Read Online The Excalibur Codex by James Douglas - Free Book Online
Authors: James Douglas
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let it breathe, but life’s too fucking short, eh? Not a bad year, if you like your tannins. All old boot leather and cow manure,’ he said appreciatively.
Jamie sipped his wine and waited.
With all the flamboyance of a Shakespearean actor taking the stage, Steele marched to the wall and swept one of the swords – a French cavalry officer’s personal weapon, individually crafted for the owner – from its scabbard.
‘When this was made it was the supreme example of the metalworker’s art. It had to be, because the carethat went into creating it could mean the difference between life and death to the man who wielded it.’ He tilted his head and studied the heavy, curved blade. ‘It is beautiful, but beauty is not its primary function. Killing is. That has been the story of the sword for at least four millennia, but it’s not why I collect them. Likewise, the reason I collect these beautiful objects is nothing to do with aesthetics. It has to do with magic. A sword is the child of earth, air and fire.’ He paused and lovingly resumed his study of the curving bar of glittering steel. ‘Look closely at this blade and you can see the ghosts of the tree roots that bind the earth to the Otherworld. The craftsmen who smelted the metal and forged the first swords from bronze were thought to be sorcerers or wizards and the blades they created became creatures of myth and legend; things of rare power to be passed down through the ages, or given as gifts to the gods. Sometimes the swordsmith came close to being a god himself. Think of Wayland, whose name has been passed down through English legend for more than two thousand years, or Murumasa, in Japan, whose blades are said to be endowed with supernatural powers.’
Jamie waited, wondering if Steele expected a reply to the refrain he’d heard any number of times, but the other man was only gathering his thoughts.
‘Yet throughout history there have been swords that have transcended even the swords of the masters, because they were the swords of the gods: the swords that won kingdoms, that created champions, or swords withthe power to change the world in which they existed. These are the swords men have followed. The swords men have died for. Show him.’
Gault marched to the fireplace and pulled the painting away from the wall to reveal a small safe. Quite suddenly the room seemed to go very cold. Jamie stared at Adam Steele as realization dawned. This was a step further than hospitality, or even friendship. It was an initiation.
Gault dialled the combination and drew out a slim file. He handed it to Jamie with a knowing smile.
The bland, grey exterior gave no hint of the contents, but he would swear there was a tremor in the hands that held it, though they seemed steady enough as he opened it and read the first line. His mind instantly made the conversion from English to German.
Meine Zeit naht, aber ich kann nicht weitergehen, ohne preiszugeben was ich gesehen und gehört habe, und vielleicht als Wiedergutmachung für das, was ich getan habe …’
VI
My time is close, but I cannot pass without revealing what I saw and heard and, perhaps, making amends for what I have done …
Steele’s voice cut through Jamie’s concentration. ‘I could have had it translated, but your German is as good as mine and I wanted you to see the original. As you can see, it forms part of a legal document. The main section is the last will and testament of an elderly gentleman who died in the city of Dortmund a year ago. It is of no interest to us apart from helping identify him. This was a codex added in his final hours. It has only just come into my possession.’
Jamie leafed through the contents, taking in the distinctive German typeface and archaic language until he came to a single word that made him feel as if the breath had been sucked from his body. He didn’t know whether to laugh or shake the other man’s hand. ‘Is this a joke?’
‘As far as we know the document
Jamie sipped his wine and waited.
With all the flamboyance of a Shakespearean actor taking the stage, Steele marched to the wall and swept one of the swords – a French cavalry officer’s personal weapon, individually crafted for the owner – from its scabbard.
‘When this was made it was the supreme example of the metalworker’s art. It had to be, because the carethat went into creating it could mean the difference between life and death to the man who wielded it.’ He tilted his head and studied the heavy, curved blade. ‘It is beautiful, but beauty is not its primary function. Killing is. That has been the story of the sword for at least four millennia, but it’s not why I collect them. Likewise, the reason I collect these beautiful objects is nothing to do with aesthetics. It has to do with magic. A sword is the child of earth, air and fire.’ He paused and lovingly resumed his study of the curving bar of glittering steel. ‘Look closely at this blade and you can see the ghosts of the tree roots that bind the earth to the Otherworld. The craftsmen who smelted the metal and forged the first swords from bronze were thought to be sorcerers or wizards and the blades they created became creatures of myth and legend; things of rare power to be passed down through the ages, or given as gifts to the gods. Sometimes the swordsmith came close to being a god himself. Think of Wayland, whose name has been passed down through English legend for more than two thousand years, or Murumasa, in Japan, whose blades are said to be endowed with supernatural powers.’
Jamie waited, wondering if Steele expected a reply to the refrain he’d heard any number of times, but the other man was only gathering his thoughts.
‘Yet throughout history there have been swords that have transcended even the swords of the masters, because they were the swords of the gods: the swords that won kingdoms, that created champions, or swords withthe power to change the world in which they existed. These are the swords men have followed. The swords men have died for. Show him.’
Gault marched to the fireplace and pulled the painting away from the wall to reveal a small safe. Quite suddenly the room seemed to go very cold. Jamie stared at Adam Steele as realization dawned. This was a step further than hospitality, or even friendship. It was an initiation.
Gault dialled the combination and drew out a slim file. He handed it to Jamie with a knowing smile.
The bland, grey exterior gave no hint of the contents, but he would swear there was a tremor in the hands that held it, though they seemed steady enough as he opened it and read the first line. His mind instantly made the conversion from English to German.
Meine Zeit naht, aber ich kann nicht weitergehen, ohne preiszugeben was ich gesehen und gehört habe, und vielleicht als Wiedergutmachung für das, was ich getan habe …’
VI
My time is close, but I cannot pass without revealing what I saw and heard and, perhaps, making amends for what I have done …
Steele’s voice cut through Jamie’s concentration. ‘I could have had it translated, but your German is as good as mine and I wanted you to see the original. As you can see, it forms part of a legal document. The main section is the last will and testament of an elderly gentleman who died in the city of Dortmund a year ago. It is of no interest to us apart from helping identify him. This was a codex added in his final hours. It has only just come into my possession.’
Jamie leafed through the contents, taking in the distinctive German typeface and archaic language until he came to a single word that made him feel as if the breath had been sucked from his body. He didn’t know whether to laugh or shake the other man’s hand. ‘Is this a joke?’
‘As far as we know the document
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