Our man in Camelot

Gently now. 'Supposing it was?'

'Then I'd want to know where it came from.' Audley's voice hardened. 'Did you find these objects?'

Again Mosby was warned of a pitfall ahead by the change in tone, but this time he could see no reason for it.

'No, I didn't,' he replied cautiously.

It was the right answer as well as the true one: Audley relaxed visibly, as though he had been saved from an awkward situation. 'But you know where it comes from?'

'That's still a sixty-four thousand dollar question—no, I don't. I told you there was a slice of bad luck, and that's part of it.'

'What I don't see is where the slice of good luck comes in,' said Shirley. 'I mean, it isn't as if there's anything valuable there, like maybe gold and jewellery. It isn't even as if there's anything new, either—

I've read your old list, and it's all stuff they've found already.'

She was playing smoothly now, reacting to Audley's unwillingness to commit himself and feeding him with fresh opportunities for bringing matters to a head. But again it was Faith Audley who rose to the feed line.

She chuckled uncontrollably.

Audley frowned at her. 'What on earth's the matter, love?'

The chuckle became a laugh. 'I was thinking—' she shook her pale head at Shirley in sympathy '—oh, dear—I can see you're not used to archaeologists, but we know several, and—' she turned towards her husband '—do you remember Tony Handforth-Jones's friend and his valuable coprolites?'

'What's a coprolite?' asked Shirley.

'You may well ask,' exclaimed Faith. 'A valuable coprolite—I thought it was a semi-precious stone of some sort.'

'Well, what is it?'

'Well, to Tony's friend it was a semi-precious stone,' said Audley. 'But to the rest of us it was… not to put too fine a point on it—and actually you can't put too fine a point on it—it was a piece of fossilised animal excrement. In this instance belonging to a Neolithic dog, I think.'

'A piece of—' Shirley stopped.

For an instant Mosby envisaged his final report of this conversation, but then hastily abandoned the vision: that way hysteria lay. CIA headquarters in Langley was not equipped to evaluate dog shit.

'Ah… I think what my wife means is that you can't use the word 'valuable' in a conventional way when Anthony Price - Our man in camelot

it comes to artefacts like this, Mrs Sheldon,' continued Audley, gesturing towards the box. 'All these objects can be identified because they've been found in different places, and in themselves they perhaps aren't especially valuable. But all together in one place—I've never heard of a find like this before, never.'

'That's what I told you, honey,' said Mosby. 'The Roman stuff, all worn out and mended, and the Celtic stuff, and the Saxon stuff—all in one place and not one bit later than A.D. 500. And all the rest of it—'

Audley stiffened. 'All the rest of it? You mean this isn't all of it?'

'Hell, no—it isn't the half of it. I only brought the bits that would travel. There are more weapons, all broken— there are two or three Saxon swords, what do they call them—scramasaxes? And more horse stuff. And bones— man, you name it, I've got it.'

'Bones?'

'Sure. Human and horse. I've got a skull with the prettiest depressed cranial fracture you ever saw, a classic blunt instrument fatality. And another with what looks mighty like a sword-cut.'

'It sounds as though someone's been ransacking a museum,' said Faith.

'No, ma'am, not a museum. Most of it's still got the original dirt on it.'

'God Almighty! It's far worse than ransacking a museum,' Audley burst out angrily. 'Someone's ransacked the most important Dark Age discovery since Sutton Hoo.'

So that was the key to that earlier hint of anger: he should have guessed from Barkham's reaction that Audley would be as incensed by the possible destruction of an archaeological site as excited by the appearance of the objects from it.

'You're dead right,' he agreed. 'Badon.'

'Badon?' Audley stared at him. 'You mean—the date's right… and the equipment's right?'

'More than that. I mean the guy who had this stuff reckoned he could prove it.'

Before Audley could speak, the phone in the hall pealed out.

'Honey, someone's actually remembered we're alive!' Shirley leapt into her role as the non-pioneer wife. 'Go answer it before they change their mind.'

Mosby hurried to complement her performance with that of the obedient American husband.

'Sheldon here. Who's that speaking?'

'Gallagher—'

For an instant Mosby was unable to place Gallagher in the ranks of his CIA colleagues, who had been sprouting