Oriel brought a tray with silver tea service and some strange looking things she called cookies. Oriel had never really gotten the hang of cooking. Luke took one of the crumbly white things she offered him and then went out the front doors. It was very hard for him to imagine he would have to give up his ideas of winning Sophia for himself because of his father! Never in a million years would he have believed it possible. He’d never gone after anything he couldn’t have. But he figured it was just another one of life’s little lessons. But there was always hope. He doubted that his father would be interested in another woman. His father’s luck with them seemed worse than anything real or imagined could possibly be. And it was impossible to imagine Mark Andrew with anyone other than Meredith, except maybe Semiramis or Ereshkigal. The thought of the dread, dark queen made him laugh nervously, but, yes someone more on father’s own level.
Even Meredith had not been what she had seemed to be, and it was just as well. If his father refused Sophia’s love out of hand, then she would eventually forget about him, and then there might be a chance. He ran his fingers through his long, dark hair and the silver ornaments jingled in the white braid. If Sophia could love Mark Andrew, then surely she could love him. He was, after all, better looking than his father and much younger. In the meantime, there was always Bethany. Bethany liked him… a lot, and he had not failed to pay his compliments to Sophia’s younger… or was it older? … sister as often as possible… just in case.
The apprentice walked down the steps into the foggy air and looked about the familiar landscape. It was good to be home, but he missed the damned wolfhounds. They were like a part of the landscape, always here, and he’d never really given them much thought, though they would have been good company tonight. The mist had risen above the meadow beyond the buildings, and the stables, but the stars and the moon could still be seen above the thick of it. He walked down the path past the apprentice quarters where several members of the Order had taken up residence. Lights shown in some of the windows and all the pink, mercury vapor lights lining the walkways had been repaired and replaced, causing the low-lying fog to glow eerily in places.
The Grand Master had told them they would probably not stay here for long. He wanted to either go on to St. Patrick’s or return, once again, as some said finally, to Italy.
The Villa was still intact, and they had sent some of the men from the other Order down to look it over, and make it ready for occupancy. Luke felt they would be safer here in Scotland or on the islands. Italy was too close to Greece and Turkey and Turkey was actually part of Persia Major. There had been open hostilities between the two countries on the Aegean Sea, and several ships had been sunk on both sides. He was not sure why they were sinking each other’s ships, but it was most likely some part of Jozsef Daniel’s plans. His father’s affirmation of the war in the east had not made him feel any better about what they were going to have to face sooner or later. For now, he simply wanted to be alone and think things over. He had been considering trying to contact Lemarik; see if they could drum up something for the two of them to get into to cause some headaches for New Babylon’s latest despot. See if there might be something they could do for Omar. If anyone could think of something to cause heartburn, it would be the mighty Djinni, and for once, he actually missed his arrogant half-brother.
As he climbed the ladder to the hayloft in the stables, he could almost hear the Djinni’s singsong voice ‘Did you miss me?’ If Lemarik had appeared right then, he would have hugged him and told him that he most certainly did!
He made his way out onto the cold, steel roof where he had once caused Konrad to fall to his ‘death’. Not only had he killed Konrad, he had killed his father on that same night. He sat down on the metal and shook his head sadly. Regret, an emotion he would never get used to. The moon was almost full, hanging over the misty meadow like a big, yellow eye and the lonely hooting of an owl made his depression complete. It was hard to believe that halfway around the world in both directions, people were dying as the result of Jozsef’s plans. And it was even harder to believe Omar’s ‘beautiful son’, Bari, was an even more gullible fool than Omar had been, but then Bari had really never had a chance from the beginning. If they could have found him sooner… if Omar could have raised him… if frogs had wings…
Luke perked up at the sight of blue lights bobbing along just above the fog in the meadow.
“What’s this?” He asked aloud as he stood up on the peak of the roof squinting at the elven fire.
Chapter Five of Twenty-Two
You have set our iniquities before you, our secret sins
in the light of your presence.
“Miss Sophia?” Mark Andrew stood nervously in the open doors of the parlor, unsure of what to do with his hands. He had never wondered what to do with them before. Now they seemed like unnecessary appendages with no useful purpose. He stuffed them in his pockets, and then took them out again as she stood up and turned to face him.
“Sir Ramsay.” She nodded to him.
Oriel got up from the chair in which she had been sitting near the fire and poured a cup of tea for the Knight of Death.
“I made some tea for you.” Oriel told him as she passed him on her way out. “And some cookies. They taste better than they look.”
“I’m sure they are fine.” Mark smiled at the diminutive replica of Simon. The Healer had gone to the library where he imagined the entire household pressing their ears against the doors even now.
“If you need anything else, I’ll be in the kitchen.” Oriel announced as she closed the double doors, bumping him with the brass handles in the process.
He stepped forward automatically and then stopped. Sophia stood watching him as if she could read his mind. Luke was insane.
“Come sit down… please.” Sophia said after a moment.
Mark took a seat as far from the sofa as possible and she brought him his tea.
“Thank you.” He said stiffly and then watched her in silence as she resumed her seat on the sofa.
“Is something wrong, Sir Ramsay?” She asked him and then looked down at the dark blue dress she wore.
“No! Nothing. I’m just waiting.” He said and then felt foolish. Just waiting?
“I like your hair like that.”
“Thank you.” He sipped the tea to keep from coughing.
“I’ve never seen you wear white. Would you like a cookie?”
“No! No cookies.” He said urgently. He did not want her to cross the room again. He wanted her to stay on the couch. Still. He wanted her to just be still. “No. Don’t move, I mean don’t bother.”
“Oh. Well, I suppose I should just get on with it.” She looked up at the portrait of his mother. “They tell me she was your mother.”
“Yes. She is.” He nodded then added “…was! She was my mother. Yes. Long ago. Yes, a long time ago she was my mother.” He turned up the cup again.
“But not really.” Sophia smiled slightly at him. “I mean, angels really don’t have mothers, do they?”
“I don’t know about angels.” He said evenly and then, without wishing to continue, he heard himself speaking again. “If they have mothers, I mean. I suppose they would… no, I suppose not. They say angels were created to keep God company. He created them. Created He them, male and female.” His tea was gone and he didn’t remember drinking it. He smiled and looked into the empty cup. “What I mean is, God created them, they weren’t born. As far as anything else, I don’t know.”
“I don’t believe you.” She took one of the cookies and looked at it closely.
“There are many things I don’t know.” He insisted. “Forgotten things. Things better forgotten.”
“Sometimes it’s dangerous to forget things, Sir Ramsay.” She said lightly. “Lucifer has not forgotten you. It seems he knows you quite well. He told me many things about you.”
“He told you about Uriel.” Mark corrected her. “I am not here as Uriel. There is something you sho
uld understand, Miss Cardinelli. Whatever you may think of me, or think you know of me, should not have any bearing on this conversation. I try to live my life as it is… as Mark Ramsay and nothing more. I am no different than any other member of the Council in that respect.”
“In what respect? You have a distinct advantage over the rest of us… or, at least, most of us. You know who you were before. I, on the other hand, spend a great deal of time wondering who I was in my previous existences. I’m convinced I have lived many lives, but who I was and what I was is a matter of speculation. I think it would be wonderful to actually know. To have memories… real memories of my past lives. Good or bad. It wouldn’t matter as long as I knew.”
“We all know who we were. It’s in us all. Some people are just more able to unlock those memories than others. You should know this from your religious studies. Didn’t the monks teach you about transcendence in school?”
“Of course, they did, but it takes great practice and long meditation to achieve such things. Normal people are generally disinclined to put forth the effort necessary to achieve it. But you are not ‘normal people’. You are much more special.”
“I don’t think of myself as special, Miss Sophia. I think of myself as a servant of God. A poor Knight of Solomon’s Temple. When I die I will be buried in an unmarked grave with only the impress of my sword in the stone to show that I was here. Within a few years no one will remember me, and that is how it should be.” He smiled and wondered why he was allowing her to carry on this line of inquiry. It had nothing to do with the matter at hand as far as he could see, but there was no use hiding anything from her. She already knew too much. They would most definitely have to induct her into one or the other of the Orders and have her take the oath. “I suggest you remember the old adage about the grass being greener on the other side of the fence.”
“Oh, I am the eternal optimist, Sir Ramsay! You say your lines very well, but you are no poor Knight, and you are not going to die, and even if you did, you would be remembered for a very, very long time.” She laughed. “I believe the grass is green on both sides of the fence. And I also believe one should do today rather than put off til tomorrow because no one knows what tomorrow may bring.”
“Ahhh. Seize the day as it were? Then I suppose you believe every dark cloud has a silver lining, and things always work out for the best, and good always triumphs over evil, and so on and so forth?” He asked and felt himself relax a bit. He’d not had such a conversation with anyone in a very long time. It reminded him vaguely of the long debates he’d had with Simon of Grenoble over lonely campfires. When the world had been much larger and their troubles had been much smaller.
“Of course. If I didn’t believe that, I would simply cast myself from the cliffs of Dover and refuse to be reborn.” She raised both eyebrows.
“But no man knows when his time may come. You might survive the fall, but tell me, how is it you think you can refuse to come back?” He asked in surprise.
“Why not?” She asked and bit into the cookie. It exploded in a puff of white powder on her blue dress, and she giggled as her cheeks turned pink, making her even more attractive.
A brilliant light went on in his head. Attractive! That was it! He was attracted to her in spite of everything he tried to tell himself to the contrary. He remembered her now. She had been the girl playing soccer at St. Patrick’s. The dark-haired girl with the deep, thoughtful eyes. He’d almost forgotten why he was here with her. Dangerous. Very dangerous! And he’d never really liked brunettes. They reminded him of Ereshkigal and people like Cecile Valentino. Unfair, but… Sophia didn’t remind him of either of those two rather unpleasant personages. He liked red-haired women, like Elizabeth… but then, his mother had been a brunette… was a brunette… and she had been quite beautiful. She still was…
“Dammit! You can’t just refuse to come back. That’s not how it works.” He said in sudden anger, brought on by the folly into which he was slipping. “We have to come back until we get it right, or until we reach gnosis, and then, we can choose.” He dumped his cup on the floor and stood staring at the ceiling with one hand on his hip and the other on his forehead. “I canna believe thot you of oll people wud be sayin’ such a thing! When ye’ve reached th’ halls of Amenti, then we can talk aboot this, but not…” He stopped suddenly and frowned. He was losing his mind.
“Aha! Then you think that I haven’t reached gnosis?” She looked totally pleased with having frustrated him. “The great Thoth! The great teacher. Hermes Trismegistus. You teach, and you teach, and yet you expect no one to learn? No one to listen? How do you know I haven’t already visited the Halls of Amenti? How do you know I haven’t traveled through the fires of the Seven Lords into the presence of the Dark Lord? How do you know I have not seen the souls of humanity as they drift in and out of his presence, coming and going in their endless transfigurations? Tell me, Great Hermes, why do they never learn?” She stood slowly and stood smiling at him.
Mark dropped his hands to his sides and turned his head slowly to look at her.
“You have studied the Emerald Tablets?” He asked quietly… hopefully.
“No.” She raised her chin slightly. “I don’t need to study them.”
“How do you know of the Dark Lord then?” He asked.
“I have seen him.” She said and shrugged. “I have answered his question.”
“Well, then…” He nodded his head slowly. She could have been simply baiting him. It was possible she had simply studied the more common version of the Emerald Tablets. She would not have had to actually study the authentic stones to be able to say these things. “We have something in common. You saw the forty-seven Lords who bath in the waters of life?” He tried to trip her up a bit.
“We have a great deal in common. Actually, there were thirty-two Lords and you were one of them, though you were not the one who came to guide me, and they were bathed in the light of life as they sat about the blue fire wherein dwell the seven Lords. We have both seen the Dark Lord, and we both know Lucifer, the Bringer of Light. He is a very confused and confusing creature. Purely an angel, of course. He must have been trapped in that crystal for a very long time, or else he would have experienced something of life by now. He doesn’t even know he is the god of a twisted cult of Satan worshippers who pray to him and call him by name in their black masses and ceremonies. That would tend to prove our prayers are not always heard. One of the great debates of all time, finally answered. He knows very little about people, and he is fascinated with my hair.”
“Your hair?” Mark swallowed hard. He’d just been thinking about her hair. It was at least as dark as his own, and silky, and shiny and…he wanted to touch it. “Wot th’ divvil is ’e doin’ lookin’ at yur ’air?”
“What? Did you say ‘devil’?” Her smile broadened, and he noticed for the first time her charming Italian accent and the dimple in her chin. She sounded like Lucio. “That is one of the things that bother him most, I believe. I don’t know where we were, or where he was getting his information, but he learned a great deal in a very short time… or, at least, it seemed a short time. He was really angry about being equated with Satan in the Christian literature. He said they should all be burned at the stake. Meaning of course, the Christians.” She laughed again softly. “How typical. He accused me of believing it, but when I told him I didn’t believe in Satan, he was baffled. He said all men believed in Satan, and then he asked Galen about it. Galen told him the same thing. Of course, Selwig had no idea what he was talking about, and Vanni told him the elves never taught him anything about devils or angels and he didn’t even know they existed until he met one.”
“Ahhh. Vanni’s Saint Lucia.” Mark nodded. “I haven’t figured that one out, yet.”
“It’s most likely Lucia Dambretti he is seeing. Certainly, she has transcended.” Sophia said casually.
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Mark said quietly. He had his doubts about Lucia.
“Wel
l, anyway, Lucifer seemed pleased to hear our answers to his questions.” Sophia seemed almost proud of herself. “I think we managed quite well. They are certainly a scary lot. Always watching us as if they expected us to do something terrible at any moment, but Michael is the real hero. He talked with them for hours on end. Fascinating. I learned a great deal from him. You should be very proud of him. Lucifer was going to send him back, but Michael convinced him to send me instead.”
“And how did he do that?” Mark was, in turn, fascinated now.
“He taught Lucifer all the Rules of your Order. Lucifer seemed to think they were quite admirable… for men. Michael stressed the part about women… you know? The company of women is a dangerous thing? Michael had seen him staring at me… not just watching me… but staring at me, and every time I went to sleep, Michael told me that Lucifer would sort of hover over me and touch my hair. Michael was afraid Lucifer was falling in love with me. Can you believe it? Is it possible? I thought all those stories were just stories. Angels falling in love with women. The monks used to talk about it. I learned nothing of it in Amenti. From what I can see, they would be just as likely to fall in love with men. If they are both male and female in one, then is it possible? Could they also fall in love with men?”
Mark Andrew was lost in thought and she had lost his attention completely as he tried to sort out his own feelings for her. He pulled his attention back to the problem at hand with a jolt.
“Is what possible?” He asked in confusion.
“Is it possible for angels to fall in love with human women or men? I know what Enoch said about the Nephilim. Is it true? Did it really happen?” She leaned forward slightly, waiting for an answer.
“It’s entirely possible, and yes, it happened.” He told her. “Did you think it was just a myth? Do you realize half the world’s problems today stem from that very event?”
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