The Midsummer Wife (The Heirs to Camelot Book 1)

by Jacqueline Church Simonds

  Samuelson used the back of his knuckle to thump at the box with Merlin’s skull.

  “I’m feeling…violated,” Harper whispered.

  “Courage, dear friends. This is the moment of our destiny.” Ava had a brief moment of anxiety—the room felt both suffocatingly small and monstrously huge.

  Staycalmstaycalmstaycalm.

  Focus on the moment.

  She settled down…somewhat.

  Thom cleared his throat and said, “I don’t want to just rummage around. Why don’t you show me each piece and explain its history to me.”

  Both Harper and Ron relaxed a bit at the concession to their feelings. Ron stepped forward and presented the agate box. He explained the story behind it and why it was sealed.

  Carefully, one of Dr. Mafouz’s staff slit open the pine pitch. He removed the top, and, using forceps, removed a piece of handmade cloth with a large bloodstain.

  “Wicked,” Falke said quietly.

  The scientist took it to another table to be carefully analyzed.

  Harper looked at Ron with a half-smile on his face. Ron said, “Nice having our faith confirmed.”

  Harper next unveiled Merlin’s harp. He explained about Anya cutting the strings.

  “Oh, look at the exquisite marquetry Tree of Life!” Thom exclaimed. “I had no idea they had such skill that early!”

  Next, Harper revealed Merlin’s skull. Ava explained why it was so dark. Vera had a camera drone go in for close-ups before letting Dr. Mafouz’s team take it away.

  Then Harper laid out the jewelry—King Arthur’s ring and necklace, Merlin’s wooden necklace and ring, and last, Anya’s little shell necklace.

  Ava laid out Anya’s pearl necklace. Ron and Harper looked surprised, but grateful. It was obvious they hadn’t expected her to contribute.

  Thom was ecstatic. “My word, look at this―perfectly of the period!” He took pictures and studied each piece. “This,” he picked up King Arthur’s necklace, “I think is Saxon.”

  Ron smiled at Harper. Harper shrugged. “Occasionally, one is right.”

  “But this is exquisite,” Thom said, examining Anya’s pearl necklace. “Can you tell me about it?”

  Ava explained the significance of the piece, and that it was made by a craftsman at Camelot.

  Once he was done studying it, Harper pointed at the box with the scrolls. “These are the originals of books written by Anya, mother of the children from whom we are descended. One is The Book of Merlin, a Druid Priest and Arthur, King of All Britain from which all stories about the King Arthur legend come.”

  “How do you know?” Thom asked.

  “Because our families have been releasing the information to bards, writers, and academics for fifteen centuries.” Thom swallowed hard. Harper smiled and continued, “Another is The Book of Anya, which is something I myself only finished reading last night. The modern two books give the entire genealogy of the Merlin and Arthur families.”

  Thom stared into the box but didn’t touch them. “I could spend the rest of my life just studying the contents of this carton.”

  Ron placed the crown on the table.

  “Oh my God,” muttered Thom, as he took pictures with his comm. “It’s perfect.” He spent a long time examining it.

  When Thom indicated he was ready to move on, Harper unveiled Merlin’s staff. He said, “It’s only after a comment Ava made the other day that I realized the bronze ring around the middle was a repair Anya had made to it when it was broken on Merlin’s death.”

  Thom looked as if he was going to go out of his mind with joy. “Look at the carvings! See how the Tree of Life matches the one on the wooden necklace and the ring? This is a High Druid staff, to be sure.”

  Ava told him the items matched the depiction of the king, Merlin, Lancelot, and the queen in the tapestry.

  “Marvelous!” Thom said. Then he spotted the sword in the elaborately embroidered scabbard. “That isn’t…?”

  Ron explained the significance of the embroidery to him—but omitted talking of the spells. Then he took the sheath off the sword. He started to hand it to Thom to examine, but instead, all the lights in the warehouse went dark. Suddenly, three golden lights shone around Ron, Harper, and Ava. A voice said:

  Behold, Britain! The return of King Arthur, Merlin, and Priestess Anya, long promised, is at hand!

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The glow disappeared, and the lights came back on.

  Samuelson stormed up to Ron, “What are you playing at? How did you do that?”

  “We are who we say we are,” Ava said in a voice that was both deeper and more accented than her own. “And we have been instructed by the Goddess to serve Britain in this time.” She felt like two people at once, yet both were in harmony.

  A door off to the far side of the warehouse opened, and a thin, older man walked quickly toward them, followed by a sort of wedge of other people.

  “Goddess?” Thom said.

  “It’s true,” whispered Vera, staring at Ava with a mix of wonder and disbelief.

  Samuelson growled, “Rubbish!”

  The man Ava had seen across the warehouse reached them. There was a phalanx of security people around him. Everyone bowed to the man, but he seemed not to notice. He grabbed Ron by the shoulders. “Thank God, you’ve come!” There were tears in his eyes. “I knew it couldn’t be right that I was king. I knew it.”

  “Your Majesty…” Ron started.

  He knelt down in front of Ron. “I abdicate in your favor, Your Majesty. I know the true king is come.”

  “Your Majesty! No!” shouted Ms. Clarke.

  The crowd of people who had followed the king pulled up short around them.

  “King Edward!” Ron helped the man to his feet. Harper took the sword from him and put it back in the scabbard. Ron said in his King Arthur voice, “You have done such a fine job for our people in their time of need. Thank you for your leadership.”

  “One must do as duty calls,” King Edward said.

  “Yes,” Ron said. “That is why we need you to continue as king for the nonce. We will proceed in a certain order, and then you will be free to decide your next steps.”

  “We’ll do nothing of the sort!” thundered Samuelson, pulling King Edward to the side. “You don’t think you’re going to just stroll in here and take over, do you?”

  Some of the group tried to take the king away, but he wouldn’t allow himself to be dragged back to the door. Many of the armed men were aiming at Ava and the others. Some of the soldiers kept their weapons pointed at the floor.

  Be on the alert, Ava thought at Harper.

  Funny. Of all the things we’ve been worried about, getting shot wasn’t on the list until this minute, he responded.

  Falke looked quickly at his father and got in the Rolls. Ava guessed Harper ordered him to its relative safety. The rolled steel of the old vehicle might be enough to shield him if the soldiers chose to fire.

  Might.

  “The stress on the king has been tremendous,” Ms. Clarke says. “His actions should not in any way be construed as official. He is not abdicating—and certainly not to people who sweep in with some lighting tricks.”

  “Yes, I am. And until I do so formally, you must not disobey,” said the king.

  “Samuelson, I want these people taken into custody immediately,” Ms. Clarke said.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Samuelson said with a feral grin.

  “No!” exclaimed Thom.

  Dr. Mafouz urged her staff away from Ava and the others.

  Some of the soldiers raised their guns and started to advance. The others seemed undecided about what to do.

  Focus with me now, Harper, Ava said in mindspeech. They turned their combined attention to the soldiers aiming their guns. Just at the point where their hands touch the weapons, Ava made it hot.

  The soldiers screamed and dropped their rifles. The ones who hadn’t advanced on them went to look after their comrades, but one yo
ung man came and stood before Ron. “My Nana always told me King Arthur would return. She said I’d live to see the day and serve him. I know it’s you.” He bowed. “My King.”

  Ava struggled not to shout out what she knew immediately. It’s Bedevere!

  Two more came forward and pledged themselves to Ron. Ava couldn’t tell right away if they were merely following their friend or were reborn members of the Round Table. She thought at Harper, Could it be there are many families the Goddess has brought together at this time?

  No idea. This could still get ugly, though, Harper replied.

  Samuelson grabbed Ron’s arm. “You’re coming with me.”

  “Stop!” said a voice over the loud speaker system.

  “Prime Minister?” Ms. Clarke said to the air.

  “Gemma, stop this nonsense before someone gets hurt. Have guards stand watch on these items and no one—and I mean no one—is to leave this building. Bring our guests to me. In a civil manner, please.”

  “Yes, Prime Minister,” Ms. Clarke said.

  They were escorted to an office that could have belonged to any factory manager, save for the big Union Jack and a large, real-time map projection of ruined London. Behind the metal desk was the Prime Minister Pro-Tem, Bertram St. John-Smythe. He was a short, white-haired man in his late sixties who looked to have lost much weight in a short time, as his clothes were two sizes too big. His aura was a grayish-orange, shot through with brown. By the gray bags under his eyes, it was apparent he’d not slept well in a long time. He took off his computer-linked glasses and rubbed his blood-shot brown eyes. “Someone find chairs for everybody, please,” he said, sitting back with a weary sigh.

  There was a flurry of activity as mismatched chairs were brought in. Finally, they were all seated in the smallish office: King Edward, Ms. Clarke, Dr. Mafouz, Vera, Thom, Samuelson, and Anya’s descendants.

  “Is it necessary we include the young man?” the Prime Minister asked.

  “Yes, it is,” Harper said.

  “Thanks, Dad,” Falke says. He smiled fiercely at the Prime Minister.

  The PM looked slightly affronted. Resettling himself, he glared at all of those across his desk. “Well, I must say, that was a fine performance. Now, if you’ll please explain yourselves, maybe we can make sense of things.”

  Ron cleared his throat, and his eyes changed again. “We are who we say we are, sir. Duke Drunemeton, Ms. Cerdwen, and myself are the culmination of over fourteen centuries of conservation of relics and bloodlines. We are told it was the plan of a deity we know only as the Goddess that the heirs, in a given time, are to serve Britain in its time of crisis.”

  “That’s a lot to take on faith,” the Prime Minister dead-panned. “Dr. Mafouz, I’m sure your investigations are still in the preliminary stage, but what can you tell us so far?”

  Dr. Mafouz paused to collect herself for a moment before saying, “What we have found is that all the items are from the same rough period of around 500 C.E., plus or minus fifty years. I have run quick spectral analyses of the dyes and cloth used for the tapestries to confirm they are authentic, and the artifacts appear to be the proper age. We’ve checked to make sure the images are, in fact, woven into the tapestry, and not printed on it. They appear to be authentic. I have no idea if the images of King Arthur and his court are historically correct, as that isn’t my area of expertise.

  “It will be some time before we get a complete read on the tests, but the Earl of Steadbye’s and Duke Drunemeton’s DNA markers match with the samples from the bloodstained cloth and skull with a stronger certainly on consanguinity than I would have imagined 1,500 years would demonstrate.”

  St. John Smythe blinked at her. “In English, please, Doctor.”

  “What I mean by that is Lord Steadbye is clearly a relative of the person whose blood we found on the cloth. Duke Drunemeton is obviously a descendant of the person whose skull we tested. But again, I cannot say to whom they are related, as I have no identification of the sample DNA.”

  “What will further tests reveal?” the Prime Minister asked.

  “Not much, really. We will be able to pinpoint the region the materials were taken from. We will be able to get closer dating. But no, I would not say that we will have much more information for you.”

  “And do you think there’s any chance these people are telling the truth?” he asked.

  Dr. Mafouz paused again, before saying, “Before today, I would not have credited such a thing. But the indications point to some sort of breeding plan that makes me think there might just be a possibility their assertions are true.”

  “Professor Rhyddrich?” the Prime Minister turned to Thom.

  “Sir, this is the most extraordinary find in Celtic studies. Even if they aren’t who they say they are—and I’ll get back to that in a minute—they’ve just presented to us the first tangible proof that the most legendary figures in British history are real. The crown in the tapestries matches the one they presented, as does Merlin’s staff and necklace. The fact that there are real items linked to these depictions show this isn’t just some legend—it’s actual historical fact!” Thom was leaning forward in excitement. “Further, Duke Drunemton indicates they’ve been feeding us the story for generations—for what purpose, I’m dying to find out. This is momentous for the country just in itself.

  “As to whether these individuals are in fact the heirs of King Arthur and Merlin sent to us in our time of need, well, I’m inclined to believe them, and not just for the theatrical lighting and ‘voice from beyond.’”

  “What makes you think that?” the Prime Minister asked.

  “They said they were told by the Goddess to do this. Sir, it would take too long to explain to you the intense cross-cultural clash early Christianity was having with ancient Goddess worship in Britain in that period. Merlin would have worshiped the Goddess. While most of the stories we have indicate King Arthur was a Christian, it’s entirely possible, given the fact the mother of these sons was also apparently a pagan priestess, that the heirs would follow the Goddess.”

  “You’re saying this Goddess exists?” the Prime Minister asked.

  Thom shrugged. “I could counter, ‘Are you sure God exists?’ I’ve just been in a room where a voice came out of the dark and proclaimed this man the heir of King Arthur. I would say there’s a possibility these people are who they say they are.”

  “Load of rubbish,” Samuelson snarled.

  “We’ll get back to you, Samuelson. Vera, you’re related to Ms. Cerdwen, so I’m not sure you’re entirely objective. However, in your professional opinion, could the light and voice have been produced with technology available?” the Prime Minister asked.

  “Oh, of a certainly, sir,” Vera said. “Did they? No.”

  The Prime Minister sat forward. “Why do you say that?”

  “Let me set some things straight,” Vera said, folding her arms across her chest. “Ava is my fourth cousin on my mother’s side. I met her once, about fifteen years ago at my great aunt’s funeral—she was just a little girl then. We’re both from a very large family held together by a legend of an ancient priestess to whom we’re all related. We’re told from a young age that this priestess’s work wasn’t finished yet and the family will be part of that. When someone needs something important, the call goes out on the family network.

  “Ava wanted to meet with you and the king. My mother was contacted, and in obedience to family law, she put Ava and me in touch. I talked to Ava the night before last and made her go over the story several times before I would agree to having her here. I called many other members of the family, and they say Ava Cerdwen is the chosen heir of Anya. However, I did not believe that. I don’t believe in any god or goddess, and I find religion to be one of the most poisonous ideas mankind ever came up with.”

  Vera sat back tiredly, “But what I’ve just seen…it’s challenged all of what I thought was real.”

  “Wonderful. Another loony,” Samuelson mutte
red.

  Vera shot him an angry look. “As to if they could make the voice and golden glow happen? Yes. Given a couple of hours, I could reproduce the exact same effect.”

  “Ha!” Samuelson barked triumphantly.

  Vera continued, unaffected. “But they couldn’t have, because they didn’t have time to prepare. I didn’t tell them where they were going or what kind of facility they were going to be in, and there were no apparent projectors. I looked around me at the time. Nothing. This was an actual paranormal event.”

  Samuelson snorted. “And I suppose it was this ‘goddess’ who heated up my soldier’s guns to the point of burning them, and not focused laser beams of some sort?”

  Harper was about to disabuse him of that, when Ava thought at him: Leave it.

  Vera shrugged.

  Samuelson continued. “Sir, I don’t know what these people are up to, but it’s certainly a fraud. That they’ve been aided by one of the most trusted people you have on your staff shows just how far they’re willing to go. Obviously, they’re planning a takeover of the government.”

  Harper’s eyes went a darker gray, and his voice took on a much deeper note. “We are not commanded to take over the government. We are commanded to ‘heal the land.’ That is our commitment. Britain has been wounded beyond anything it has faced up to this time. We are here to restore the country. What goes after that will come of its own.”

  “You know, I’d rather radicals chanting slogans than a suspicious, powerful someone telling me they’re here to help,” Ms. Clarke said acidly. “I watched Lord Steadbye accept the king’s abdication as if it were his birthright.”

  “It is,” King Edward said quietly.

  “Your Majesty, you’ve indicated you believe these people,” the Prime Minister said.

  King Edward said, “I do, Bertie, and I think you do, too. Remember last week when I told you I kept having a dream where a woman told me the real king was coming and I could go home soon? Do you recall what you said?”