The Secret of Excalibur

as Nina used her digital camera to photograph the window. ‘It was said that on dark nights here at the castle, when Peter held the sword a fire could be seen running through its blade. Supposedly, this was the source of his strength in battle - his sword was said never to go blunt.’

‘Until it broke, anyway,’ said Nina. Chase was about to help her down, but Mitchell moved in first. ‘Thanks.’

Chase gave Mitchell a look of mild annoyance before turning his attention back to the window. ‘So what happened to the sword after it broke? Was he buried with it here?’

‘Only part of it,’ explained Georgiades, moving to the coffin. ‘Peter was buried here with the hilt. The tip was returned to Sicily in honour of Frederick.’

‘What about the rest of it?’ Chase asked, raising an eyebrow. ‘You’ve got the hilt, you’ve got the tip . . . what about the blade?’

Mitchell looked back at the stained glass. ‘Wait, so it broke into three pieces? Rust never told you that.’

‘He was kind of interrupted,’ Nina reminded him.

‘The blade stayed in the Holy Land,’ said Georgiades. ‘In fact, Peter was killed with it. He had returned to the Holy Land to defend the territory under the control of his order from the Mamelukes.’

‘In 1260,’ said Nina, remembering what Rust had told her.

‘Yes. After the Mamelukes drove back the Mongols invading Syria, they turned their attention to the lands occupied by the Christians. The region under Peter’s control was small and quite isolated, along what is now the border of Syria and Jordan, so it was an easy target. Peter had no choice but to travel to the Holy Land to defend it. The story goes that he fought bravely against great odds until he faced the Muslim leader, a man called Muhammad Yawar. When they fought, Peter had the upper hand - until Yawar struck a lucky blow that broke both their swords. Yawar took Peter’s broken blade and used it to kill him, then kept it as a trophy.’

Nina couldn’t help but feel a twinge of excitement; despite her misgivings, the long shot of their visit to Koroneou was already producing results, as well as vindicating Rust’s research. ‘Do you know where the blade is?’

‘No,’ said Georgiades, shaking his head. ‘Somewhere in Jordan or Syria, perhaps. A historian there might know more about Yawar, but our knowledge here all comes from Peter’s surviving men. Nobody is even sure exactly where the battle took place - as you know, the maps of the time are not very accurate.’

‘I see.’ Her excitement was quickly deflated . . . but they had still learned something, not least that there were two pieces of Caliburn they needed to find before the Russians. And if the picture within the stained-glass window were an accurate representation of Peter’s sword, she would recognise the blade when she saw it.

If she saw it.

‘So, what do you think?’ Mitchell asked. They had thanked Georgiades for his help and left the castle, and were now sitting outside a small cafe in the village square to reflect upon what they’d learned. ‘Convinced that Rust just might have been right yet?’

Nina grinned at the joking challenge. ‘Okay, I admit that what he told me about the trail the sword took seems to be panning out. So far. But it’ll take a lot more to convince me that it had some sort of magical power.’

‘It’s only magic in the sense of Clarke’s Law.’

She smiled again. ‘So you’re saying DARPA’s developed technology that’s indistinguishable from magic?’

‘I’m not at liberty to discuss that,’ said Mitchell, a hint of humour behind his poker face.

‘What’s Clarke’s Law?’ Chase asked distractedly, looking away from a monument across the square.

‘“Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic,”’ Nina quoted. Chase gave her a blank look. ‘Arthur C. Clarke? Famous author and scientist? Wrote 2001: A Space Odyssey? Invented the communications satellite?’

‘Oh, hang on, I know who you mean,’ Chase said. ‘He used to present this TV show when I was a kid, about crystal skulls and the paranormal and all that. He was always walking along a beach under a golf umbrella saying it was actually a load of bollocks.’

Nina sighed exaggeratedly and turned to Mitchell. ‘I guess it’s true what they say about Britain and America. Two nations separated by a common language. And weird TV shows.’

‘But the Brits came up with Monty Python, so they can’t be all bad,’ Mitchell replied. This time it was Chase’s turn to make a sarcastic noise. ‘But getting back to why we’re here, you saw the picture in the window. I’d say a flaming sword counts as something out of the ordinary. And it matches what you said Rust told you about Excalibur lighting on fire when Arthur held it.’

‘But why would Peter be able to make it light up and not anyone else?’ said Nina. ‘You’d think Richard the Lionheart or the Holy Roman Emperor would be attributed with that kind of power, not some obscure knight.’

‘Something to do with the lines of earth energy, maybe?’ Mitchell wondered, almost to himself. ‘Maybe there was one near here . . . But,’ he continued, ‘none of that matters if we can’t find the thing. So, what have we got?’

‘Well, the blade’s somewhere in the Middle East, and . . . that’s about it,’ said Nina. ‘I think we’ll have to go there and speak to someone with local historical knowledge, like Petros suggested.’

‘We shouldn’t have any trouble getting what we need in Jordan,’ said Mitchell. ‘Syria might be more of a problem, though. They’re not exactly our biggest fans.’

‘But we’d be going as an IHA mission, not American,’ Chase reminded him.

‘I don’t think it’ll make much difference,’ Nina replied ruefully. ‘Syria and the UN have had disagreements recently - an archaeological team had its permission to enter the country revoked just a couple of weeks ago.’

‘Let’s hope the sword’s in Jordan, then,’ Chase said. ‘But if it isn’t, and knowing our luck it won’t be, I can get us into Syria some other way.’

‘You know people there, I suppose,’ said Nina.

Chase looked smugly secretive. ‘Might do.’

‘Attractive women, I bet.’

Now he was just smug. ‘Could be.’

‘What, one beautiful woman isn’t enough for you?’ Mitchell asked, indicating Nina. ‘Man, that’s just greedy!’ Before Chase could respond, he continued, ‘So, if we can find the life story of this Muhammad Yawar there’s a chance we can find one piece of the sword. But what about the other piece, the hilt? Once the Russians make sense of Rust’s notes they’ll have a clear run at it, while we’ve got nothing.’

‘There must be something, though,’ said Nina. ‘Bernd said he’d spoken to whoever owns the place where he thought it was. Somewhere “close to home” - close to Munich, I suppose. So there has to be a link between Koroneou and Germany.’ She realised that Chase had leaned back in his chair, grinning smugly once more. ‘What?’

‘I know what the link is,’ he said.

‘What is it?’

‘First you’ve got to tell me how great I am.’

‘Eddie!’

‘Come on, would it kill you? At least say how fantastic I am in bed.’

‘Eddie!’ She swatted at his arm before giving Mitchell a sheepish look.

‘Oh, all right,’ Chase grumbled, standing and pointing across the square. ‘See that monument?’

Nina saw a modest slab of dusty black stone inscribed with Greek lettering, a Star of David at its top. ‘Looks like a Jewish memorial.’

‘Yeah, it is. Come on.’ He crossed the square, Nina and Mitchell following. As she approached, Nina saw that the memorial bore a list of about a dozen names as well as a date: 1944. ‘I might not have a degree in it, but I know some history too - military history, anyway.’ They stopped before the black stone. ‘The Greek islands were occupied by the Nazis in the war, and they treated the Jews there the same as they did anywhere else . . . by shipping them off to places like Auschwitz. But people weren’t all they shipped - a lot of places, they nicked everything valuable they could get their hands on before the Allies kicked them out. There’s your link.’