Outremer III

by D. N. Carter

  “Twenty-four feet…!” Simon almost yelled out.

  “Yes, as unbelievable as that may sound. And in time, their remains will be recovered and their existence proved. They will also learn of the different doorways to other realms as some have stumbled across by accident in our times…gateways.”

  “Gateways again. Did you not say that the place in Alba was a gateway or did I hear that wrong?” Gabirol asked.

  “No you are correct. I did mention a gateway. ’Tis part of the land itself between Ballantrudich and a town known as Stirling.”

  “Other realms I do not understand,” Simon remarked.

  “Again, no surprise there then,” Sarah said folding her arms.

  “So is the Hypogeum a cemetery or a temple or initiation cave or what?” the farrier asked.

  “A mixture of all. But the spirals painted in red ochre, just like the spirals found all over the world, represent both a physical event that occurs within our sphere of existence, but also as experienced within visions during hallucinations. Attar was able to mix a herbal remedy that would induce hallucinations that would help open doorways into other dimensions, out of which deities, the ancestors, are said to come into this realm. But those practices are now oft deemed evil and of being in league with the Devil.”

  “This Crimson Stone you mention with an inscription upon. What is the inscription and where is it now?” the Templar asked.

  “The stone…’tis in this very building. But first let me explain that the Crimson Stones were collected from a river that runs near to Stonehenge itself. Understand that Stonehenge is not only a very precise astronomical observatory for all manner of calculations, but is also a generator of energy and accumulator of memories, for it records events across time as well as harmonises sound. And it is the sound qualities that have an immediate and direct impact upon us all now. Strike the stones and they hum and make sounds, some similar to a bell being struck. There was a time when they could be struck to make a musical sound and communicate over vast distances, but the system has been broken…you can still see the marks where the stones used to be hit to make the sounds,” the old man explained and paused as he watched Gabirol write as fast as he could. “Do you know that in Wales, many churches use the same bluestones used at Stonehenge as bells?” He looked at them all in turn as they all shook their heads no. “You have all heard of Geoffrey of Monmouth…well in the myth of Merlin bringing the stones to Stonehenge, he states that the stones have medicinal properties that can be accessed by washing the stones and then pouring the water into baths. The water absorbed the healing virtues of the stones. This is exactly the same as the rocks taken from the river that turn crimson. Many springs and wells in Wales are believed to have healing properties and you will find innumerable numbers of them issuing out of the mountains with deliberately manmade enhanced springheads, enhanced in the sense that the water source has been cleared out and enlarged, and a little wall was usually built thus creating a pool where the water emerges. This indicates that such springs were viewed as special and that the ancient people who so viewed them wished to obtain water at their source, as it came out of the ground, Mother Earth, rather than further down the mountain where it becomes a rivulet and so less pure. As mentioned, the stones, mainly the so-called bluestones at Stonehenge are known to ring like a bell or gong, or resound like a drum, when struck with a small hammer stone, instead of the dull clunking sound rock-on-rock usually makes. In Wales such stones are known as ‘Maenclochog’ for ‘Ringing stones’ but their sounds are now muted…” The old man sighed.

  “Can we see the Crimson Stone then if it is here…please?” Ayleth asked.

  “Of course,” the old man replied and reached down into his saddle bag beside his chair. After a few moments he lifted onto the table a smooth stone of roughly a foot long and four inches wide at its thickest. It was flattened and appeared more pinkish than crimson as the old man slowly peeled away the soft leather covering wrapper completely. “You will notice the carved letters…and before you ask, Simon, yes I shall reveal what they stand for.”

  Simon stood up and leaned across the table to read the letters carved into the Crimson Stone.

  O·U·O·S·V·A·V·V

  D · M·

  Fig. 51: Crimson Stone Engraving.

  “That is impossible to decipher,” the Hospitaller remarked.

  “There is no such thing as impossible,” the old man smiled.

  Alexandria, Egypt, June 27th 1180

  Attar stood beside Paul as he looked over some diagrams Theodoric had laid out across the table in Paul’s study room. Theodoric stood with his hands upon his hips pleased with himself as Attar rolled up his baggy sleeves on his dark green robe. Outside the morning air was still cool as the sun broke over the top of the outer wall.

  “And you say you drew these yourself from the actual site?” Attar asked and looked up at Theodoric.

  “Aye I did that, along with your father,” Theodoric answered, looking at Paul.

  “But these are all sealed and their locations hidden,” Attar remarked, puzzled.

  “Aye…I know. ’Twas not easy getting inside and even harder getting out,” Theodoric replied with a proud smile.

  “I bet,” Attar said and looked closer at the images. “And you swear this was copied at a site within the Thebian Valley?”

  “Yes. And if our understanding of the language is correct, it is the underground temple no less of Thutmose the Third. I knew the image was important so I copied it…,” Theodoric answered and held out his hand toward the drawing.

  “’Tis well executed, my friend,” Attar said, admiring the drawing even closer.

  Fig. 52: Thutmose – The Underworld Realm.

  “And this gives clues to what is beneath the Giza pyramids?” Paul asked.

  “It does and your father and I used it to gain access to the many tunnels beneath,” Theodoric replied.

  A light rap on the door drew all of their attention to it. The door opened slightly as Percival slowly peered in.

  “Sorry to disturb you but Alisha says you have a visitor,” he started to explain and fully entered the room. “’Tis Turansha’s secretary and an escort.”

  “Why…what has happened? Are we in some kind of trouble?” Paul asked, concerned.

  “No…Turansha demands your most urgent attendance at his palace… and not to delay,” Percival replied.

  Paul quickly followed Turansha’s secretary along the wide marbled floor corridor towards a large ornate door bordered by two columns. Percival followed closely watching the four Mamluk guards carefully. No one else had been allowed to come upstairs and the sense of urgency and concern was written all across the secretary’s face. At the door, they all stopped.

  “Please, wait here a moment,” the secretary said before quietly entering the room, shutting the door behind him.

  Paul and Percival looked at each other, puzzled.

  “They let me keep my arms,” Percival whispered, placing his left hand over the pommel of his primary sword.

  “Alisha was not too pleased we left before eating the breakfast she had prepared,” Paul whispered back just as the door opened again.

  The secretary beckoned them both in. Percival looked at Paul, puzzled, wondering why he too had been called to see Turansha.

  Inside the room, large white see through screens hung from poles. Paul immediately saw Turansha sat in a large wooden lattice chair with cushions set to prop him up comfortably. It was positioned just outside the main room on the balcony allowing him to look out across the Mediterranean Sea just a short distance away. The secretary motioned for Paul and Percival to sit on a stone bench to the side of Turansha. Paul acknowledged Turansha with a slight nod as he feigned a pained smile back, hardly moving. His eyes were sunken and he looked exhausted. Paul tried to hide the look of concern upon his face, which made Turansha laugh briefly, then cough, his chest sounding coarse and full of fluid.

  “My good friend…and of cou
rse Percival,” Turansha finally blurted out, his voice dry and whispered. “Thank you for coming so quickly…my time is done in this world…”

  “What do you mean?” Paul asked and looked up at the secretary stood behind Turansha. He shook his head sadly. “Please, I do not understand. What is wrong?”

  “I am dying…I am not sure how or why…but there is nothing anyone can do. My lungs fill with fluid,” Turansha explained and coughed, gasping for air. “I believe…I believe I have been assassinated, somewhat slowly,” he said and coughed again, screwing his face up in pain as he held his chest. “Paul…I am of the mind that it was…Conrad.”

  “Conrad?” Paul exclaimed, shocked.

  “Yes…Conrad. For he is the only person from whom I have accepted any drink from when first his embassy met my caravan for the exchange of Saint Armand…all of my food and drink is carefully prepared, and I know I can trust my cook…”

  “The bastard!” Percival said aloud shaking his head with disapproval. Both Turansha and Paul looked at him. “Sorry. I speak out of place.”

  “No, you speak as it is,” Turansha replied and smiled at Percival’s obvious embarrassment. “Paul…’twas a great pleasure and honour knowing your father, and you also, but now, now my time is done and Allah wills it that I must depart this world. But before I go, I had to warn you about Conrad…If you think Reynald is bad, he will but pale by comparison to what Conrad will do.”

  “Tell us what we must do?” Percival interrupted.

  “Percival, I cannot tell you what to do. But I can ask that you keep careful watch upon that man…and Percival, I charge you with guarding this man’s back always,” Turansha said painfully as Percival looked at Paul and frowned, a little confused. “Paul has great knights, warriors of great strength and courage who protect him and Alisha…and of course young Arri…but Paul,” Turansha said as he coughed again and tried to sit up higher. “Paul, you will need this man in the years ahead,” he explained and looked across at Percival. “And you must let Percival accompany you to Cairo, for to Cairo you must go, and soon. I have already sent word ahead. By day, if you accept my commission, you will labour working with a good friend of mine, whom you have already met, designing ships…great and mighty ships, and by night and your days of rest, you will continue that which your father started. I failed in securing the continuation of his work as I had promised him, but I may redeem that promise in you if you will,” he said and grabbed Paul’s hand tightly and looked into his eyes intently.

  Paul could see the intensity in his reddening eyes. Turansha’s face was yellowish and pale, his colour seeming to drain even more as he looked at him.

  “I do not know what to say…I shall certainly be cautious with Conrad and watch him closely…but Cairo. And designing ships…’tis a great dream of mine, but I could not if those very same vessels were to be used against my own kind in warfare,” Paul replied.

  “No…the ships you will work upon are not ships of war…they are to be ships of exploration, that I promise you,” Turansha explained and coughed again very heavy. It took him several minutes to regain his composure. “And whilst you are in Cairo…let Attar guide you in the ways of the Giza complex. Do not repeat the mistakes of your father and Theodoric…and Percival, remind him of this conversation if he ever does.”

  “How will I know?” Percival asked quickly.

  “Promise me!” Turansha coughed deeply as he forced the words out, his eyes widening. He clenched Paul’s hand even tighter as his face turned red. “Promise me,” he blurted out again in pain and coughed, black looking blood beginning to seep from the corner of his mouth. His secretary rushed to kneel in front of him and beside Paul, but he raised his left hand and shook his head indicating he says nothing. He focused upon Percival as he held his breath. He opened his eyes wider and raised his eyebrows at him, his pained expression almost begging for his response.

  “I…I promise,” Percival replied awkwardly and looked at Paul, bemused.

  Paul felt the tension in Turansha’s grip immediately weaken fast, then go completely limp just as Turansha looked at him. He smiled, the black looking blood dribbling down his chin onto his white robe. The frown left his face and his eyes seemed to widen briefly as he smiled. He blinked once more as he looked at Paul as if by way of a final gesture of thanks. He then sank slightly into the cushions as the pupils in his eyes widened. His fixed open eyes just stared forwards. Suddenly a woman sat just out of sight stood up quickly a few feet away and rushed off in tears. Paul and Percival had not even noticed her presence.

  “He is gone,” the secretary said quietly and lowered his head in respect.

  Percival looked at Paul, bemused and concerned. Paul looked down at his own hand still holding Turansha’s. ‘How and why would Conrad poison him?’ Paul thought and looked at Turansha. ‘If his secretary tells Turansha’s brother Saladin that it was Conrad who poisoned him, what manner of hell will he unleash upon Christians in reprisals?’ he thought, alarmed. Just as he thought that, the secretary stood up slowly, walked over to a set of white drawers where the female had been sat unnoticed. Within moments he withdrew a leather wallet and handed it to Paul. Paul released his grip on Turansha’s hand and stood up fully. As he lowered his arm, Turansha’s body made a noise as his bowels opened, the smell instantly filling their noses. The secretary gently arranged a sheet across the lower half of Turansha, placed his fingers over his eyes and closed his eyes before looking at Paul.

  “That, I shall clear and sort out before the others enter to bid him farewell,” he explained sadly. “But in that wallet is a letter of recommendation I drafted on his behalf. He has signed and sealed it. It also absolves you all of any party to his death. So there can be no blame! For all our sakes he has not mentioned being poisoned by Conrad. Pray you keep his wishes and that it remains so for he wants no more bloodshed in his name.”

  6 - 2

  Paul looked at the wallet then back at Turansha.

  Main port, Cairo, July 1180

  Alisha held Arri close despite his being strapped around her chest tightly. Tenno stood beside her holding the aft deck balustrade looking at the approaching dockside as the boat they were travelling upon drew up closer. In the distance Alisha was able to make out the faint outlines of the three main pyramids on the horizon visible above the city’s other buildings and minarets. The port was busy and bustling with all manner of ships and vessels.

  “Do not be too harsh upon him,” Tenno said and looked down at her.

  “I am trying not to be…but I love our home in Alexandria. I do not wish for this place but as his wife I shall follow and go where he goes,” Alisha replied and squinted in the afternoon sun. “But look at him and Theo… they are like two excited boys,” she commented and looked down where Paul and Theodoric were laughing as they moved boxes toward the main deck gangplank opening.

  “Those pyramids may fascinate Paul and his father before, but they do not fill me with the same excitement. They do nothing but cause me concern,” she explained looking up towards the distant pyramids.

  “He is here to build ships,” Tenno stated bluntly.

  “Yes…you believe that too?” Alisha asked pointedly.

  Tenno looked down at her again and raised a single eyebrow.

  Alisha shook her head, saddened, kissed Arri on the forehead and looked out at the port side as they slowly edged ever closer, ropes being thrown to secure the boat. Tenno could see she was not happy but there was nothing he could do to alleviate her concerns or her feelings.

  Two hours later, Theodoric stood with his hands upon his hips looking up at the three storeyed house before him. Sister Lucy linked her arm into his as Paul ushered Alisha beside them. Percival and Tenno steadied the two horses of the large old open cart, its elderly owner sat on the driver’s seat smiling a toothless grin. The house fronted onto a wide pathway. It was set back from the main thoroughfare road, the hustle and bustle of which could be heard in the distance. Alisha looked up a
t the house. Its walls were immaculately plastered a pale stone colour but with a hint of pink. A large double wooden door was protected by a metalwork grate. All the left hand side of the building, which only went two storeys high, was covered in an intricate and very ornate wood lattice frontage, the top sections having areas highlighted in white relief. Further to the left her eye caught sight of a swing gate that entered into a courtyard and stabling for several horses and two carts. On the three storeyed section, beautifully carved wooden balconies stood out from the walls on each level. Mainly built from smooth stone, the building quietly impressed Alisha, who could not help it, much as she did not like to admit it.

  “When Thomas and his lot get here, they will find more than enough room in the outer buildings set back near to the river,” Theodoric said aloud and smiled.

  “There is more?” Alisha asked.

  “Of course. If you thought the house in Alexandria was big…just wait until you see what is beyond those doors,” he replied and put his arm around Sister Lucy.

  “How long will it take for Thomas to get here?” Tenno asked.

  “Only two days,” Theodoric answered just as the front door opened and the metal gate pushed aside.

  A dark haired young female dressed in a long bright blue dress stepped into the street and walked towards Theodoric smiling. In her hands she carried several large metal keys.

  “All is ready for you, master,” she politely said to Theodoric and bowed, offering up the keys for him to take.

  “No…’tis their home, not mine,” he replied and nodded toward Alisha and Paul.

  “So sorry. So sorry,” she quickly repeated and turned to face Alisha and Paul immediately offering up the keys. “I am Nyla…and I have prepared the baths and put food out ready for you,” she smiled.

  Her hair was jet black, but her skin almost white. Her eyes were a dark brown but filled with youth and happy looking. Percival raised his eyebrows quickly and smiled at her. She was elegant and spoke softly. A slight breeze made the large leaves of a palm tree sway and rustle set just a few feet from the front door. She again offered the keys up for Paul to take. He looked at Alisha, smiled and indicated she take them. Gently she took the heavy keys and nodded at the young woman.