“Of course you will allow for inspection as soon as your vessels dock?” The sultan did not need his interpreter for the question.
“Of course. We fully expect the sultan himself to take possession of the locomotive and bless its commissioning on behalf of his people.”
This time it was the Frenchman who bowed in John Henry’s direction for his successful deflection of the questions.
“Gentlemen, if you will excuse the sultan, he has a wonderful surprise for his guests.” The sultan and interpreter abruptly returned to the throne. The Frenchman turned and faced Thomas and the warm smile vanished. The representative of Victoria listened in with curiosity.
“I have been informed of your true intentions in the East, Colonel Thomas, and so has my colleague from London. I must say it is a marvelous double ruse put on by your President Lincoln. To use the lie of presenting the brutish sultan with a new railroad line was brilliant. But to have the double-edged falsehood of covering up an attempt at bringing back a legend from a desolate mountaintop is magnifique,” he said as he kissed the fingers of his right hand as if he had just tasted a fine wine. “It makes me think your president has at least a small amount of French blood flowing through those veins of his. Now, what are you Americans really after, Colonel Thomas? It cannot be the Ark. No one would be as foolish as that.”
“Addressing your first concern, Mr. Ambassador, I’m afraid Mr. Lincoln has no blood in his veins other than American, which is why he is fighting so hard to keep it whole. To address the second concern, I don’t believe in most legends, and as to your third, what in the world could possibly lie on a mountaintop in Eastern Turkey that would concern Americans in the least?”
A perplexed look crossed the representative’s features and he became angry. He looked at his British colleague and then again faced the American.
“Your American wit notwithstanding, Colonel Thomas, we will discover what it is you have really come for. If it be gold, minerals, or just the start of an invasion of the Ottoman Empire, sir, we will learn the truth, and then you will see how responsible nations react to piracy. It’s about time the United States is brought under control and restrained before the stain of your backward war spreads.” The ambassador clicked his polished heels together and then moved off. The British ambassador smiled, bowed, and then followed suit.
“Don’t be shy, Froggy. Tell me your true thoughts,” John Henry mumbled.
“I see you are playing well with others,” Claire said as she, Jessy, and Jackson all stepped up to him.
“For the moment,” he said as he watched the Frenchman turn to his British counterpart and, to his surprise, Steven McDonald, who graciously excused himself from the conversation he had been having and then made his way toward the group of Americans.
“I see your Mr. McDonald is also playing well with others,” Thomas said as he watched the man approach.
“If he is, why should that concern me, Colonel? After all, you know the man about as well as I,” she said with a tinge of anger in her voice. She didn’t wait for John Henry to answer, she simply curtsied and then moved away.
“Yes, sir, you still have a way with the opposite species,” Taylor said as he slipped a piece of chicken into his mouth and then followed Claire.
* * *
The pounding drums startled most with the exception of the military personnel on hand. The Americans watched as the main floor was cleared and the guests were asked to step aside. Then as the drums continued, ten men came in line abreast, wielding the largest swords Jessy, Jackson, or John Henry had ever seen. The ten men wore flowing balloon pants made of pure white satin. They were all bare-chested and had bright red sashes around their midsections. Each had a large ponytail of dark hair bundled at his scalp. Each swordsman had to weigh in excess of three hundred pounds and was no less than six and a half feet tall. They lined up five to a side. As they did, an eleventh man walked out with a Saracen sword almost double the size of any of the weapons the others had. This man stood at the head of the two lines.
“Ladies, gentlemen, and special guests, His Royal Majesty would like to present to you the entertainment for this evening. Almost three thousand years ago, the Persian Empire ruled most of the known world. To achieve this feat the great kings of the past had a special unit of soldiers who would die upon command, the fiercest, most loyal soldiers of the empire. Ladies, gentlemen, special guests—the sultan gives to you a demonstration of the most elite unit of soldiers in history, the Immortals!”
The drums began blasting and the two sides came together with a clanging of Saracen swords. The demonstration was magnificent as each choreographed move was met with oohs and ahhs from the gathered luminaries. Their leader stood with sword crossed over his bare chest. He watched each pair as they demonstrated their prowess with blade and maneuver. Finally, with a last exchange of clanging swords the two sides separated with one last flourished backward spin and each man was in his original position with sword at the ready.
The guests applauded. Even the Americans were impressed. Jessy was chewing on his chicken as he saw the conspiracy long before John Henry. The man always thought officers in any military would act accordingly, but Jessy knew the ulterior motives of men with a plan. And he knew the Europeans were getting a plan together. He didn’t know what or how, but he knew they would make one, maybe more, attempt at either embarrassing the American contingent or stopping it completely. He glanced at Thomas, who was also watching not the swordsmen, but the Europeans, who watched with quiet intent.
“The sultan would like to ask if there are any volunteers to challenge the mighty Immortal commander to see if their name holds true.”
“Surely he can’t mean a fight to the death?” Claire asked nervously.
“Even here I think that would be a bit barbaric,” Jackson said. All could see in his eyes that he was very interested in the Immortals and the possibility of one-on-one combat.
“I may be wrong, Colonel Thomas, and I often am, but I believe this challenge is directed solely at you,” McDonald said, looking pleased that he had been the first one to point this obvious conclusion out to the others.
Suddenly the leader of the Immortals stepped to the center of the two lines and started twirling his sword to a slow but powerful drumbeat. The man was a giant. He swung the large curved sword in a circle and all present could hear the sharp blade slicing through the air. Finally the man slowly started to approach their side of the hall. He continued to twirl the Saracen sword in a wide arc that made most of the women in the room come close to swooning as his sweat-soaked body moved past them. Still the drums beat.
John Henry turned slightly and saw the French, the German, and English delegates all very interested in what was happening. Thomas figured they had made a suggestion to the sultan to put on this little show of his. As he looked, the French ambassador smiled, and not only due to the situation that was fast developing. The ambassador pointed out the man who had just joined him. It was the French spy he had put overboard, the man they had known as Cromwell—Renaud actually smiled at the American. He turned and saw that Claire was also staring at the group of men, Renaud in particular. To his astonishment Claire turned and angrily strolled toward the men in black tie and sashes. John Henry and the others all raised their eyebrows at the same moment when Claire walked straight up to Renaud and the French ambassador.
“This needs to stop now.”
Renaud only stared at her. Then without warning he stepped up to her and grabbed her shoulders, and this caused all to tense up. Jessy almost dropped his plate of pomegranate-roasted chicken when he instinctively reached for his absent Colt in its holster. John Henry grabbed his arm and then slowly shook his head no.
“You return to your duties, or I will make you my next special project. Is that clear, Madame? We need more information than you are sending to us. You have not signaled any progress reports from the Yorktown. I am beginning to think you may have another, or maybe two more employers, ot
her than us. You send me regular reports or the Americans may learn the identity of your real employers.”
Claire angrily shook off the Frenchman’s hand and then turned and went back to the others.
“I would ask what that was about, but it looked a little personal, so I’ll let it go until we get back to the ship. Then I think you’d better start coming to the side of the Lord, Miss Richelieu.” Thomas turned his attention back to the swordsman, who was getting ever closer to the group of Americans.
The giant of a man finally stopped in front of John Henry and Jessy. Both men watched as the Immortal bowed all the way to the polished tile of the great hall as the drumbeat came to a halt. The man lowered his head and splayed out the arms that were the size of tree trunks. Soon a smaller Immortal emerged from the crowd and approached Thomas and Taylor. He held a Saracen sword and offered it to John Henry. Thomas looked from the shiny blade to the beast of a man bowing before him.
“The great Sula-Man-Khan of the sultan’s famous Immortals offers you this sword of honor. He wishes to show the American honored guests the battle prowess of the great leader and his men.”
Thomas looked from the smaller Immortal, who still held the large sword out with both hands with head bowed, to the sultan sitting on his throne. He saw the French and British ambassadors were both near but not actually speaking with the leader of the Ottoman Empire. The smile on the sultan’s face was a clear indication of the challenge. John Henry knew they were setting up the Americans as fools, and this led the colonel to believe that the French or the English had passed on to the sultan the real meaning of their fabulous gift to the empire. John Henry half-bowed toward the throne and the fat man sitting upon it. He straightened and started to reach for the sword.
“You’re not thinking of really accepting this challenge, are you?” Jessy asked as he blindly handed Claire his plate.
Thomas looked at Jessy and then tilted his head. “If you have an alternative plan, now would be a good time to voice it.”
Taylor took a step closer to John Henry. “Look, if I recall, you were the third from the bottom in fencing and swordsmanship at the Point.”
“Your point?” John Henry asked, smiling at the sultan as he spoke through the side of his mouth.
“That is my point.” Jessy looked from Thomas to the enormous sword in the Immortal’s hands. “I was first in both disciplines.” He stepped in front of John Henry. “Maybe you should sit this one out, Colonel, or you may receive a point you can’t outthink.” He nodded toward the very lethal-looking Saracen sword.
The giant of a man slowly stood as Taylor stepped forward in front of Thomas and then moved the smaller man aside, disdaining the large sword. He immediately drew his saber from its shiny sheath. It was a bad time to think about it, but Jessy was just hoping that Thomas hadn’t supplied him with a ceremonial sword instead of the honored Wilkinson he was used to. Taylor smiled again and then brought the saber up to his face and saluted the large Immortal, who was now facing the American with admiration. The giant looked back at the sultan, who leaned over and conferred with his interpreter. He then nodded his head at the ceremonial guard. The huge beast of a man turned back and the smile was now a smirk.
“Look, you’re not defending the honor of the Confederacy here, but the country you have forsaken. This isn’t your style, Jessy.”
Taylor turned and the smile was still there. “Honor is honor, and this fella here, he looks like the type that likes to pick on smaller people.”
“Jessy, you can’t kill him,” John Henry said as he noticed the guests and the sultan were growing impatient.
“Perhaps our American friends would prefer a smaller opponent?” came a voice that emanated from the area around the French and British contingents, which elicited another laugh from onlookers, albeit an uneasy one.
“No, sir, we like ’em big in the States,” Jessy said as he swished his saber through the air and then stepped forward just as the first beat of the drum sounded. The giant twirled his blade and grinned as he stepped forward.
“This is insane!” Claire said as she squeezed past Jackson to get to John Henry.
“This is coming from our French and British friends, not the sultan. If we don’t do this then we lose face—we lose face and the mission is over.”
“How do you know all of this?” she asked, astonished.
“That’s the way the world works, Madame. This part of the world anyway.”
The drums pounded as the two men, one a giant, the other a tall, thin American, circled each other. Suddenly the Immortal lunged while spinning his curved blade as he came on. Jessy held his ground. Just as the beast’s sword started down Jessy stepped to the left and the blade whistled through empty air. John Henry tensed when he noticed that the Immortal had swung through and had not intentionally missed. The Saracen steel slammed into the stone tile, sending shrapnel into the air. As he flew past, Taylor slapped his sword into the man’s behind with the flat edge. The giant was goosed and he immediately jumped and spun on the American to the laughter of more than just a few of the guests. The British and the French were not among them. Jessy smiled and then dropped into a stance with sword at the ready. He figured old Professor Courtney at the Point would have been proud of his stance. He flourished the sword and then lowered it, inviting the giant in.
He didn’t have to wait long as the Immortal swung his sword with a mighty bellow and once more Jessy easily sidestepped the blow. The large man overcompensated and went flying past Taylor, who once more swiped his blade around and slapped the man’s ass once more. This time Jessy drew the smallest amount of blood.
The Immortal was now beyond furious as he turned and swung the sword and missed Jessy by mere inches. The blade cut through the air and all who saw the blow coming cringed as they waited for the head of the American to roll free of his shoulders. Claire came close to screaming as she took a hold of John Henry’s coat sleeve.
“Colonel, I must say that this may have been a bad decision on your part,” Jackson said as he too saw that this was not going to end well.
“Now, now, we do not want any bloodshed,” the sultan said, but all could see his smiling, excited eyes as Jessy came within inches of being decapitated.
Taylor felt the wind rush past his face and he figured this had gone on for far too long. He waited for the giant to recover and then stepped to the middle of the hall once more. Again the drums started beating and everyone knew this was no demonstration—the Europeans were making a point. This time there was no smile or polite nod of the head. Jessy opened up with sword at his side, inviting the bear-sized man to attack. He did. With sword raised high he came on. Women screamed, men readied themselves, and John Henry smiled.
The giant felt the American’s much smaller sword glance off his large Saracen blade. The ting was loud as Jessy countered once again. The noise was tremendous, and most wondered why the American’s blade didn’t break. But Jessy countered again and again. He stepped lightly around the large man, slapping him again and again on his backside. The Immortal was becoming furious at his embarrassment and that was just what Jessy wanted. Again a lunge, again another quick move to the right, and then the sword slap. Once more the lunge, once more the dodge and slap. The crowd was now beginning to laugh as if this had all been choreographed. Taylor was like a matador from Spain dodging a furiously charging bull in the ring. Finally the giant of a man lost it and charged with sword held high again. One final time Jessy let him come on. He was now tired of the game and as the blade started down once more, Taylor fell to the floor, kicked out, and caught the Turk in the left shin. The man tripped and went flying into the large buffet table, knocking more than a few British and French delegates over.
The crowd went wild with laughter. That was until Jessy approached the struggling man. He turned, bowed to the sultan, who was still smiling, and then quickly raised his sword before anyone could say anything.
“Jessy, no!” John Henry yelled as the o
thers gasped just as the sword came down.
The guests saw the blade descend and the legs of the Immortal go stiff. Several of the gentler women swooned and fell into the arms of their escorts while the rest just stared wide-eyed. Thomas felt his shoulders slump as he did not have to picture what the Wilkinson sword had just done to the Immortal. He had seen Confederate handiwork with a blade before and he knew it not to be a pretty sight.
Then he heard the gathered guests laughing and applauding as Jessy slowly brought the sword up. On the very tip was a melon that Taylor tossed high into the air, and then before it completed its arc he sliced it in two before both halves landed on either side of the head of the prone and embarrassed, but alive, Immortal.
John Henry took a deep breath as the crowd continued to applaud Taylor for his chivalry in the face of an out-of-control opponent. Taylor turned and faced the throne and a cowed sultan. Finally the monarch looked around and saw all eyes were on him. He half-smiled and then stood and also started to add his congratulations to the American. Jessy bowed, leaned over, and wiped off the blade of his sword on the Immortal’s backside, and then slammed the sword into its sheath. He turned and made his way back to the group of pleased Americans. Jackson was smiling and nodding his head. Claire was aghast and McDonald shocked at what had just transpired. John Henry only raised his brows at a smiling Jessy.
“A truly gifted swordsman,” the sultan said loudly as he waved men and women to silence. “You have my deepest apologies for the overzealous nature of my guard. Immortals are taught to control their attacks. He will be punished, I assure you.”
The Mountain Page 31