the-fuck behind it, while her class stood stationary in amazement at the guest’s abrupt change of demeanor. Nina watched the boy swallow hard and although she felt sorry for putting him on the spot like that, she had had her fill of his unspoken beckoning.

“Tell me something. Anything you know about the First World War, Master Brian,” Nina instructed firmly. “Anything. Go on. And it had better be legitimate. Make it good.”

Miss April and the class held their breath. The boy Dr. Gould confronted was not known for his strong constitution. He was frequently bullied by Scotty Leeds and his little gang, and usually hid in the library during sports period or choir practice. Bullies chuckled from the forest of still standing children and to Brian it sounded like a choir of demons shrieking through his panicky little soul. All he could see was Miss Nina’s stern leer, waiting for him to piss himself or man up.

“I know about a knight,” he muttered. The children laughed at his silly attempt. Miss April rolled her eyes.

“Excuse me?” Nina urged. “What did you say?”

Miss April spoke without moving her lips. “Ignore him, Nina. He is obsessed with knights.”

“Brian, I am waiting,” Nina pushed him.

The boy’s heart was racing and his tummy felt sick, but this was his one chance to speak to the grand mistress he found so intriguing. “Um,” he started, gradually garnering the wherewithal to ignore the heckling, “I know about a knight from the Great War. He was knighted by a king, just like in the Medieval Times, Miss.”

Nina had to concede that she was impressed by his uncanny response. “Tell me more.”

“There was a commander from Canada who was knighted by King George V, and he led and army in the Third Impress in 1917. He did a lot of other things for the Allied forces, but I cannot remember them right now, so…,” the boy’s description waned with a shrug.

“That was the Third Ypres, yes,” Nina affirmed, “not impress.”

Cackling ensued around young Brian for his error, but Nina’s voice cut them short. “The only impress here, is me, impressed with your knowledge. I am very impressed,” she deliberately reiterated to put the hecklers in their place. “Tell me who this knight was.”

His ego reinforced, the boy quickly responded. “That was Sir Arthur Currie, Miss Nina.”

“Right on, Master Brian,” Nina answered amicably, winking warmly at the flushing child. “Good to see not all of you are just in school to give your parents a few hours off. Do any of you have any questions about the Great War?”

All the children stood in silence, as she had expected, but now she had warmed the blood of the coy Brian. His hand shot up among the bowed heads of those too scared to make eye contact with Dr. Gould.

“Yes, Brian,” she smiled, “what is your question?”

“Miss Nina, who gave you that torc?” he asked. Miss April looked at confused as the other children at his question.

“That what?” Miss April asked with an annoyed wince.

Nina turned to her and pulled her shirt collar aside somewhat, revealing the bronze Celtic torc she wore around her neck. “This is a torc.”

A raised eyebrow and rounded lips from Miss April paid evidence to the teacher’s unawareness of the term. Miss April tried not to look dumb, but admittedly, her blank stare was a strong contender to the contrary.

“Oh,” she replied.

“I got this torc from an expedition I was on with a few people,” Nina humored the boy with the personal detail. After all, she reckoned, he had earned it. “We unearthed it near a Celtic burial site.”

“That is illegal, isn’t it, Miss?” one of the girls asked, looking shocked.

Nina laughed. “No, we acquired a government sanctioned permit to dig up the site, because they were going to build a road there and we did not want the relics to be destroyed when they dug up the ground for the road.”

“So, you just took it?” the girl asked.

“No, it was given to me by the collector who paid for it all, my dear,” Nina answered, playing with the smooth, lightly engraved neck ring under her slender fingertips, “for my assistance in the excavation.”

A collective gasp of intrigue coursed through the group of children. Brian just smiled. Miss April thought it was a good way to end the lesson, while the class was excited about something.

“Now listen up, you lot,” she announced in her shrieking tone. “Remember to bring your own relics to class tomorrow, alright?”

The class roared in approval as they followed the two teachers out of the chapel towards Dumbarton Way past the south front. They headed for the small bus waiting at the south gate entrance of the Glasgow University grounds.

“What exactly do they have to bring tomorrow? I hope they do not elect to steal grandma’s silver tea set or dad’s antique musket,” Nina jested.

Miss April uttered one of her shrill giggles. “No, my God, no. They can bring anything old, something with some history, you see. It can be a ring, an old bayonet, does not matter. Of course, history is first period tomorrow, so we do not have to be concerned about the children testing out old weapons on each other. I will keep the items on display,” she used gestured inverted commas to affirm her intent of safekeeping, “until the home bell.”

“Good,” Nina sighed in relief. “Just, you know, being Glasgow and all.”

“Oh, Glasgow’s reputation for the rough and tumble is exaggerated,” Miss April defended the city. “I have been here a while and only had one mugging so far.”

“Really? I have scars from my college days hanging out in Glasgow,” Nina chuckled.

Miss April grinned. “I wish I could be like you, Dr. Gould. You are so fearless. Going on all those expeditions and almost dying so many times… you… don’t you get nightmares?”

“Of course I did!” Nina told her. “But it is par for the course. Ultimately, the pay-off must reward the risk, and I must say, it really does. Of course, I do not see it so positively while I am in peril.”

“Still, you have survived being almost sacrificed to Baphomet that time, not to mention the people you have to run from,” Miss April said. She gave a shiver and groaned. “I do not think I would ever survive what you have, mentally or physically.”

Something the teacher said stuck in Nina’s mind, although she was not sure why. She frowned, “How do you mean, the people I have run from?”

Miss April shrugged, keeping her eyes away from Nina. “Just from the books I have read about the excursions you were involved with, I have deduced that the people who threaten your safety are usually the same… fabric.”

“Ah,” Nina replied. She had no other retort to the vague assumption of the teacher, but she did not like it one bit. It felt as if the skinny Miss April knew something she was not disclosing, but Nina had no tactic to dig for more right now. The teacher’s statement, referring to the Order of the Black Sun, coincided with the other peculiar thing Nina saw that first day at the school.

‘The children knocking on the desk in applause,’ she thought to herself. ‘Never before had I seen something like that from children, let alone Scottish children. A distinctly German thing, to knock on the desk, coming from a bunch of pre-teens in a UK school?’

As the bus pulled away from the university to deliver students and faculty to Gracewill Primary, Nina felt that familiar twinge. To her, the boy with his engaging stare and interesting obsession was the only good spark in the impending darkness of Miss April’s secretive web.