The Babylonian Basilisk (A Chyna Stone Adventure Book 4)

by K. T. Tomb

  Chyna nodded her understanding, already completely entranced and intrigued by the baron’s story.

  “I’d like to invite you,” he said and with a quick glance at Tony, continued, “And whomever you’d like to bring with you, to Dordogne to investigate the affair and, if at all possible, to find armor.”

  Chyna thought about the proposal for a few minutes. England, she couldn’t remember when she was last in Western Europe. The thought of getting out of the Middle East for a little while was so refreshing, there was no way she could refuse the offer.

  “Tony and I will be there in a few weeks, Sir Robert,” she replied, “If there’s enough clues for us to follow after all these years, then I’ll call the team in on it.”

  “Marvelous.”

  Chyna fished a business card out from her purse and handed it to him.

  “Call me and we’ll make the arrangements. I’m honored you’d consider us for this.”

  “I wouldn’t even think there was a hope of finding it if I wasn’t so convinced that you would be the one person who could do it.”

  “Touché!” she replied, beaming.

  Epilogue

  Two weeks later.

  Bristol, England.

  Chyna and Tony had been at the expansive estates of Dordogne in Bristol, luxuriating in the opulent hospitality of Sir Robert Montgomery for the entire weekend. It had been the sort of peaceful vacation they had needed after their dealings with the UNESCO hostage situation in Iraq. Sufficiently relaxed after a full week of not doing much, Chyna was ready to get working on what they had actually come to England to do.

  That morning Tony left to go hunting with Sir Robert’s valet, Marcus and Chyna took a leisurely walk down to the business end of the estate to search out Angus McKinley, the estate’s ancient caretaker. He had lived at Dordogne his whole life of seventy-two years and had been the property’s caretaker for fifty of them. He knew everything there was to know about the place; even more that Robert himself.

  She found the old man sitting under a big oak tree in the garden of the caretaker’s cottage sipping a mug of hot English tea.

  “Mr. McKinley?” Chyna said, as she stood at the garden gate.

  “It’s Angus, lass,” he replied without looking up from his steaming cup, “Mr. McKinley was me da’ and he been dead now for thirty years.”

  He waved her into the garden and stood as she approached, as any proper gentleman would.

  “You the lass Sir Monty said would be coming to chat with me about the stolen armor?”

  “Yes sir,…I mean…Angus,” Chyna stuttered.

  “Very well, it’s a good day and a good time for a chat. There isn’t much left to do around here this time of year. All the crops are in the ground, the orchards aren’t ready with anything yet and the boys are out from school to deal with the livestock. It’s downright boring now.”

  He smiled at her and continued. “Cupper?”

  “What?” Chyna asked.

  Angus laughed at the look of bewilderment on her face as he remembered she was American.

  “Would you like a cup of tea, lass?”

  “Certainly.”

  Angus went into the kitchen and emerged with a clean white mug which he filled from his tea pot and handed to her.

  “So what do you know about the place?”

  “Not much, I’ll admit. All I really know is that Robert and his family are descendants of the Plantagenets and that the stolen armor belonged to Eleanor of Aquitaine.”

  “Quite right,” Angus agreed. “Do you know much about her then?”

  “Just the basics, I’m afraid, but I’m completely intrigued. She was such a powerful woman and for her to have survived and remained so formidable in such a strange and perilous time for women who dared to grasp at power and wealth, is absolutely fascinating,” Chyna said. “But tell me, Angus, what you know. Robert says you’re quite the expert. I especially want to know why they called her ‘The Eagle’.”

  “How much time ‘ave ya got?” the old man asked her, with a cheeky look in his eye.

  “As long as it takes for you to tell me everything you know, Angus,” Chyna said, with a smile.

  She reached into her pocket and took out the pack of Embassy cigarettes, placing them on the stump between them and dropping the lighter beside it before leaning back in the garden chair and repeating, “As long as it takes.”

  The old man smiled as he took a cigarette from the pack and lit it.

  “Alright then, missy. We might as well start at the very beginning. I can only tell you how I remember the story. When you get to the estate you’ll get to read it for yourself in the original manuscript.

  “Before her birth, Eleanor's life had been prophesized about. History doesn’t say by whom, but the prophecy itself was recorded:

  'The eagle of the broken bond shall rejoice in the third nestling.'

  “Eleanor was the eagle, the broken bond was the annulment of her marriage to Louis and the third nestling was Eleanor's favorite son, Richard.

  “She was born into the ruling family of the duchy of Aquitaine, a large province that covered most of western France. Aquitaine was a cultural center, much ahead of its time compared to the other French duchies and cities that still lived in a medieval world. Aquitaine was also the largest of the French duchies, the prize of Western Europe. Eleanor's family had ruled Aquitaine since Ranulf I, Duke of Poitiers, first held the title from 841-867.

  William was born in 1099 to Duke William IX of Aquitaine and his second wife, Philipa de Rouerque. William IX was famous across the continent for his scandalous behavior. He was what became known as a 'troubadour'. While France lived in a dark age, William turned Aquitaine into a land of culture and beauty. The court of his Aquitanian duchy became a center for artists, poets, musicians, singers, and writers. He married Philipa de Rouerque, William X's mother, after her husband, the King of Aragon, died. Not soon after, he discarded Philipa and took on a mistress, a woman named Dangereuse de Chatellerault. She had a daughter named Eleanor, whom William decided to marry to his son, William X.”

  “Wow,” Chyna said, “that’s incredulous how even though he was such a playboy himself, the King still saw fit to arrange his son’s marriage.”

  “It was the way of the day, lass. A man could bed whomever he wishes, but he married the woman his parents chose.”

  “Fascinating.”

  “Although William tried to refuse, the marriage took place, somewhere around 1120, when Eleanor was only 17. About a year or two later, the couple celebrated a healthy daughter, whom they also named Eleanor. However, the girl wasn’t the heir Aquitaine needed. After another three more years, in 1125, they had another child, a girl named Aelith. Then finally, in 1126, a boy whom they named William Aigret was born. He was to be the next duke of Aquitaine. In 1127, Duke William IX died, leaving William X as the next duke of Aquitaine. Sadly, tragedy struck the family in 1130. Eleanor of Chatellerault died at the age of 27, as did William Aigret, at the age of 4. Widowed, William now only had his two daughters, Eleanor and Petronilla. This brought up talk of a possible female succession, and William decided to name Eleanor as his heir, to become the Duchess of Aquitaine. She would be the first ‘and only’ woman to rule the duchy in her own right.

  “In the summer of 1137, Eleanor received news that her father was dead, having suffered from food poisoning, and that she was the Duchess of Aquitaine. Before he had died, William had declared King Louis VI of France as Eleanor's protector and a few of his loyal knights set out to inform Louis VI of William's death. Louis, upon hearing of the unfortunate loss, hatched an excellent plan. Eleanor was being urged to marry quickly to protect her interests. Many lords of Aquitaine were greedy and attempted to rape Eleanor and marry her so that they could take control of Aquitaine. So Eleanor agreed to King Louis' suggestion and married his son, the dauphin Louis, in the summer of 1137. The two were wed in Bordeaux by Geoffrey du Loroux, and upon the agreement, Eleanor remained the sole
ruler of Aquitaine with Louis as her consort. In the event of her death, he would inherit it. A week after their marriage, on August 1, 1137, King Louis VI died of dysentery. Louis was now King Louis VII of France. Eleanor was now a queen.

  “When Louis wrote to the German emperor, Conrad III, and convinced him to join the French troops on the expedition, that became known as the Second Crusade, Eleanor had no intention to sit at home in Paris. Although he was reluctant, Eleanor convinced Louis to let her join him on the crusade. In 1147, Eleanor and Louis reached the Holy Land. Thierry of Galeran had accompanied Louis, and of course he returned to his constant accusations against Eleanor, accusing her of keeping countless lovers in her tents and practicing sorcery. The French and German troops reached Constantinople to a royal greeting. Louis and Eleanor lodged at Blachernae Palace with Emperor Manuel I and his wife, Irene of Sulzbach.

  “While in Antioch, rumors began to surmount that Eleanor and her uncle, Prince Raymond, were lovers. When Raymond pleaded with Eleanor to aid him in defense of Antioch against the Muslim invaders, Eleanor brought the matter before Louis. Louis declined, and shockingly, Eleanor demanded that their marriage be annulled over the incident. Louis, although not always trusting of Eleanor, loved her, and decided it was best to leave Antioch, for his sake and Eleanor's. He forced Eleanor to come with him and Prince Raymond was killed in 1149 while in combat, his severed head sent to the caliph of Baghdad. After Antioch, the French forces and the German forces continued to Edessa, but finally, both sides gave up. The trip was exhausting, and the whole crusade was a mess. The French troops returned home, and Eleanor and Louis returned by ship, separate ships by Eleanor's demand. In hopes of reconciling their marriage which was deeply hurt on the crusade, Louis and Eleanor stopped in Rome under Louis' wishes. There they visited with Pope Eugenius, who persuaded the two to sleep in the same bed once again. Eleanor agreed, and after she arrived home in Paris, she gave birth to another daughter, Alix, in 1150.

  “In 1152, Eleanor had had enough of Louis, and although he tried to persuade her to reconsider, Eleanor decided to have her marriage to Louis annulled. Louis was a weak man, controlled by Thierry of Galeran, who poisoned his mind with lies about Eleanor. Eleanor wanted real love, the kind that had been written and sung about in Aquitaine and in the new and refined Paris. Barely two months after Eleanor and Louis annulled their marriage, Eleanor had remarried. This time she married the Duke of Anjou, Henry, a member of the Plantagenet family. Henry's grandfather was Henry I, King of England. His mother was the famous Matilda, the former empress of Germany and the Duchess of Normandy. The marriage shocked the people of France. Eleanor was 11 years older than Henry and it was said that Eleanor had been the lover of Geoffrey of Angers, Henry's father. Also, Henry was warned not to sleep with the wife of his lord, in reference to King Louis VII. Nonetheless, Eleanor had found a man she loved more than Louis, but no more than 5 months after her marriage to Henry, she bore a child in 1153, named William. This brought up talk of Eleanor's rumored lovers, but William died in 1156 and the subject died out.

  “The year after William's birth, 1154, another son was born, Eleanor and Henry's son Henry. 1154 also marked another great event in Eleanor's life. Her husband became King Henry II of England, following the disastrous reign of King Stephan of England. Eleanor was now the Queen of England. As Eleanor set out to culture her new kingdom, Henry celebrated his good fortune. Before his marriage to Eleanor, Henry had controlled Anjou and Normandy, and now he controlled in addition not only England but Gascony, Touraine, and Aquitaine.

  “On April 1, 1204, Eleanor died at the age of 82 at the Abbey of Fontevrault. She was buried there, between Henry II and her son Richard, who is today remembered as Richard le Couer de Lion, Richard the Lion-Heart. Eleanor had outlived five of her seven children. The only two who outlived her were Eleanor, who died in 1214, and John, who died in 1216. At the time of her death she had over 30 grandchildren. In just 15 years she became the duchess of Aquitaine, the Queen of France and the Queen of England. Under Eleanor's reign she brought about a great change in Europe. She introduced art and culture to the continent that had lived in the dark shadow of the church for centuries. During her reign the construction of the Notre Dame cathedral took place, and the population of Paris soared to 200,000.

  “Today Eleanor's descendants hold thrones across Europe and she is remembered as a very important figure of the Crusades. Her cultures that she introduced to the great kingdoms almost a millennia ago still live on today and Eleanor lives on as one of the most ruthless “yet beloved” rulers ever.”

  “So this is the woman whose armor I must find?” Chyna said, marveling at the magnificent story she had just heard.

  “It disappeared just over twenty-five years ago; stolen right out of the manor house. Just gone one night, without a trace and hasn’t been seen since.”

  “Angus,” Chyna asked curiously, “Outside of it once belonging to Eleanor and the fact that a woman in that time would never need a suit of armor made for her, much less worn by her, what’s so special about it?”

  “Well, lass, if you were listening and put two and two together, you’d have gotten that both of her husbands went on crusade; both times Eleanor went with them and she always ended up pregnant while in the field.”

  “So?”

  “So, Eleanor’s little nickname was solidified during those years. It was then that she became known for joining her husbands’ troops on the battlefield. When she did so, she insisted on wearing full battle armor, just as any knight would. A magnificent suit which was specially designed for her and bore the sigil of an eagle with wings spread wide open over the Shield of the Crusaders. But her armor wasn’t just designed for a woman,” Angus said, sitting back and smiling widely at her as he lit another cigarette. “It was designed for a pregnant woman; a heavily pregnant Queen.”

  The End

  Chyna Stone returns in:

  The Aquitaine Armor

  A Chyna Stone Adventure #5

  Amazon Kindle * Amazon UK * Amazon AU

  ~~~~~

  Also available:

  The Lost Garden

  An Evan Knight Adventure #1

  by K.T. Tomb

  Amazon Kindle * Amazon UK * Amazon AU

  Also available:

  The Swashbucklers

  An Adventure Novel

  by K.T. Tomb

  (read on for a sample)

  Chapter One

  People say that James Brown was the Godfather of Soul, and that’s true enough. But if the Godfather of Soul had one soul in the world to thank, a kingmaker, then that would probably be Padraig McMillan. You’ve never heard of him, but if there was a major record label merger, or a genre defining development in soul, you could thank Paddy for it. Word had it that Gordy Jr. even sought his advice before starting Motown. Every time you heard a Supremes record, “Please Mr. Postman” by The Marvelettes, anything by Smokey Robinson, or the entire Marvin Gaye back catalogue; a couple of cents found their way to Padraig McMillan.

  The way Padraig told it, he’d bedded more famous singers than any money-man in Detroit; back when Detroit meant something other than dilapidated buildings and the ghosts of the motor industry. Of course, he said, he never allowed them to sleep with him before they cut the records; that would be unbecoming of a righteous man. That said; if they felt grateful enough after they were climbing the charts, he wasn’t going to turn down Diana Ross. Whether or not he had really made it with every female hit singer in Detroit was a secret that Paddy took to his grave at age 84. Naturally, the McMillan family members were sad, but the Old Man had been a hard-drinking cigar aficionado with a penchant for cocaine in his youth, so the only surprise was that he had lasted that long. Emphysema took him; this giant of Soul Music, who for a short decade or two was the coolest man on the face of the earth.

  Naturally, Manny McMillan, youngest of seven great-grandchildren, hated his fucking guts. It was bad enough, in his mind, to be the youngest in a family
of vastly over-achieving all-star suck-ups but what was the point in being so ridiculously wealthy if all you did was go and toss it all away on getting a solid educational foundation’. It’s what his grandfather had told him every day for the last five years. His relatives a doctor, a lawyer, an assistant D.A, the vice president of an industrial equipment manufacturing company, an actor currently leading in an opera in Rome, and a major league baseball player. Only his baseball playing cousin, Ronnie, was remotely cool. That had nothing to do with him playing ball, baseball was for dorks. He was just a cool guy, didn’t give Manny any shit for living his life. Not like Gramps.

  Manny felt that, since he had a family- backed credit card, a life of ease was no less than deserved. At twenty-four years old, he had very few interests outside swimming, Xbox, parties and, of course, the one thing that he felt admiration for was his grandfather’s legendary prowess in the acquisition of beautiful women. His older sisters and cousins didn’t get it at all; they worked 60 hours a week covered in blood and gore, or neck deep in lawsuits. What’s the point when you had the means do what you want? The best thing about hearing the reading of the Old Man’s will, was that he would surely no longer be accountable to his parents for explaining the escalating credit card bills. He didn’t know if it would be property, cars, or just cold, hard cash, but he was sure he was in for a fortune.

  Manny, of course, was wrong.

  He sat slouched in the office of J. William Wright & Sons, lawyers to the McMillan family over the past half century, watching the first light winter in upstate New York settle on the windowsill. The somehow, still not dead, J. William Wright Sr. nasally reeled off a list of property, cars, cash, rights to Motown songs, stock options in at least two dozen blue chip companies, and some inexplicably valuable works of art by guys named Pollock and Rothko, there were pictures to illustrate what they were. Manny decided if these hacks could just paint a load of blocks and splotches, maybe he could do that. Art looked easy and chicks dig it. He was in a half daydream involving Jessica Alba and Scarlett Johansson, when someone calling his name brought him back to reality.