“Oh, my!” he chuckled. “Forgive me. I was meaning to delve a bit deeper into that and it completely slipped my mind.” He looked at Ava, sitting on his other arm. “Could you or your brother please enlighten us about the sheath I showed you?”
‘Brother?’ Nina raved in her thoughts. ‘Great news! He is not spoken for.’
Bernard beamed as he leaned forward on his elbows. Ava allowed him to babble on about the subject, since she knew he wished to impress the sexy little historian. Besides, she was done with dealing in antiques after the Purdue purchase. As far as she was concerned, she had no desire to bother with the business anymore.
“Funny you should ask, Nina,” Bernard cooed. “I happen to know a bit about that piece. May I see it, please? It would be easier to evaluate in the flesh, so to speak.”
“Oh, I do not have it, I’m afraid,” she shrugged. Bernard felt his body tense up. This was not what he wanted, or needed, to hear. This meant that he would have to resort to ugly things. This meant that he would have to abduct, torture and kill the beautiful dark-haired woman he found so intriguing. He had to procure the scabbard or else it was his hide.
“You do not? Then how did you take pictures of it?” he said abruptly, without intent to be rude. Frustration was to blame. Nina did not like his tone, but she gave him the benefit of the doubt, that perhaps she misinterpreted his response as curt.
“Well, Bernard, I trust that you are aware that people take pictures of say, the Eiffel Tower or Stonehenge, without taking it home with them,” she snapped back in a confusing tone that could be anything from a quip to condescension. Ava scoffed and smiled at Nina. She relished the sarcastic humor of the Scottish brunette, especially when applied to Bernard.
“I like her,” Ava muttered to Sam’s amusement.
“I like her too,” he winked, sharing a little giggle with Purdue’s demarcated conquest.
“No need to be so aggressive, my lady,” Bernard charmed forth, ignoring the blow. “It is just that I can tell you more about the inscriptions and value if I could hold it in my hands, you see? Feel the leather, check the stitching, condition, and so forth.”
“I understand,” she yielded. “But in truth I was just curious. That is all. Since it does not belong to me, I was not able to hold it for appraisal. Besides, I was not told that I would be in the company of such pertinent wisdom. I am sorry.”
“Can I see the pictures? Seems that I am the only one who has not seen them,” Sam requested.
“Sure,” Nina smiled. She located the images on her phone gallery and passed it on to him.
Sam scrutinized the sheath, nodding and pouting his lower lip to display how impressed he was. “It is clearly extremely old. Look at the craftsmanship. Handmade. I like it. Where did you see it, Nina?”
“Yes, I was about to ask too,” Bernard played innocent. “Where did you get to behold such a wonderful relic?”
“A boy brought it to show and tell during History Week, you know, the thing I was involved in at Gracewill?” she shared, primarily addressing Purdue.
“Oh yes, the primary school in Glasgow,” Purdue recalled.
“Aye,” she affirmed.
“What would make any parent allow such a magnificent heirloom to be taken to school for a petty oral presentation?” Bernard scowled. “It is sacrilege.”
“Heirloom?” Nina asked. “How did you know it was an heirloom?”
Bernard had already said too much, but he figured it would not betray his intentions to elucidate a bit more about the scabbard. “If this is the piece I think it is…as I obviously cannot see it for real…it has a remarkable provenance,” Bernard started dramatically, while Purdue poured the last 2009 Balthazar for the ladies. Sam’s large fingers explored the etchings in the table as he listened to the antiques expert, while Ava gawked at Sam’s hands and the deceiving grace with which he moved them.
Bernard’s features sharpened in the glow of Purdue’s enormous hearth fire as he engaged all around the table. “The story is fascinating, but not what you would expect. This sheath, known as ‘Warkadur’, derived from the Welsh warchodwr, meaning ‘keeper’ or ‘custodian’, is a good eight centuries old.”
“Good God,” Nina gasped. “Must be worth a fortune.”
“Priceless,” Sam amended her statement.
Bernard nodded. “Exactly, Sam, which is the reason for its infamy. However, what makes this relic especially priceless is the fact that it is reputed to be the scabbard of Excalibur.” He allowed the information to sink for his audience, for dramatic effect.
“The Excalibur?” Sam asked.
“Yes, although, as you all know, Arthurian legend is much like Lovecraftian Mythos – conceived in fiction,” Bernard continued. “Yet, still, to the enlightened minds of science and history, such mythologies are completely plausible and even thought to originate from some point of actuality.”
Purdue’s eyes lit up. “Do you mean to tell me that this is the sheath of the sword that inspired Caliburn?”
“Caliburn?” Ava frowned.
“The original name of Excalibur, which was eventually derived from Welsh, I believe?” Nina explained. “But then, if the sheath exists, where is Excalibur?”
Bernard’s mouth stretched wide at the question, because he knew he had the historian and her friends hooked. “That, my dear Nina, is the question.”
Purdue motioned to Charles to bring more wine and pour. He intended to sit glued to Bernard’s tellings, and wished to keep his guests equally oiled. Charles nodded elegantly and obliged, while the stranger in black proceeded. “You see, the actual sword, speculated as being the genuine Caliburnus Geoffrey of Monmouth wrote about, seemed to have vanished last during World War II.”
“Wait. What?” Nina asked. “You mean to tell me that Excalibur was out there all this time and nobody ever knew about it?”
“Oh, many people knew about it,” Sam chimed in, having previously heard about the sword’s existence from the myriad of investigations he had conducted into international theft cartels. “On and off, throughout at least the 17th and 18th Centuries, the sword of Britain’s Sovereignty has been said to have belonged to lairds and generals from the Shetlands to Plymouth.”
“That is true,” Bernard agreed, taking a good sip of liquid fire from Purdue’s scotch bottle. “And during World War II it briefly belonged to someone in…guess?”
Ava rolled her eyes. “Oh God, when I hear Second World War, all I can guess is Nazis?”
Her brother clicked his fingers and pointed at Ava. “Give Ava the prize.”
“Of course,” Purdue chuckled. “I suppose Himmler had a finger in that pie?”
“Doubt it,” Nina said casually. “It was Hermann Göring that had a boner for arts, mostly. My money is on him.”
Bernard grinned at the banter between the collector and the historian, but they were both wrong, and he was happy to fill them in. After all, if he played his cards right, he would not have to kill them yet. If Purdue and Nina were deep enough into the exploration of the existence of Excalibur, he could use them to do the dirty work for him before he disposed of them. Certainly, Purdue was an explorer and relic hunter with unrivalled resources and funding.
After all the finds Purdue had been involved in, including conquering the Vault of Hercules and locating the Medusa Stone, finding Excalibur would not be a problem for a man of his devices. Major Rian could wait.
Bernard Somerset could get the proverbial two birds here, if he enticed his audience enough. If he could get his hands on Warkadur, he would be protected from any onslaught while he sought out Excalibur. After that, Major Rian would not be able to harm him. What was to keep him from keeping the sword and scabbard for himself?
21
Liberation of Caliburnus
“Well?” Sam pushed Bernard. “Who had the bloody sword, then?”
“Actually, it is a remarkable story,” Bernard related the tale he had read about, “that I found in an old journal w
ritten by none other than Ronald Hall.”
“Hall,” Nina frowned. “Why is that name so familiar?”
Sam perked up. “The Hall Hoard? That guy?”
Bernard felt his chest tighten for a moment. How did the rugged rogue know about the Hall Hoard? The company he was in had become exceedingly interesting here inside the belly of the grand Wrichtishousis.
“Close,” Bernard nodded. “That guy’s great grandfather, in fact. True to Arthurian legend, the story surrounding Ronald’s encounter with the great Excalibur was one of danger, fraught with romance and betrayal.
“Ooh, romance,” Ava cooed, glancing briskly to Sam and then settled her gaze on Purdue, who was already staring at her with adoration. In silent torment, Nina mulled it over in her head. Where did she hear about the Hall Hoard? Where? It was recent.
“Romance is boring. Tell us about the action. Tell us about the Nazis,” Sam jested.
“That is the interesting part, actually,” Bernard replied to Sam, but looked at Nina. “The romance was between a Nazi woman and a British man. Ronald Hall acquired the great sword of Arthur through his romantic association with Aufseherin Irma Bormann.”
“The woman with the dogs,” Nina completed his identification of the SS overseer.
Bernard whimpered at the sexy historian’s knowledge, but especially in the manner of her delivery. Her pouty, maroon lips breathed the name of the sadistic female SS guard as if she kissed the phrase with fire and it drove him wild.
“A dog walker?” Sam joked, pursing his lips to receive Nina’s usual punch to the arm.
Ava chuckled into her wine as she tried not to choke. Her eyes twinkled as she laughed with Sam. It was such a relief for Bernard’s sister to find someone else as disinterested in the serious turn of events at the party. Purdue smiled at Sam ad shook his head. Met by Bernard’s stale glare, Sam was compelled to gather his act and ask the man to proceed with his story.
“Please Bernard, continue,” Sam invited. “Did she own the sword when Hall met her?”
“Yes, but he did not know this. Irma Bormann was trained at Birkenau at a very tender age already, making her a properly indoctrinated Nazi officer by the time she was twenty-two. By 1944, she had been transferred to Guernsey,” Bernard related.
“Guernsey?” Purdue asked. “That is British territory. The Germans never got to invade Allied territory here, did they?”
Nina nodded in affirmation. “Aye, they did. They occupied the Channel Islands for most of the Second World War, Purdue. It was the only German occupation of a British territory.”
“That is right,” Bernard agreed. “And that is where Ronald Hall met the love of his life, even if they were only together for a short time. He and his brother were apprehended one night after fleeing the headquarters with food and medicine stolen from the supply store.” Bernard’s eyes fell on each of the guests at Purdue’s table. “And it was her – the woman with the dogs – that caught them.”
“Why did they call her that?” Ava inquired. “I mean, I gather she had dogs,” she smiled sheepishly, “but she must have done something to get that moniker, right?”
“Oh aye,” Nina answered with her eyes wide in repulsion. “Irma was a well-known sadist, according to accounts from Holocaust survivors and facts revealed during her war crimes trial. She would use her dogs to attack and maul female prisoners at Birkenau and Belsen. They say that she whipped women across their breasts and revel in the infections this would cause.”
“Jesus,” Sam gasped.
“During her trials, a female physician who was captive at Belsen told of how Bormann would stand in on operations on inmates, performed without anesthetics. The women’s screams of agony would practically send Bormann into an orgasmic trance,” Nina recounted.
“Sick bitch,” Sam remarked.
“Indeed,” Bernard said. “She would set her Rottweilers on anyone at any time, just for her own entertainment. Survivors would tell of the raw terror they would feel when they would hear those dogs barking at night. They were every bit as ravenous as she was, and they listened only to her command.”
Ava’s whimpers filled the silence between her brother’s sentences. She was horrified more than anyone in her company, being a gentle natured person with no respect for violence.
“That is precisely why it was so uncanny that she would later exchange her sexual depravity with male SS officers for secret nights with a British prisoner,” Bernard shrugged. “True to her nature, Bormann carried a Luger and a whip with her at all times, yet it was her antique weapons collection that was more impressive. In a steel trunk with a thick, lavish velvet interior, she would cart her knives, daggers and swords wherever she went. She was the second highest ranking female officer in the SS, which afforded her certain privileges such as these.”
“In in that trunk she had Excalibur?” Purdue guessed amicably.
“Yes, sir,” Bernard raised his glass. “But it is how Ronald came to get the sword and sheath that makes the story. Naturally, the dogs had ravaged the two British citizens before they were dragged into the infirmary, where Irma watched over the proceedings. The man in charge of the local occupation station, Stabsscharführer Martin Hessler, ordered the extermination of three households of Bormann’s choosing. This was his way of teaching the Islanders how he would respond to thieves and insurgents.”
“That is so unfair,” Ava lamented. “Those poor innocent people.”
“But as much as Bormann was excited by the idea, she had her eye on the widower, Ronald Hall. She thought, to gain his favor she would spare the families,” Bernard said.
“What is the catch?” Sam asked. “When a Nazi acts with compassion there is usually a solid toll to pay somewhere.”
“Of course,” Bernard concurred. “To appease her commander, Irma Bormann chose to execute his brother Colin and his family instead, but she would never tell Ronald, of course.”
“No!” Ava gasped. “What a complete bitch!”
“Weren’t they all,” Nina added.
“So she killed his brother and his family and hoped to win his heart? Christ, how deluded was she?” Purdue hissed. “Please tell me that she did not do the whole family herself.”
“Oh, she did not lift a finger, David,” Bernard assured him, but something in his tone and the twitch on his face told Purdue and his guests that the story would reveal something more gruesome. “She let her dogs do the work for her while she and two guards watched. Those two guards had collected Colin’s wife and two children. They joined their father in an isolated cell next to the makeshift interrogation room. At first Colin was grateful that he could be reunited with them, but then it must have dawned on him what the purpose of the reunion was.”
“Oh my God, that is so cruel,” Ava muttered.
“Imagine, that man had to watch three dogs tear at his children…” Bernard said.
“Stop!” his sister protested. “Enough with the details. Just tell us how Ronald came to possess the sword.”
A tense relief was felt all around the table, until Bernard carried on.
“What I just told you was written in the journal. I was only trying to illustrate exactly what a monster this woman was,” he told his sister.
“I get it, but I do not need to know those sick things, okay?” she moaned.
“Anyway, most of the time, the starving Ronald was visited by the sadistic bitch, although she was always in the company of the other soldiers. Watching was her thing. This beautiful beast never got her hands dirty. Dogs, both canine and human, always provided the torment she so enjoyed to witness. Only, with Ronald’s beatings she appeared less impressed. Instead of grinning and panting, watching him punished had her quiet and cold, as if she was trying to be somewhere else.
“I find it hard to believe that such a character would have any feelings for anyone,” Sam chipped in. “The psychology just does not make sense. She had to have had some incentive for her behavior.”
“Maybe sh
e simply…fell in love,” Purdue smiled.
“Bollocks,” Sam disagreed.
“Nevertheless, this is written in his journal, in his handwriting,” Bernard defended the story. “And since he was eventually in possession of Excalibur, Irma Bormann had to have given it to him.”
“I think he stole it,” Nina guessed. “I mean, he managed to successfully break into the storage rooms and flee almost undetected. Who says he did not steal the sword, plain and simple?”
“And then wrote this shite in his diary to cover his crime,” Sam added onto Nina’s conjecture.
“Ha!” Purdue laughed. “Ever the cynics!” He looked at Bernard and Ava and gestured with open hands at Sam and Nina. “I told you my friends were sharp at seeing through smokescreens!”
Ava smiled at Sam and Nina. “He did tell us that before you two arrived today.”
Nina shrugged and looked at Sam. “Years of collective bullshit endured and overcome, I suppose.”
“Aye!” Sam cheered, holding his glass up to Nina. She clinked it with hers.
“Okay, alright, but let us allow Bernard to tell us what the journal said, even just for interest sake,” Purdue intervened jovially. That same open hand reached to Bernard as Purdue invited him to continue his story. “Please, my friend, do carry on.”
With a laborious sigh, Bernard agreed. “Well, it says that, one night late, after one of Ronald’s torturous sessions, Irma ordered the guard to let him out. Ronald wrote that she tied his hands behind his back and took him to her chambers, commanding the guard to cover for his absence until she would return the prisoner.”
“I guess she did get her hands dirty after all, hey?” Sam jested. The ladies smiled at his naughty reference. “Maybe he was fed after all.”
“Details withstanding, yes,” Bernard chuckled. He looked at his sister. “But since I am to spare the details of Ronald’s account, we can all make our assumptions.”
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