Nightside 11 - A Hard Days Knight

Montefort’s shoulder and forced him to his knees in front of me. I brandished the sword above my head, and the crowd cried out in awe and wonder. Many of them dropped to their knees. Some of them were crying. De Montefort looked up at me, all the colour dropping out of his face.
    “No! You can’t do this! It’s not fair!”
    “It’s justice,” I said.
    And I brought Excalibur round in a swift arc and cut his head off.
    The sword sliced through his thick neck as though it were air. For a moment, de Montefort just knelt there, eyes wide; and then blood ran down from the long red cut. He convulsed, and his head snapped backwards and fell away. Blood fountained from the stump of his neck. He fell over sideways, his hands clutching spasmodically at nothing. I looked at Excalibur. There wasn’t a drop of blood on the blade. I put it away, and immediately both sword and scabbard disappeared, invisible again. Some of the onlookers cried out again, in voices thick with loss and disappointment.
    I walked straight at them, and the crowd fell back and split apart, opening up a wide aisle for me to walk through. I kept moving, not looking at anyone. I was considering what I’d done. I have killed before, in my time, when I absolutely had to; but I’m not an executioner. I’d killed de Montefort coolly and calmly, without even thinking twice about it. And that wasn’t like me. It was what Walker would have done ... but I never wanted to be like him. I had to wonder whether the impulse might have come from somewhere else. Whether merely possessing the sword Excalibur was enough to affect my mind, influence my judgement. I realised I’d come to a halt, and was frowning so hard my forehead ached. People were actually backing away from me. Apart from the one who wasn’t.
    “Hello, Julien,” I said. “Come to see how it all turned out?”
    “You killed that man,” said Julien Advent.
    “Executed him,” I said.
    “In cold blood.”
    “You know I don’t do things like that. I’m thinking that the sword executed him and used me to do it. I think the sword is changing me ...”
    “Could be,” said Julien, unexpectedly. “There are many stories about Excalibur that didn’t make it into the traditional tales of King Arthur. May I see the sword?”
    I drew the blade and held it out before me. Julien looked at it for a long moment, his eyes full of the golden glow of the sword. I would have let him hold it if he’d asked because of who and what he was; but he didn’t.
    “No,” he said finally. “I’m not worthy.”
    “Hell with that,” I said. “You’re a lot worthier than me, and I’m holding the bloody thing.”
    “Put it away,” he said, and I did. He sighed heavily. “It is tempting; but a man should know his limitations. And not test himself. You need to know more about the sword you bear, John; and you can’t learn it here. You’re going to have to leave the Nightside, go out into London Proper, and speak with the London Knights.”
    “That was the plan, before I got interrupted,” I said. “The whole replacing-Walker thing will have to wait till I get back.”
    I was expecting an argument, but Julien nodded slowly. “I understand. It’s not an easy thing, to bear a legend like Excalibur. The London Knights ... are an interesting group. You could learn a lot from them. And, possibly, they might learn a few things from you. If you don’t kill each other first. I did work with them a few times, back in the day. Though they’ve changed a lot since Victoria sat on the Throne.”
    “Could I get a letter of introduction from you?” I said. “Saying, This is a good man, despite everything you may have heard, done a lot of good things, please don’t kill him ?”
    “Ah,” said Julien. “I have to admit that the knights and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms these days. They don’t approve of me since I took up residence in the Nightside. They think I’ve fallen from the straight and narrow path, and I think they’re a bunch of arrogant, stuck-up prigs. But they do know their stuff. They are the last defenders of Camelot, after all.”
    “No offence, Julien,” I said, “but I think I’ll pass on the letter.”
    Julien looked at me seriously. “Watch yourself, John. The London Knights have done a lot of good in the world but strictly on their own terms. They see things very much in black and white, and have no time for any of the shades of grey.”
    “Then I’ll just have to