The Larmenius Inheritance

by John Paul Davis

  To his surprise, the door had already been opened. Entry was not the problem he had anticipated.

  The man from Tyre watched as the small fires began to cook the feet of the prisoners.

  Mansell looked up with disdain at the abbot, then each man in turn, ending with Robert. ‘Your family has a poor habit of backing the wrong side.’

  A voice echoed throughout. ‘Freeze!’

  The man from Tyre turned, his vision focused on the top corner of the room. A man was standing there. Though his figure suggested he was a man, his expression confirmed he was still little more than a boy. He was alone, but armed. The automatic weapon was aimed directly at Mansell.

  From the pyres, the four men looked to their left. For Robert, relief turned to concern.

  He whispered under his breath, ‘Matthew, you fool.’

  Inside the main walls, the soldiers in brown sprinted in formation in the direction of the entrance to the temple. Their presence went unnoticed, their journey unhindered.

  At the front, the leader of the group surveyed the area as he ran. This was not what he expected.

  Where the hell were the guards?

  69

  The man from Tyre turned slowly. He looked up inquisitively at the ridge. For several seconds his expression suggested that he was struggling to focus. It was the surprise that did it. The appearance of the man he had met once before, in his eyes little more than a boy, was as unexpected as the weapon he carried. It was obviously automatic. More worrying, it was one that his men were issued with. Chances were the boy could not have owned one himself. Someone had been killed or taken.

  There was determination in the boy’s face.

  ‘I am surprised to see you here.’

  Matt remained focused. He held the weapon to his eye, keeping Mansell in the centre of the shot. The weapon was cocked, and his finger warming the trigger. A sharp flurry and it would all be over.

  ‘Release them.’

  Mansell continued to look, but for now he said nothing. For several seconds he simply watched. The sound of weapons locking was reassuring. Even though the boy was armed, he was surrounded.

  He removed a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. He exhaled on lighting, sending smoke rising before dissipating into the air above. ‘Do not be foolish. You cannot escape.’

  ‘Who said anything about me trying to escape? And I didn’t give you permission to smoke.’

  Robert looked across with surprise. Concern was replaced by light relief, returning to concern as he looked at the weapons aimed at his brother. Worse still, the feeling of heat on the soles of his feet.

  One wrong move and he was done.

  Mansell dropped the cigarette to the ground and stamped on it with his foot. All the while, he retained eye contact. To the man from Tyre it was a way of retaining control. To Matt, he couldn’t shake the feeling he was in the presence of a man of unrivalled power and influence. Instinct told him to remain alert. Concentration was the key.

  A second shuffle of weapons caught everyone by surprise. Scott appeared at the next corner, weapon cocked and aimed at Mansell.

  The grandmaster of the Order of the Ancient Star held his breath, noticeably surprised. Then he laughed. Suddenly he heard a noise behind him.

  ‘On your knees.’

  The man from Tyre froze. The presence of a gun against his head was evident. Even from a distance, the sound of the weapon cocking was audible.

  The man turned slowly. Sandra had appeared alongside him, her eyes focused intently. ‘I sharn’t tell you again. On your knees.’

  The man licked his lips, his eyes on the surrounding men. It was obvious from their expressions that they were uncertain about what to do. The life of the grandmaster went above all things.

  ‘Tell your men to drop their weapons.’

  He continued to lick his lips. ‘You cannot win. This is madness.’

  She pressed the gun harder into his temple. ‘I’ll be the judge of that. Now for the final time, on your knees.’

  She looked at the men around her. She shouted, ‘Drop your weapons,’ in both French and Arabic. Some men obeyed, others took their time.

  Finally they all obeyed.

  The man from Tyre started laughing, his laugh becoming ever louder.

  ‘You have a strange sense of humour,’ Matt shouted across the chamber.

  Mansell continued to laugh.

  Suddenly Sandra pistol-whipped him across the head. ‘Why did you kill Jura?’

  He continued to laugh. ‘The council of the Order of the Ancient Star is only for the most worthy. The role of the Christian God is superfluous. It was impossible for him to stay.’

  She turned, her attention on the guards holding the other ten. ‘Release them.’

  Mansell told them not to listen.

  She hurt him again. A large red stain had formed at the side of his head, spilling onto the floor.

  ‘Perhaps your men would be more cooperative if I told them your family ancestry was a forgery.’

  ‘What is this you claim?’

  ‘Any idiot can tell the papyrus is too young. If anything, I would guess it was written within the last two centuries.’

  She looked up at Matt. ‘Untie your brother.’

  Matt nodded, walking slowly down in the direction of Robert. The Knights of Arcadia were looking on, desperation now present in their eyes.

  The man from Tyre laughed again. ‘Impressive for a scholar, don’t you think?’

  Sandra looked back with a neutral expression.

  Mansell laughed again. ‘My dear boy, is she still pretending to be a professor of history?’

  Matt slowed his pace, still heading in the direction of his brother. He reached the wood and kicked the fire away, first from Robert, then the others.

  ‘She’s been playing you for a fool.’

  ‘Don’t listen to him, Matthew,’ Robert said.

  His laugh was now hysterical. The tone and volume was unsettling, even to his men. ‘She’s as academic as you and me.’

  She pushed the firearm closer. ‘One more word and I swear to God.’

  ‘Which God?’

  He continued to laugh. Matt, meanwhile, looked nervously at Sandra.

  Robert looked down. ‘Matt, please.’

  On the other side, Scott had approached Landry and the abbot. Slowly they were cut down. Matt remained focused on the man from Tyre and the woman he thought was Sandra Richards.

  ‘What does he mean?’ Matt asked.

  ‘Matt, for heaven’s sake, get on with it,’ Robert shouted.

  Mansell laughed, this time more quietly. ‘Did she not tell you why she wanted the secret for herself? Of her own family claim?’

  Scott looked back with surprise.

  Matt was less surprised. ‘I know that you were related to my father.’

  He laughed louder still. ‘As was once said by the Prophet of Nazareth. Woman, behold your son. Son, behold your mother.’

  Matt looked across the room, his thoughts all at sea.

  ‘What?’

  Robert bit his lip. ‘Matt, the ropes.’

  ‘Sandra?’

  She looked at him awkwardly. ‘Matt, do you think we could discuss this some other time.’

  His eyes were alight. For several seconds he was rooted to the spot.

  He tried to speak but failed.

  Sandra was visibly nervous. ‘Matt, you have to understand…’

  ‘Matt, please, we have in front of us one of the most dangerous terrorists on the planet,’ Robert shouted. ‘If he should succeed, the Middle East will turn into a bubbling cauldron. There will be no Israel, Lebanon, Syria as we know it. This man’s aim is meltdown.’

  Matt’s expression was angry.

  ‘Matt, for heaven’s sake.’

  Scott beat him to it. He released Robert from the wood, now the last man to come down. He was sore, and his body partially strained and red. He was struggling to stand. His feet were darkened after having been
forced to endure being strapped tightly to the wood above the fire.

  The man kept smiling. ‘Why not ask her about the way she played on your vulnerabilities to perform an illegal operation. Open your eyes, son of Anson. She has been using you.’

  Sandra looked at him, desperately. ‘Matt, please, don’t listen. I had no choice.’

  Matt wetted his lips, his frustration mounting.

  Suddenly there was a sound of a scuffle. Next thing Matt noticed, Sandra had fallen to the ground, and Mansell was directly above her. The firearm was now in his hand, aimed squarely at Sandra’s head.

  The shock caught them all off guard.

  ‘No one is moving,’ the man from Tyre said loudly. ‘Drop your weapons, or this woman will be lost.’

  He turned, his expression now one of a desperate maniac. He turned to face the remaining Knights of Arcadia, now standing with weapons aimed at his men. Richards’ one-woman show had at least turned the control back to him.

  ‘Drop your guns.’

  Niven Anson bit his lip. ‘Do as he says.’

  For now, Matt kept his in his hand, as did Scott. All the others obeyed. Within seconds Mansell’s men reclaimed the weapons and aimed them at all present.

  ‘Kill them.’

  A second voice came from across the room. ‘Hold your fire.’

  Twenty men appeared as if from nowhere. Within seconds they occupied every area of the ridge. Entering slowly was the leader.

  To Matt’s surprise, it was the man he had seen in Portugal.

  70

  A strange hush descended on the large chamber located somewhere inside the Third Temple, as the soldiers from Portugal took over. Their uniforms did nothing to suggest they were professional military of Portugal, nor did they suggest they were members of an exclusive order, now secularised by the Portuguese government.

  The abbot walked towards the priest from Tomar. ‘Francisco,’ he said, approaching da Bonisca, ‘it’s been too long.’

  The priest from Portugal smiled widely. ‘Time is a strange thing, brother. It has the ability to heal wounds and bury memories. But it also has the ability to warp minds and strengthen friendships.’

  The abbot shook his hand, gripping it tightly. Both men met each other’s gaze. It was obvious to Matt as he watched from across the chamber that the alliance between the two was great and had been throughout history. Jura himself had hinted that much.

  The other three greeted the priest. Their wounds were visible, and their feet still naked.

  ‘It is lucky that there was no delay,’ the priest from Portugal said. ‘Flame on the oil works fast.’

  Robert nodded, his smile sombre. ‘My father spoke so highly of you, Father,’ he said, shaking hands. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘It is not you who should be thanking me. I should be asking forgiveness of you. Never did I foresee the wisdom of the ages falling into the hands of such a monster.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘For too long the Keepers of the Light have watched over it.’

  Matt walked towards them quickly. As he did, he saw the last of the wounded Order of the Ancient Star taken away. Mansell, el Tutken and Ben Fulda all knelt at gunpoint, safely under the control of the men from Portugal.

  He continued toward the priest.

  ‘Well done, Matthew,’ he said.

  Landry nodded. ‘Aye. Without your bravery, we would not be here.’

  Robert turned and looked at him. He grabbed him and hugged him. For several seconds Matt remained unmoved as his brother’s beard grazed the side of his face.

  They separated, now making eye contact. ‘Dad would be proud.’

  Matt looked at him and forced a smile. He looked at Niven, then the abbot. Both nodded, smiling silently.

  He looked to his side and saw Nicole running hurriedly. In the background they watched as the three men from the Order of the Ancient Star were escorted away, along with the militants.

  She kissed Matt on the cheek and hugged him. She held him for several seconds before separating. She smiled awkwardly.

  Matt exhaled deeply, unsure himself whether it was relief or frustration. He looked around the chamber, seeing how quickly it had emptied. Less than fifteen feet away, Sandra was standing, clearly nervous.

  Robert walked toward her and hugged her. He held her for several seconds before releasing her.

  Matt walked forward slowly, stopping a few feet away. He looked over his shoulder, then again at Sandra.

  ‘Was he telling the truth?’ he asked.

  Sandra felt her knees go slightly beneath her. ‘I wanted to tell you for so long.’ Several tears trickled down her face.

  Matt looked over his shoulder, his attention on the Arcadians. Every man was looking in his direction.

  He looked at Robert. ‘You knew!’

  ‘The life of a grandmaster of the Knights of Arcadia was never really meant for a family man. She did what she had to do to survive.’

  He looked once more at Sandra. ‘It’s been twenty years. What have you been doing?’

  She smiled desperately. ‘Hiding. My life was in danger. Your father put me through university…’

  He nodded, biting his lip. He looked at Sandra and grimaced, not quite a frown, not quite a smile. In truth, he knew life would never again be the same.

  For several seconds he found himself incapable of responding.

  ‘I’m glad you’re okay.’

  Without waiting for a word, she stepped forward and hugged him. Matt remained unmoved as he felt the warmth of her body against his own. It was a strange feeling, not unfamiliar, but also completely unique. Over twenty years had passed since the last time he had felt a hug from his mother – or at least that was the way it felt. It was not like the last time he had hugged Sandra.

  Inside, he felt the emotion get the better of him, but for now he kept it to himself. He slowly released himself from her grip, as she did from him.

  She kissed him on the cheek. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘For a second I thought you were going to shoot me.’

  He bit his lip, his anger subsiding. ‘Nah, even Scott’s not that bad a shot.’

  She laughed far more than the joke merited. She kissed him again and hugged him for a second time. As she did, he heard her whisper the words, ‘I love you so much’. For several seconds he stood in silence, this time holding her slightly tighter than before. As he looked to one side, he saw Nicole standing near the site where Mansell had once been. There was a tear in her eye, but no words.

  He turned away from Sandra and looked at the Arcadians. Nicole walked closer to them.

  ‘The tomb is in the inner sanctum,’ Nicole said urgently. ‘He showed me where.’

  ‘And there it must stay,’ Niven said.

  Nicole looked back with surprise. ‘You intend to leave it?’

  Robert nodded. ‘Of course, it’s fake,’ he said, his attention on Matt. ‘You don’t think the Knights of Arcadia would allow something to be found by the likes of him.’

  Matt laughed, slightly dumbstruck. ‘I got you out of bother.’

  ‘Aye, you did.’

  He looked across the chamber. Scott and the priest from Portugal were standing in discussion, near the door.

  Nicole looked at the man from Portugal. ‘What I can’t understand is how you found us. Any of you.’

  Robert looked toward the corner of the room. ‘Let’s just say we called in a favour.’

  For several seconds she didn’t understand. She looked to where the soldiers from Portugal had entered and saw Amanda standing, talking to someone. The man turned, showing his face for the first time.

  ‘Mills.’

  He smiled hesitantly and raised his hand. To her, it was almost the mark of an apology, even though the words never left his mouth. For several seconds she looked at him, wondering how different things could have been. Then all the anger left her, and she smiled back.

  She turned and looked at Matt.

  ‘
Let’s get out of here.’

  Epilogue

  Headquarters of the Knights of Arcadia, somewhere in Scotland

  Matthew Anson sat alone in the chapel, two pews from the front. As usual, a white linen cloth veiled the altar, marked in the centre with a unique red cross. He had seen the cross many times throughout his life without paying particular attention to it. His eyes focused on the way the ends looped together, forming a perfect pattée. He often wondered who designed the cross. He had meant to look it up, but he never seemed to get round to it. Whoever it was was now long dead, his name lost in the obscurity of time.

  Whoever he was, he had made a lasting mark.

  It was nearly 2:30 in the afternoon. For now he was alone, but soon he would enter the church. He always hated formal occasions, but today he couldn’t help shake the feeling of emptiness. Something was missing.

  He knew that was why he was here. Behind the altar, located just to the side, the same slab was there. The clean stone, glowing with a faint hint of red as the light of a candle shone through its holder onto the floor, was still there as it had been a month earlier. The two symbols were also present: the one he had seen many times, the other he knew less well, and still failed to understand. It was hard to believe that this was the grave of his father. Somehow it was even tougher to believe it was the grave of a Templar grandmaster.

  He turned to his right, looking at the stained-glass windows he had seen several times before. The ray of light surrounding the men in each window, coming from what appeared to be an angel, he now believed he understood the full significance of. He couldn’t help wonder how anyone could be so naïve as to misunderstand the true danger and significance of what he believed symbolised the wisdom of Solomon. He found himself taken by the words, the same words he had seen on the monument in the estate that once belonged to his ancestors.

  Et In Arcadia Ego.

  He knew the meaning of the words, but more importantly, he knew words could be ambiguous.