The Secret of Excalibur

the knowledge was lost. But there was one place it remained - inscribed on Caliburn!’

Nina was sceptical. ‘Why would the monks do that? It’d be like giving the key to Fort Knox to Goldfinger!’

‘They did not expect Richard to take the sword with him on the Crusades. And they would never have expected him to do with the sword what he did.’

‘Which was?’

‘On his way to the Holy Land Richard stopped in Sicily, where in the manner of kings of that time he started a small war over some trivial matter.’ Rust shook his head dismissively, unruly hair waving. ‘The ruler of Sicily at that time was Tancred of Lecce, and when he signed a peace treaty with Richard in 1191, Richard presented him with a token of their new friendship . . .’

‘Caliburn,’ Nina realised.

‘Though both Tancred and Richard thought it was Excalibur.’

She was still dubious. ‘I never heard that story before.’

‘It was not exactly something Richard wanted widely publicised at home, that he had given away one of England’s greatest treasures. But when Richard continued on to the Holy Land, Tancred was left with the sword, which passed down to his successors until it reached Frederick the Second.’

‘Ah!’ said Nina, recognising a historical figure with whom she was far more familiar. ‘The Holy Roman Emperor.’

‘And another Crusader - although a very different kind from Richard.’

‘Making alliances with the Muslims so he could just walk into Jerusalem and claim it without a single life being lost wasn’t quite what the Pope had in mind,’ she said with a grin.

Rust smiled back. ‘No. But it was through those alliances that the sword found its way to the Middle East. When Frederick took over Jerusalem in 1229, many Crusaders actually refused to follow him - he had been excommunicated by Pope Gregory IX, and they feared that allying themselves with him might earn them the same fate. But Frederick was able to persuade a few Crusaders to support him, including a young knight called Peter of Koroneou - though that title came later. As a reward for his loyalty, Frederick presented Peter with the sword. Then in 1231, when Gregory lifted Frederick’s excommunication, it was seen as vindication for Peter’s actions, and he gained considerable influence as a result. As well as territory in the Holy Land, he was also granted a castle on Koroneou, in the Greek islands.’

‘So Caliburn is on Koroneou?’ Nina asked. Although she still had doubts, Rust’s research was definitely becoming interesting.

Rust shook his head. ‘If only. Peter was killed when he returned to the Holy Land to defend his territory against the Mamelukes in 1260. His sword, the one presented to him by Frederick, was broken in battle - as I said, a reforged sword is never as strong as a new one. Peter’s men returned his body to Koroneou for burial, along with pieces of the sword. I believe I have located one of these pieces, surprisingly close to home . . . but the current owner of the castle in which it may be hidden refuses to let me search for it. Perhaps someone of your fame would be more persuasive.’ He gave her a wry smile, which quickly evaporated as he spoke again, gaining urgency. ‘But I know exactly where the tip of the sword, is - or rather, where it was, until three weeks ago. This is why I could trust only you.’ He tapped the disc case. ‘Why I had to destroy all my notes except this one copy - I could not risk anyone else getting hold of them.’

‘Bernd, what’s going on?’ Nina asked. ‘You said your life was in danger - why?’

‘Through my research, I learned that the tip of the sword found its way back to Sicily,’ Rust told her, ‘to a church with a historical connection to Frederick, in the village of San Maggiori. I would have gone to see it for myself, but ever since Sabrina left me money has been a problem. I could no longer go to academic sources to fund my research, so I had to look elsewhere. I tried private sources across Europe, but nobody was interested - until I was approached by a Russian. He seemed very interested.’ He glanced cautiously around the room again. ‘Unfortunately, I told him too much - and just two days later, the priest at San Maggiori was murdered - shot - and his church burned to the ground.’

‘You think this Russian tried to get the piece without you? And he killed to get it?’

‘I am sure of it,’ Rust insisted. ‘The local police think it was the Mafia, but the timing . . . it cannot be a coincidence. That is why I went into hiding, why I could not let anyone but you see my work. This man cannot be allowed to find the rest of Caliburn, to find Excalibur. The risk to the world is too great.’

Nina was back to being sceptical. ‘Why? I mean, it would be an incredible archaeological find, but Excalibur’s still just a sword.’

‘Excalibur is more than just a sword,’ said Rust, his eyes deadly serious. ‘In the ancient Welsh text called the Mabinogion, Arthur’s sword is said to have a design of two snakes on the hilt, and when he drew it . . .’ He paused to recall the exact words. ‘“What was seen from the mouths of the two serpents was like two flames of fire, so dreadful it was not easy for anyone to look.” And in Le Morte d’Arthur, when Arthur drew his sword, “it was so bright in his enemies’ eyes that it gave light like thirty torches”. It is no ordinary blade. Everything you need to know is in my notes. Please, see for yourself.’

She opened up her laptop and double-clicked on the file she had copied from the disc. ‘Okay, but I have to say this does sound a bit . . .’ She wanted to say ‘crazy’, but instead settled for ‘paranoid. So what’s the password?’

‘Zum Wilden Hirsch. All one word, no capital letters.’ Nina looked at him oddly. ‘It was the name of the guest house where I was staying when I encrypted the files. I needed something the Russians would never guess, even if they somehow got the disc.’

‘Russians, plural?’ Nina asked dubiously as she carefully typed in the letters. The computer chimed - the password had been accepted, giving her access. A folder opened, revealing dozens - no, hundreds - of files within. ‘Wow. You’ve, ah, made a lot of notes.’

‘Another security precaution,’ said Rust. He tapped his forehead. ‘The only index is in here. Without it, it will take days for anyone to sort through it all. But with my help, you will be able to see what I have found very quickly - and I hope it will convince you that I am right, that I know how to find the pieces of Caliburn . . . and that Caliburn will lead us to Excalibur.’

‘Well, we’ll see.’ Nina looked up at Rust. ‘So which file should I read—’

She froze.

An intense pinprick of pure green light had appeared on Rust’s chest, unnoticed by him. It slipped across his crumpled clothing, stopping directly over his heart . . .

The high-pitched crack as a small hole was blown through the window beside Nina was drowned out by the crash as Rust flew backwards, a vivid gout of blood exploding from the bullet wound in his chest.

4

Nina leapt to her feet - partly in shock, but also in case the sniper was lining up a second shot on her.

But the laser spot flashed away and was gone. Nina ran to the window. A hole as wide as her finger had been punched through the glass. Beyond it, on the roof of the International Centre, she saw the sniper - a woman, hard-faced, ragged hair dyed bright orange - swing up her rifle, then duck away behind the edge of the building.

‘Hey!’ someone shouted from behind her. ‘He’s stealing your laptop!’

Nina spun to see the big man charging for the exit with her MacBook and the disc, his huge hand making the machine seem no bigger than a paperback.

Rust—

One look told her that he was dead, eyes wide and still, mouth half open as if about to speak. But he would never speak again - and whatever he had been about to share with Nina was now heading out of the door.

‘Call 911!’ she shouted as she started after the bearded man. ‘I mean, whatever number it is here, call the police!’

The hulking thief ran deeper into the hotel. Nina pursued him. The young guy followed, eager to prove himself a hero. But his steel faltered somewhat when he realised just how big his target was. ‘Did you call the police?’ Nina demanded, seeing the phone still in his hand. He fumbled with the keypad, slowing slightly as his attention was diverted.