Crusdae, page 31
The pyrotechnics fired the primitive rockets which soared gracefully from their launching cradles, leaving sinuous trails of smoke behind them. Unfortunately, some stubbornly refused to leave the ground, exploding without warning and killing some of the artillerymen. Others exploded harmlessly in the air.
These projectiles generated a great deal of smoke but did little damage. In fact, the metal pellets lacked the force to penetrate mail, much less steel helmets. A few Turcopoles were wounded, since they were less well-protected; a few horses panicked; nothing really alarming. ...
Among the Mongols, however, the effect on the general morale was euphoric: from a distance the result appeared identical with that of the Christian explosives, so that all were convinced that they possessed a weapon equal to that of their adversaries.
The Tumens were able to resume command of their divisions; Kubla, however, had no illusions, having clearly seen the laughable effect of his toys, and could not bring himself to order a new assault. After all, the enemy was surrounded: they would be forced to take the initiative since they now had many more mouths to feed, and there was no water on the hilltops. They would have to do something about that. The Khan therefore ordered the foot soldiers to withdraw beyond range of the mangonels, and to wait there.
It was then that the hot-blooded enthusiasm of the Franks and the English almost brought about a catastrophe. Seeing the enemy retreating and wanting to distinguish themselves in battle, they rushed to attack, riding down the slopes at full speed. The Templars alone held their positions.
This charge was a splendid sight: their lances pointed forward, shields against their breasts, helmet plumes whipping in the breeze, armor glistening in the sun, these men of iron appeared invulnerable. The painted coats of arms, the embroidered caparisons blazed with a thousand fires.
Far from opposing their insane thrust, the wily Khan quickly had an opening made in front of them, so that the brave impetuous knights suddenly found themselves far from their positions.
Then the Asiatic artillerymen began firing their rockets, aiming them along the ground at the legs of the horses. The noble warriors were quickly thrown from their mounts, biting the dust or floundering on their backs like overturned turtles....
Fortunately, they were more frightened than hurt and, by the time the Mongol infantry moved in, the majority were on their feet, their long swords ready for their opponents.
Yet all this seemed bound to end badly, for they were completely cut off. The furious Grand Master was forced to order more grenades launched at the enemy artillery positions, and then a Templar relief sortie.
Again armor glistened and unsheathed swords flashed in the sun. With a cry of “Baussant to the rescue!” the monk-warriors cut through the Mongol ranks like augers in soft wood and reached the Frankish and English squadrons.
Monks or soldiers, in their large white capes with the crimson cross and their square helmets, they were the incarnation of courage and gallantry. With each stroke of their blades, accompanied by a hoarse grunt, a Mongol fell.
At last, the surrounded horsemen were able to mount some of the riderless horses, or climb up behind a Templar. Then, as though on parade, the latter did an about-face, carrying the rescued men back to their own lines.
The total loss of men was negligible but one horse out of three was lost. Some, their bellies cut open by the grapeshot, were still trotting aimlessly, stumbling over their own entrails.
Again calm reigned on the battlefield. Each of the adversaries waited for the other to take the initiative. Finally, Kubla decided the time had come to send in his elephants, hoping that William would exhaust the last stock of his devilish lightning on them.
The Templar was careful not to fall into that trap. He waited until the cohort of monstrous pachyderms was at the foot of the slopes below his fortifications, then set fire to naphtha poured into the trenches dug the previous day.
His stratagem was a complete success. Panicked by the flames licking their bellies, which were unprotected by the salamander blankets, the elephants—trumpeting in pain— turned and charged the Mongols....
The rout was spectacular! Unfortunately, at that very instant, Commander Thibaud Gaudin, terror-stricken, arrived to tell the Grand Master that a Mongol attack on the other side of the plateau had been launched simultaneously with that of the elephants.
This time it was impossible to resort to tricks. The ballistae again launched their deadly missiles, but Kubla intended to finish off his enemy: he had ordered his officers to kill anyone who tried to flee. The result was that his foot soldiers advanced even with terrible losses. Never-ending streams of Mongols poured over the smoking craters. For every one killed, one hundred more surged up behind him, unceasingly, without respite.
This time the stock of grenades was alarmingly low. With certain death before them, the Grand Master ordered the firing to cease. The Templars grouped together to fight hand to hand until the end.
On another side the Mongol cavalry had attacked again and the outnumbered Christian horsemen were falling back. The situation was fast becoming desperate....
As far as the eye could see the plain was teeming with the enemy.
The Crusaders had only one hope left: to kill, kill and kill again, to sell their lives dearly until they were engulfed by this human tide.
It was then that one—two—ten—a hundred atomic explosions ravaged the rear lines of the enemy. One after another, without interruption, the mangonels loaded, firing as though they had boundless reserves. William thought he must be dreaming. Lowering his bloody sword, he left the front line and made his way to the mangonels.
There he found a triumphant Brother Joubert producing endless new grenades from the duplicator that at last worked again.
Now every mangonel and ballista was in action. The bravery, however legendary, of the Mongols could not hold under such carnage. They stampeded. The range of the mangonels was increased.
In the distance, the Grand Master could make out the mahouts attempting to curb the elephant on which Kubla’s turret was perched, but in vain. The canopy of colored silks plunged to the ground.
A charge of knights carrying grenades forced their way through the ranks of survivors and reached the Khan of Khans. Kubla, dusty, bruised but unharmed, was taken prisoner. Completely broken by such misfortunes, he was put in chains and brought back to William of Beaujeu without having quite realized the extent of his defeat. . . .
That same evening the Crusaders discovered with delight the thousand refinements of an imperial palace with its gracious courtesans.
Epilogue
☆
Well-served by bis good fortune and his courage, William of Beaujeu would, from that time onward, possess the most extensive empire ever conquered by a single man.
No one would ever dare to oppose him: the report of his victory spread throughout all Asia like wildfire. Kaidu and General Nayan, until then living in expectation of a different outcome, arrived to offer their submission.
The proud Sung dynasty, which still dominated the southern regions of Cathay, sent an ambassador to bring him the keys to their capital, Hangchow. The commanders of the Karakorum and Peking garrisons did the same. Now the Grand Master completed his conquests without making a move.
However, he could not keep his faithful supporters at his side, for the management of such vast territories demanded trustworthy overseers. Therefore, he put the former Khanate of Kaidu and all the realm of Transoxiana in the care of his Marshal, the valiant Peter of Sevry. John of Grailly, who seemed to be on hot coals, seized the first opportunity to board a vessel bound for Basra, where his beloved princess waited for him.
On the other hand, the fiery temperament of Otto of Granson would allow him no satisfaction in the luxury of a palace with prospects of nothing but peace. He therefore assembled a fleet and, at the head of his English knights joined by Mongol mercenaries, sailed to conquer the fabulous island of Japan.
The Templar from Tyre remained at the side of his 138
leader to set down the chronicle of his epic crusade, already legendary.
Among all those who survived these memorable adventures, the most astonished was Kubla. After his capture the Khan of Khans expected his vanquisher to have him executed. The Grand Master, quite to the contrary, treated him with great honor, learned his language and spent long evenings talking with him. The Mongol was permitted to keep his private quarters, his wives, and was given a lavish allowance. There was a single, minor restriction: a guard commanded by Garin with the assistance of his two brothers kept the Khan under surveillance night and day.
During the course of one of their friendly discussions, Kubla asked the Templar how the magical weapons which gave him the victory had come into his possession. William hesitated an instant, then told him the exact circumstance of the finding of Baphomet, the past alliance with him and the gift of the atomic grenades, passing silently over the existence of Brother Joubert’s precious duplicator.
The Mongol was extremely astonished to leam in this way of otherworldly beings who, to him, were nothing but demons inhabiting inaccessible heavenly bodies. However, the frankness of his new friend moved him to tell of the revelation made before the battle of Taichaohsiang by the Tibetan magus.
Now it was William’s turn to be dumbfounded. According to this seer, he, the Grand Master of the Templars, was nothing but a puppet in the hands of Baphomet. Reason enough for him to be stunned.
Until now his relations with the creature lurking in the tarn had seemed to him to be entirely to his advantage, since he believed that he held the demon at his mercy. Actually, only the food faithfully supplied each day by the Templars of Pinay or Beaulieu allowed Baphomet to survive. The Grand Master had always believed that putting an end to that service would be sufficient to bring the mysterious being to terms. And now someone had revealed that he was the dupe, that his so-called captive held him under a spell, thanks to his astonishing psychic powers.
William could not believe it was true. Yet, turning the matter over in his mind, he remembered how Brother Joubert had been subjected. Perhaps, after all, there was some truth in what this foreign magician said. Inquiry revealed that the Tibetan was still in the palace and William sent for him that he might question him further.
As soon as he was shown in, the lama showed the perceptive nature of his mind by declaring:
“Puissant Master of the Templars, you acted wisely in calling me before you. On numerous occasions I have attempted to warn you but each time your door was barred to me. You are under the sway of a devilish creature who uses you for his own evil purposes. All your actions are directed by him, for he hopes his own kind will find him and plans for the day when this alien race will spread over all the Earth, reducing humans to slavery, as he has already done to you.”
“You seem indeed to be endowed with strange talents,” William mused, “but furnish no proof of your words. They amount to no more than the conjectures that any charlatan might make.”
“Well, then, is it not true that you communicate with this treacherous being by means of effigies in his likeness which transmit your words over lands and oceans?”
“I cannot deny it.”
“Further, do you not believe that you hold him in your power because he would have nothing to eat if it were not for your help?”
“You are quite right but, since you know it, you must have read my thoughts.”
“Now that you finally recognize my powers, I am going to try to help you prevent what would be, if he is not overthrown, an appalling catastrophe for the people of this world. Each time you have talked with this alien he has commanded you to forget a part of his words, which are deeply buried in your memory. I have been able to discover what they are, in this way confirming that you have only an illusion of power: the evil mind of Baphomet holds you captive!”
The Grand Master was silent, overwhelmed. Was he indeed no more than a willing tool manipulated by Baphomet? Was the propagation of the True Faith, which he had considered his sole objective, no more in fact than a cover-up, masking a vast enterprise of conquest, the only beneficiary of which would be this stranger? Unthinkable . . . still, the Tibetan appeared to know his most carefully hidden secrets. . . . Well, then, face reality, no matter how abhorrent it might be. This did explain a number of strange facts: Baphomet’s close confinement had always seemed inexplicable to him, since that accursed being could leave his protective sphere by using hermetic armor. But the creature had no need at all to move about the Earth since the Templars, no matter how far away, acted according to his will. Further, others had suspected this: the Grand Master of the Hospitalers had believed that the gift of the famous lightning was nothing but a demoniacal stratagem.
William’s pride kept him from voicing his immense confusion. Then Kubla put a friendly hand on his shoulder and declared, “I know what you feel . . . believe me, it took every effort for me to accept the loss of an empire bequeathed me by my ancestors.
“Your nobility of spirit made me your counselor, rather than reducing me to slavery. You must believe this Tibetan seer and act according to his directions in order to save Earth’s people. Whether they have white, yellow or black skins, their destiny lies in your hands.”
“What do you propose?” The Grand Master’s question was little more than a whisper.
“I have carefully considered this grievous problem, for I knew that one day you would ask me that question,” replied the lama. “Your weapons, however formidable, cannot be used against Baphomet because a magic circle protects him, both him and his ship. To defeat him, there exists but one means: to subjugate his mind as he has yours, and then kill him. To that end, I have already brought together a certain number of sages, possessing— like me—great psychic powers. By joining our abilities, perhaps we can bring him to quarter. This is how we will proceed: you must contact this demon, as usual, using his effigy. Then we will make a surprise attack, following the channel of the path that allows him to talk with you. I hope to win out because he will have no time to set up counter forces. This will demand a considerable effort from us and I am not at all certain of success. However, we have no choice. . . .”
“Let us try. You have succeeded at least in convincing me: it shall be done as you wish.”
The lamas then took their places in the room where the transmitter was kept. Brother Joubert stood by to cut communications immediately if anything went wrong, then William made the connection.
The Tibetans, motionless, with fixed stares, seemed lost In a state of suspended life-functions.
Suddenly the effigy came to life and Baphomet declared:
“Well, William, you have neglected me... but surely you are rested from your labors now. You must end your inaction and come back to France in order to let your king know that, here also, you are the master. You are going...
His speech ended abruptly on those words.
Flashes of light streaked the large eyes of the effigy.
William felt an excruciating pain in his head, then the lights flickered and suddenly went out. The Templar pressed a hand to his forehead in an attempt to drive out the stabbing torment. Grimacing in agony, he leaned toward the baleful eyes of the effigy. A large room bathed in a reddish glow could just be distinguished. Its walls were lined with strange devices, completely meaningless to him. On the floor, motionless, lay a hideous dwarf with two short horns on his forehead and two wings on his back. One might have thought it a cathedral gargoyle. Suddenly he was struck by all the horror of it. His liberated mind finally realized that he had indeed been the plaything of a being compared with whom the Grand Master was as weak as a child.
The Tibetans lay exhausted on the ground, suffering, from the recoil of the frightful struggle. The sweat ran from their wrinkled faces. At last, their leader sat up and muttered:
“Well, the demon is dead! The struggle was more difficult than I would have believed: it missed failing by a very thin line...
“How can I ever thank you?” exclaimed the Grand Master. “You have set me free! May heaven bless you!”
“We ask nothing of you. Be lenient with your subjects and never forget that the universe is peopled with mischievous demons who seek only to delude poor humans. ...”
And so it was that Baphomet lost his empire.
The lamas, loaded with honors, returned to their far-off native land. Brother Joubert would gladly have accompanied them, but William had need of him.
Racked by the fear of one day seeing demons arrive from sidereal space to invade the Earth, he wanted above everything else to penetrate the secrets of the spacecraft hidden in the marsh. At his order, the Commander of Pinay removed it from the muddy bottom with aid of teams of horses, and a convoy carried it to Aigues-Mortes, where it was loaded on a ship.
Arriving at Alexandretta, it was carted to far-off Cathay, as easily as the ship of the Syrian desert treads the sands.
The learned Brother Joubert, having become expert in such matters, discovered the secret of the engine’s magnetic seal with little difficulty. Thanks to the remains of this second Baphomet spacecraft, he had high hopes of being able to build a vessel suitable for navigating the vast spaces of the skies, and the Polo brothers asked only to be aboard on that voyage!
Often, when William of Beaujeu contemplated the rising of the two moons of his planet, one rose-colored, the other alabaster, he asked if the God of the Universe would allow this to happen. . . .
The ways of the Lord are inscrutable: thus, in a parallel universe where the sun rises in the east, the Earth has only one satellite. There, history such as that recorded by the Templar from Tyre is quite different. On May 18, 1275, William of Beaujeu was killed at Acre, defending the Accursed Tower, for he did not have access, alas, to any atomic explosives.
