The Ancient Evil, page 4
part #25 of Red Cross of Gold Series
“And, what can a wyrm do against a nuclear warhead?”
“There will be no nuclear warhead. Trust me. Did Lucio tell you that?”
“I am not an idiot. I do not have to be told everything. It is a valid concern.”
“Tell Lucio, it will all be over soon, and in a few weeks, he will be free to go in search of Nicole. He can give her, his little scrap of paper, and go on about his rat-killing. I have no need to listen to his whine, unless he is serving a good cheese with it.”
“You are… angry with Lucio.” D’Brouchart’s brows shot up in amusement, in spite of the situation.
“Not at all.” Mark did not look at him. “Once again, he has made his choice.”
“Oh, ho!” Edgard laughed aloud. “You are angry! You are jealous, because he is riding back there with de Goth, instead of up here with you. Oh, what a tangled web we weave, du Morte.”
“Wotch yur tongue, Brother, or I’ll catch ye asleep and remove it fur ye and pickle it with me herring.” Mark glared at him from under his brows.
“But, you do make a lovely lassie! I’ll wager if Andrea Larmenius were to, suddenly, appear here, he would abandon Catharine in the wink of an eye. That damned Italian blood is the most fickle I’ve ever seen. Why, I’d wager, he would try to figure some way to have the both of you.”
Mark turned in the saddle and laid his hand on the hilt of the golden sword.
“P’raps, I’ll nae wait until ye’re asleep, Edgard!” He said ominously. “P’raps, I shud coll up th’ Morrigan and ’ave ’er do it fur me? I’d wager thot she’d be a luvelly soight undar th’ covars in th’ mornin’. P’raps, ye’re dandy son, Corrigan, will bring ’is moothar t’ see ye? Th’ last toime I saw ’er, she asked aboot ye.”
“You saw the Morrigan?!” Edgard’s laughter was abruptly cut short. Edgard let go of the hilt of his sword.
“As a mattar o’ fact, she admoires me tattoos.” Mark told him, contemptuously, and then, kicked his horse, viciously. Edgard reined in his horse and sat staring at the back of the Knight as he took his place between Simon and Luke Matthew.
111
The King’s helicopter landed in the middle of the bowling green on the abandoned island. Commander Hemsley met him in front of the keep. An entire company of Royal Marines stood on either side of the broad steps with their weapons at the ready as another contingent of the King’s personal guard escorted William Henry toward the great structure. There were no lights. The island’s generators had been destroyed before the Templars had left the island. The marines saluted the King and Hemsley bowed to him as he swept up the steps and into the keep. Several oil lamps had been found and set up on one of the long tables. Fires roared in the two great fire places on either side of the hall, casting dancing figures on the walls and deep shadows under the partitions. The bas relief of the two knights on the upper part of the wall looked down on the assemblage as if listening, intently, to them.
Hemsley followed the King inside and glanced up at the foreboding figures of the Ramsay brothers. He had asked von Hetz about the sculpture, but the man had claimed to know nothing about it. The resemblance to the present-day descendents was uncanny and disconcerting. The place was haunted. He was sure of it. He opted for the smaller room Meredith had created to meet with his Commander and found a life-size painting of one of the Knights Ramsay over the smaller fireplace in a full red tartan in front of a favored horse with two huge deerhounds at his feet.
“Take that down at once!” The monarch gestured toward the painting and then turned to Helmsley. “There were none here?”
“The marines report, no one remained behind. If there was a massacre here, they took the bodies with them or else hid them somewhere below ground. The island is honeycombed with caverns, but it seems, they left in a hurry and on horseback. There are no signs of bloodletting.”
“Right. Well. Horseback?!” William Henry walked down the length of the hall and played his flashlight over the walls and high ceiling. “An impressive fortress.” He commented, lightly, as the beam played over the carvings and inscriptions on the walls. The tall, stained-glass windows reflected the beam, feebly, in the depths of the cavernous room. “How did they leave on horseback? Didn’t anyone see anything? Where is the prisoner?”
Hemsley nodded toward the far end of the room where William sat bound on one of the benches, flanked by two marines with rifles.
“The hoof prints led down to the beach, Your Grace and disappeared. They must have had a barge or a ferry.”
“Ahhh, right. Well. Mr. Vonnicks!” He hurried toward the man. “A pleasure to meet you.” He stopped and nodded, gravely, to the man. “Untie our guest.” He instructed the guards.
When they had complied, he sat down across from the prisoner and called for something to drink if anything was to be had. One of the sergeants brought a decanter of brandy and two small glasses.
“So, they left everything?” The King eyed the liquor. “Is it safe?”
“I believe so.” William spoke up. “I was one of the last to leave. They didn’t poison the well. I believe, they fully intend to return here.”
“Oh?” The king laughed, and then, nodded to the sergeant.
The sergeant sipped the brandy from the decanter, waited a few seconds, and then shrugged, before pouring the two glasses full for his King and William. “And then, they must believe, they will not be killed or arrested as my decree proclaimed. Tell me, Mr. Vonheltz, what makes them so confident?”
“Please, sir, call me William. They believe God is on their side, your Highness.” William accepted the brandy, gratefully. He had been given only a pair of dungarees and a loose shirt. His feet were bare, and the chill in the keep was making him shiver again. “They think, they will defeat you.”
“Defeat me?!” William Henry laughed. “Right. Well. A handful of ancient Knights? Relics from the Dark Ages? Don’t they realize, I have an entire country at my disposal? Not to mention, the support of the Prophet?”
“They believe the Prophet is with them, sir. The man you accuse of being a fraud is the true Prophet, Omar Kadif. The man you follow is the fraud, Your Grace.”
“Do you believe that?” The King narrowed his eyes at the Templar’s son. “You are the Ritter Vanhek’s son, no? Is he, not, one of the famous Knights of the Council?”
“I know nothing of his fame, Your Grace. My father is a member of the Order, yes.”
“But, he would have allowed them to kill you? He supported the murder of his daughter-in-law, your wife?”
“He did not support it, but neither, did he oppose it. He follows the tenets of the Order. Family comes third. God. Order. Family. He believes in the cause.”
“And, what is the cause, William? Exactly, what is it, they want?”
“They are sworn to protect the Holy Bloodline of the Kings of Old. The Sangreal. The blood of Arthur and Dagobert.”
“Dagobert? Who the hell is Dagobert?” William Henry frowned up at Hemsley, who shrugged.
“He was the last Merovingian King of the Franks, before the Carolingians usurped the throne, and the Holy See betrayed the trust, setting themselves up as Lords. It’s all a matter ancient history, Your Grace.”
“The Sangreal… you mean the Holy Grail? These silly fellows think, they possess the Holy Grail? That is just a legend!” The King laughed, again.
“Is it?” William smiled.
“Right! Well! Forget all that!” William Henry’s smile faded, but he forced himself to settle down. “I am interested in this skull. It belongs to the Royal Treasury. It was stolen from me by your Sir Ramsay when he tried to kill me. I will have it back.”
“And, why is it so important?” William asked a question of his own.
“Right. Well. Important. Yes. It is the principle of the thing. I cannot allow criminals, like these Ramsay fellows, to run loose in my kingdom. I have studied the Scots, my friend. I know how treacherous they can be. Luke Ramsay aspires to the throne. Sedition, treason, attempted murder, murder. The charges against them are quite serious. My subjects demand justice. I would take them back, of course, for a formal trial before handing them over for a public execution. I find public executions have much more impact on the populace. A great deterrent for future criminals, as it were. They should have never been banned in the first place. What good is an execution, if no one sees it? It is like the proverbial tree that falls in the forest, and no one hears it. I have also learned, the harsher the penalty, the better the response. Our country is, practically, crime free; since, we brought back the axe.” The king leaned forward and winked at William, conspiratorially. “I am thinking of something a bit more entertaining for our two Scotsmen. Drawing and quartering might be in order. I’m sure they would appreciate dying the same death as so many of their ancestors, who dared to mock the English throne.”
Commander Hemsley laughed at the King’s ‘joke’, but William failed to see the humor or the connection. The King was even worse, than he had expected.
“This Order of your father’s has become something akin to a cult or more like a terrorist operation. If they will treat with me for peace, I can assure them safety and a continued existence on these islands. They would be free to carry on their little existence, as long as, they swear fealty to the throne of England, and abide by the laws of the land under my rule. I realize that I am not hard to get along with, and the Prophet… the true Prophet is a reasonable man. Of course, they will be expected to pay their taxes in order to enjoy the protection of the Crown.”
“I see.” William nodded. “So, you believe, an offer of peace, in return for the Ramsay brothers and a pay-off, might be accepted by the other members of the Order? Isn’t that what you offered in your decree?”
“I believe, I may have frightened them with the severity of the wording. I did not mean to sound overbearing and threatening. It was, simply, meant to allow no misunderstandings. Personally, I have nothing against the Order, but I cannot allow them to harbor criminals.”
“Of course not.” William nodded and sipped the brandy. It warmed him a bit and helped him relax in this most precarious position. “And so, you want to send word of your offer to them, correct?”
“I should think they will want to know of it, yes.” William Henry smiled at the man. “Who better, than one of their own, to deliver it?” He nodded to the sergeant, and he refilled William’s glass.
“Your Majesty, I do not wish to sound impertinent, but they were just trying to shoot me, not more than a few hours ago. I don’t think they will be very happy to see me, especially, if I am acting as your emissary. They would, no doubt, believe, I had betrayed them to you; since, I would be leading you straight to them. Further, if I did succeed in finding them, I would, most likely, be flayed alive, boiled in oil, and left for the carrion crows. No, it would not be a good deal for me.”
“Hmmm.” The King frowned. “Right. Well. You may have a point. Perhaps, you could point the way, and I could send another representative.”
“I know them pretty well. They would not trust anyone less than the Pope himself.” William told him with conviction and leaned back, crossing his legs and draining the glass of brandy. The sergeant refilled it immediately. William yawned and pressed one hand over his mouth. “Excuse me, Your Grace, but brandy always goes, directly, to my head.”
“Perfectly all right.” The King smiled and held out his own glass. He had drunk very little. “Tell me more about this Dagobert fellow. Was he German?”
“Oh, no, sir! He was French or, actually, he was thought to be Celtic which may qualify him at one point or another as Germanic, but he was descended of Jewish stock.”
“A French Jew King?” William raised both eyebrows, doubtfully.
“It is a long story.” William suppressed another yawn.
“Right. Well. We have a bit of time.” The King told him. “I do hope the sun rises in the morning. This oppressive darkness is most depressing.”
“Ahh. Yes!” William perked up. “This is an excellent place for story-telling, sir. Very comfortable and befitting the Royal arse.”
The Commander choked, and the sergeant’s mouth fell open in shock.
“What?” William looked about, innocently. “I simply meant the chairs are more comfortable here. His Majesty should feel quite at home here in this grand setting.”
“And so, you are right, my irreverent friend!” The King laughed and looked up, at the huge bas reliefs in the main hall.
“A noble sentiment.” He said as he read the Templar motto engraved there. “Latin is such a beautiful language.”
“Yes. The language of the pagans and the heretics.” William agreed and drank more of the brandy.
“Latin? Are you calling the Church of Rome heretical?” The King turned his eyes on the man, who seemed, fairly, on his way to becoming very drunk.
“Of course.” William nodded, carelessly, and raised his glass to the two fully armed Templar Knights on the wall.
“Do tell.” The King leaned toward him. He did not care for Catholic dogma himself, having been raised a Protestant. And, he found the mingling of Catholic, Protestant, Islamic, and Jewish religious practices under the New Order of the Temple, ridiculous. He had always considered the Templars to be Catholic in origin. Certainly, they had enjoyed a close relationship with the Holy See, historically speaking. That is, of course, until the Church joined forces with the King of France and had them hunted and killed. “I thought your father’s Order was, deeply, rooted in Catholicism.”
“That is the popular belief.” William smiled. “But, the Templars have always been known for their ‘secrets’.” He whispered this last as if the men standing very near them could not hear him.
“Right! Well. That is certainly true. Then, if they were not Catholic, that would, certainly, be a great secret.”
“But, that is nothing compared to the other secrets they hold.” William told him.
“Aren’t you a member of the Order, Mr. von… Hetz, is it?” The King asked him in a conspiratorial whisper.
“Oh, heaven’s no. I am just my father’s son. I never put much store by all that hokey-pokey stuff. Let’s just say that I know… or I knew which side my butter was breaded on.” William told him and winked. “My father is quite wealthy in his own right, and his father, before him. Some German nobility or some such. I never cared for it. But, money is money. Especially, Ramsay’s gold.” His voice was quite slurred from the effects of the alcohol.
“So, it is. So, it is.” The King agreed, wholeheartedly. “I suppose, then, you would stand to inherit quite a fortune if your father was… well, if he were to be killed.”
“No, I’m afraid not.” William shook his head, sadly. “His money is tied up in the Order. I would have to be a member of the Order to benefit from it. Carry on the title, so to speak.”
“But, if you were to become wealthy in your own right, you would no doubt remain loyal to your family.” The King nodded.
“What family?” William leaned forward and held out his empty glass. “They killed my poor Lisette. She was all I had in the world.”
His eyes filled with tears, and he sniffed, loudly. The King pulled one of his monogrammed kerchiefs from his pocket and handed it to William.
“I could use a good man like you, William.” He said. “I am terribly sorry about the wife, old chap. You could be very helpful to me in my cause, if you were of a mind to join with me. I could offer you a position in London.”
“Really?” William perked up, and then, looked crestfallen. “Lisette always wanted to go to London.” He sighed heavily and drank down more brandy.
“There, there, my good man.” The King, actually, patted William’s shoulder. “If you would, simply, accompany my men…”
“No! They won’t parley with commoners.” William moaned. “They set themselves above common men. They consider themselves royalty. If you do not go yourself and show your superiority, they will not listen. I will lose my father. He is all I have left.” William slid from the chair and clasped the King’s feet, much to his surprise. “Your Majesty! I beg you! Please do not kill my father! If you go and appeal to them as from one sovereignty to another, they will listen! I know, they will. If they knew, you would support them against the Ramsays, they would hand them over. I have heard them talking when no one was around. They are afraid of Mark Ramsay and his brother. And, he boasts you would not dare to show your face on the battlefield. He says, you are a coward and a fop.”
“Please, get up, my friend.” The King was beside himself. He’d never been so insulted in all his life. “I will not kill your father, unless he forces me to do so. And, I am neither coward nor fop!”
“They believe him, because he said you fainted from fear when he threatened you and wet your trousers in fear. He said you loped about in the grass like a mangy dog and howled when they laughed at you.”
“Great God in Heaven!” The King stood up and looked down at the simpering man. “That is a lie.”
“That is what he said.” William cowered on the floor as if he thought the King would strike him. “They all believed him! All except myself and my father. We know how much he likes to brag. You know, how Scotsmen are. You said so yourself, Your Grace. He said, you smudged his sword with your filthy hands, and he intended to cut them off at the wrist and use them to adorn his saddle. He and his brother get in their cups, and they say terrible things about you. Awful! One night, I heard him bragging, he would he would have your head, and after his brother is on the throne, he would have him hand over your wife to him, and he would make her his whore to entertain the Brothers! And, your daughters! I dare not repeat what he said about your daughters, Your Grace. You will kill me dead.”
The King, virtually, screamed in rage and spun about in the room, slamming the crystal glass in the fireplace.
“Your Grace!” Hemsley stepped forward, nervously. “The man is drunk. He might say anything.”
The King spun on him, his eyes wide with disbelief.
