Return of the Grail King

by Theresa Crater

  Guinevere wiped tears from her cheeks once he finished, then looked to find Mordred studying her. Flustered, she tried to cover her reaction. “His voice is very moving, don’t you find, Sir Mordred?”

  “He is well trained, but perhaps the matter of the song affected you more?”

  Guinevere tossed her blond curls. “What of you, sir? Do you pine for some lovely lady tucked away in her father’s house, but promised to another?”

  Mordred snorted at her remark and called for more of the wine Lancelot had brought from King Hoel.

  As if he sensed the tension, Carataos began a lively jig and many people got up to dance while others pounded their mugs in time with the music, sloshing mead on the table. Guinevere slipped out once Mordred joined in the revelry.

  Summer grew into fullness, and Guinevere had never been so happy. Still Arthur did not return, and she settled into life in Camelot without him but with her love, the knight from France. She had grown used to Arthur’s absence during the campaigns against the Saxons. Now as he sealed the peace, she became wily in ways to slip off and spend time with Lancelot. One night quite late, a slight noise in her chamber woke her. She sat up, her bed covering falling from her, but before she could cry out, Lancelot unshuttered his lantern and revealed himself.

  “Lance, what are you doing? Mordred is more than suspicious,” she whispered.

  “Nobody saw me, love. I couldn’t sleep thinking of you lying so nearby.”

  And so he took to sneaking into her chambers more often and it seemed no one was the wiser. He left while the owl still hunted the field mice, well before the morning lark stirred, and they thought themselves safe.

  One night after he left her, she could not sleep, remembering his lips, his touch. Restless, she went to the window to watch the deep purple sky dotted with stars lighten to lavender and wait for sunrise. She heard the stable door open and one of Mordred’s men led out a dun gelding. At the end of the yard, Mordred met him. They stood a while, talking low, but they were too far away for her to hear. Then the man mounted and rode off, walking the horse to keep quiet until he reached the road leading across the meadow.

  Guinevere went back to bed, trying to imagine how she’d learn the purpose of this secret mission. Next morning as soon as she could, she told Lancelot what she’d seen. He spoke to Mordred that night.

  “Sir Mordred, do you have need for a group to ride out to see to the peace? Have you heard of any Saxons about?”

  Mordred’s thin lips formed into a dour smile. “No, my lord. We have well and truly defeated those yellow-haired beasts.” He speared his venison and ate.

  Lancelot waited until he swallowed the mouthful. “Have you news from our king?”

  “Nothing, my lord.” Mordred sat back with his ale and called for a battle song from Carataos. It was loud and long, stopping Lancelot’s questions.

  But a few days later, toward evening, a commotion sounded in the meadow and soon destriers appeared, the mount of knights. A white stallion led the group, followed by a standard bearer with Arthur’s coat of arms flying in the breeze. Sir Kay and Sir Lamorak accompanied him, but no others of the Round Table. The horses charged into the practice yard and clattered to a halt near the door. Arthur jumped from his stallion and entered the hall.

  “Where is Gwen?” he shouted.

  Chapter 19

  When Kate saw Arnold’s group, she reached for her sidearm, but Leo grabbed her arm. “Trust me,” he said.

  “I want some answers,” she snapped and pointed the gun at Arnold. He saw it was a Glock, probably a G33 subcompact, but it was hard to see in this light.

  He raised his hands in the air even though Leo could probably disarm her. Frank and Preston did the same. They each sported little red dots above their hearts.

  “What’s going on?” Arnold asked.

  “You’re the ones sneaking in here intent on—” she shook her head. “What are you doing? Was it you?” She pointed her chin at the others.

  “Was it us what?” Arnold asked

  “Did you kidnap him?”

  “Who?”

  “Don’t play Abbott and Costello with me. Mr. Knight.”

  “Wait, you’re all out here looking for Mr. Knight?”

  “Yes.”

  “Knight is missing?”

  She took two more steps toward Arnold and studied his face. Then she holstered her Glock. “You really didn’t know.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then what the fuck are you doing here?”

  Just then Ken came marching around the other side of the house, hands in the air, a look of chagrin on his face. Tyrone was behind him, gun trained on his back.

  “Stop,” Tyrone commanded. His gaze darted from Kate and Leo to Arnold and his group. “What the fuck is going on?”

  Frank slapped his knee, guffawing. “You got caught.”

  “Oh, shut up,” Ken said.

  Tyrone pointed his gun at Frank. “I said, what the fuck is going on?”

  Arnold noted Knight’s team favored Glocks. Tyrone’s looked like a standard G31. It would be his second choice.

  Kate stepped forward. “That’s what I’m trying to ascertain, sir. They didn’t take Mr. Knight.”

  “How do you know?” Tyrone asked.

  “This is Leo Strickland. He’s in the Secret Service. Assigned to the Le Clair family.”

  “Le Clairs? As in President George Le Clair?”

  “That’s right,” Leo said. “We’re here investigating a financial hack that originated from Mr. Knight’s personal computer.”

  Tyrone stared for a few seconds. “That’s impossible.”

  “We felt the same way, but the trail is solid,” Arnold said.

  “And who are you?”

  “Name’s Arnold. Head of Le Clair security,” Arnold never gave anyone his last name.

  “Man, I traced it back here and I don’t make those kinds of mistakes,” Preston shouted.

  Tyrone pointed the Glock at him and Preston started to cry, much to Arnold’s delight. He bit his lip to stop from smiling.

  “Night Wing here is one of the best,” Leo said.

  “Did you say Night Wing?” Tyrone lowered his gun. “You the guy who hacked Wall Street the day Congress gutted the Dodd-Frank Act?”

  “That’s me.” Preston said, recovering from his scare.

  Damn it, how come everyone knew this except me? Arnold thought.

  “Mr. Knight is missing?” Arnold asked.

  Tyrone studied Kate, who nodded, then holstered his Glock. “We found him gone at 2:00 am. No notice.”

  “Is a vehicle missing?”

  “Yes, in fact.”

  Preston snickered. “Maybe he went to see his girlfriend.”

  Tyrone actually bared his teeth at Preston, who blanched and moved behind Arnold.

  Arnold gestured to the rest of Tyrone’s security team who had gathered behind him. “Obviously you think there’s foul play.”

  “We do. Mr. Knight stopped driving a few years back. He never goes out without at least one bodyguard.”

  “The Le Clair computer has been locked by a military grade encryption algorithm that originated from Mr. Knight’s computer. Our plan was to infiltrate the house and override the encryption.”

  “Well—” Preston began.

  “Shut up,” Arnold snapped.

  “A financial hack, you say?” Tyrone asked.

  Arnold dug his toe into the ground, then looked up. “It looks like Mr. Knight stole the Le Clair’s fortune and has absconded with it.”

  “Why would he do that? The man is a billionaire,” Tyrone asked.

  “Did Knight leave his computer?” Arnold asked.

  Kate looked to Tyrone for permission to speak and he nodded. “Yes,” she said.

  “We can prove what we’re saying. All this is on his system.”

  Tyrone gestured for Arnold’s group to enter the house. They walked in the back door, through a gleaming kitchen complete w
ith an expansive Typhoon Bordeaux granite island in the middle and an eight burner gas range with a side grill. Arnold kept his eyes peeled as they moved into the hallway.

  Preston pushed past the security teams. “Where is his office?”

  “This way,” Kate said and escorted them to Knight’s study. An expansive oak desk took up most of the room, which Preston took possession of. Books filled one wall. The desk was lit by a green banker’s lamp.

  One of Tyrone’s security team escorted a young woman into the room, brunette with striking gold-flecked brown eyes.

  “This is Sylvia. She does our cyber security work. She’ll be watching you.” Tyrone pointed to Preston.

  Preston pulled out a black box and hooked Knight’s computer and his laptop up to it. Sylvia bent to help. They ran a few more cables to what looked to Arnold like an external hard drive, then Preston settled back in the black leather chair. Arnold felt apprehensive as Preston turned on Knight’s computer.

  The group crowded behind the two computer experts to watch.

  A log-on screen appeared.

  Preston typed furiously and Kate grew uneasy.

  “Sylvia, please tell us each step Preston is taking,” Tyrone said.

  “Certainly, sir. Preston is running a program to find Mr. Knight’s log-on ID and his system password. Once we’re in—”

  “We’re in,” Preston announced.

  “Now, he’s looking for the key to unlock the ransomware. Mr. Knight has probably left it—”

  “Got it,” Preston announced.

  Kate raised an eyebrow in surprise.

  “Now he’s looking for the encrypted system file,” Sylvia explained.

  A list of files filled the screen. Preston scrolled down and highlighted one.

  Kate leaned in. “Let me see this.”

  Preston opened the program. Only one name listed—Gerald Le Clair. He clicked on the name and showed Kate the code that had captured the Le Clair computer.

  Kate frowned. “I’ll have to trust you on that.”

  “Now, he will decrypt the encrypted file. Just to be sure, we’ll decrypt the Le Clair drive,” Sylvia explained as Preston went to work.

  After a series of confirmations, he sat back. “That part’s done.”

  Arnold called Gerald. “We’ve decrypted the computer. Check your system now. Preston says to reboot it.”

  “Reboot?”

  “That means restart it.”

  “Are you sure this is safe?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why are you talking in a normal tone? I thought you were going in dark.”

  “When we got here, we found Knight’s security team searching the premises. Seems like Mr. Knight is missing.”

  “Missing?”

  “That’s right.”

  “But, what does this mean? Was he kidnapped? Maybe he isn’t behind this after all.”

  “It could be, but let’s take this one step at a time. Next, we’re looking for your money.” Arnold nodded for Preston to continue.

  Preston worked with both Kate and Arnold watching him closely. Dana continued her play-by-play. “Now we’re looking for the transactions that moved the Le Clair money.”

  “Strange,” Preston suddenly said.

  “What?” Kate and Arnold asked in unison.

  “The transfer originated from this computer, but there’s no trace of any deposits into Knight’s accounts.”

  “He’s into Mr. Knight’s accounts?” Tyrone asked in alarm.

  “Dude, what did you think I would do?”

  “But, how did you get in?” Tyrone asked, walking closer to the desk.

  “Please,” Preston said with disdain.

  Tyrone started to say something else, but Preston put his palm out, interrupting him. “He hasn’t opened any new accounts or made any transactions in the amounts he stole or in amounts that add up to them. Knight doesn’t have the money.”

  Arnold groaned and put his face in his hands. “But you said you’d found it.”

  “Hold on, dude,” Preston said. “All is not lost. Maybe somebody used Knight’s computer to do the hack. I’ll keep looking, but it may take a little while.”

  “How long?” Arnold said.

  Preston sighed dramatically and looked up at the ceiling as if appealing to a higher power. “Like, how do I know?”

  “An hour? A day? How long?”

  “A day? Please!” Preston was the picture of offended pride.

  Arnold waved his arm. “Just keep looking.”

  One of Tyrone’s team ran into the room. “Sir, we may have found something on the traffic cams.”

  “What?”

  “Knight’s car.”

  Tyrone looked at Arnold. “I realize your priority is your employer’s money, but mine is finding Knight, so if you’ll excuse me.”

  “May I come?” Arnold asked. “Maybe I can help.

  Arnold’s cell rang. He checked the name and answered immediately. “Preston says it might not have been—”

  Gerald interrupted him, his voice urgent. “We have information about Valentin.”

  “Wait,” Arnold said to Tyrone, who was heading out of the room.

  Gerald continued. “I just asked the guardian of the temple about the ritual and he said Knight has contacted Elizabeth on the inner planes.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He doesn’t know. He’s not only been kidnapped. He is under some heavy spell. He seems to think he’s Merlin and that Nimué has taken him to the crystal cave.”

  “What the fuck?” Arnold shook his head. He tried not to use that kind of language, but this situation kept pulling it out of him.

  “What?” Tyrone asked.

  Arnold held up a finger, listening to Gerald.

  “It makes a kind of sense. Both Anne and Michael are now reenacting the Arthurian story on the astral.”

  Arnold ran a hand over the top of his head. How was he going to explain this to Tyrone?

  Gerald went on. “I think whoever has glamoured Knight also took the money. Trace him. In the meantime, Katherine and I will look for him in other ways.”

  “Katherine?” Arnold shouted. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “She felt something was wrong and showed up. She’s a gifted psychic and is ready to help her daughter and grandson.”

  Arnold knew he’d said this last for Katherine’s benefit.

  “We’ll let you know as soon as we have anything concrete.”

  “Roger that,” Arnold said, although how Gerald could call what he and Katherine were doing concrete escaped him. He would trust their results though.

  He explained what had happened to Tyrone, who just shook his head.

  Kate put her hand on his shoulder and said, “It’s hard getting used to these mystical types.”

  Leo laughed. “And yet, they get results.”

  “Let’s go look at those traffic cams,” Tyrone said. “We can rescue him before the woo-woo does.” He waved for Sylvia to follow them.

  Guinevere came down the steps slowly, her heart beating as fast as a captured bird’s, but when she reached the main hall, Arthur spread his arms in welcome. “My love,” he said, and hugged her close.

  She returned the squeeze, then kissed his mouth. “I am glad to see you, my lord. You didn’t send word. We would have prepared a special celebration.”

  “I finished up in Caerleon, so rode swiftly. The rest of the men will arrive in a few day’s time. Then we can celebrate.”

  “That is excellent news,” she said. “Mordred said you would be another month.”

  He frowned. “Yes, Mordred.”

  She studied his face. He seemed a bit withdrawn, maybe too careful, but it could just be the fatigue from a long, hard ride.

  Lancelot appeared in the doorway.

  Arthur’s smile lit the room like the sun coming out from behind a bank of dark clouds. “Lance!” The two hugged as men do, pounding each other’s backs. “It is good to see you, b
rother.”

  Guinevere relaxed. He didn’t know.

  Mordred’s face darkened like an impending thunderstorm, but he said nothing.

  The household was in a flurry to unpack the small group’s gear, then feed them. Several went off to their wives and children and squeals of delight sounded from afar. The grooms appeared to take the horses down to the stable to tend them and give them their grain. Likewise, boys appeared to lead the dogs to the kennels to feed them, tend their paws, and treat any injuries. A great baying set up as the rest of the dogs greeted them.

  Arthur washed up and changed, then met Lancelot and Mordred in the hall to eat. Ronan limped into the room and Arthur rose to greet his old retainer. “Please, sit with us. I’m telling the news.”

  Guinevere’s stomach threatened her if she ate, so she took up her spinning and sat in a corner, close enough to overhear, but she only listened to the tenor of their voices. Lancelot’s clear baritone voice played havoc with her concentration and she tangled the thread twice before disciplining herself to concentrate. She watched the two men in her life, Arthur with a fair face, cheeks reddened by the sun. Lancelot with his clear brow and dark, mysterious eyes. They bent their heads together, one golden as a sunflower’s face, one black as a raven’s wing, Lancelot offering his counsel and friendship, Arthur accepting with no hesitation. What would she do?

  Lancelot was the love of her life, the love spoken of in ballads and poems, the man who set her ablaze with his touch, who settled her heart with his companionship. She was easy with him, never felt self-conscious, always in harmony. Now that she’d found him, now that they’d loved, how could she live without him?

  Yet her duty lay with Arthur. He was a kind man, careful, thoughtful, a strong leader. She liked him, loved him in her way. But he did not light the passion in her that Lancelot did. She did not kindle under his attentions. Her hope that true love would yield a child had not proven true. She had not conceived. She’d hoped for it, but last week had brought another disappointment.

  Her eyes strayed to Mordred, and it startled her to find him watching her. She nodded, then lowered her eyes to her spindle. She must give Arthur a son. Otherwise, would the clans choose Mordred? She dreaded this. Something dark and devious lay in secret at the center of that one’s heart, a worm suddenly discovered at the center of a red rose.