Harry the squirrel and Sandy the mouse sat in a window booth at Lu's Diner. Harry looked up from his fried chicken, opened his mouth to say something, and froze. Sandy was staring off into space, her mouth hanging open, giving Harry an unwelcome of her last bite of food.
"Uh, you okay Sandy?" Harry asked.
"I've…got to go," she replied, and left the booth.
"What? Where are you going?" Harry asked as he dropped some cash on the table and followed Sandy. "This is the last time I date someone from some hippy commune," he mumbled to himself. He didn't really know anything about the commune, but he did know that the members didn't carry money, so Sandy couldn't get a cab; he'd have to drive her wherever she was going.
She was already in his car when he got to the parking lot. "Hurry up," she said. "I've got to get back to the commune quickly."
"Whatever," mumbled Harry as he started the car.
A weasel rushed out from the keep. "Sandy, I'm glad you're here, they've already started."
"Could you tell me what's going on?" Harry asked the weasel. The weasel didn't answer, he must not have heard-either that or he was ignoring him. Sandy and the weasel started for the keep without a word to Harry. He sat for a moment of disbelief, then got out of the car and followed the others. He didn't really care what was going on, but Sandy's strange behavior had gotten him curious, and he didn't like being ignored.
Harry followed Sandy and the weasel down a broad hallway, through a large double door, and found himself in a cavernous, amphitheater-like chamber. At the bottom of the chamber was a large table surrounded by monks. One of the monks was addressing those assembled in the benches of the theater. "…the loss of our most holy relic, we must avoid rash action and proceed with caution and faith…"
"Holy relic?" Harry wondered. "What sort of cult have I stumbled on to?" He looked around the theater. It was built of white limestone blocks, combining romanesque and gothic elements. The columns were decorated with carvings of angels holding chalices in their outstretched hands. From the walls hung tapestries; those on either side of the door depicted the stations of the cross, those flanking the stage depicted medieval (possibly Arthurian) scenes, and the largest tapestry, behind the stage, depicted a luminous chalice.
"He's talking about the Holy Grail!" Harry called out without thinking.
All the eyes in the theater were on Harry. "Who is that?" asked the monk speaker.
"He's a friend of mine," spoke up Sandy.
"Very well," replied the monk. "But if your friend can't contribute something useful, please keep him quiet. Stating the obvious won't get us anywhere."
Sandy grabbed Harry by the arm, "Come on, sit down and be quiet. We're discussing a very serious matter.
"I kinda' figured that out. Sorry about the outburst, all this sorta' caught me off guard." Harry sat and listened. The monks maintained that thay should take their time in trying to recover the lost Grail. Several of the audience disagreed, including Sandy. The weasel who met Sandy outside was the most outspoken of these. "Our ancestors didn't just sit around and pray that the Grail would be delivered to them, they went and sought it out!"
"Our ancestors?" Harry thought. He opened his mouth to ask Sandy but thought better of it. Best to wait until the meeting was over.
The meeting went on for nearly three hours. It consisted mostly of the weasel and the head monk arguing their positions back and forth. Occasionally someone else would make a contribution, such as the porcupine who asked why the police hadn't been notified of the theft. The monk replied that to do so would break their vow of secrecy about the Grail, however, the option would remain open as a last resort.
"Harry?' It was Sandy.
"Huh? Sorry, I was lost in thought."
"Yah, ya looked like it."
"What's goin' on here?" Harry had asked that before and gotten no answer, and he'd wanted to call it out all through the meeting. Now that he apparently had someone's attention, he hoped for an answer.
"Oh, that's a long story," Sandy began. "It started almost two thousand years ago in an upstairs room…"
"I'm familliar with the origins of the Grail," Harry interrupted. "How did you get your hands on it?"
"That still goes back about fifteen hundred years, in Britain," Sandy continued.
"The Arthur legend."
"Right. When Sir Galahad found the Grail, he was told to take its healing power to the people of the Earth, but he was also warned to keep it from those who would misuse its power. To serve those ends he gave the Grail into the keeping of a small order of monks. Galahad and several other knights vowed to protect the monks and their relic.
"When the pagan Saxons conquered Brittain, the monks and their protectors went into hiding. Even after Christianity returned to the island, the monks maintained a low profile, only using the Grail in times of great need; and even then they did not reveal the nature of the relic.
"Eventually the order relocated to America and, with time, the knights', or rather their descendants', role of protector diminished, and now we're just assisting the monks with keeping the grounds, cooking, cleaning, and such."
"So, you're all descended from knights of the Round Table?" Harry asked in disbelief.
"No, the knights came from all over Europe; only a few were from Arthur's court."
"Uh huh, you expect me to believe that?"
Sandy glared at him crossly.
"I mean, well, it's just such a fantastic story…"
"Hey, squirrel." It was the weasel.
"Huh? My name's Harry."
"Nice to meet you, Harry; I'm Marty," the waesel offered his paw.
Harry shook Marty's paw, "Hi."
"What's up Marty?" asked Sandy.
"I was just wondering if your friend would like to help us find the Grail."
"Me? Why me? I'm not even one of you."
"Exactly. Your outburst at the meeting demonstrated your ability to see the obvious, things that we may take for granted and overlook."
"Didn't the monks decide to take this slowly?"
"And they will," said Sandy. "That dosen't mean we have to."
"Well, in any case, I'm not interested. I've got a life to get back to."
"Well, at least let me give you a tour of the complex," said Marty. "I wouldn't want to leave you with a bad impression of us."
"I guess that'd be okay."