The Excalibur Murders Read Online Free PDF Page B

so tired of it all. No one knows that better than the two of you."
    "Cheer up, Arthur. If the stone really is what you say it is, maybe it will work a miracle, cure Percy and transport him here."
    "Stop it, will you?" He turned to Mark. "There was a report of a French raid on Dover. Guenevere's father, most likely. Is there anything to it?"
    "No. It turns out it was just a trading ship that was blown off course. You know the weather in the Channel."
    Merlin decided he had needled him enough. Arthur's desire for some peace at court was quite understandable if not exactly realistic, given his style of governing. But it seemed politic to let him find it out on his own. When the stone arrived and proved to be . . . a stone, Arthur would realize quickly enough how foolish this enterprise was.
    Then finally, more than two weeks after he was expected,word came that Percival was about to arrive at Camelot.
    He had always struck Merlin as an unlikely knight. Short, plump, heavily bearded, he was not exactly the picture of chivalry. And he was not over his illness; he coughed nonstop.
    But he had the stone with him, and that was all Arthur-- or most anyone else--cared about. The king and a small circle of his closest advisors waited anxiously in Arthur's chambers in the King's Tower. Arthur paced; the others watched him.
    There was always a guard on duty outside the rooms and another at the foot of the spiral steps that led up to them. People filed past them one by one, to wait in the king's private study. It was where he kept his most precious belongings. In a case fronted with leaded glass rested Excalibur, the sword that was the emblem of his kinghood. It was crusted with gemstones, and somehow, improbably, a shaft of light lit it brightly.
    Percival left his horse in the care of a servant and went directly up to Arthur's rooms. He carried the stone in a flour sack, which hardly seemed the way to transport a powerful relic. Arthur, Mark and Merlin were there, attended by Nimue, Borolet and Ganelin. Out of breath from the climb and covered in dirt, Percy said nothing but produced the thing with a flourish.
    And it was not impressive: roughly skull-shaped, caked with mud and soil.
    Merlin touched a fingertip to it and scraped away some of the dirt. "I think it might be some dark variety of quartz, or perhaps obsidian. Not the easiest stone to carve. Assuming it is carved, that is."
    "So you admit it might be miraculous?" Arthur was pleased with himself and his knight and the stone he'd found.
    "I admit it might be carved. Let me see it work a miracle. Then I'll admit that."
    "In time, Merlin, in time. Morgan is studying all the old legends about it. She'll know how to unleash its power."
    "Of course." He didn't try to hide his exasperation. "Arthur, how can you trust her? She never stops plotting. She wants to be queen."
    "She's a member of the royal house, Merlin. Plotting is what we do. I can handle her." He grinned. "I always have."
    Mark picked the stone up and tossed it in his hand a few times. Some of the dirt flaked off. "It's heavy." He looked at Arthur. "Like gold."
    Percival seemed pleased that the king liked his find. "It was buried in the corner of an old ruined barn."
    "How miraculous." Merlin grinned sarcastically.
    "Stop it, Merlin." Arthur took the stone and handed it to Ganelin. "Here. Place it in the cabinet next to Excalibur. It will be safe here."
    Ganelin took it, unlocked the wooden case and placed the stone carefully on a shelf.
    Arthur beamed. "The Stone of Bran. I never really believed we'd possess it. But just look at it." Torchlight glistened on its surface. "The ceremony is in five days. I need to check with Morgan and see if she needs anything special for it."
    "I'll go to her," Mark volunteered.
    "She doesn't like you."
    "I know." He smiled impishly. "But the stone gives us a common interest."
    Before Arthur could respond to this, Merlin spoke up. "Then go, by all means."
    And so with no more fuss the