Our man in Camelot

supposing he's still alive—he'll stride up to Windmill Knob, or as near as your barbed wire will let him

—'

'You're joking!'

'I wish to God I was, but I'm not. And what's more he doesn't want us around under any circumstances.

Protection here he'll accept, but no protection tomorrow morning at Liddington Hill.'

'But it'll be—suicidal. That'll be open country there.'

'True. But then he has a strong sense of the dramatic, and people have been shooting at him off and on for the last thirty-six years without hitting him.'

'Not these sort of people. Doesn't he realise that?'

'Actually, he does. He pretends he doesn't, but I do believe he thinks tomorrow is the day.'

'Then he's absolutely insane. He doesn't even need to do it—he doesn't have to prove anything.'

Audley was silent for a moment. 'Now there… I think you're wrong. Prove something is exactly what he needs to do. He knows that if he is killed that really will prove his case—particularly if they get his death on film. But I don't think even that is the deciding factor with him, not now. It's much more a matter of honour… he's going to prove honour is worth dying for. This is his version of the old Ordeal by Battle, the great Arthurian ideal.'

'Insane,' echoed Shirley. 'It's insane.'

'Of course it is. Honour doesn't make anything true—it's a mere convention. One of the very best Arthurian tales is about a knight who came to realise that—not Sir Lancelot or Sir Galahad, but a bad knight named Sir Aglovale, who learnt the hard way. But Billy Bullitt is so steeped in conventional Arthurian morality that Ordeal by Battle comes quite naturally to him.'

'I just don't understand you,' said Shirley. 'You're talking double-dutch.'

'No, Mrs Sheldon, you wouldn't understand. Because it's one of the better sides of women that they respect life more than men do… But let me put it this way: you remember what the New Testament says

— 'All they that take the sword shall perish with the sword'. Now does that sound like a threat to you?'

'Of course. If you kill you must expect to be killed.'

'Exactly. But to a chivalrous knight it wasn't a threat at all—it was a marvellous promise. In fact, it was the one thing that made Christianity worth having: no horrible toothless old age, no long-drawn-out agony in a smelly bed—just a good, clean death in the prime of life, and then straight to Heaven, or Valhalla, or wherever.

'Which is exactly the way Bullitt sees it now. He knows he's had the best of his life—there's even a possibility it's running out on him, because it's rumoured he saw a heart specialist last year sometime, though we don't yet know which one. But in any case he appears to be ready to collect on that promise, so the risk simply doesn't worry him. If anything it makes the whole business more attractive: it's as though he's challenging us—his life to prove his case. And that makes it a matter of honour.'

Roskill heaved a sigh. 'And that's why we're beaten.'

Mosby stared at the great coat-of-arms, with its fiery dragon supporters. He wondered whether there had ever been a Sheldon coat-of-arms. It was a pity William Lancelot Bullitt couldn't wear full armour on Liddington—

The Sheldon coat-of-arms?

Anthony Price - Our man in camelot

Everybody had a coat-of-arms if you went back far enough.

'No.'

'What d'you mean 'no'?' said Roskill. 'I meant—' Mosby swung towards Audley, '—screw Billy Bullitt's honour. What about my honour?'

'Your honour?'

'Sure. My honour—and the honour of the CIA.'

'The honour of the CIA?' Frances Fitzgibbon laughed.

Mosby looked at them. 'Sure. Do you have to be British to have honour? Is it something lesser mortals can't have?'

'But—'

'Hush!' said Audley. 'Go on, Captain Sheldon.'

'Okay. You said it was a straight challenge. He thinks we're a bunch of assassins and murderers. Okay—

then I accept the challenge. I say we're not.'

'But how do you accept it?' said Frances. 'Do you want to fight him?'

'No. I accept it the way he accepted it. And if he's a man of honour then he can't refuse me first go.'

'First go at what?'

'At Liddington Hill. I'll wear the red shirt—I'll wear the combat hat. And I'll prove the truth.' Mosby pointed at Audley. 'And you catch the guy that pulls the trigger.'

'Mose—'

'Shut up, honey. I'm challenging Billy Bullitt to his Ordeal by Battle. And he can't refuse me.'

'What d'you mean—he can't refuse you? Why not?'

'Because that's the way the game is played. And once I accept his way of playing it then I take precedence