by Mark Hayden
The burner roared into life, and Hannah turned to face me. ‘Shut the door and come in.’ I did so, and she pointed to the picture. We converged on it from either side of the well.
With the door closed, and as I got deeper into the room, I could smell flowers. Nothing obvious, like jasmine or roses, more like the distillation of an English water-meadow in spring. We stood before the painting, and I could now make out the subject. In the midst of a classical landscape, ruined columns scattered around, sat a throne, and on the throne sat James the Sixth and First, as regal as you like. Before him knelt a gentleman in half-armour, his face turned to the king, and between them, being dispensed by James, was an elaborate sword, covered in symbols and glowing with a light that didn’t come from the cloudy sky. The well was there, in shadow, behind the kneeling figure.
‘Horrible, isn’t it?’ said Hannah. ‘Not van Dyke’s finest hour, though it might have helped if he’d seen any of the subjects, or the sword, or been allowed to enter the Water Room. This is James appointing the first Constable, in case the moody looks hadn’t given it away.’
‘Does the sword still exist?’
‘It does, and you’ll soon see why it’s kept down here most of the time. Two more little jobs first – the crucible should be hot enough by now.’ She led me round to the bench and dropped the guinea in the vessel. ‘It took me ages to learn how to do this without getting molten metal everywhere. And setting fire to my uniform. Come on.’
We reached the writing desk. There was a great ledger sitting on the slope, closed and with no markings on the cover. I could see gold lettering on the spine, too faint to read. ‘Can you open it to the bookmark?’ said Hannah. ‘I’m too short to reach up, and this jacket’s too tight.’
A red silk ribbon marked the place, and I carefully opened the volume to reveal a page ruled with columns headed for name, date, DOB and signature. The page was about half filled but unreadable. I sensed magick – sort of like the occult version of pixellation, I suppose. There was a final column, unheaded and filled with red splodges.
‘This is the Annex of Westphalia,’ said Hannah. ‘You’ve heard of the Thirty Years’ War?’
‘Proportionately the most deadly conflict in Europe, World Wars I & II notwithstanding. According to some.’
‘That’s the one. It was the first time that magick was militarised, and all sides used it. When they negotiated the Peace of Westphalia in 1648, a separate treaty was appended as the Annex. It forbids any Mage from fighting In the Wars of Popes or Princes. The responsibility is on the Mage, and every Mage who serves any government has to sign. It worked very well until the Cold War came along and blurred the boundaries. Even the Nazis stuck to it, which I’m sure was a great comfort to my relatives in Theresienstadt.’
‘I’m sorry.’
There was a short pause, then Hannah reached into her jacket and pulled out a Mont Blanc fountain pen strapped to a short plastic tube with a rubber band. She unwrapped the bundle and gave me the pen. ‘Fill it in.’
I added my name to the roll. When I gave her the pen back, she put it on the ledge and showed me the small tube. ‘Sorry about this – we need blood. Give me your left hand.’
She swabbed my finger and took the top off the needle kit, the sort used by health professionals. ‘You can’t do this to yourself,’ she said. ‘So I had to practise on my sister when I got the job. Tennille refused, for some reason.’ She held my finger, jabbed and squeezed until the blood flowed. ‘Just squidge it next to your signature.’
The Annex of Westphalia isn’t just a register, it’s a magickal register. I felt the book stick to my finger like a sucker, pulling out blood until it knew who I was. There was an audible pop when it let me go. Hannah opened a drawer and offered me a selection of sticking plasters, all with cartoon characters. She held them up in turn.
‘Mr Bump? Donald Duck? How about a Minion? They’re new.’
‘Looks too much like Hledjolf the Dwarf.’
‘It does, doesn’t it? I wish you hadn’t said that – I won’t be able to watch Despicable Me with the nieces and nephews again now. I know. Mr Happy. That’s you all over.’
Rather more blood than necessary had run down my finger. She wiped it off with maternal efficiency before applying the plaster, and I wondered again whether Hannah had had any children before her husband’s death. Her kids might be too old for Despicable Me.
She smiled and stepped back. ‘I’m going to stand behind the water. When I summon you, approach from the opposite side, kneel and place your weapon on the ledge. Stay kneeling until I tell you to get up. Are you ready?’
I nodded, and she took up a position in the west. I moved to stand by the door. I took the Hammer out of its case and waited for the command.
Hannah took a deep breath. ‘My lady. Squadron Leader Clarke seeks a commission in the Watch. Will you hear him?’
Blue light appeared in the well, and I could see the surface of the water for the first time. Bubbles rose, ripples spread, and the room started to sing. Stones rang out with a choir of women’s voices, an ancient hymn in a lost language. From the water, a hand came up, a hand clutching a short, broad and glowing sword. Hannah leaned awkwardly down and took the sword. She held it in parade grip and said, ‘This is Caledfwlch, the sword of Albion. Approach and submit your petition.’
I marched forward, saluted, and assumed the position, placing the Hammer on the lip of the well. The water bubbled, then boiled up into a fountain which hit the ceiling before collapsing into the seated form of a woman, naked, watery locks flowing in a stream down her back and her legs in the well. There was nothing below her calves because her whole form emerged from, was made from, and returned constantly to the water. In the deluge of the fountain and the ripples of running hair, not a drop had spilt beyond the stone rim.
The voice of the stones fell silent, and the woman spoke. ‘I am Nimue of the Water, keeper of Caledfwlch and Guardian of Albion. Drink of me.’
She offered a hand which was also a vessel. I drank from her fingers and tasted water which had flowed melting from the retreating glaciers to form the first lake, shocking and cold, fresh and ancient.
Nimue returned her hands to her lap. ‘Constable, how fares the realm?’
‘Troubled, my Lady, as it ever was. Shall we admit this man to the ranks of the King’s Watch, to preserve the King’s Peace?’
The water laughed, a full throated gurgle. ‘Would I refuse one who has been touched by the Goddess? Receive him, Constable.’ There was a pause, filled with a waterfall. ‘Receive him, Constable, because he has more to offer you than you know. Farewell.’
Nimue collapsed back into the well, and its light dimmed a little. Having drunk from her hand, I could sense her close by, her presence in and under the surface.
The sound of parade shoes scraping on the flags snatched my attention back to Hannah. She placed Caledfwlch on the rim, opposite the Hammer, and moved to the workbench. She dipped a long-handled bowl into the crucible and moved swiftly across to me, picking up Caledfwlch on the way. With one move, she poured a drop of liquid gold on to the stock of the gun and stamped it with the pommel of her sword.
Hannah let out a sigh of relief and carried the bowl back to the bench. She fiddled with the crucible for a moment, and while her back was turned, I took the chance to ease my aching knee and peer at my gun. A perfectly formed image of Caledfwlch now adorned the Hammer.
There was a hiss of metal meeting water and another sigh of relief. She returned to the well, holding a gold coin in her left hand, slightly smaller than the guinea she’d dropped into the crucible. Her right hand carried the sword.
‘Do you solemnly swear…’
She recited the oath that I’d made when I became a commissioned officer in the RAF, with the minor variant of Keeping the King’s Peace according to Nature’s Law.
‘I swear.’
She placed the sword on the surface of the water, which instantly formed a hand to receive it
and draw it back down to the depths of the well. As the ripples died, so did the light.
‘Do you want a hand? That floor’s hard when you get to our age.’ I found myself staring at Hannah’s knees, as if I’d woken from a dream. She held out her hand. ‘Don’t pull too hard. I’m not as strong as you.’ With her help, and a groan, I got to my feet.
‘Congratulations, Conrad. You’re now a Captain of the King’s Watch. How does it feel?’
‘I’ve never felt so old and so young at the same time.’
‘That’s one way of putting it.’ She stared at the well. ‘That sword is the original Excalibur. Looks nothing like the films, does it? Now, hold out your hand.’ She placed the gold coin in my palm and wrapped my fingers closed around it. ‘Take this home and put it in a safe place. It will protect you, your home and your family in unexpected ways.’ She let go of my hand and cast a farewell glance at the well. ‘She was unusually talkative today. She’s hasn’t made a personal comment since I was inducted. Oh well. Let’s tidy up, then I’ve got one more surprise for you upstairs.’
When we came to leave, Hannah told me to go first. It was a long climb back, and I set as slow a pace as possible, for my sake as much as hers. Outside her office, she showed me a tiny door which had been hidden by the angle of the staircase. ‘Roof access. You can smoke up there, but no littering. I’ll see you in a minute.’
I could just about squeeze through the hatch without ruining my trousers, and found a narrow walkway round the battlements. Merlyn’s Tower is lower than most of the complex, so the landward view isn’t brilliant. I walked round to the river side and leaned out to get a good look before lighting up. Sometimes you reflect and consider what’s happened and sometimes you just need a moment. Today was a day for moments.
Judging by the half-full coffee jar near the hatch, there was at least one other smoker on the Watch. I stowed my butt and headed down.
8 — Meet the Gang
Hannah had just finished wiping a stain off her uniform jacket when I returned. As per standing orders, I saluted.
‘Must you?’
‘Yes, ma’am. May I ask a question?’
‘Just the one. They’re waiting downstairs.’
‘How long have you been in the Watch?’
She struggled into her jacket. ‘I’ve been Constable for a year and a half. I was Deputy six months before that, and two years a Captain before that. I spent a year in hospital between the police and the Watch, more or less. It’s the fifth anniversary of my husband’s murder this May. Have I missed any creases?’
She moved to look in the full-length mirror pinned to the outside of her bathroom door, and I treated her question as rhetorical. She gave herself a final smooth down and picked up her cap. ‘As your CO, I’m giving you a direct order, Clarke.’
‘Ma’am?’
‘If I reach for one of the strawberry tarts, you are to say, “A lifetime on the hips.” Is that clear?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Good. I’ll be knocking on the door, it will be opened, and I’ll take the salute. I’ll introduce you to everyone, then it’s a free for all, hats off and feet up. Let’s go.’
The spiral stairs to the Water Room and the induction ceremony had taken their toll on Hannah. She leaned heavily on the handrail as we descended. Outside the double doors on the next floor, she paused to catch herself.
‘This is the Watch Room. It’s a combination of office, mess room and laboratory. The electronic keypad is one of Cheng’s innovations – digital magick he calls it. You key in your date of birth and it does a limited scan of your Imprint. Next floor down is the Officers Room. Cheng, Vicky and the others work there and socialise up here. Toilets, I’m afraid, are in the basement, though there are decent showers and a bunk room, too.’
She knocked three times on the doors, and they were drawn open by a young woman in civilian dress. Through the doors, a semi-circle of uniformed and non-uniformed members of the King’s Watch waited. The ones with the red hats all saluted when Hannah came to a stop.
While she made a speech of introduction and welcome, I cast my eyes along the lineup of my new colleagues, looking first for Vicky. She gave me a grin and a wink; I nodded back. Eight of the crowd were in uniform, with a lieutenant colonel at the left hand end. He was a man in his fifties, with sharp eyes, worry lines and a body that wouldn’t pass the current Armed Services Physical Test. Next to him was Major Li Cheng, the Royal Occulter. He’s a powerful and clever Chymist with ambition and arrogance in equal measure who’s in the process of breaking Vicky’s heart, something for which I may never forgive him.
I visually skipped over four captains, all male and all notably younger than me, which left two women in uniform. One was Vicky, and the other must be the one recruited at the same time as her, who I only know about by deduction, because Vicky has never mentioned her once. The other Officer was physically most of the things that Vicky is not: tall, athletic, well proportioned and blond.
I had expected Tennille to be next in the pecking order, but there was one civilian ahead of her, another woman, and probably the oldest person in the room. Her suit was neat and well fitted, her greying hair pulled back from a lined face. Before I could consider the final three, Hannah finished her speech, and I was given three cheers, followed by a round of applause. I rather enjoyed that.
Hannah led me to the lieutenant colonel, clearly her deputy. I saluted, noting the MC and bar on his medal ribbons. Hannah introduced him as Ian Drummond and we shook hands.
‘You did excellent work at Lunar Hall,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Cleaning up afterwards is proving to be a bit of a nightmare, but that’s for another day and not your responsibility. My job here is to put together prosecutions, negotiate with the Circles and keep the peace with Salomon’s House.’
‘Ian does a lot more than that, believe me,’ said Hannah. Her tone was respectful rather than warm. Clearly Ian Drummond did not see his role as mentor and confidante to the relatively new Constable. Why he himself was not in the top job is also a question for another day.
Next in line was Li Cheng, who gave me a formal welcome that was like polished glass, all smooth and cold. Hannah moved swiftly on to the four Watch Captains here today, telling me that there were another eight scattered around England.
She had to cough to the first one as a reminder for him to salute me. He didn’t seem to take it personally. All four Watch Captains were pursuing the same trajectory: graduation from Salomon’s House followed by a stint in the Watch, followed by a return to the Invisible College. As we went down the line, they got younger, less lined, and had fewer creases in their uniform. I’ll tell you their names if it becomes relevant.
Vicky made a real effort to salute smartly. ‘Congratulations, sir. I knew you’d do it. Now for level 2 Keyways,’ she said with a grin.
‘One step at a time,’ I said, feeling Hannah’s touch on my elbow. I moved to the final member of the Watch in uniform.
‘This is Annelisa van Kampen,’ said Hannah as the young woman saluted. ‘She’s from the Netherlands.’
‘Not so much any more,’ said Annelisa with the sort of sunny smile that would have her playing the newlywed in an IKEA commercial. Vicky had riveted her eyes to the ceiling.
‘Annelisa is a qualified solicitor,’ said Hannah. ‘The CPS don’t know we exist, and we’ve had to rely on a very small pool of lawyers to put prosecutions together. Annelisa is helping change that.’
We moved to the first of the civilians, the older woman. She stepped forward to shake hands without waiting for Hannah. ‘Congratulations, Conrad. I’m Maxine Lambert, Clerk to the King’s Watch.’
‘Maxine used to do everything,’ said Hannah, ‘until Tennille took over the HR side. Maxine will be booking you in for the real induction.’ Her tone was almost deferential, and definitely flattering. This would be another interesting relationship to untangle.
Tennille broke ranks to give me a hug. Before her arms wrapped roun
d me, I noticed that Maxine was not amused. Tennille spoke straight into my ear. ‘When I prayed to Jesus this morning, I told Him you were trouble, and I told Him that you had a lot more trouble left in you.’
Hannah was getting twitchy. The three other women were quickly introduced as the Assistant Clerk and two interns. She said that Maxine would explain everything, then she returned to the centre of the room. I took my new place in the pecking order, above Vicky but below the most junior of the Watch Captains. I may outrank them, but as Hannah said in her speech, I’m the baby of the Watch.
‘Hats off, time for lunch,’ said Hannah. I saluted, Vicky followed my lead, and the others joined in slowly. Then, the four Watch Captains all threw their caps at a baroque hat-stand by the door. I could feel the trail of magick as the caps arced perfectly through the air and nestled on their pegs. All of a sudden, everyone was looking at me.
Should I try for a googly? No. I had a better idea. I turned and presented my cap to Vicky. Making sure that my voice carried, I said, ‘As the one with all the magick in our partnership, would you like to do the honours?’
Vicky’s eyes widened in surprise. I didn’t know whether or not this was a good thing. Maybe she couldn’t do it, maybe I’d committed a gross faux pas. For all I know, in the weird world of the Watch, it might have counted as a marriage proposal.
She tested the weight of the cap, closed one eye and sent it flying towards the hat-stand. It accelerated from her hand like a rocket. It shot past Hannah far too closely, causing her to lurch into Ian Drummond before it crashed into the hat-stand, slamming it into the wall and snapping it in half.
The only noise in the stunned silence was a quiet whimper from Vicky. To save the moment, I said, ‘You need a course in ballistics, Captain Robson.’ Two of the Watch Captains burst out laughing, and Maxine coughed loudly to stop herself joining in.
I also heard a snort of superior derision from Annelisa, something that took her down at least two notches in my estimation.