A Knight on the Town

by Hermione Moon

  I laugh and go with him to the door. “See you later.”

  He waves and goes to his car.

  I go back inside and climb the stairs to my bedroom. It’s time to get ready for our evening with Imogen and Christian. I’m really looking forward to it.

  At the top of the stairs, I meet Arthur coming out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist.

  “Oh!” I stop and stare at the expanse of his chest—the shiny, tanned muscles, the light-brown hairs that glisten with drops of water.

  After an awkward few seconds, I finally manage to elevate my gaze to meet his.

  “Something wrong?” he says. His eyes are warm.

  I look down at Merlin. I can almost hear him laughing.

  “Wait,” Arthur says. “Merlin says you had another vision?”

  I nod and explain about how I saw Valerie’s ghost in the garden.

  “Your talents are waking up,” Arthur says. “I told you that you were powerful.” I hesitate, and he tips his head to the side. “What?”

  “I saw something else earlier, at the dig site. I had a vision of a dark night, and of two men putting the urn into the ground. One of the men was you. You looked right at me, and something happened… I felt a kind of… connection all the way back to you.”

  He stares at me for a long moment. Then he says softly, “I remember.”

  “Remember what?”

  “That night. I saw you, too. I’d forgotten.”

  My eyes widen. “Really?”

  “I was about halfway through digging the hole, and I glanced up and you were standing there. I thought it was Guinevere—you looked just like her, although I remember thinking that your clothes were strange. It was only brief, but yes, our eyes met, and I felt the same connection. I mentioned it to her later, after the battle, but she didn’t seem to know what I was talking about, and I forgot about it.”

  “That was the night before the Battle of Camlann?” I ask, knowing that was where he was mortally wounded.

  “Yes.”

  We look into each other’s eyes for a long moment.

  He moves a little closer to me. “I think it was that connection that drew me to you, all these years later. We were already husband and wife, but at that moment, being in exactly the same place, somehow our souls connected in a way that was going to bind us together forever.”

  Tears come into my eyes. “What a lovely thing to say.”

  He smiles. “I know this is all new to you. And I know you need time. But there’s something special between us, Gwen. And it’s not going anywhere anytime soon, so you’d better get used to it.”

  The look in his eyes is firm, lazy, sexy. He completely intends to have me. I don’t think I’m going to have much say in the matter.

  And now I feel a little faint.

  “Who was the other man with you?” I ask, trying to distract him before I pass out. “Was that Taliesin?”

  He looks down at the dog. “Yes. He was with me that night. I told him I saw a vision of you. He just smiled and said ‘You two are one, Arthur. Are you really surprised?’”

  I bend and kiss the top of Merlin’s head, feeling warm all the way through. “We’ll be late,” I murmur. “I’d better get ready.” I slip by them into my room. As I turn, I see them both watching me before I close the door.

  I sit on the bed and wait for a minute or two until my heart stops racing. What a strange day. Half of me is thrilled at the thought of being part of a romance that has survived so many years. The other half feels a little overwhelmed and a touch panicky. I’m already crazy about Arthur, and possibly more than a little in love with him. But everything’s moving so fast, and I’m frightened of letting my hopes get too high, only to have them dashed on the rocks. I don’t want to be hurt.

  Gently does it, I tell myself. I don’t have to do anything I’m not ready for. We can still take our time to get to know each other. I just need to relax.

  Within fifteen minutes, I’m ready, and I go downstairs and discover the two of them in the living room. Like any twenty-first-century man, Arthur’s on his phone, probably researching something. Merlin’s sitting beside him on the sofa like a person, looking over his arm at whatever’s on the screen.

  Arthur’s wearing some of the new clothes we bought him—a pair of dark-blue jeans, and a white casual shirt with a thin blue stripe. Wow. He looks amazing.

  They both look up as I come into the room, and I have the pleasure of watching surprise and admiration pass over Arthur’s face as he sees me. I look down at my outfit—I’m wearing a floor-length midnight-blue velvet skirt, and a light blue top with a slight shimmer in it. It’s a bit of a hippy outfit, but it suits the Glastonbury vibe.

  My hair is down, falling almost to my bottom in soft red waves. Arthur rises from the sofa, comes over to me, and lifts a strand, letting it slip through his fingers. “Like fire,” he murmurs.

  “Come on,” I say softly, stifling a shiver. “Time to go.”

  We leave Merlin at home by the hearth. He’s tired, and I know he’ll be asleep in minutes. Arthur and I then walk the short distance to town.

  Imogen and Christian are just walking up as we approach ‘I Long for Won Ton’. “Hello, you two,” Imogen says. She’s wearing a skirt, for once, with a pretty green blouse, and her hair is down, bouncing around her shoulders in chocolate waves.

  She kisses me and smiles at Arthur, then gestures at Christian. “Christian, this is Arthur. Arthur, Christian.”

  The two men shake hands, and Imogen and I exchange an amused glance. It wasn’t that long ago that we were saying how we couldn’t imagine ever going out as two couples, and here we are—although it didn’t happen quite how we imagined!

  “Come on,” I say. “In we go.”

  We’re shown to a reserved table by the window, take our seats, and start looking at the menus. I know Arthur has no idea what he’s looking at, but he seems to enjoy studying the variety of dishes. When Christian suggests a set meal, we’re happy to comply, and the waiter goes off with our order.

  “So…” Imogen smiles at us. “What have you two been up to today?”

  “Arthur’s been working.” I tell them a little about Max’s idea to train him up.

  “Immi said you’ve come to stay for a while,” Christian says. “So where are you from, Arthur?”

  “New Zealand,” Arthur replies.

  “Oh, whereabouts? I’ve got family over there,” Christian states.

  “A small town on the west coast of the South Island,” Arthur says. “Long way from anywhere.”

  “What did you do over there?”

  “This and that.” Arthur studies his chopsticks with interest. “Do we eat with these?”

  Of course; I’d forgotten about those. Christian gives him a curious look. I just smile. “You can, although we can ask for cutlery if you’d rather.”

  “No, no, I’ll give it a go.” He watches me move them up and down, and practices, trying to work out how to organize his fingers.

  “Your town isolated, was it?” Christian says.

  “I’m a bit of a country bumpkin,” Arthur replies. “I haven’t travelled much. I apologize if I sound parochial.”

  “Of course not.” Christian is immediately dismissive of the notion. “Life would be dull if we were all the same.”

  “Absolutely.” Imogen is pleased at his kindness, I can tell. “Anyway, what about you, Gwen? What have you been up to?”

  “I went out with Una and Duncan to help excavate a Romano-British urn full of coins.”

  She glances at Arthur, obviously guessing it’s something to do with him, but doesn’t let on. “Spending a morning on your knees covered in mud and handling thousand-year-old pots? Sounds like your ideal day.”

  I laugh. “It was, a bit. What about you, how’s your day been?

  “Well…” She pauses as the waiter returns with our drinks. She picks up her glass of wine and sips it, waiting until he’s left the table. “We got the r
eport back from the coroner,” she reveals once we’re alone.

  “Oh… and?”

  “Obviously, this isn’t supposed to go any further… blah, blah.” She’s normally very tight-lipped when it comes to revealing details about cases, but I guess this will become common knowledge soon. “You’re not going to believe this. The cause of death was poisoning.”

  My jaw drops, and the guys’ eyebrows rise. “Seriously?” I say.

  “Valerie died from an overdose of a chemical called… um… I’ve forgotten. It’s found in some plants and is highly poisonous.”

  “Digoxin?” I say.

  “Yes, that’s it.”

  “It’s from foxgloves,” I say.

  “Right. Apparently, it was used to treat heart failure. Doctors now recommend a combination of ACE inhibitors, beta blockers and…” She screws up her nose as she tries to remember. “…mineralocorti-something antagonists, whatever they are. This drug is apparently a third-line therapy because it increases the risk of death. Anyway, I spoke to her doctor, and he didn’t prescribe it because she didn’t have heart failure.”

  “Goodness. How odd.”

  “So you think someone might have poisoned her with foxgloves?” Arthur asks.

  “Possibly,” Imogen says.

  “They can be found anywhere,” I say. “In gardens, woodlands, by the coast, on the side of the road… It’s going to be tough isolating where they came from, if that is what killed her. The flowers are only visible from June to September, but all parts of the plant are poisonous, so that doesn’t really matter.”

  “Of course,” Christian says, “I forgot that you’d know all about herbs and plants, being a witch.” He stops then and looks at Arthur in alarm.

  “It’s all right,” I say, amused. “Arthur knows all about me.”

  “Double, double, toil and trouble,” Arthur says.

  That makes me laugh. “I can see which Shakespeare play you’ve been reading.”

  “He certainly had a handle on murder,” Arthur replies.

  “Enough about morbid subjects,” Imogen scolds. “We’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves.”

  “I am enjoying myself,” Arthur says. “I don’t care what we talk about.”

  “He’s easily pleased,” I tell her.

  “Is he, now?” Her eyes gleam as she sips her wine, and Arthur chuckles.

  “Don’t be wicked,” I scold.

  “We like being wicked,” Imogen says. “We all enjoy watching you blush.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Arthur loves Chinese food.

  Why am I surprised? I don’t think I’ve found a single thing yet that he doesn’t like.

  We make our way through a platter of won tons, spring rolls, and pan-fried dumplings, then move on to chicken with cashew nuts, crispy beef, sweet and sour pork, and spicy garlic lamb, with an abundance of noodles and rice.

  Arthur masters the chopsticks better than I can. I’m amazed at the ease with which he fits into today’s society. I don’t think I’d have been half as flexible as he is.

  We talk about all sorts of things while we eat, and I’m pleased that Imogen seems relaxed. It’s not her first date with Christian, but it’s very early on in both our relationships, and yet we all get on better than I think either of us had hoped.

  We talk a little about our jobs; Christian tells Arthur what it’s like to work as an exhibitions director, and explains how he liaises with the field unit to make sure he always has up-to-date local displays to illustrate current work in the area. We tell him about the urn full of coins that we found, and he promises to talk to Una and Duncan about displaying some of their photos.

  “Will the museum put in a bid for the coins, if the coroner classes them as treasure?” I ask.

  “It depends on how much they’re worth,” he says. “If it turns out to be a super-valuable hoard, the British Museum will probably be the only museum who can afford to buy them. If it’s of moderate value, we might stand a chance.” He twirls his chopsticks in a pile of noodles. “Did you hear they’ve replaced Liza?”

  My eyebrows rise. Liza had just been promoted head of the field unit when she was murdered. “They’ve not promoted Duncan or Una?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “They’ve brought in a guy called Kit Vinson. He worked in Oxford and has just moved to the area because his wife got a job teaching at the high school. He seems like a nice guy, quite ambitious. He’s hoping to enlarge the field unit and make it more of a player on the national stage.”

  “That sounds exciting.”

  He nods. “It’s a shame Liza couldn’t have done it, but…” He trails off and shrugs, concentrating on his meal.

  I meet Imogen’s eyes, and she gives a little smile. Christian worked closely with Liza, and he had no idea of the problems I’d had in the past with her. It doesn’t sound like Imogen’s enlightened him yet, either.

  “At least Mary’s behind bars,” Imogen says, helping herself to more sweet and sour pork.

  “I still can’t believe she had a thing for you,” I say to Christian. “I assumed her motive was to do with her father; I didn’t realize it was love.”

  Christian stops with his chopsticks halfway to his mouth. “What?”

  My gaze slides back to Imogen. She gives me a wry look. “I haven’t told him about that yet,” she advises.

  I swear under my breath. “I’m so sorry.”

  Christian looks confused. “What did you mean?”

  “Mary revealed that the reason she murdered Liza was because she thought Liza was having an affair with you,” Imogen announces. “Mary had feelings for you—very strong ones, apparently.”

  Christian blinks. “Wow. I had no idea.” He pulls an eek face. “I’m not sure how to feel about that.”

  “You’re like a siren,” I tell him, “luring unsuspecting women onto the rocks.”

  “Don’t make me laugh,” he says, trying not to smile as we all chuckle. “I feel terrible.”

  “You shouldn’t,” Imogen says in her matter-of-fact manner. “Mary has a screw loose. We can’t control how other people think, and you can’t control how gorgeous you are.” She stops then and goes completely scarlet.

  I try not to laugh, but I’m on my second glass of sparkling wine, and the giggles rise within me like the bubbles in the glass. Imogen glares at me, but now Arthur and Christian are laughing, and in the end she gives in and smiles as she tries to fan her face with the drinks menu.

  “Change the subject,” she begs, “please.”

  So Arthur, bless him, asks Christian what football team he supports, and Christian starts talking about Bristol City F.C., and as soon as Christian discovers that Arthur’s never been to a match, he promises to take him, and the conversation moves on.

  We finish our meal, then decide to walk down to The Lady of the Lake for a final drink. I’ve had two big glasses of wine, so I shouldn’t have any more, but I don’t want the evening to end. It’s lovely to have a partner for once, and I know Imogen’s feeling the same. So we pay the bill, then—Imogen hand-in-hand with Christian, and me with Arthur—we wander slowly down the road.

  It’s a cool night, and the stars are out. My fingers intertwine with Arthur’s as we walk. I feel happier than I’ve felt for a long time. I don’t want to stop feeling like this. I tighten my hand on Arthur’s. I hope he doesn’t disappear. Life wouldn’t be that cruel, surely?

  We arrive at the pub and go inside. Shane Freeman, the owner, has lit a real fire, and the place is busy and warm. We go up to the bar, and Arthur studies the array of bottles with fascination.

  “You want to try something different?” I ask.

  Christian gestures at the whiskies. “You want a Scotch?”

  “Please,” Arthur says.

  “Do you like Scotch?” I murmur as Christian orders Imogen and I wine, and two glasses of a peaty Islay malt. “That stuff smells like iodine.”

  “No idea,” he admits. “I’ll give it a try.”


  Shane brings over the wine and smiles at us. “Hey, Gwen. Immi.”

  “Hey.” As I smile and take the wine, my gaze wanders to the large mirrors behind him. It takes me a moment to register what I’m seeing.

  Behind me, at a table in the window, sit five women. I blink and frown. I know them all. Fenella Davies leans on the table, sipping a glass of red wine. Nancy Armstrong is next to her. Leah Perry sits opposite them, crunching a crisp from a packet.

  But it’s the other two women who make my jaw drop. One is Mary Paxton, who murdered Liza Banks and who is supposed to be in prison.

  The other is Valerie Hopkins-Brown.

  I spin around, slopping a little of the wine from the glass onto my hand, and stare at the table. The five women aren’t there. It’s occupied by a young couple, sitting side-by-side on the seat. He’s nuzzling her neck, and she’s giggling and blushing.

  “Gwen?” Arthur says. “Are you all right?”

  I turn back to the bar and look at the mirror. I can still see the five women there, but now I realize that behind them it’s daylight, not night-time. I’m not seeing a reflection of the present scene. I’m looking into the past.

  Then I blink again, and it’s gone.

  “Gwen?” It’s Imogen’s turn to be concerned. “What’s the matter?”

  I clear my throat. “Can we sit somewhere?”

  “Of course.” Imogen leads the way to a table not far from the fire. I sink onto the padded seat gratefully.

  “Everything all right?” Christian asks, placing his and Arthur’s drinks on the table as he sits.

  Arthur takes the chair beside him, picks up my hand, and rubs it. “You’ve gone white as milk,” he says.

  “I’m sorry.” I have a big mouthful of wine. “I’ve been having visions lately,” I explain to Imogen and Christian. “And just then, I saw a scene in the mirror.” I explain who I saw and watch Imogen’s eyebrows rise.

  “Mary was there?” She leans back in her chair and gives a short laugh.

  “I don’t get it,” Christian says.

  “We knew that Valerie met with her friends a few days before she died,” Imogen replies. “And we knew that Fenella, Leah, and Nancy were there. But we didn’t know that Mary was.”