Nightside 11 - A Hard Days Knight

Somewhere, on the very edge of my hearing, I thought I could hear the faintest of voices, crying out for help. I was almost sure they were coming from the armour. The helmet lay on the unmade bed, next to a sword and a scabbard. The blade had the look of a real sword, a killing tool, made for murder and bloodshed, with nothing ceremonial about it.
    “Since we are conversing in such a civilised manner,” I said, “tell me about your world, King Artur. Starting with: why didn’t your Merlin make your Arthur immortal, like him?”
    “An intelligent question, my dear sir,” said Artur, smiling a civilised smile that might have convinced anyone else. “Because Merlin was determined he should be the only immortal in his world. He wasn’t prepared to risk anyone’s becoming as powerful as him. He’s never liked the idea of competition.”
    “So why not make himself King?” said Suzie.
    “Because Kings have to work, dear lady. They have duties and responsibilities. You wouldn’t believe how much paper-work is involved in running a Kingdom. And you have to do all the work yourself. Because if you start delegating, they’ll take over while your attention’s elsewhere. Merlin makes all the big decisions; I’m the one who has to make sure they’re carried out.”
    “How did you first learn about the Nightside?” I said.
    “Oh, quite by chance, I assure you,” said Artur. “You have to understand, it’s not easy to leave my world. Merlin’s seen to that. No gaoler likes to see his prisoners escape. But then, quite out of the blue, someone from your world turned up in mine. Through something he called a Timeslip. He told me everything he knew about the Nightside until he finally died under questioning; and it did sound such a delightfully decadent place. Merlin was intrigued at the thought of another world to conquer: new challenges, new torments, and all that ... and he soon learned how to open the Timeslip from our side.
    “But then ... he hesitated. Perhaps because it had been so long since he faced any real challenge. So I went through first while he was still thinking about it. Partly because the Nightside seemed like exactly the sort of place to find a weapon powerful enough to control Merlin, but mostly to see if it was as much fun as it sounded. And it is! Oh, the things I’ve done here ... I never dreamed there could be so many new pleasures, so many new sins and temptations!”
    “And then you saw your chance to get hold of this world’s Excalibur,” I said. “A chance to control Merlin and be King in fact as well as name.”
    “Ah, but that was then, and this is now,” said Artur, smiling cheerfully. “To hell with my world. I want to stay here! I will use the sword to take charge of Merlin, and he will then conquer the Nightside with his power, in my name! He will make me King here, and I shall enjoy all your pleasures, and your people, for as long as they last. Why would I want to go back to Hell, when I can be King of Heaven?”
    “Oh bloody hell,” said Suzie. “Another one.”
    “What?” said Artur.
    “You’re not the first to get drunk on the Nightside’s pleasures,” I said. “And want to grab them all for yourself. We eat would-be conquerors for breakfast and clean our plates with jumped-up dictators. We are bigger and nastier and more dangerous than any of you. So cut the conquering crap and get back to answering questions. Why did someone as powerful as you claim to be need to hang out with Queen Helena and her loser Exiles?”
    “Camouflage,” said Artur. “My fellow royalty helped hide me from Merlin. And from any others who might come looking for me. I have many enemies in my world, as befits a man of my station. Merlin isn’t the only one who wants to kill me or drag me home again.”
    “Are we,” I said, “by any chance talking about Prince Gaylord?”
    “Gaylord the Damned, Nuncio to the Court of Camelot,” said Artur. “Not really a Prince, but he can call himself what he likes; no-one’s going to argue with him.”
    “What the hell’s a Nuncio?” said Suzie.
    “Messenger, representative, Voice of Camelot,” said Artur. “Basically, it means whatever he wants it to mean. He has authority but no restrictions. Power but no limits. He likes to pretend he serves me, but I think that’s mostly to wind up Merlin.”
    “Who is this Prince Gaylord?” I said.
    “No-one knows who or what he really is,” said Artur. “Or what’s inside the