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“You can stay at my place, if you like,” Crowley offered.
Crowley had been tempting Guinevere when Arthur had publicly revoked Aziraphale’s knighthood and banished him. Once his business at the court was done, he rode after Aziraphale.
Perhaps if Aziraphale and the Black Knight had exchanged a few half-hearted blows, or even yelled at one another rather than having a reasonably civil discourse about their respective duties and the dampness…maybe Aziraphale would still be a knight. Although Crowley thought that one year of service to the arsehole king was probably enough time for his angel.
“You don’t really have a place, do you?” Aziraphale asked.
“I have a castle.”
Aziraphale laughed. “How did you get that?”
“I told the knight who lived there that a dragon had been spotted far away. He left and hasn’t returned.”
“There aren't any dragons.”
“He doesn’t know that. My castle is warm, with food and wine. Come and stay.”
“Does it have round tables?”
Crowley performed a small miracle. “Not anymore.”
They rode to Crowley’s castle, and he began to prepare a feast while Aziraphale lit candles.
“There’s plenty of food here for you, angel; I made sure it wouldn’t spoil, just in case you came to visit. You can stay as long as you like.” He glanced at Aziraphale, who reddened slightly.
“I’ve been drinking my way through the wine, but there’s still a lot left for us.” He sliced meat and fruit, and for good measure added several ox ribs; his memory of that time in Job’s basement was so very clear. He filled two goblets with wine and nudged one towards Aziraphale with the knife.
“I had nothing to do with Arthur or his behaviour, angel. I had important business with Guinevere.”
“What does Hell want from the Queen?”
“It was all me, they don’t even know I was at court. I sent in so much paperwork for all of the temptations I did as the Black Knight; they won’t bother me for a while. You know how incompetent they are.”
Aziraphale nodded, and picked up the old, dented goblet that Crowley had indicated. The goblet felt strange in his hand. It was vibrating slightly and emitting a low hum. He placed it on the table, stared at it, then picked it up again. The hum was more pronounced.
“Erm,” Aziraphale said. He finished the wine and looked more closely at the goblet. His sudden intake of breath caught Crowley’s attention.
“Figured it out, angel?” Crowley asked with a sly smile.
“Crowley! It’s the Holy Grail! How did you find this?”
“Arthur had it all along! He didn’t even know it. I recognized it the moment I walked into the Great Hall, just before you showed up, so I took it with me when I left. I brought it and a few other things back here before I rode out to find you. They won’t miss most of the items I took.”
“How were you able to touch this without discorporating?” Aziraphale was caressing the goblet with tears in his eyes.
“Oh, I shoved it into a bag using that.” He gestured to a sword lying on the floor, sheathed in its scabbard. The hilt of the sword was shining with jewels, winking in the candlelight.
“You stole Excalibur?” Aziraphale exclaimed. “I think they’ll miss that!”
“Maybe.”
“Arthur keeps it by his side; how did you distract him?”
“Well, I took it while he, Guinevere, and Lancelot were having an important meeting in the bedroom.”
“What does the Queen know about running a kingdom?”
Crowley raised his eyebrows.
“Oh. I see. Is that what you were tempting her with?”
“She’s always had eyes for Lancelot. It didn’t take much. This all happened just after you left. Probably why Arthur was in such a hurry for you, his most noble and chaste knight, to leave.”
“They’ll think I stole it!”
“We’ll return it later. Now, let’s feast.”
“Good idea. Oh…ox ribs!”
They exchanged a smile.