Hunting Ground (Alpha & Omega 2)

"Collection?" Anna asked.

"What I have here isn't very valuable," he explained. "Nor historically significant. We don't spend much time here, and even with a security service..." He shrugged. "Still, I have some interesting things."

"Did you bring Excalibur?" asked Charles.

Arthur's eyebrow climbed elegantly up his forehead as he smiled a little. "Never go anywhere without her."

"Isn't that a little problematic?" Anna asked. "Flying internationally with a sword?"

"I fly privately," he said.

"Of course," murmured Anna with self-directed mockery at her sudden elevation to the rich and important. "Doesn't everybody?"

"Poor plebeian," murmured Charles, and she was pretty sure she was the only one who caught the humor in his voice, because both Arthur and Sunny looked taken aback.

"Arthur has trouble with commercial jet travel," Sunny hurried to explain.

"I'm sorry." Anna gave Charles a "help me" look. She couldn't think of another thing to say that wouldn't make the situation even worse.

Charles came to the rescue. "Anna's first pack was... troubled and very poor. We've been married less than a month, and she's had a lot to adjust to."

"Living a long time doesn't mean that you'll be rich," said Arthur with an understanding look. "But it doesn't hurt."

"Long-term investments give a whole new meaning to the term 'compound interest,' " added Sunny.

"Tell me about your collection," said Anna a little desperately. And then, because she couldn't help her interest, "About Excalibur."

"I used to be an archaeologist," explained Arthur. "Strictly amateur-which was acceptable to my father in a way that a profession wouldn't have been. Digs weren't as well regulated then, and I was excavating the grounds of an old Cornish settlement conveniently situated on a school-mate's parents' estate when I found her, just dug her up."

He didn't seem crazy-nor did he seem to mind the questions. If they weren't talking about... about Excalibur, for Heaven's sake, she would be fascinated by the story.

"How do you know it was Excalibur you found?"

He smiled at her. "Tell me, my dear, do you believe in reincarnation?"

No. But that wasn't the polite answer. "I've never heard a convincing argument for it."

His smile widened. "I suppose it suffices to say that I do, and that I believe I am the Once and Future King, who will return in the time of greatest need." Then he winked at her. "I don't insist that others buy into my eccentricities."

If people remembered once being kitchen maids, or farmers who died of nothing more interesting than old age, I might reconsider my stance on reincarnation, Anna thought as she returned the British wolf's smile. She remembered her father once observing dryly, If fourteen people believe they were Cleopatra in a former life, does that mean that Cleopatra had split personality disorder?

Then Arthur led them into his treasure hall-probably it had been intended to be an office, or a small bedroom. Three tapestries, flattened between clear sheets of something that might have been glass or Plexiglas, were hung on the wall. There were a couple of display cabinets along the wall itself.

"This is not a proper display," he said. "These stay here all year long, so I can't risk anything of real value. My more valuable artifacts don't leave my home in Cornwall. I acquired all of these in the U.S. This tapestry is fifteenth century, and like many, it has a religious theme. You can see St. Stephen being crucified-upside down, as tradition holds."

Anne looked at the stilted figure, a halo on his upside-down head and blood pouring from his hands.

"Cheery," she observed.

He smiled. "It isn't my favorite, either."

The second one showed a woman sitting on a bench under a tree, sewing, with a large bird perched just over her head. The colors were faded, but brightened as the threads dipped below the surface. Once, thought Anna, this one was a lot more colorful than it is now.

"This one is Scots." Arthur sounded disapproving. "Thirteenth century or thereabouts."

"Barbarians, those Scots," said Charles with amusement. "My father the Welshman says it exactly the same way."

Arthur laughed. "All right, you caught me. I suppose that no matter how long I live, I'll still, in some aspects, be a man of my time, eh? Just as you are, old friend. It is in unusually good shape, as it has been in and out of museums and collections for about two hundred years, and was well taken care of even before that."

He walked on and made a flamboyant gesture at the final, and smallest tapestry.

"The third is my favorite of the three. It is also probably fifteenth century-I bought it in California from a private collection. It is in rough shape, and has been sewn onto an acid-free muslin to stabilize it. They are all hermetically sealed to protect them from the climate."

Arthur was right, it wasn't in very good shape. Only a section about two feet square had survived. A knight riding a horse who was galloping with all four feet off the ground, its mouth opened around the bit. He had a sword in one hand and it was raised at a slightly more than forty-five-degree angle.

Arthur touched the clear covering over the figure with gentle fingers. "As you can see, it depicts Arthur fighting with Excalibur."

Anna couldn't see why he was so sure it was Arthur until she took a good look at the sword. Of the word that had once been stitched on the blade there were only three letters left. An "x," a "k," and a "u." She had to admit that she couldn't think of many words that someone would stitch on a sword with those particular letters.

"He looks pretty unhappy," Anna commented. "I wonder what he was chasing."

"It might be anything," said Arthur. "He was the Champion of England and fought dragons and other beasts as well as defending his homeland from the Saxons."

The first display case was filled with a double handful of Roman artifacts. Anna suspected some of what he had was illegal. Though maybe a stone from Hadrian's Wall had been okay to take back in the days when Arthur had originally collected it.

The second case held a chain-mail shirt covered with a bright blue tunic emblazoned with three silver crowns.

"That's a replica," Sunny said. "Though it is still worth several thousand dollars. The cloth was woven according to traditional methods and dyed with natural vegetable dyes, the silver thread is real silver, and the mail shirt is handmade." She touched the case. "It's King Arthur's coat of arms-or at least what he should have worn on his shield, anyway."