Semiramis sat down slowly, but her anger simmered.
“Please continue, du Morte.” D’Brouchart leaned back in his chair. Much of this was news to him. He had slept long in the Second Gate before rousing himself ages ago.
“It was not known as Loch Ness at the time. It was in a different location when the great Atlantis reigned upon the earth, but is neither here nor there, pardon the pun. Never-the-less, it was I who expelled Inanna from the Third Gate and replaced her with Semiramis after taking her from Marduk. When I say I took her from Marduk, I mean I literally took her from him. Semiramis is simply part of Marduk… the best part, apparently. When he saw her beauty, he wanted her back.”
Mark Andrew seemed to actually enjoy unloading this bombshell on the golden-haired goddess.
“Wait! Wait! Wait! Wait! Wait!” Lucio spoke very rapidly and looked about the room in horror. “You mean to say Semiramis was part of Lord Marduk as in she was physically part of him?”
“Yes,” Mark Andrew told him and looked down at the table. It was difficult to say whether he was ashamed or amused. “My sins are many and very great, Brother. But I have suffered much because of them.”
“And we all continue to suffer,” Semiramis said softly. Her face had lost some of its glow. “And so the great Shammash can also do this little trick?”
“Shammash and Nanna,” Mark nodded.
“Then it would stand to reason our lovely Queen Ereshkigal is also of the same… ilk as Lady Semiramis?” Meredith put forth the question.
“She is.” Mark looked her in the eyes and then shook his head. He had never thought to have to make this confession in front of so many at one time.
“That is preposterous!” the Queen spoke up in protestation. “I have always been myself.”
“Of course you have, my sweet,” Nergal assured her.
“And why do you suppose Nergal is so fond of you?” Mark asked and then looked about with raised eyebrows. There was some bit of satisfaction in knowing he was at least wreaking some measure of revenge on those who had caused him many problems. He had only had good intentions, but even the best went astray when one played God. “He has always been a bit vain and narcissistic. He loves himself very much.”
“What are you saying?!” Nergal frowned.
“He is saying your good queen is simply your feminine half, you idiot!” Marduk spat the words at him. “I see you are not only half in love with yourself, you are a half-wit!”
Nergal’s mouth fell open and Ereshkigal drew back from him, repulsed by this revelation.
“Hold your tongues!” d’Brouchart admonished them.
“How many more such… experiments did you do, Brother?” Simon asked the Knight of Death quietly.
“I will not defend myself to this Council,” Mark Andrew told him. “I was here when this earth was young. I was left on my own for time uncounted. Alone to face eternity reflecting on my sins. Left, I thought by the Creator, but it seems that was not the case at all. We were victims of a jealous god. A petty, self-centered, vainglorious creature who didn’t even know he was a creature! You… none of you… none can know why I did what I did! I might ask Lord Nanna why he manifested himself first as Sister Meredith to trap me and then as my son to cause me such pain? And now he sits before us as both! Do any of you presume to know how I might feel? Would any of you care to walk one mile in my shoes? I have worked for thousands of years to improve the lot of mankind upon this earth. And I have received very by way little compensation. In fact, I am still persecuted and tormented by my brothers.”
“Don’t give me that, Mark Andrew Ramsay!” Meredith jerked her head around. “What of me? I have suffered many indignities at the hands of my brothers. It seems we have all been treacherous to one another! I, for one, am grateful to Nanna… John Paul, for telling me the truth at last. As for my love for you, Mark Andrew, it is not diminished one iota for having learned the truth. I feel no different now than I ever did, and though I may not be nearly as old as the rest of you, I believe we should put aside our differences and work together now. When we have rid ourselves of the menace of Jozsef Daniel, then we may convene again to discuss how we might help ourselves and each other. Then we may begin to heal the wounds we have inflicted on one another. Perhaps even rejoin ourselves to one another and become what we were meant to be.”
“She speaks for me as well… up to a point,” Semiramis told them. “I can say I am none too happy to learn I have so much in common with Lord Marduk, but you have my gratitude for setting me free of him. I do not wish to reunite with him… now or ever.”
Marduk looked at her in confusion. Her words were hard.
“This revelation explains many things.” D’Brouchart said slowly. “We were cast into the Abyss as punishment when we lost our way. But you say it was not the Creator who cast us there, but some lesser god, du Morte? It is as Brother Lucio always says, the Will of God, which has brought us out one by one to take our places however precarious in this world. God continues to punish us, apparently, for our sins; and we must assume there is some great lesson to be learned here. But just out of curiosity, Brother Ramsay, I am wondering about Diana.” Everyone turned their attention to the dark beauty with the tiny horns on her head. “Who is she?”
“She is a further division of Semiramis,” Mark Andrew told him and Diana’s mouth fell open in surprise. “When I took Reshki from Nergal, she was the first.” Mark Andrew smiled at the stricken queen. “I soon grew tired of her constant complaining and nagging. She was quite tiresome and has not changed much in all this time. I thought, perhaps, I could make a refinement by removing the dark from the light, and so, I took what I thought would be bad in Semiramis and thus, Diana was made, but Diana was not what I expected. I had planned to banish her as I banished Inanna, but she proved quite remarkable in and of herself, in her own right. It does not pay to play with creation, brothers.” He looked at each of them in turn. “There are too many variables. Only the Great Creator can be successful at such endeavors. It was actions just such as these that caused us to fall from Grace in the first place. The best we can do is hope to set things right.”
“That is what you said before,” Konrad spoke up from the end of the table. “Just before you attempted to return to the past.”
“I will not make that mistake again.” Mark Andrew shrugged. “Again, only the Creator of Time can control such things. I overstepped my bounds.”
D’Brouchart shook his head as a general murmur broke out. He did not call for order, but let it subside naturally.
“Before we continue, does anyone else have any more questions?” The Grand Master looked about at each of them in turn. When his eyes fell on the Knight of the Golden Eagle, the Italian raised his hand like a schoolboy.
“Uhhh, yes, Golden Eagle.”
“I am curious, Your Grace.” The Italian's face was very dark. “I would like to ask my Brother one question since we are all being honest with one another.”
“Go ahead. Ask.” D’Brouchart smiled slightly. He knew what was coming.
Lucio turned his head very slowly and narrowed his eyes at the Chevalier du Morte.
“Where is Andrea Larmenius?”
Simon stood up and Louis caught his arm.
There was no time for Mark Andrew to answer before they were all suddenly startled by the appearance of Adalune Kadif in the middle of the table. He seemed to pour out of the empty air, head first, rather liquid in form. He crumpled onto the gleaming surface, rolled slightly and then sat up quickly. He pulled his purple robe about his glittering armor as the purple mist that had accompanied his arrival evaporated about him.
“Ho, Great Members of the Great Council! Most terrible Lords of Darkness! Mother! Father! Did you miss me?” he asked as he looked about at the various members of the startled assembly.
(((((((((((((
Lucio wandered out onto the patio alone. He looked up at the waning face of the moon just as it was obscured by
a ragged cloud. The meeting had gone on forever. By the time they had sorted through Lemarik’s story, the sun had been setting. In midsummer in Lothian, that meant it was quite late. Gil Pairaud had been pacing the floor in the corridor outside the Council room for hours. His grand dinner was waiting for them, ruining on the stove. Vanni and Selwig were also been in the hall, piled in one corner like sleeping kittens, leaning against each other. Luke Matthew and Lucio had carried them back to the house and put them to bed and neither of them had awakened.
The late dinner had been excellent in spite of Gil’s fears, but the mood of the diners had been quite distressing. Lucio did not think he had ever spent a more miserable evening. His one chance at gaining the information about Andrea had been lost. He had tried to broach the subject with Mark Andrew afterwards and the Knight had brushed him off, retired to his laboratory and locked himself inside. No amount of beating on the heavy door brought any results, and Selwig had slept through the entire thing in his little bed in the corner of the wine cellar. Lucio had stood looking down at the fair-haired little fellow for quite some time thinking of what Mark had told them in Council, knowing that never in his life would he ever sleep the sleep of the innocent again. He had then checked on Vanni before wandering outside. Sleep of any kind had been out of the question. The house had finally cleared about two o’clock and now it was getting on toward three in the morning and still he was wide awake to greet the first rays of the sun rising over the trees.
The Lords and Ladies of the Abyss, with the exception of John Paul and Meredith had drifted away one by one to parts unknown, refusing rooms for the night. He had been very relieved when Nergal had taken his leave and left with his queen on his arm. He’d had one bad moment when she had stopped to stare at him in the corridor before he could make his escape with Vanni on his shoulder. The last thing the boy needed was a close encounter with his illustrious mother. Only the presence of Nergal had saved him. It still seemed quite impossible to Lucio Ereshkigal could have been Vanni’s mother in the first place. He still wanted to believe Andrea had given birth to the boy, but he knew it was not so. It was well and good Meredith had gone home with Luke Matthew for the night. Her proximity to Mark’s brother kept him from seeking her company. Furthermore, John Paul, or whoever he was, seemed determined not to allow her and Mark Andrew to spend any time together. And was most likely for the best as well.
Though she professed she still loved Mark Andrew, he could not fathom it. He wondered if Mark could possibly still love her. At least, he felt he was completely cured of his feelings for her in that respect. He would never look at her the same again. He was appalled to think she had actually been one and the same person, in a sense, as her own son. The entire time they had been married and lived together in Lothian, John Paul had lived there with them. In his mind, it could be counted as nothing less than an abomination, and he felt extremely angry about the whole thing. On the one hand, he was angry and on the other, he was confused. Still, the burning question of Andrea Larmenius hung over his head like the proverbial sword of Damocles.
It seemed his life had been nothing but a long string of misfortunes when it came to ladies. Jasmine! Yasmin! Ruth! Meredith! Merry! Nicole! Andrea! Ereshkigal! Catharine! And these were only those who were still around in some form or fashion. There had been others. It made him want to run screaming into the woods and never come back. At the same time, he wanted to get into his car and drive into Edinburgh to test a theory. He wanted to go to a sleazy bar and pick up the first bonafide woman that gave him a second glance. Then he wanted to see if she turned out to be some mystical creature in disguise. A dragon, perhaps, or a faery. He wanted to see if he was truly doomed. He also thought of retiring to Naples and putting a red light outside his door and a sign that read Home of the Golden Eagle, Chief of the Dumbfuck Tribe. Will trade wampum for cheap thrills. Knock three times.
He sat down on the edge of the brick flower border and stared at his hands. Gradually, he became aware of the sound of an engine running. A motorcycle? He looked up and saw lights flash across the meadow away north, and then, he heard the whine of the machine as it sped away from the house, back toward the highway. A motorcycle? Who would have come here on a motorcycle? And at this time of night? A murderer? An arsonist? A harbinger of hell? Perhaps, Lord Shammash had finally showed up. He stood up wearily and stretched his arms over his head before starting back toward the house. He was met halfway up the walk by Stephano Clementi.
“Master Dambretti!” his former apprentice called to him and then hurried toward him. “A letter has arrived for you, Sir.”
“What? Che cosa e` esso?” He took the letter and turned it over. There was no postage. No doubt, it had been brought by the cyclist. “From whom?”
“Miss de Goth,” Stephano told him in a low voice. “I did not wake the others.”
“How did you know I was out here?” Lucio asked him as he slipped his finger under the seal.
“I saw you from my window earlier. I was a bit worried about you. Father Simon told me to keep an eye on you.”
“Simon told you…” Lucio’s voice trailed off as he squinted at the neat handwriting in the pinkish light of the mercury vapor lamps.
“Si`, Sir. He is worried about you as well.” Stephano followed after him. “Are you going up to bed, sir?”
“Si`. I don’t need a babysitter, Stephano.” Lucio smiled ruefully. “I’ll be all right.”
“Good.” Stephano followed him into the house anyway and then stood at the foot of the stairs, watching him as he climbed the steps slowly, taking the letter to his room. Stephano waited until he heard the door open and close and then retired to his own bedroom.
Lucio sighed and leaned against the door momentarily. She must have gone through a great deal of trouble to get the thing to him without everyone knowing. He would read this in private and then decide what, if anything should be done.
It could only be more bad news. Lemarik’s tale of how he had lost Anna to Jozsef Daniel had been even more depressing than the Council meeting prior to the Djinni’s arrival. The last thing he had wanted to hear was his great-granddaughter had been lost to the Ancient Evil. She had been such a pleasant little bird. Lemarik did not know what had become of her, but he felt they would not be seeing her again any time soon. He had told of the raid on Jozsef’s bastion in Haiti, and how they had pursued him into the forest and lost him there. The Djinni had then returned to the great castle atop the cliffs and completely destroyed it, razing it to the ground in his anger. Lucio thought Lemarik was extremely lucky to have escaped with his life after confronting the evil one on his own turf. A valiant, but foolish effort.
Lucio was deeply saddened by Anna’s loss.
The meeting had continued after Lemarik’s story was heard as they tried to analyze this new information. The Djinni had described a great storm and the strange lights he had seen atop the keep after Anna had gone up alone. Lemarik had gotten there too late to stop her from going up alone. Omar had been very upset to learn what she had done. He had blamed himself for what had happened to his niece and had ranted for a long time about how they should allow him and his father to go after Jozsef Daniel.
He had pleaded for access to the Emerald Tablets and permission to use the secret knowledge contained in them to fight Jozsef Daniel. His request was duly denied by the illustrious Grand Master. Omar had gone on to tell of Ruth’s deteriorating condition, relating how, when he had last spoken to her by phone, she had talked to him about going home to her brothers in Sicily. Brothers had been dead for years now. All of them eventually killed in the Twenty-Seven Year War. Ruth was no longer with the living. This news had done none of them any good to hear. Lucio had hoped to send Anna to visit Ruth. Ruth had always spoken highly of the Djinni’s granddaughter. If anyone could have helped her, Anna could have done it. Now she was gone. He wanted very much to follow her into oblivion.
He turned on the lamp beside his bed, sat down heavily and laid the lett
er carefully on the bed beside him and then took off his boots before climbing, fully dressed under the covers. He leaned against the headboard and held the letter up to the light.
‘My dear Sir Dambretti: I am praying diligently this letter finds you in good health. I realize fully it may never reach you and/or it may be seen by many eyes before you hold it in your hands. I pray now as you read these words, none have violated the contents with malicious intent. And so, with hope in my heart and God on my side, I will write as if nothing stands between us. First, I would like to beg your forgiveness for having been unable to help you in your time of need. My heart still aches when I think of what happened to you on my account. The villain chose quite well in order to accomplish his goal. I know you may find this incredible, but you have never been far from my thoughts since we first met in Budapest. Again, I must apologize and beg your forgiveness for having caused your associate to have treated you so badly. I did not realize he would have found us out so readily. Had I known such would have been the case, I would have restrained myself, but I find time is not on my side these days as it has been in the past. Things are coming swiftly to their proper ends now and so I will only say you may rest assured my love for you is real even though we have only just met. I have been waiting for you for many years and when I saw you at my Brother’s home, I knew you were the one. How, you may ask, did I know this? I cannot answer and I, likewise, cannot and would not blame you if you threw this letter into the fire and read no further, but I beg you to hear me out before you make up your mind.
There is a boy here, not really a boy, more a young man, but a very young man who calls himself Isaac or Joel or Bari. He came to visit me here in the chapel and he made some very strange remarks. He knows of our involvement and he intimates much more. Suffice it to say he frightened me most terribly and asked me to leave with him, classifying himself as a prisoner here. I know he is the son of Omar Kadif though I do not know how he came to be here or just why he says he is a prisoner, nor do I know why he appears to be of a much greater age than he should rightfully be, but though I cannot know who he truly is, he frightens me. I am appealing to you for help. I believe he knows of my brother and his quest for the Holy Relics as he offered to take me to Germany to join with Eduord there. Please, I beg you to come to my aid though you owe me nothing.
The Jealous God Page 10