The Secret of Excalibur

the surface.

‘Not much of a lake.’ Mitchell rolled up a sleeve and dipped his arm experimentally into the murky water. It was clear that it was deep. He shook off the water, then directed his light at the far side of the pool. ‘Check this out.’

In the reflected torchlight, Nina saw the tops of two tunnel entrances just barely rising above the water, another stone plaque over the opening on the left. But that wasn’t what Mitchell meant. Instead, he was shining the beam at the water itself. Small bubbles rose and popped intermittently on the surface. ‘Fish?’ she asked hopefully.

‘Gas,’ Mitchell answered. ‘That’s why the damn place stinks so bad - it’s got swamp gas bubbling up through it!’

‘We must be near the level of the water table,’ Nina realised. The Somerset marshes might have been drained on the surface, but the earth beneath was still sodden, the build-up of decomposing vegetation producing a repellent by-product: methane. Had the monks known this, or was it a coincidence?

She told Mitchell to illuminate the statue. Nivienne had one arm held out, inviting them to step into the water, but Nina was in no rush to do so. ‘This must be the trial of Nivienne. But what’s the trial?’

‘I think we’re gonna have to get wet,’ Mitchell grumbled, pointing at the two tunnels across the pool.

‘What does the stone say?’ Nina squinted to read the small text across the pool. ‘Looks like . . . “Anna”.’ She used the radio to describe the chamber and the plaque to Chloe; the reception was now so bad that her reply was barely audible.

‘Anna was Arthur’s sister,’ Nina made out through the crackling distortion. ‘But I’m not sure how strong a historical basis she has. She’s generally considered to be the mother of Sir Gawain, but in the early Welsh accounts - the ones that included Bedivere - a woman called Gwyar is Gawain’s mother. Anna could be another name for the same person, but . . .’

‘So you don’t know if she was real or myth?’ Nina asked.

‘I’m afraid not.’

Nina took her thumb off the transmit key, muttered ‘Perfect!’ then pushed it again. ‘Which is more likely, though? Could she have been real?’

‘Possibly. There are other references to her, but they date from later.’

‘After 1191?’

‘No, but some of them are from earlier in the twelfth century, including Geoffrey of Monmouth - and in terms of historical veracity I’d put Geoffrey about on a par with Monty Python!’

Nina and Mitchell shared a quick smile at the reference. ‘Does finding the tomb add any extra weight to either option? There’s obviously some truth to the Arthurian mythology.’

Chloe considered this. ‘I suppose it does make it a bit more likely that Anna really was Arthur’s sister, but it’s still hard to be sure. The Glastonbury monks were willing to lie about aspects of the legend for their own benefit, so we can’t entirely rely on any of their accounts.’

‘They were willing to kill, as well,’ Nina said. ‘Chloe, I’m getting the feeling that the trial of Nivienne is kind of a life-or-death deal. Pick the wrong tunnel and you don’t get to the other end before you run out of air.’

‘Maybe you should come back out,’ Chloe suggested. ‘Wait until you can get some diving gear.’

‘We can’t wait,’ Mitchell insisted. ‘If Excalibur’s here, we have to get it as soon as possible - the longer we wait, the more chance there is of Vaskovich’s people using Rust’s research to find the tomb.’

Nina sighed. ‘Yeah, I thought you might say that.’ She spoke to Chloe again. ‘Can you give us anything?’

‘You’ll have to decide for yourself, I’m afraid. Sorry.’

‘Okay, thanks.’ Nina glumly broke contact. ‘So, what do you think? The first of Arthur’s sisters we met was a myth - you think this one was real?’

‘Don’t ask me, you’re the historian,’ Mitchell said. ‘It’s your choice.’

‘Why does everything have to end up as my decision?’ Nina moaned.

Mitchell pursed his lips. ‘I seem to recall a woman with red hair demanding to be in charge of the operation . . .’

‘Y’know, I was kinda hoping you wouldn’t remember that.’ Nina frowned at the plaque. ‘Okay, so either Anna was King Arthur’s sister, or she wasn’t. No pressure.’ She closed her eyes, running through every scrap of information she could remember on the subject. ‘I say that she . . . was.’

‘Educated guess?’

‘Just the second word,’ she admitted. ‘So, how are we going to do this?’

‘Take off anything that’ll get waterlogged,’ Mitchell said, already slipping out of his jacket. ‘Your coat, shoes, that sweater.’

Nina baulked. ‘Um . . . there’s not a lot else under the sweater.’

‘Wait, you’re not wearing a bra?’

‘Yes, I’m wearing a bra! But it’s a bit, y’know, thin.’

Mitchell stripped off his shirt, standing naked to the waist. He handed the garment to her. ‘What?’

‘Nothing,’ Nina said hurriedly, trying not to look too impressed by his bare - and muscular - torso.

He smirked. ‘Different from Eddie?’

‘He’s more . . . densely packed, I guess you could say. And kind of hairy. Oh, God, I’m going to shut up now.’

Mitchell chuckled and turned away as she took off her sweater and donned his shirt in its place. ‘Leave anything valuable here as well - wallet, phone, whatever. The flashlight’ll be fine underwater. Is your camera waterproof ?’

Nina nodded as she removed her shoes, then hesitantly dipped her toes in the water. ‘Oh, crap, it’s cold.’

‘This is nothing,’ proclaimed Mitchell as he stepped into the pool, holding the torch. ‘I’ve been in the Atlantic in the middle of winter. Now that’s cold! Come on, I’ll help you in.’

‘Oh . . .’ With great reluctance, Nina took his hand and entered the water. It was as frigid as she had feared. ‘Son of a . . .’

‘It’ll feel better in a minute.’ He kicked away from the bank and swam to the tunnel entrance. ‘So, Anna. You’re sure about this?’

‘Nope.’ She joined him. The pool was deeper than she could feel with her feet, which was a concern. What if the tunnels went even lower?

‘You could wait here while I go through and check it out,’ Mitchell suggested. ‘If it’s the right tunnel, it can’t be all that long. The monks would have had to swim through it, and I’m guessing they weren’t exactly at the peak of physical fitness.’

‘But if it’s the wrong tunnel, you might need help to get out. We should stay together.’ Nina paused, then frowned. ‘Hmm. Did I really just volunteer to swim through a dark tunnel that might be a dead end?’

‘I’ll look after you,’ Mitchell assured her. He handed her the torch. ‘You hang on to this, and hold my belt. I’ll pull you through. Trust me,’ he added, seeing her look. ‘You don’t get far in the navy if you’re not a good swimmer.’

‘So basically I’m going to be grabbing your ass?’

He grinned. ‘I can live with that. You ready?’

‘No.’ But she gripped his belt anyway.

‘Okay, now get as much oxygen into your system as you can.’ He took several deep breaths, Nina following suit. ‘Ready?’

She shook her head, saying ‘Nuh-uh’ through closed lips. Mitchell smiled again . . .

And dived.

Nina was pulled after him as he swam into the tunnel. Eyes closed, all she could hear was the rhythmic whoosh of each of his powerful strokes as he advanced through the opaque water. He had been telling the truth about his skill as a swimmer; even though she was kicking as strongly as she could to keep up, she was still being hauled along like baggage.

Mitchell changed direction, going left and slightly downwards. Her flashlight brushed against a wall as the tunnel turned. Another few strokes, and he paused before turning again, feeling for the way ahead.