Mad Gods - Predatory Ethics: Book I (34 page)
“Not all of our brothers are men at arms, Bishop. We
have many who administer to our holdings and our organization. We will not
force anyone to do anything beyond their abilities.” William said.
“At least the Arc of the Covenant, and the head of
the Baptist, will have company now,” the voice added. “I do not begrudge you,
Master de Chartres, the artifacts you will take into holding. The thing you may
not see you invite ruin on your order. The mandilyon and the rest of the
treasures of faith we hold, will attract others who wish to claim them.”
“The Knights Templar answer to no man, sir, and I
have trouble talking to voices in the dark. Show yourself.” William was
unnerved by the even tone with which the voice continued.
“Everyone answers to somebody. It is true you answer
to no man, but you do answer to God on earth, and he holds supreme authority
over you. It was he who decided to invade the Cathari lands. Be careful, Master
de Chartres. You and everyone in your order must become a smaller target. You
are calling too much attention to yourselves. If anything, take what is
happening to us as an example. The Cathari grew too powerful, too wealthy. The
Vatican does not, will not, suffer competition.”
“There is no king or nobleman who would stand against
us,” William stated. “Even if we cannot openly oppose them, we would ruin them
financially. Since the second Crusade, we have been moving money for most of
Christendom’s nobility.”
Alumnos added, “Now, the Pope has a force thirty
thousand strong, and composed of troops from every country under the Catholic
cross. There is very little you can do, or are doing. We are all grateful for
the help.”
“Sir, this child’s play of hiding is tiresome. Come
forward,” William interjected.
“No, I will not show myself, sir. I do not want to be
seen, and that should be sufficient. That you wish to see to whom you’re
speaking is tiny, compared to my need to remain hidden.” The voice went on,
“Bonnefemme Natalie, we will go with the Bishop of Muriet and begin moving our
relics. Is Peter of Aragon still holding Muriet’s walls?”
“Master de Chartres, please don’t trouble yourself
with Alumnos. He is our truest friend. He has done more for our cause than you
can believe and has been my brother since we were young. I know him better than
I know myself, as does he.” Natalie’s face showed warmth, which none questioned
and all understood. “I, alone, will go with the Bishop. My friend, you will
have to go with Simon to Mont Seguire and take care of the relics there.”
“I will not leave your side, Natalie. Don’t ask this
of me, for it is too dangerous.” Alumnos was pained to hear the plans.
“This is how it has to be, Initiate,” the bishop
admonished. “Our Templar fellows will be with us. Don’t worry; we will all meet
at Montsegur.”
Heavy footfalls came from the darkness and a blue
robed figure stopped just out of the firelight.
“Please, Bishop. I beg you, Natalie, don’t leave. I
fear the worst.” The robed legs, though barely visible, indicated a man of
giant proportions. Natalie walked to him, and together, they disappeared into
the darkness.
“This has to be, Alumnos. Even if I don’t make it you
know this is not the final incarnation. If all goes well in the next life we
will finally be one. Don’t despair. Whatever happens, we will meet again,”
Natalie soothed.
“I don’t want this, Natalie. Your promises are all
weak. How do you know for a certainty we’ll be together again? I’m not so sure
now.” His voice quivered at the point of tears.
“My best friend, my brother, you know we will. We
have the proof within ourselves. Have you forgotten Thermopylae, Golgotha, the
arena, the killing on the plains of Byzantium? Each taught us we have to be
strong and vigilant in order to return at our most powerful.” Her words and
argument weren’t contrived, but natural. Their emotion and depth touched
everyone in the cave. Simon listened, his own feelings entwining with the
longing he heard. The bishop felt a deeper peace because of it. The three
knights were more resolute in their loyalty for each other, their Order. It was
doubly reinforced, because it came from one of the blood of the rose.
When Natalie returned, Alumnos followed and everyone
gasped. As she continued forward, a wall of blue cloth followed her. Once
within the cave, Natalie coaxed Alumnos forward until he was fully revealed.
Unconsciously, Armond reached for the hilt of his sword but without a sound his
Master stayed his hand. William shook his head at his attendant.
Alumnos stood uncomfortably as everyone scrutinized
his massive height and breadth. He was a full two feet taller than anyone else
present, and his shoulders and deep chest were half as large as even the
stoutest Templar. The hood of the dark blue Cathari cloak was drawn down
covering most of his face and leaving the rest in shadow. What could be seen
was a square jaw, scarred from the whip.
“Now you understand why I dislike being seen, Sir
William.” The spaces between the words were overstuffed with the mixed
revulsion, fear and pity he hated. “It doesn’t matter any longer. We are all
doomed in this life. Nothing matters, aside from what we can salvage of our
beliefs.” His voice was resolute, in acceptance of the fate, which they all
came to accept.
Simon went forward and stood beside him, close enough
to see under the hood. Alumnos did not look away, but sighed, ready for
anything. Simon nodded, adding, “There is much more to you than is visible, my
friend. You did not need to hide. This revelation changes absolutely nothing
for me.”
Alumnos’ jaw dropped in shock. Only Natalie had
accepted him without question or reproof. Not even his mother and father had
wanted him, but were terrified of him. Some of the scars on his face were from
the one who gave him life.
He closed his jaw and it quivered with emotion. He
said nothing, not trusting his tears wouldn’t overtake him. Simon recognized a
silent gratitude, as towering as his proportions, and answered it with an
accepting smile.
“To Montsegur, my friend. But first, we must secure
what was brought to the cave churches in Ornolac.” Simon placed a hand on his
shoulder. “Fear not for your elder Perfectais, Alumnos. She will join you as
she promised, either in this life or the next. Godspeed, everyone.”
Simon turned and walked into the darkness, without
need of a torch, and the voice followed him.
TIME: NOVEMBER 12TH, 1963. SECRET ARCHIVES, VATICAN
Father Martin looked up from his reading to see one
of the Secret Archive guards stride up and take a seat in front of him. Hours
earlier, the man formally ushered him in; so the father was puzzled he now sat
down, wordlessly.
He looked at him with an icy detachment. “The Roman
Ritual won’t work with me, Father.” Neither the guard’s face nor eyes reacted
to Martin’s controlled shock. Father Martin lost count of how many exorcisms he
had performed. At all there had been outward signs of the demon’s presence, yet
there was none here. The air did not become cold, nor did it turn foul with a
corrupt presence, but once the words had left the guard’s mouth the breath
carrying them shook the air.
In return, Martin looked at him more closely. He was
accustomed to slavering and cursing demons, but with this new example, he
proceeded carefully. “Who are you?” His question carried none of the terror he
felt. The guard took a long time to respond.
“I have come to find a codex. I did not know there
would be anyone else here. The Templar left hours ago.” He continued to scan
the shelves. “Where are the
Book of Magus
and
Sangrael Gospel
?” The question
was not asked in a demanding tone, but it certainly wasn’t rhetorical.
“Who are you? I am Father Lancaster Martin and I work
for Cardinal Bae, who is under orders from Pope Paul. You have chosen badly to
come here. I have no intention of helping you find those books, but I may let
you leave unmolested if you tell me your name.” At the mention of his bad
judgment, Father Martin saw that the guard’s eyes registered outrage.
“We know who you are, and who your superiors are, but
they are trivial.” The guard continued, “Get the codexes and I’ll let you
live.”
“Get them yourself.” Martin was not shaken by the
threat. His life was constantly in danger; this was simply an one. “If you want
them, why not just hire someone to take them? I’m sure you could find someone
who would do it, or you could have someone hire them.” Martin added, “The
codexes are important enough you could not take a chance on anyone else
retrieving them, so you came yourself.”
Finally, the eyes began to take an active notice of
Martin.
“What do you want, Father? Is there anything a pious
man, such as yourself, would like, which is forbidden to have? Men, such as
your superiors — this Cardinal Bae and Pope Paul — have allowed us
to take care of many of their needs. Boys, girls, women, money, at times,
animals; we are not judges, whatever you desire, we will give.” The eyes watched
for a reaction to any of the proffered forbidden pleasures. “Simply name the
desire.”
“Who are you and who are your superiors? Who are the
‘we,’ or the ‘us,’ to whom you refer?” Martin asked.
“Superiors, I have no superiors, Father. I know the
codexes are here and I know you have seen them. Even as we speak, you
understand their significance. Now, go and find them and then name your price,
or whatever gifts you want — anything. Fail and I’ll kill you, horribly
and slowly.” He finished with the same tone that he would use to describe
dissecting an insect.
“Had you wanted to kill me, you would’ve done it when
you first came in. Now, indentify yourself and your allies.”
“Is this the bargain you require? You bring them to
me and I’ll tell you my name?” the guard answered, seemingly tired.
“Who are you and why do you want the books?” Martin
countered.
“We are Moriah. We are destiny. We make the world and
history follow our plans. You are following our plans with your every breath
and every minute of life. Even your deaths, pains and pleasures are planned,”
the guard intoned. “Those in the Supreme Weakling’s Citadel will bow, as
everyone in history has bowed.”
“What do you want with the books and what shall I
call you? Astor, Rothschild, Strasburg or Dupont? Are you part of the Dark
Nobility? Why would this task fall on your frail shoulders? Don’t they already
have copies of these books?” Martin asked.
“They are codexes, which are unique, hand-written
books. There are no copies.” The guard saw he would get nothing from Martin
reached for his side and took out his pistol. As he brought it up, Martin saw a
black blur move towards the guard, but it did not reach him in time and he
heard the loud crack of a shot.
At the sound, Martin instinctively cringed, all the
while, cursing such a mundane thing, a bullet, would kill him. He lived through
battling the foulest things, both in hell and on earth, and escaped with mere
scratches and bruises.
As the
sound echoed Martin comically checked for wounds and quickly realized he
would’ve already felt their pain. He opened his squinted eyes to see the guard
dead, the left side of his head missing from the shot. Father Quentin stood
over him, holding a gun.
“Oh, Father, thank you for your timely arrival. I
don’t know what this…” Martin was at a loss for a name and simply nodded at the
dead guard, “would’ve done.”
“There is no need to thank me, Father, I did nothing.
The moment I saw his drawn arm, I moved to stop him, and if he had chosen to
kill, you would be dead. Instead, he chose to end his own life,” Quentin stated
in surprise.
“How long have you been watching us?” Martin asked.
“Oh, not long. Only since he told you about the
return of the Great Ancient Leviathan.” Martin breathed a sigh of relief the
Templar’s presence forced the intruder to remove himself. “What else did he
tell you and what did he want?”
“He referred to himself as Moriah. When I asked him
about the Dark Nobility, he showed no recognition.” Martin continued, “Do you
think he knew you were there?”
“He could’ve. It always amazes me to find
infiltration this deep in the Vatican. There are people who’ll do anything for
money,” Quentin sighed.
“This man was possessed, Father, not bribed. His body
was taken hostage and I have never seen its like,” Martin stated flatly.
“Are you certain? Possession, here in the house of
Peter?” Quentin turned pale and fell into one of the chairs around the table.
“Yes, I’m positive. He was lucid but never before
have I seen anyone possessed who was that removed or dispassionate.”
“I didn’t feel a chill in the air,” Quentin offered.
“He was severed from any humanity. I’ve only seen it
in mental. Sociopaths and psychopaths have this severed link to their emotions.
This one never had the link to sever. He was cold and empty.” Martin went on,
“He called himself Moriah and they are as far removed from us as we are from
animals. I’ve heard their hands are in shadow; the ruling elite of the Dark
Nobility.”