Page 55 of The Quest for Excalibur
Con’s gaze slid from Arthur’s face to mine, and back again. “My granny, she were older than old. She did say as she remembered the legions, marchin’ away wi’ the old emperor.” His eyes lost their focus, and a smile slid over his face. Perhaps in his mind’s eye he saw his granny. “An’ when she got so old an’ thought she were going to die, she chose me to take on her secrets. She’d brung me here first when I were just a little lad, an’ now she showed me where the sword were hid.” He paused. It gave his words a good dramatic effect. “Hissword.”
His sword? Who did Con think “he” was? Had his granny known?
“So you know where the sword is?” My voice rose.
His head bobbed in assent.
I let out my breath. Why hadn’t we just asked him in the first place? Although, how were we to have guessed that he knew? That this was one of his secrets.
Arthur shot me a quick glance. “There reallyisa sword?”
Had he not believed me then? Had I been right, and he’d been humoring me? Indignation, and a touch of smugness that I’d been correct, sent heat rising to my cheeks.
“Aye, there is that,” Con said. “Sheshowed me where it were.” He fixed his eyes on me. Somehow the feeling that he wasn’t talking about his granny surfaced, and that he wanted me to know. Had Nimuë visited this boy as well as me?
“Do you know where the sword came from?” I asked, struggling to keep my voice level. “Was it thrown in here, where old swords used to be thrown, perhaps as another tribute?”
Confidence radiated from Con now. “No. It weren’t tribute. It were hid. Granny did say as her own mother showed her where it were hid, when she were old enough to know. Told her to keep it safe. That one day someone’d come for it. The man it were meant for.” His eyes flicked toward Arthur again.
“How did she know where it was?” Arthur asked. “Did she know who hid it?”
The wind rose, rustling in the stunted trees on the far side of the water. Did I see that small figure again, just for a moment? Was there a second, taller figure by its side?
Con licked his lips. “Her own mother did put it there, Granny telled me. T’were her ma what hid it. Forhim.”
Arthur’s hands gripped the side of the boat, knuckles whitening.
My breath caught in my throat. “Who did she hide it for, Con?”
“Prince Macsen,” Con said, with all the flair of a magician revealing his greatest trick. “She did hide it for the Prince.”
Silence filled the air around us. Even the rustling in the treetops had died to nothing. Just the slap of water on the hull disturbed us. Who was the woman who’d hidden this sword for a man who’d died so far away? What had she to do with him? How had it gone from the hands of the young soldier I’d seen to those of a peasant woman on a mystical isle in far off Britain? Had he brought it here and given it to this woman? And had she then hidden it? Why had it not gone to the mysterious Princess Elen, Macsen’s wife?
Arthur had gone very still, eyes fixed on Con’s face. “You are telling us the truth?”
A touch of defiance colored the boy’s expression. “I am that. Tellin’ you what my granny telled me. Word fer word.”
I just wanted to make sure I had it right. “Your great-great-grandmother’s own mother hid this sword for Prince Macsen?”
Con scowled. “I telled you, dint I? Thass what I said. Thass all I knows.”
But was it?
Arthur straightened up. “Then show me where the sword lies hidden, for I am the man it’s meant for. I am the heir of Macsen Wledig.”
Con pointed. “By them trees. Unner the water.”
I followed his finger toward the spot where I’d seen that shadowy watching figure. A shiver ran down my spine. Without thinking, I made the sign against the evil eye I’d so often seen the women of the fortress make. For good measure, I crossed myself as well. But whatever this was, it wasn’t Christian.
“Then take us there,” Arthur said, eyes alight with excitement.
Con got to his feet and, using the pole, propelled us between the lily pads, bringing the boat to a halt ten yards from the overhanging willows with a clear view of the bank. No one stood in the shadows.
Resting the pole along the length of the boat, Con parted the lilies and peered into the water. “’Tis down there. Wrapped up ’gainst the water. My granny did say as when the right man searches for it, he’ll find it no problem. She did say as if his hand were the right one, the sword’d find it.”
Arthur’s fingers were on his belt buckle, already undoing it. “Then I’ll find it,” he said. “Or it’ll find me. It’s meant for me, I know it.” He tossed his sword belt into the bottom of the boat, and yanked his tunic over his head.
“You’re going to dive for it?” I asked. Stupid question really. How else was he going to get it? No sword-holding hand of an aquatic woman had reared out of the water to help him: that was just the stuff of legends… and dreams.
