Lies, Damned Lies, and History(32)

‘Thank you, sir. I shall avail myself of the opportunity as soon as it is safe for me to do so.’

He looked up. ‘I had not realised that eye tests could be so hazardous.’

‘Only to the pregnant, sir. The … emissions … from the … light box can be detrimental to the well-being of the foetus. Sir.’

Well I didn’t see why I shouldn’t play the pregnancy card once in a while. It was stopping me doing all the interesting stuff like drinking, stuffing myself sick on chocolate, getting the good assignments and so on, so I thought I’d use it to my advantage for once.

He raised a disbelieving eyebrow. ‘Emissions?’

I replied with conviction. ‘Indeed, sir. I’m certain you will agree one cannot be too careful.’

He sat back and prepared to enjoy himself, handing me a metaphorical spade to facilitate the hole I was digging for myself. ‘I struggle, Dr Maxwell, to reconcile your reluctance to undergo so hazardous an experience as an eye test, with the apparent enthusiasm with which you hurled yourself into a potentially fatal Dark Age encounter.’

‘Perhaps sir,’ I said cunningly, knowing he’d never in a million years authorise the expenditure, ‘the acquisition of some sort of protective garment would considerably lessen the risks involved.’

‘For whom?’

‘Well, me, for a start, sir.’

‘I quite agree,’ he said. ‘Let me do what I can to lessen your concerns. I shall immediately commission Professor Rapson to design some sort of lead-lined wigwam, which I’m afraid I must insist you wear, Dr Maxwell, to mitigate the potentially fatal results of a modern eye test. In addition, I shall ask Dr Foster to provide a visual record of your compliance, the unit-wide circulation of which will, I think, go a long way towards allaying any similar fears your colleagues may be experiencing.’

He took advantage of my speechlessness. ‘Dismissed, Dr Maxwell.'

The next thing, of course, was for him to alert Thirsk to the possible existence of Arthur’s sword. ‘One of Arthur’s swords,’ I kept saying, and no one took a blind bit of notice.

Thirsk were ecstatic at the prospect. As well they should be. As usual, we’d done all the work and they would get all the glory. We’d get the cheque, of course, which would keep Dr Bairstow happy for a day or two.

The Chancellor was particularly excited and I received a personal message from her, thanking me and the other members of the team. She’d never done that before. This was going to be big. Everyone was very happy.

As was I, because it was an opportunity again to shelve the longstanding problem of what to do with Elspeth Grey. Don’t get me wrong – she’s one of the nicest people on the planet but she was the fly in my department’s ointment.

Over a year ago now, we’d rescued two stranded historians – Elspeth Grey and Tom Bashford. They’d been snatched by that bastard, Clive Ronan, and stranded in Roman Colchester, just as Boudicca attacked the town. We’d got them out by the skin of their teeth, but there was no doubt it had been a traumatic experience for them both. Bashford not so much, because he’d been semi-conscious throughout most of it – it had been Elspeth who had battled to keep them both safe – but while Bashford had resumed his duties with enthusiasm, Grey had not. I’d given her the time I thought she needed, but her first assignment – to Ancient Egypt – had not gone well. Not well at all.

I honestly didn’t know what to do with her. Firstly, she was a fully trained historian and I was reluctant to part with her. Secondly, if she left, Ian Guthrie might well go with her and that would be a huge loss to St Mary’s. I often wondered if he wasn’t moving in that direction anyway. He’d named Markham as his number two and I often saw the two of them together these days. Was Markham shadowing Guthrie in preparation to take over the Security Section? It was very possible.

However, Arthur’s sword offered a reasonable compromise. Miss Grey had represented St Mary’s on the expedition to recover three missing Botticellis. She was the obvious choice for this assignment as well. It was a win-win situation for everyone.

I briefed her – she accepted the assignment – and disappeared off to Thirsk the very next day. I heaved a sigh of relief at having deferred the problem yet again and got on with things.

Six weeks later, unbelievably, they found it. They found Arthur’s sword.

And then the shit really hit the fan.





Chapter Eight

I honestly hadn’t been sure they would find it. I knew the cave had previously been excavated and although they hadn’t been looking for Arthur’s sword at the time, I myself was convinced it had been discovered hundreds of years ago and was quietly residing in someone’s private collection. Or that it had been hidden so completely that no one would ever find it. Or even that it was no longer of this world. You can blame pregnancy fantasies for that last one.