She did as he asked of her, immediately taking a knee in prayer. The room was much darker than the rest of the monastery, the light reflecting in from the stained glass windows the only illumination as he made his way to the front. Off to the side, away from and past the pulpit, was an extension of the room where numerous red votives were lit, burning softly in the presence of a man who the cardinal knew to be in his early thirties, deep in prayer.
“Your Eminence, your coming here is not something that usually bodes well.”
The older man, Cardinal Oliviero Carafa, smiled as he heard the gruff voice. “Ah, Mathias. Ever the clever one. You would not think that an old man such as myself would come here just to check on you? Besides, my friend, how did you even know it was I that approached?”
The man named Mathias D’este turned his bald head toward the cardinal, his blue eyes piercingly bright, and the faintest of smiles peeked through. “My fellow brothers know that this is my deepest time of meditation. Who else should I have expected to come to a monastery in the middle of nowhere to find this specific monk?”
“Fair enough,” the cardinal nodded. He forced his brows to conjure a more serious expression as he took a seat beside Mathias. “Then you know why I am here.”
Mathias looked away, turning his gaze back toward the votives. “I do my service to the Lord here, in this monastery, praying for the sinners of the world.”
“You know that is not the true purpose to this place.” The cardinal leaned in, even though Mathias refused to meet his gaze. “As much as you and your brothers are truly monks in this establishment, you know the greater cause that many of you fight for. You must remember that your role is yet a greater one. You fight a battle that not many others can.”
Mathias straightened, finally looking back toward the cardinal. “I understand, Your Eminence, but is there not another who can undertake this duty?”
Cardinal Carafa placed his hand on Mathias’s, gripping it tightly. “I wish there was, my son, but all of our other agents are on missions of their own importance. This particular one is of the utmost sensitivity, and I would trust none other but you with it.”
Mathias sighed and nodded. The cardinal squeezed his hand tighter before letting go.
“I understand your reluctance, my son, to take up the sword again. Going back and forth between both lives must be a burden beyond understanding, but remember my son, we each do our own duties in the name of our Father Almighty.” Mathias nodded and the cardinal smiled slightly. “It is work that you and your brothers in the order do that will eventually help to redeem the names of your ancestors.”
“I understand, Your Eminence. All my work, both on the field of battle and in prayer, has been in the name of the Knights Templar. If only we are remembered by our fellow brothers of the cloth, it is better than the disgraced and scarred memories that people now associate with our order.”
The cardinal nodded. The original order of the Knights Templar had been disbanded by the former Pope Clement V many years ago, all of the members killed and burned at the stake for heresy. The cardinal was from a line of believers in the Church, sworn to secrecy, who doubted that the motives of the Pope and his predecessors were benevolent; they did not believe that so many people who served in the name of God would secretly commit sacrilege and profane blasphemy. And of course, there were the rumors of the Teutonic Knights being more involved than anyone in their false accusations. There were many in the order, like Mathias’s father and grandfather, who were good people – Cardinal Carafa knew that personally.
Mathias’s ancestor had been part of the order when it was disbanded, and the cardinal had been leader of the new order long enough to see his father and grandfather take up the sword and cloth in the name of the new order, and thus hid them within the cloisters of the monks. The monasteries he organized and watched over consisted of only the most devout of faith and the D’estes were among the most altruistic. Mathias’s father had trained his son thoroughly in the art of swordplay and ever since he was young, he had been honed and bred for the day he would take up the mantle. Since he was very young, he served the cloth in every way he could, until the day he was sworn in to the Knights Templar.
Mathias nodded behind the cardinal, toward the back of the church. “Who is that with you?”
“Ah,” the red-robed man jolted up, standing quickly. “I almost forgot. Come.”
The younger girl finished her prayer and crossed herself as she saw the cardinal coming back. She leapt to her feet, bowing deeply as he approached with Mathias.
“Mathias, meet Elizabeth Baumbres. She is one of the newest members of our order. She will be your companion on this mission.”
The Knight Templar cocked an eyebrow at the cardinal. “Forgive me, Your Eminence, but… I am not used to bringing aid on my missions. What task exactly is it that you have for me?”
“Ah, that is a good question.” The cardinal bent his knees and almost fell into the pew. He sat with a huff, placing his cane next to him. He smiled as he turned back to the two younger warriors. “But first, let this old man sit and rest a moment.”
*****
He wondered how something could feel so uncomfortable, yet so natural, at the same time. He did not need to look down through the slit in his winged helmet to know every rivet and ring. The cold metal felt foreign after donning it for the first time in some months, but after setting forth on his horse and traveling back roads that he knew the Teutonic Knights did not traverse on, he started feeling the pride of fighting for the order that his father and father before him swore to. The emblem had been altered to signify their rebirth, but it still stood for the same thing; the Knights Templar were the sword and shield of God and they would cut down the wicked and sinful.
He stole a sidelong glance toward the girl, Elizabeth. She was not as heavily clad as he, but she wore leather armor underneath her cloak; her vibrant red hair poking out from the hood. He saw the crossbow slung on her back and the glint of steel on her hip, a pair probably hidden on the other side. She must have noticed the turn of his head, for she looked at him and smiled.
“Cardinal Carafa has spoken very highly about you.”
“His Eminence flatters me unnecessarily.” Mathias focused his eyes on the path ahead.
“You are an inspiration to all of us in the order. Your deeds over the years have reached many ears.”
Mathias did not speak at first, letting the words sink in. “Everything I have done, I have done in the name of God. My work is no different than anything any other man could do.”
“But no other man has!” There was a shine of respect in her eyes as she tried her best to balance staring at him and the road. “None other has devoted the time and effort you have to battling the evils both inside and out of the church; with sword in hand and prayer in church.”
Mathias said no more even though he knew she expected him to. She was a nice enough young woman, eager to fulfill her duty, but if she were to follow in the same steps Mathias had, it would be a long road paved in blood. Every kill was for a righteous cause, and with every death, he cleansed the world of another blasphemous fiend. But then again, every kill claimed the life of a creature God Himself created and put on the earth. He was told each pagan he encountered was a test in his faith, but not all Slavs fell under that archetype.
These were truly strange times. While the Teutonic Knights worked to abolish and completely eradicate all those who still worshiped the gods of old, the Knights Templar were commonly tasked to aid those pagans that were willing to work alongside them; those whose shared with them the common goal of seeing humanity thrive against the forces of the Eldar Gods. His ancestors would be incredulous to believe such a communion possible, but times had changed. Perhaps years back the church could turn a blind eye to the magics of the Slavs and their beliefs in multiple deities, but in this day and age, there was too much proof to deny that these mystics existed. He had seen them with his own eyes plenty of times.
But that did not weaken his faith; no, it only helped to strengthen it and believe more than ever that God worked in mysterious ways that the mortal mind could not possibly comprehend.
The further they rode into the forest, the more the canopy obscured the sunlight, and the darker the woods became. When he realized this, Mathias looked up at the branches overhead and could barely see the sun streaking through the thick swathes of green. Their horses slowed, hesitant, as they tried to avoid the overgrown roots and rotted stumps. Mathias led them on, holding the reins tight as he forced his steed to stay resolute. The cardinal had told them the settlement was tucked deep in the Bialowieza Forest, and so he was determined to continue on until they found it.
When it seemed that the branches would reach out to pluck them off of their horses and smother them in blankets of green, the path opened back up, revealing an open stretch of land. Elizabeth hurried her horse beside him once more and turned to give Mathias a quizzical look.
“This must be it, no?” She nodded before them with her chin at the settlement of huts sprawled across the open field, the sun illuminating the working tribesmen. “Should we be cautious? Will they attack us?”
Mathias noticed the Slavic peasants stopping their fieldwork to stare at the holy warriors, their tools gripped tightly in both hands. He shook his head.
“They will not attack. If they were going to have wards up to stop us, they would have by now. Slavic magic is greater than any tool human hands could craft. They have been foretold of our coming.”
He raised a hand up to the tribal people, slowing his horse as he approached. Elizabeth did the same until they both came to a stop. Mathias turned his head and one hand toward the girl as he got off his horse, holding his index finger out to her. She understood and remained mounted as Mathias lowered his arms and approached the crowd that assembled at the edge of the huts. They were very poorly clad, mostly in roughly cut hides; their hair was long, their faces dirty. Mathias took his winged helmet off, placing it in the crux of his arm. The prickles of hair felt odd on his nearly-shaven head now being exposed to the cool air. He gave them all a warm smile.
“Greetings,” the words rolled off of his tongue in Polish with no hesitation or strain. He had been in enough parlays with these people that not knowing their language would have been an embarrassment to himself. “My name is Mathias D’este and I am a Knight Templar. Our people have been in talks and you have been expecting me, if I am not mistaken. Which among you is the elder?”
An older man, hunched over a thick walking stick, stepped forward with the assistance of a woman, almost three times younger, holding onto one of his arms. His eyes were sullen and heavy, and despite cheeks that sagged down with age, an almost toothless smile lifted everything momentarily.
“I am the one you seek, knight. My name is Dmitrei. I lead the tribe of this area of the forest and we are loyal servants of Jarilo.”
Mathias handed the reins of his horse to Elizabeth and then bowed before the elder, pushing his cape out behind him. “As per the covenant between our factions, we are here to assist you in any way that we can.”
Dmitrei nodded and then pointed at one of the younger men, waving him forward to the horses. Mathias watched as the boy rushed forward to Elizabeth and then stared down at the ground. She hesitated, as if unsure of what he wanted from her, but she stepped down from the tack and handed over the reins to both horses. She stood next to Mathias, and when she noticed the elder staring, she bowed down low as well.
“This is my ally, Sister Elizabeth Baumbres.”
The elder’s smile did not wane, but he hobbled around as best as he could, indicating with his head toward the rear of the encampment.
“Come. We have much to discuss. Our people will see that your horses are properly taken care of.”
Mathias gave a look back toward the steeds and then Elizabeth. After her initial excitement to be traveling with him, she seemed hesitant to meet his gaze. It was probably his eyes. He had seen the look on many a face when he turned his stone-cold blue eyes upon them, and even sometimes he found a chill run down his own spine before a mirror.
He walked slowly behind the hobbled old man, looking around at the ramshackle huts as they passed. Each one was unique in their makeup; some had humps at the top while others were on the side; some were tall and lean while others were short and squat; some were made more of hide and others consisted more of leafy natural materials. Mathias had great respect for the people that lived so in touch with the nature of God, even though they did not see it in that fashion; but after living in civilization for his entire life, he could not fathom sleeping in one of those structures.
The young woman detached from the elder as they came close to a hut that did not stand out from the others in any special way. She held open the hide flap that was considered the doorway as the older man led the two warriors inward. The elder limped to the back, nodding with his head toward wooden stumps in the middle of the room, as he himself plopped down on softer looking greenery. The young woman rushed to his side, making sure he was okay, but he waved her off.
Mathias felt the heat of the small enclosure underneath his armor. He exhaled calmly, trying to cool himself down, and he noticed Elizabeth pull her hood back behind her wavy locks of red. He placed his hands on his legs, sitting up as straight as he could as he waited for the elder to speak.
Dmitrei’s eyebrows shot up and he leaned forward on his walking stick, his chin almost resting atop it. “Ah, yes. Right. I thank you both for coming here. We approached your order because we have heard other tribes have had successful relations with the Knights Templar. Words spread far of your deeds – especially of Mathias D’este. Many speak highly of you in particular.”
He felt Elizabeth’s smug grin in his direction, but he nodded politely to the elder. “You honor me wish such praise, truly, but I only do what I know is right.”
“As do we all.” The elder nodded a few times, but then his smile fell and the droopy skin only made him look sadder. “I sent word of needing assistance because as of late, I feel that we are in grave danger.” He indicated to the girl beside him. “Orefia has been blessed with the gift of dreams. She sees things when she closes her eyes that are glimpses of what is to come. Lately, her visions have been dark and clouded, and we fear what that means for our people.”
“I… see.” Mathias fidgeted nervously. He knew that the Slavs had their unique powers that supposedly came from the deities they worshiped, but sometimes, especially moments like this, he could not help to feel that they were unnatural. “That is not good then. Do you have any idea what it could mean?”
“No.” Dmitrei shook his head sadly, the flab of his cheeks swaying with every movement. “But the artifact that we guard is not safe here anymore. This is the real reason why I asked of the Knights Templars’ aid. As I have said, many speak your name with high praise, and we needed an outsider that we could trust to recover the artifact and bring it somewhere where it can be protected. If it were to fall into the wrong hands…” Dmitrei sat up straight, his eyes hard. “It could be devastating for mankind.”
“Recover?” Elizabeth’s voice was a bit deeper than usual, as if trying to force steel in her words. “You mean to say that the artifact that you supposedly guard is not here in the village?”
“No,” Dmitrei shook his head. “We are the first bastion, should outsiders attack. We guard the path to the artifact to ward off intruders. The real guardians are the sirins.”
“Sirins.” As Mathias said the word his brow furrowed. “I have heard of them but have never encountered any.”
Dmitrei did not say anything else, but nodded several times. It was Elizabeth who broke the silence.
“Please excuse me for asking, but if you guard the path to these sirins, why is it that you need our help to recover the artifact?”
“Heh.” Dmitrei made a sucking motion with his mouth, as if chewing some invisible object. “We cannot fight against
the sirins. We are forbidden by Jarilo. And they will not willingly give their treasure. They are loyal guardians, but the time has come to move the item and for new guardians to take up the mantle.”
“If that is what you wish, so be it.” Mathias nodded and stood. “If you feel you are in danger, we must not waste any more time. If you do not mind, Elder Dmitrei, please tell us where our journey will take us.”
*****
It had been difficult getting the horses back into the forest the way Dmitrei directed them in, but after the defensive perimeter of overgrowth had subsided, it was a bit easier to navigate the abundance of nature.
“Are we sure we’re going the right way?” Elizabeth had her hood on once more, and the look she gave within seemed a scowl.
“Dmitrei assured us that this was the correct direction the artifact lay in,” Mathias nodded, confident and cool as his horse trotted onward.
“Yes, but how could he, or even you, for that matter, be so sure that we are still going the correct way? This forest is so dense and there’s growth in every direction we turn. You would have thought he could have at least sent a guide with us.”
“You heard what the elder said; it is forbidden by the deity that they worship to stand against the sirins. I’m sure it’s a sin – or what have you – for them to directly bring outsiders to the guardians as well. Besides, we need none others than ourselves. The Lord will guide us, as He always does.”
When Mathias finished speaking he bowed his head and crossed himself, and Elizabeth repeated the pattern. They continued through the forest for a few minutes more before Elizabeth broke the silence.
“So who do you fight for, Mathias? Who are you protecting? Do you have a family?”
The question caught him off-guard and he almost jerked the reins of his horse. Sitting up straight, he turned a sideways glance to her. She must have noticed his surprise, because before he could speak, she rode up beside him, shaking her head furiously.
City of the Gods - Starybogow Page 28