by Don Trowden
“Right,” I said starting my summary, “let’s see what we’ve got. Both the Black Knight and Gawain are living here and are at each other’s throats. They can’t get back to Camelot with their Portals, but can travel elsewhere and transport objects. We can go back to Marlene with ours, but nowhere else. Lot of bloody use.” I started ticking off on my fingers again. “Schwartz wanted to steal something small, but very valuable – query, a diamond – but Gawain stopped him. The wreckers are going to be on the Crabart tonight. Marie’s two sisters are both working in Port Eynon and lots of people in this village seem to worship Gawain, or Lewis, as he’s known here. Bryn’s a hunk and you seem to be getting very friendly with him. Sorry, Neets.” I couldn’t help laughing at her blushes. “To cap it all, we still have a statue of Lord Nelson in Galahad’s restaurant, and a young Welshman who seems to have been the focal point of everything and of course whose mum was killed sixteen years ago, but nobody’s really sure how.” I looked at Neets. “So how are we doing and what do we deduce from that lot then?”
Neets thumbed through her collection of notes, chewing on the end of her pencil. “Not much,” she said at last. “Actually we probably know everything, but as to what it all means…I haven’t got the foggiest, except that the villain is the bald-headed guy Schwartz, and the good guy is the famous and brave Mr. Lewis. Makes sense when you think about it because in my experience if there’s no proof, the bald-headed guy always did it.”
“Not bad,” I said grudgingly. “Mind you, we also know Schwartz has a Time Portal in his cellar and that Gawain also has one that Bryn accidentally started, grabbing Nelson and me in the process.”
“Don’t forget he also managed to take Marble Arch and God knows where he’s going to hide it in a place like this.”
“Nelson’s statue’s a bit of a puzzle too,” I said running my fingers through my hair. “The Portal must have been focused on it for some reason when Bryn flicked the switch.” Back in Camelot, Marlene had developed PortalVision so she could see what was going on elsewhere in Time, although unfortunately it only worked from the main Portal in Merlin’s cave. She’d even worked out a way of talking to Portal time-travelers using a couple of old tin mugs as microphones and if Gawain could move statues, I wanted to know whether Marlene had taken out a patent on how to do it yet.
“Right,” I said, “if we’re all sorted, let’s get up to the manor house and meet up with the good guys again.”
“If I come with you,” said a very familiar voice from behind me, “do you think Bryn’s father will settle my hotel bill? They won’t take my credit cards here.”
I laughed and gave the shocked Inspector Smollett a hug. “Hi, your Inspectorship. I wondered when you’d show your face. Don’t worry we’ll fix it. We’ve got a sort of Bryn tab running.” Before he could say anything else I led the way past the relieved tavern keeper and up to Gawain’s manor house.
It seemed like only seconds after I banged on the door that it slowly opened and Mrs. Jones, the housekeeper, peered out and then swung the door fully open with a shriek of delight.
“Thank the Lord you’re safe, girls!” She gathered Neets and me in her vast arms and could probably have swept up my inspector as well if she’d only seen him in time. “We were so worried about you when Bryn came back alone last night.” She shooed us through the hallway and into the kitchens. “The master wanted to ride out and look for you, but Bryn persuaded him that you knew what you were doing. Did you, my dears?” She sat down in her large armchair and pointed at two smaller chairs for us. “And who’s your very respectable-looking friend? I’m assuming you know him and he’s not a vagrant wandered in for a cup of tea.” Smollett stood fiddling with his hat in his hands, an uncomfortable grin on his face.
“This is Inspector Smollett, Mrs. Jones,” I said, standing up and bowing in his direction. “He saved me twice from a certain very high something when he had vertigo and he’s been helping us as a professional copper,” I paused. “Or at least he would have if he hadn’t wandered off after we came to Port Eynon. Where did you vanish to, Mr. Inspector?”
“Never mind,” said Mrs. Jones. “He’s a friend of yours. That’s all that matters. A lot has happened at this end too and you look as though you could do with a cup of Merl Grey tea, Mr. Inspector.” I reckoned Bryn hadn’t been idle after all and must have passed on the recipe the previous night.
Smollett was about to say we’d just had breakfast, but I managed to stop him in time with a well-aimed kick in the shins. I hadn’t had a decent cup of Merl Grey for centuries and if Mrs. Jones had managed to brew one I was prepared to kill for a pot. As Neets and I sat down the kitchen became a hive of activity, mostly of teacups being raised and food being eaten.
Mrs. Jones was taking it all in stride as though time-travelers dropped into her kitchen on a regular basis. Of course, Gawain already had and it was just a shame she hadn’t known all about him from the outset, as it would have saved a lot of trouble.
“You’re welcome in my kitchen, all three of you,” the housekeeper said as she studied the Inspector’s face. He sat down and nursed the cup of Merl Grey tea Mrs. Jones had poured for him. “You’re welcome to share my fire and its warmth.” Neets and I stood and bowed, recognizing what Mrs. Jones was saying was a centuries-old cook’s welcome. “You’re welcome to my food and the energy it’ll give you.” We bowed again. “And to the drink that’ll slake your driest thirst.” We bowed one last time. “But keep your hands off my lunch. I’m a growing woman and need all the nourishment I can get!” The housekeeper laughed until her chins quivered and her stomach vibrated in protest. We joined in out of politeness before sitting down again.
Two cups of Merl Grey and a slice of toast later I remembered that Smollett still hadn’t told us where he’d been, even though we’d paid his tavern bill. Well Bryn had, or rather would, when we told him.
“Your Inspectorship,” I was determined he wasn’t going to get away with keeping a secret. After all I couldn’t, so why should he. “There’s no need to be shy. We’re all people of the world, except for Neets of course cuz she thinks she’s in love or something. What happened to you after we split up?”
“I was told not to tell you too much and preferably nothing.”
“Who by?” I asked, suspecting I already knew the answer.
“Marlene.”
“She came here after all and didn’t even bother to see us?”
“No, she dragged me back to the future so I could brief her, but she also wanted to tell me a couple of things that she said would prove useful here later.”
“And?” inquired Neets impatiently. Being in love does that to you.
“She said I wasn’t to tell you or it could all go wrong. She refused to say what it meant but indicated we’d understand when we needed to. Then she sent me back here.”
I looked at Neets and winked. “Blimey, Marlene is such a crafty witch!”
“You don’t seem particularly worried.” Neets passed me her cup to put in the washing bowl and it occurred to me she hadn’t mentioned the wonderful Bryn for well over fifteen minutes now.
“I’m not,” I replied. “Right now we’ve got more important things to do than play games with Marlene. I wondered why she let us come on our own and it turns out she’s sorting out little games for us to play from the comfort of her own restaurant. Serve her right if Galahad puts his prices up!” I turned to my favorite copper. “So, Mr. Inspector, looks like you’ll have to keep your secret and I know how tough that’s going to be. You’ll just have to tell us when the time’s right and none of us will be any the wiser except you.”
“Where’s Bryn?” Neets looked around as though he might be hiding. She may have lasted fifteen minutes, but I knew she’d never crack the twenty mark.
“He’s out with the master.” Mrs. Jones was obviously beginning to sense it might be approaching lunchtime and was eyeing the assorted cold meats piled high on the large wooden table. “They should be back f
rom their ride soon. Maybe we should have a quick lunch before they arrive?” She half rose from her seat when a distant door slammed shut and the voice of Gawain drifted down the corridor to the kitchen, followed by the man himself and his son. Neets’s little face lit up like a wrecker’s beacon as Bryn walked in. Poor cow, as I might have already said.
“You’re back!” shouted Bryn, presumably in case we weren’t aware of the fact, as he made a beeline for Neets. “My dad and I were really worried when you didn’t come home last night. Well, my dad was mostly. I wasn’t.” Poor old Neets’s face fell a mile and the beacon almost went out. “I knew you’d be braver and more resourceful than any of us and would easily outwit Schwartz.” Neets nearly purred. “We’ve just been out looking for you both along the coast, but I told my dad you’d probably be back here by now, and so you are.” Neets was nodding so enthusiastically I was ready to catch her head when it finally fell off. It was obvious too that Bryn and his father were friends again and that Bryn had come to terms with the fact his father was not a Port Eynon local, but a knight of Arthur’s Round Table from a thousand years earlier.
Gawain picked up a chicken leg from the table, then stood in front of us with his back to the fire until his trousers started to gently steam from the morning showers. “What possessed the two of you to go to Schwartz? The man’s a murdering thug and I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d killed you just because you came from Camelot. As the Black Knight, the man had no redeeming features and as Schwartz he can’t even claim to be a knight.”
Neets put up her hand hesitantly because you probably have to do that to prospective fathers-in-law. “He does collect nice things. He’s got some lovely paintings and jewels and things stored in his cellars.”
“Ah, yes,” said Gawain, “his stolen hoard of art treasures, all hidden from the light of day where no one can see them, especially the real owners. I stopped him stealing the largest diamond in the world and he’ll never forgive me for that.”
“He sort of told us and we saw where he was going to display it on a special plinth.”
“So, I accept the fact you went to his house and by some miracle managed to get back alive. Tell me what happened.” He walked away from the fire and picked up another chicken leg. “But let’s all eat while you do.” Mrs. Jones moved liked greased lightning and the rest of us followed in her wake.
While the others nibbled, munched, and swallowed, Neets and I described our reception at Schwartz’s fortified house and what he’d shown us that morning. We tried to leave out nothing, though I didn’t mention Neets’s snoring to limit her blushes. Bryn was probably going to have to find that out for himself. When I mentioned the wreckers were going to the Crabart that night Gawain nearly dropped his goblet of wine.
“You’re sure?” he said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “You’re sure Schwartz said the Crabart? I have spies in his house and they’ve never managed to find out where he’s going to be wrecking in all these years. If what you say is true then this could be my best chance of catching him red-handed.”
“But what if he lied to us?” I said. “What if he told us it was the Crabart so we would tell you and he could go somewhere else knowing you wouldn’t be there?”
“That’s not Schwartz. He would either double-think you so you were meant to believe it wouldn’t be the Crabart when in fact it is, or just as likely because of his arrogance he wouldn’t believe that you could betray him. Either way I’m sure it’ll be the Crabart. The man is trapped by his own twisted stupidity.” Gawain looked animated. “I think I’ve got him.” He realized he was still gripping my shoulder and released it with a triumphant smile. “Sorry.”
“No problem.” I did a little bit of massaging to get the blood flowing again. “So where do we go from here?”
“I don’t know where we go,” said Mrs. Jones through a mouthful of bread and sliced beef, “and I’m still not even sure where you all come from.” She munched thoughtfully. “On the other hand you’re all lovely people, even you Mr. Inspector Smollett, and I really don’t care, just so long as we beat the man who killed my sister.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Jones.” Gawain smiled. “We’ll get him, but he’ll answer for many more crimes than Marie’s death.” He turned to me, nodded towards Neets and Bryn and gave a questioning shrug.
I gave an answering shrug back. “Neet’s has got herself a boyfriend,” I said, combined with a look of can you believe it written all over my face. “She and Bryn are sort of like an item.” Neets heard my last comment and I wondered how similar Neets’s deepening blush was to Marlene’s hair color and why fancying someone was so funny and yet so embarrassing at the same time. A bit like someone’s knickers falling down in the middle of a crowded room.
“Unita’s a nice girl,” said Gawain. “Bryn could do worse.”
I agreed, then realized that Gawain was looking at me. Huh! I changed the subject. “Why haven’t you mounted a full attack on Schwartz before now? You’ve had reason enough and you’re the magistrate round here.”
“All the more reason why I should abide by the law. I need proof or I’ll be no better than him. I need to catch the man red-handed and what you’ve done last night and today may just give me the proof I need. By the way, Bryn tells me you arrived through the Portal in my cellars.”
“Yes,” I said, “but I’d suggest you get the thing bricked up when all this is over, or it’ll only cause more trouble.”
“I fully intend to. But right now I suggest we all have a restful day, because tonight is going to be long and hard.”
I was beginning to understand why so many people were prepared to follow Gawain wherever he led them. It wasn’t blind faith and it certainly wasn’t stupidity, it was because he had the knack of making them trust him completely.
“We’ll help you in any way we can,” I said at last, and added that the Temporal Detective Agency was at his disposal. After all, a bit of advertising never did anyone any harm. “And please don’t worry about us. We can take care of ourselves, Sir Gawain Lewis. By the way, what do you want us to call you? To Neets and me you’ll always be Gawain, but to everyone else here you’re Mr. Lewis.”
Gawain looked at me and smiled. “I was Sir Gawain the White Knight for many happy years in Camelot and the experiences I had will always remain with me. However for the past eighteen years I’ve been Mr. Lewis and most people here only know me as that. For the sake of my son, my friends in Port Eynon and because I intend remaining here for the rest of my life, I’ll be Mr. Lewis from now on.
Lunch didn’t last very long. Mrs. Jones saw to that.
Some cold meats between two slices of buttered bread and it was all gone in five minutes. It was the sort of meal that someone would invent one day and name after themselves, but somehow two rounds of Mrs. Jones just didn’t have the right ring about it, so the sandwich would have to wait another thirty odd years.
“Right, Mr. Lewis,” I said after all the plates had been neatly stacked. They could be washed later. “The statue. I want the truth from beginning to end. I’ve already worked out some of it for myself so I’ll spot it if you lie, okay?”
“Very well.” Lewis sat down in Mrs. Jones favorite chair, stretched his legs and put his hands behind his neck. “Where shall I start?”
“I told you where, at the beginning. Actually you can start by telling me where your Mrs. Jones and my Inspector Smollett have gone.” I looked around as though they might be hiding under the kitchen table like snickering kids. “I didn’t see them go.”
“I’ve no idea,” replied Lewis. “They probably went for a walk.”
“Mrs. Jones doesn’t look like the rambling kind to me,” I said as I sat down next to Lewis, “more the rolling kind. Never mind, please continue… from the beginning.”
Lewis cleared his throat and for a brief time became Gawain again.
“When Schwartz arrived in Port Eynon he started a wrecking gang and used his Portal to steal treasures from wherever h
e chose. He went for anything that was incredibly rare, or frequently totally unique, and one of my informants told me about the treasure hoard deep beneath Schwartz’s house that only the wrecker himself is allowed to see. My informant, a personal friend, was thrown over what Schwartz calls his Leap of Faith and I never saw him again. One day another of my men discovered that Schwartz planned to steal the Koh-i-noor, one of the world’s largest diamonds and certainly the most notorious from the Crown Jewels collection in the Tower of London. You may not have heard of it because it wasn’t given to Queen Victoria until the 1850’s. It was totally unique in its size and brilliance, so of course Schwartz just had to have it.”
Lewis sipped from a goblet of wine. “I had to stop him, because he couldn’t be allowed to continue stripping the world of its treasures so I decided that if I couldn’t put a halt to his wrecking, then I would certainly stop his thieving.” He leaned forward. “I thought about it hard, Tertia, and the best way to stop a thief is to steal whatever he’s after and put an exact copy in its place… a copy so good that he wouldn’t be suspicious, at least not from a reasonable distance.
“Every evening for three months before I stole the diamond I traveled to the year 1867 and posed until dawn as a Beefeater guard at the Tower. Because I never did anything unusual everyone trusted me. I knew I had to steal the Koh-i-noor before the date Schwartz had fixed for his theft, so on one moonless night at three o’clock in the morning I left my post and replaced the diamond with an exact replica. That wasn’t as easy as it sounds because the diamond was built into an ornate brooch, so I had to be very careful not to break the setting.”
Lewis took another sip of wine and refilled our mugs.
“I have to admit the diamond was a thing of exquisite beauty,” he continued, “and I was very tempted to keep it when the copy was in place, but that would have been inviting major problems if Schwartz ever found out what I’d done, not to mention the fact I suppose it would have been illegal. I knew I had to hide the original Koh-i-noor where Schwartz would never find it, and also make sure the replica was more carefully protected in the Tower of London. Let’s face it, if I could steal it then Schwartz certainly could.”
