reasons. He described the confrontation with Gilgamesh, and Arthur’s wielding of Excalibur in the final confrontation with the king even more ancient than he. He told of their last-minute escape from the island through the intervention of Ziusura, another ancient being from Gilgamesh’s time who had been rewarded with immortality by his gods (at least, so he said) and was very likely the prototype for Noah. For good measure, he threw in the entire business with the Basilisk and the final, awful fate of terrorist leader Arnim Sandoval.
Throughout all of it, except for the occasional interruption seeking clarification, Stockwell remained silent. He didn’t move from the spot, staying behind the chair and gripping it firmly. When Ron finally finished his narrative, Stockwell let the silence continue for a time, then said, “And if I asked your wife…she would tell me much the same story?”
“You mean Nellie?”
“Unless you have another wife I should know about.”
“No, that’s the one I’ve got, sir,” said Ron with an amused smile. “And yes, she would. As Gwen’s personal aide, she was there for the whole thing. That was the series of escapades that really brought us close together. We wound up getting married a few months after returning.”
“All right,” Stockwell said. “Here’s what we’re going to do, Ron. You’re going to pick up the phone, call Nellie, and simply tell her to come here. When she arrives, I am going to ask her to describe the same incidents you described to me…after you assure her that you’ve already told me. If her narrative doesn’t match up with yours, then I’ll know that you’re lying to me, and we’re through. Does that seem reasonable to you?”
“Not especially, sir, no. But if that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll do. It begs the question, though, of what exactly will happen if what she says does match up with what I’ve told you. If so, what then?”
“I swear to God, Ron, I haven’t the faintest idea. I do know this, though: Arthur and Gwen have to be told about this. They have to know what’s happened.”
“Yes, sir.” Ron nodded. “I’m on it.”
Stockwell looked at him suspiciously. “How, exactly, are you ‘on it’?”
“I sent Percival and Ziusura to find them. I’ve no doubt they can track them down.”
“I see. You dispatched Noah and the Grail Knight to find King Arthur.”
“Yes, sir.”
“All right, well…keep me apprised of how that goes.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now pick up the phone and call Nellie.”
“Yes, sir.”
As Ron did so, Stockwell thought about it, then said, “You know what, Ronald? I think I liked it better when you lied to me.”
“Most people do, sir.”
C HAPTRE
THE T HIRD
Z IUSURA LOOKED AROUND the cabin of the Malory in disgust. “You call this living accommodations? You can’t be serious. I wouldn’t let animals live in such confined quarters. It’s astounding you haven’t gone completely mad.”
Arthur paid him no mind. Instead he was staring at several glossy photographs spread out before him on the narrow table. He was slowly shaking his head as Gwen sat nearby with her face in her hands, moaning softly. “I have so screwed this up,” she moaned.
“You’ve screwed nothing up, my dear,” Arthur told her patiently, even as he continued to study the photos. There was no denying the contents: Gwen and Arthur on the deck of the ship, Gwen looking quite fetching in a bikini and Arthur comically wrestling with a swordfish he’d just landed. “At least you weren’t photographed sunning yourself topless.”
“I might as well have been. Couldn’t make things much worse.”
“Actually, I tend to disagree,” said Arthur. He looked over at Percival. Percival was as immortal as Ziusura, but whereas the smaller, elderly man with the white beard looked ancient—although obviously not as truly ancient as he was—Percival still appeared ageless. The Moor remained powerfully
Roderick Gordon, Brian Williams