by Mark Hayden
‘Have you got a date?’
Her reaction told me that she had, and that she was planning to spend a long time getting ready. ‘You need to get back to the Tower,’ she said, ignoring my question about her date completely.
‘Why?’
‘Hannah wants a word. Pass or fail, she wants to see you. I think she’s worried about who you might have upset.’
‘It could have been a lot worse,’ sighed Hannah when I’d finished telling the story. ‘The Provost didn’t like us anyway, so no loss there. You’ve built bridges with Cora, so that’s good, and you’re the only Watch Captain I’ve met who’s got to first name terms with the Earth Master, so that’s definitely progress. Well done.’
We were sitting by the windows in her office. I cast a longing glance at the cupboard where she kept the bottle of Dawn’s Blessing, and by some miracle of Odin she saw my gaze. ‘You’re not having the best stuff, but you might like this. Vicky brought it back last week.’
Now that Hannah wasn’t in uniform, she could move more freely. She hid the cupboard with her body and fiddled with the bottles, turned round and gave me a tumbler with a generous shot of something yellow. ‘What do you reckon?’
I sniffed. Not Scotch, not by a long shot. It was something sweet. I took a sip. ‘Wow. That’s the best mead I’ve ever tasted. Not that I’ve had much. Is this from the Northumberland Shield Wall?’
‘It is. To you, Conrad. Master of the Art today, Master of Arms to come.’
‘Ma’am.’
Tennille knocked and came in. ‘Rick wants to rearrange the meeting with Vicky and Conrad for tomorrow. Is there any chance?’
‘Yes please!’ I said.
‘Why the rush?’ said Hannah. ‘Not that I object.’
‘It gets me out of seeing my sister. Vicky might not be so happy, though. She’s got a date tonight.’
Tennille tsked very loudly. ‘You’ll be saving her from herself,’ she said to me.
Hannah and I shared a look. ‘Bit late for that,’ said Hannah, ‘but tell Rick to go ahead.’
16 — Croeso I Gymru
My partner in magickal crime fighting is not a morning person. We nearly had our first proper fight on Friday when I arrived at her flat in Islington and she was still on her way back from Fulham. Fulham!
I had to threaten her with the train to Bristol before she agreed to a) get her flatmate to run down with a residents’ parking permit, b) pay for a full English round the corner and, c) tell me what she was doing in Fulham.
The first excitement was the flatmate, whose very existence had been a secret until five minutes ago, and Vicky had made it very clear that her co-tenant was from the mundane world. The flatmate (Nicola) emerged wearing a pink hoodie, black running tights and white trainers, and her face glowed with the aftermath of a visit to the gym. She high-stepped up to the Volvo and stood holding the permit out of my reach. I leaned back on the car and smiled. Nicola was older than Vicky, probably thirty, and although she had a healthy figure, her face was a little pinched, her skin a little rough.
‘So,’ she said. ‘You’re Conrad Bloody Clarke. You’re older than I expected. Smoking does that.’
‘So does being shot. And blown up. I’m afraid you have the advantage of me. For some reason, Vicky never mentioned you, so I don’t have a suitable epithet.’
Confusion spread over her face, clearly an unusual phenomenon. It was quickly replaced by suspicion. ‘What’s an epithet?’
‘Bloody Clarke is an epithet. I don’t know whether that’s frustration with my humour on Vicky’s part or simply a factual comment. I could call you Sporty Spice, but that’s a bit lame.’
She moved the permit to her left hand and stepped forward to shake hands. ‘Nicola Rowley. I’m a trainee oncologist at Barts.’ She handed me the permit. ‘And what is it you do, exactly?’
‘I work with Vicky, so whatever she told you she does, I do it too, but differently.’
We stared at each other. I mentally christened her Dr Nicola, and if she’d been more sympathetic, I might have felt more guilty about stonewalling.
She nodded, and took a step back. ‘Vic said you were dangerous. I thought she meant emotionally dangerous. Now that I’ve met you, I’m not so sure.’
‘Me? Dangerous? I’m just a semi-retired helicopter pilot, and I’m in a relationship.’
Dr Nicola didn’t want to leave on a sour note, so she made the effort to smile. ‘I hope the job goes well, whatever it is. And look after her.’
‘Always. Nice to meet you.’
‘Twelve quid for breakfast?’ said Vicky when she’d tried the door and couldn’t get in the car.
‘It was organic. I had to walk for ages until I found somewhere that wasn’t vegetarian. Pay up if you want a lift.’
She handed over a twenty, grumbled and said, ‘You can get the coffees when we stop.’
I unlocked the car and we set off for a village near Wells in Somerset, about four hours away. I waited five minutes before asking what she was doing in Fulham.
‘How come you’re not married?’ she said.
‘What! I have every intention of getting married.’
‘I know. And I hope you do, but how come it’s never happened before? If you’re standing by Mina while she’s in prison, you’re hardly commitment-phobic, are you?’
‘No.’ It was a long drive, and we had to talk about something, so I told her about Amelia Jennings refusing my proposal, about Carole Thewlis, about the spy who loved me, about several doomed relationships with civilians. ‘Eventually,’ I concluded, ‘it was easier to take more tours in Afghanistan and pile up the cash. I’d got my post-RAF plan all worked out and ready to put into action when I was in that chopper crash. I met Mina when I was in physical rehab, and all my plans changed. Now, what were you up to in Fulham, and who with?’
‘Li Cheng. He’s got a house on Topping Street. All Arts & Crafts. It’s beautiful.’
‘I didn’t know that there was a Work that allowed you to have intimate relations with a building.’
‘Oh yes, there is, but it only works on the first day of the fourth month.’
‘And … oh. The first of April. Very good. You almost had me there.’
Vicky gave a happy smile. ‘For the sake of full disclosure, there are some sacred places that you can have intimate relations with. And Dæmons. And before you say another word, I haven’t tried either of them.’
‘But you did try Li Cheng last night, and not for the first time.’
She looked out of the window, watching the headache-inducing red and blue livery of a Home Bargains trailer slip behind us. She was still watching the wagons when she started speaking. ‘It’s weird, having this conversation with me Uncle Conrad. I wouldn’t talk to me brothers about it, that’s for certain.’
If she’d looked back at me, I’d have apologised and promised to mind my own business, but she didn’t. She carried on studying the stream of HGVs as if there were a test coming up. ‘It’s gotten complicated,’ she said. ‘I normally tell Desi everything, but I can’t any more, and you’ve met Nicola.’
This was getting serious. Time to lighten the mood. ‘Oh yes, I’ve got the measure of Dr Nicola. I can see she wouldn’t be happy with half a story, and I’m guessing there’s a magickal element to these complications.’
Vicky turned round, a half-smile returning to her face. ‘Are you gonna call her Dr Nicola for ever more?’
‘Absolutely. Probably to her face as well.’
‘Well, don’t, OK? I need her rent, and I need you two to be on speaking terms.’
‘Deal. So long as you tell me your cover story, so I don’t mess it up.’
‘Yeah. She thinks we all work for the Military Investigation Bureau, and that we keep tabs on the RMP.’
‘But that doesn’t exist.’
‘It didn’t, until Cheng created it, and now we have a go-to cover story. I should have told you before. Look, Conrad, can I ask you a favour?’
/>
‘Well, aye, pet.’
‘Stop there. That’s the worst Geordie accent, ever. Hmph. Look, Conrad, yes I slept with Cheng last night, OK? Can you wait until we’re finished in Wales before I tell you the full story?’
That, I was not expecting. ‘Yeah, of course. I’ll keep it to myself completely. Time for me to buy that coffee.’
‘See? No Occulting necessary,’ said Vicky as I pulled off the lane and drove up to the Old Rectory without encountering any magickal barriers or dissembling Glamours. Vic had done her share of the driving, but I was still stiff and sore when we arrived. We got out and shivered: it was a good eight degrees colder than London, more with wind chill.
‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ she continued, sweeping her arm to encompass the house and well-kept garden. She smiled as if we’d passed through the gates of Paradise.
‘It’s lovely,’ I said, rubbing my leg.
‘You’re jealous!’
‘Eh? What? No. It’s … Georgian. My house is Victorian. You prefer what you know.’
She tipped her head. ‘Just how big is Clarke’s Castle?’
‘It’s called Elvenham House, and you’ll get to see it soon enough when we go in search of Spectre Thomas. Here’s Rick.’
I wasn’t just stiff, I was hungry, and Rick had the decency to provide sandwiches before business. Besides, we couldn’t do anything until the other Watch Captain turned up. Rick left us alone in the kitchen. Vicky explained that it used to be a library, the original kitchen having been designed for servants. I’d guessed that already, but kept quiet.
‘This kitchen is much bigger and better appointed than Elvenham,’ I said. Truthfully.
Vicky looked thoughtful. ‘They did it up together. Before the divorce. Rick’s only given the house a lick of paint since then.’
‘Even the bedroom?’
‘Yeah … Conrad! Shut up and mind your business.’
The doorbell sounded before Vicky could take offensive action. Rick brought the new arrival into the kitchen and introduced him as Iestyn Pryce, Watch Captain for Wales. I could sense Vicky’s libido rising from across the table.
Iestyn had second row forward written all over him – literally in the case of his off-centre nose. He was tall, muscular and carried himself with both confidence and the sunny smile of youth. While Rick made coffee, Iestyn said, ‘I’m based at Machynlleth, so it’s a bit of a trek to see the boss. Do either of you know Wales?’
Vicky coughed and shook herself. If she was smitten by Iestyn, I don’t blame her. She was also professional and swallowed her interest before saying, ‘I’ve never been. When I visited Rick last year, he said he wanted to give you some space so we stuck to the West Country. I did meet the Druid of Blaenau-Gwydir when he came to the Invisible College.’ She shuddered at the memory. ‘Creepy isn’t in it.’
‘You’re not wrong,’ said Iestyn. ‘What about you, Conrad?’
‘My first posting was at RAF Valley on Anglesey. I got to see a lot of Wales from the air.’
‘Oh, really? What did you do?’
‘Learnt how to fly rescue helicopters, then flew sorties, mostly rescuing climbers in the Lake District. When they realised that I was in for the long haul, they sent me to Odiham, then Iraq.’
‘Okay,’ said Iestyn, unsure how to follow that.
Rick came to his rescue by taking us and the coffee through to a drawing room that can only be described as tasteful. I hate tasteful. Vicky loved it. I actually heard her sigh with contentment when she settled into the sofa, though that could have been at the prospect of Iestyn, facing us on the opposite couch.
‘We’ve read the reports,’ said Rick. ‘Conrad, what do you think the chances of there being a Dragon in Caerleon are?’
I glanced at Vicky. She didn’t look put out, but she should have been. I turned back to Rick. ‘That’s a magickal question. Vicky knows much more than I do.’
‘Fair enough. Vicky?’
‘I – we – don’t think the Dragon will be there now, but it must have been hatched there, and to be honest, there’s nowhere else to start looking.’
‘So we’re going softly-softly to begin with?’ said Rick. We nodded. ‘Then I’ve got no choice, I’m afraid. I know that this is your case, and you’re definitely going with him, but Iestyn’s taking the lead.’
That sounded perfectly sensible to me, and I’ve have thought that Vicky would have been pleased to get to know the young Welshman better, but no: she looked rather narked. When she saw me nodding to Rick in agreement, she squirmed in the cushions and frowned. ‘What is it, Vic?’ I asked.
She looked from me to Rick. ‘Sir. Rick. With all due respect, we didn’t pick up this case because we were at the front of the queue, it’s been ours since Conrad made friends with Mr Mole. Every step has been ours.’
‘Mmm,’ said Rick. ‘Conrad?’
‘I agree with everything my partner said, sir, but I also think you’re about to tell us something more about why you made your decision.’
‘Don’t call me sir. Iestyn, tell Conrad about the Welsh Petition.’
Iestyn gave an apologetic smile. ‘Two years ago, the Druid Gathering voted to submit a petition to the Prince of Wales. Basically, they want parity with Scotland. They want the College of Druids to have a royal charter, like Salomon’s House and Napier, and they want an independent Deputy Constable for Wales appointed to the King’s Watch.’
Politics. I hadn’t expected to land in a political swamp only twenty-four hours after crawling out of the mire of the Inner Council.
‘There’s more,’ said Rick. ‘They didn’t just petition, they’ve got a campaign going, and one of their first decisions was only to communicate with the King’s Watch in Welsh.’
‘Welsh,’ I said.
‘I’m afraid so,’ said Rick, ‘and Iestyn was recruited from the College of Druids to show good faith on our part.’
‘I had to cut my ties with the Druids and take the oath in Merlyn’s Tower,’ said Iestyn, a little defensively. ‘I’m as loyal to the King’s Watch as anyone.’
‘More than many,’ said Rick.
‘It’s your show,’ I said. ‘I’d much rather you led, Iestyn, than that we worked with an interpreter. What do you think, Vicky?’
‘Aye, well, I suppose so. What do you know about this lot, the Most Ancient Druidic Order of Caerleon?’
‘MADOC. Not much. I know the Pennaeth – the leader – but I’ve not been involved much. They don’t have any apprentices yet, so I’ve had no regular visits, and there’s been no breaches of the King’s Peace to investigate.’
‘Forgive me,’ I interrupted, ‘but is that normal? To have no breaches of the King’s Peace in over a year?’
Rick scratched his stubble. ‘You could have a point there, Conrad. It is unusual. Did you get that appointment sorted, Iestyn?’
‘Yes. Tomorrow at eleven. I’ve booked you both into a lovely hotel in the Usk Valley. We don’t need to go anywhere near Newport. It’s not my favourite part of Wales.’
Vicky wasn’t sulking, but she wasn’t exactly engaging, either, so I tried to lighten the mood. ‘Will Tennille stump up for a “nice hotel” do you think?’ I asked her.
Iestyn didn’t give her a chance to answer. ‘No, no, this is on me. You’re guests in Wales. I’d join you for dinner, but I need to be somewhere else.’
‘Then we’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast,’ I said. ‘We can plan our strategy over a full Welsh.’
‘Right. Yes. I’ll message you the hotel details. See you tomorrow.’
Something about the way that he looked at the fireplace wasn’t quite right. I would have said something to Vicky, but I was trying to be positive so I left Rick to smooth her feathers while I went for a walk.
She looked a bit happier when I got back, so we mounted the Volvo and rode north to the Severn Bridge. By this point we’d run out of conversation and I had to resort to Classic FM to keep my focus on the road. Both of us jumped when my
phone rang at full volume through the car’s sound system. It was an unknown number.
‘Hello?’
‘Conrad! I was worried I might get voicemail.’
‘Mina, I’m in the car, with Vicky, on the motorway.’
‘Oh.’ She went quiet.
‘It’s great to hear your voice. Is everything OK?’
‘Yes. It is. I’ve come to a decision.’
‘About what, love?’
‘I had to decide whether the problem was racism or Sonia, and I decided that it was Sonia. I can’t fight racism on my own, but I can fight Sonia. Not literally, of course.’
‘Glad to hear it. Sonia would come off worse. Definitely.’
‘I know.’
I risked a glance at Vicky, who looked alarmed in all sorts of ways. If she could have jumped out of the window, I think she would.
‘What’s your plan?’
‘I don’t have one yet.’
Something in her voice said that she most definitely had a plan, and that her denial was for the benefit of eavesdroppers. I painted a mental picture: small, she had probably been forced to stand on her toes to dial the number. Her hair had now fallen over her face and covered her hand. Perhaps she was sweeping it back while she waited for me to speak. What did this woman need from me right now? Not the predictable: her life was full of the predictable.
‘You know what, love?’ I said. ‘Go for it. Give her what she deserves. We can start a new saying.’
Her voice dropped an octave – that meant she was smiling. ‘What do you mean?’
‘As you know, “A Clarke’s word is binding”.’
‘I do.’
‘How about, “If you push a Desai, we push back”?’
‘I like that. “We push back”. It’s a shorter than “The wise tiger fears the shepherd”.’
‘Okay…’
‘I shall explain one day. Hi, Vicky.’
‘Erm. Hi, Mina.’
‘Is he behaving himself?’
‘Why no, pet. He’s always getting himself into bother. Good job he’s got me to get him out of it.’