Page 54 of The Quest for Excalibur
I seized Arthur’s hand as excitement coursed through me. “This is it. The place in my dream. We’re here.”
He stared across the wide expanse of lilies. “But where? It’s huge. How do we know where to look?”
Very true. My shoulders sagged with little hope that an arm was about to appear to order holding the sword we wanted. Things like that only happened in story books. “Maybe we should start in the middle?”
Without comment, but with that same knowing, half-triumphant look in his eyes, Con poled us out between the lily stalks, the pole disappearing further as the water deepened.
Not liking the idea of how much water now lay below us, I gripped the sides of the boat as sweat sprang out on my skin. But we were here now, and it would be foolish to turn back just because of my fears. I stayed silent, trying to dig my fingers into the rough wood.
Arthur held up a hand. “Here. Stop.”
We were in the center of both lake and lily pads.
Con stopped poling, holding the boat still with the pole anchored in the mud that must lie below us. The boat bobbed quietly in the still, dark water, and far off a warbler chirred. The lily pads, parted by our arrival, closed in around us again, as a gentle breeze stirred the rushes at the water’s edge making them whisper like gossipy old women. A duck and ducklings swam for cover on the far bank, where willows overhung the water.
I stared across the quiet pool. Not quite large enough to be called a lake. My eyes studied the banks of reeds and rushes, with their furry heads bobbing in the breeze. I followed the line of willows that leaned their drooping branches far out over the water, until the tips trailed in their reflections.
Wait. Was that a figure, standing in the dappled shadow of the willows?
I blinked and looked again. Nothing.
Con glanced at me, but stayed silent. He’d seen. I could feel it in the trembling air. He knew.
Leaning over the side of the boat, Arthur parted the lilies, pushing them to the sides and peering into the peaty water. Taking my courage in both hands, I did the same on the other side while Con watched us, still silent, inscrutable as a cat.
The long stalks of the lilies vanished down into the murky water, twisting away in a wild plait of nature, twining about each other like thick snakes. Dangerous.
Something, some sixth sense perhaps, made me lift my head from my investigation. There, on the bank in that patch of shadow. Someone standing motionless, watching. A small figure. I narrowed my eyes and stared, but the harder I looked, the harder it was to see, the shadows and the water’s reflection shimmering like a mirage. Nothing.
“What be you lookin’ for?” Con finally asked, but the feeling he already knew came strongly to me.
I glanced up at him, narrowing my eyes and trying to see inside his head. No point in hiding it if he already knew. And if he didn’t know, and we found it, we could hardly conceal it from him. “A sword.” I watched for his reaction while Arthur continued to peer into the water, wet now to above the elbows.
Con’s eyes widened, and he sat down hard on the seat at the back of his boat, one hand luckily remembering to hold onto the pole where it stood up like some weird art installation. Was that relief as well as exultation and a touch of fear on his face?
“You know, don’t you?” I said.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Arthur straightened upand abandoned his watery search. He fixed a regal stare on the boy, enough to quail the bravest warrior. “What is it you know? Best to tell us now and avoid my wrath.” His eyebrows had lowered to a threatening frown.
The stare had little effect on the boy. Perhaps he knew of something even greater than the wrath of a king.
He lifted his chin, and suddenly the wary peasant fell away from him, and a veil of nobility settled in its place. “She telled me you’d come one day, if not fer me, then fer whoever come after me,” he said, voice clear and proud, almost as though he were reciting a speech he’d had long prepared. “She telled me to watch out for you, in case it would be me that had to show you.”
“What?” Arthur’s chin came up. He sat up taller. “Whosaid this to you, boy?”
“My old granny. She what were called Old Mother by everyone, on account of her age, ’cause she were th’oldest in our village– oldest in the world, I’d wager. But she weremine. Not theirn. Mebbe she weren’t rightly my granny, like, but my granny’s granny.”
I wiped my wet hands on my tunic. “Your grandmother told you we’d come… for the sword?” My eyes must have been wider than his. Not for a moment had I thought he’d know anything about it, despite the strange looks he’d been giving us. “How could she have known?” A thought flashed into my head. “Did she… did she have theSight, maybe? Doyouhave it?”
I met Arthur’s gaze.
Con shook his head. “Doan ask me. I jest listened to what she telled me. The secrets she knowed. They’remysecrets now.” That last sentence came out possessively, as though he might be unwilling to part with them, wanting to keep them hugged tight to himself. Maybe in memory of his granny’s granny. The mad old bat who’d wanted to string me up.
“Tell us what you know, boy,” Arthur said, a little more gently now, but more demanding than I’d have been. “And make it quick.”
“Yes, you can tell us. Your grandmother would have wanted you to,” I added, laying a calming hand on Con’s knee. “This is the time she warned you would come. We’re here for the sword. The time is right. You need to help us find it.”
