The Sword and the Scythe

Chapter 24: Killer Queen

Charlotte spent two weeks poring over the rest of her father's work. He had conducted four archeological digs for the European Alliance, none of which had resulted in finding the tomb of Arthur Pendragon. What she found fascinating was that at the last location they'd conducted a dig, they had found what they believed to be the remains of Camelot. Deep under the ruins of the castle, they'd found artifacts proving it was the ancient city they'd been looking for: Arthur's crown, his shield with his lion crest on it. But not the tomb.

Her father had been part of the team that found the city of Camelot and he had never been able to reveal it to anyone. She supposed she could understand why—Anne Boleyn certainly couldn't have the discovery getting out and risk someone else finding the sword before her. That didn't make her feel any less sad for her father. No one would ever know that he had led the search. Or maybe finding the city hadn't meant anything since it wasn't the sword he'd spent his life searching for.

Judging from her father's tone in the rest of the reports, he had little hope left that he'd ever find the tomb. In his early reports, he'd been so sure that Arthur's tomb was in the city—find Camelot and there he would find Arthur.

But each place they looked for the tomb after finding the ruins of Camelot had led to nothing. No wonder he had been thinking of giving up before he died.

Something about it bothered her. Her dad's tone, the exasperated way he wrote about it—as though it had become a pointless chore he no longer cared for. It wasn't like him. She remembered the ripped-out page of his journal—it had always bothered her. He treated that notebook like it was a precious child. What had he written on that last page of research that would make him rip it out? He had loved looking for that sword, so only concrete evidence would have forced him to give up. But what could he have found that could so definitively end his search? She had to talk to Agbenyaga again—maybe something in the prophesy was the key.

She got up the next morning and picked up her father's copy of Arthurian legends and pulled it into her lap. Thumbing through the pages, she scanned her father's meticulous notes page by page for any clue that might tell her what had made Matthew Barnes give up.

She was well into the book, past page 300 and so far, all she'd seen were notes on the legends. Nothing about the sword or his search. She was about to close the book in frustration, but as she tried to turn page 335, it was strangely stiff. Pulling the book up closer to her face, she realized the pages appeared to be glued together.

She closed the book and took it with her into the bathroom—hoping that if there were hidden cameras in her room as she suspected, they wouldn't extend to the toilet. Closing the door to the smaller room with the toilet, she sat down on the closed lid and reopened the book. Biting her lip and being extremely careful, she shimmied the knife from her breakfast tray between the pages until she had a good enough grip on the page to peel them apart.

Glued between the pages was a small portrait printed on a thin metal sheet—a daguerreotype. Taking it carefully by the edges to avoid getting the oils from her fingertips on it, she pulled it closer. The light-haired man in the photo had a strong jaw and familiar, determined eyes. He left both hands clasped on his knee in a pose that looked ridiculously uncomfortable, the hand on top sporting a gaudy ring. He looked through the camera with a dour expression, his eyebrows furrowed as if he'd just gotten into an argument with the person administering the portrait.

Charlotte bit her lip, and flipped the portrait over, hoping to find a clue about who the man was. But there was nothing to point to the man's identity, either on the daguerreotype or on the pages of the book where her father had hidden it.

She took another luxurious shower in her regal bathroom, trying to figure out what the old picture meant. She'd have to ask Benya about that, too. Digging through her suitcase, she grabbed her favorite pair of jeans. She still needed a shirt but stopped when she saw the Cheap Trick tee she'd stolen when she'd thought Leroy was dead.