Dark Wolves

by J A Deriu

  “It is true. I know what you are wanting to say – that Pierre is not in the charge of the Templars. Not anymore. Yet who else is there to turn to? They now have a global reach. It is within their capabilities. You are a man that can influence their operations. Don’t show denial on your face. We both know the truth. If they were given this task, they would complete it. The rescue of Pierre from whatever hellhole he is caught in.”

  “There is a tremendous amount of assumption in all that you have said.”

  “I do not come to you in the guise of a damsel.” She cut him off. “I know that you are a dealmaker, so I offer a deal.” She paused to observe Carsten’s desperately kept straight face. “Through proxies I have acquired many share certificates in your company – or former company. I have control of these. I will trade them back to you. There are enough so that you would have influence again in your own company. Thus, there exists the very real basis for a trade.” She glared at him.

  He turned away. “Do you know that I have been neutered? My form of influence, which is capital, has been shut off. Yes, I am in the Habsburg State, but I am sitting here idle. I have no access to my own capital. If I wanted to purchase certificates in Cheval Corporation, I can’t pay for them. If I wanted to have influence with the Templars, I have no currency to offer them. Rovis and I are at a loss for a remedy. There is a man, Harry Habsburg, standing in the way. And he is backed by the steel of the political class.”

  “The political class will fall,” she said. “I will be your remedy.”

  “You understand the dangers of what you are doing. For a person in your position.”

  “I do not care. I have made up my mind.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Outside of the official structure, she kept her own set of advisers. The people overlapped, but it was easier to meet and discuss with a few than the unruly meetings filled with dozens. They sat on a high balcony. A wind from the desert slapped her face as she tilted it higher. The setting sun cast a bloodlike sheen over the domed cupolas. Beyond them she could discern a point in the distance. A pair of binoculars would have been useful. The pyramid of Giza stood from the ancient world. She would like a closer look if the chance came.

  She turned her attention to the discussion. They were sitting around a low table on heavily cushioned chairs. The procurers had done well to secure such a site as a temporary headquarters on the outskirts of the great city of Cairo. The chief matter was that it needed to be secure. The high walls that surrounded the building on all sides would have aided their decision. It was a comfortable hotel, much better accommodation than Templars were used to. There was a sports field across the road, where a contingent had set up a camp. Checkpoints guarded the surrounding roads. These were manned by local police but with squads of heavily armed Templars watching. The area was secured, as best that could be done in a city that was nominally an enemy. The Cairenes conducted their business normally. On the sand-filled street, there was a barber shop and vendors with carts selling fruits and nuts where Templars mixed with the locals. A warble in the background could be heard from a distant minaret.

  “We have not been welcomed or unwelcomed,” Fulke was saying in answer to a question. “We are allowed to enter the city and move across the country as long as we don’t look like military formations.”

  “What do we know about these Mamluks?” Richord asked.

  “They have ruled this city for a long time, centuries, sometimes losing power but always regaining it,” Clavdia answered. “They have switched allegiances frequently between the Ottomans and Persians. At this time, as far as we know, they stand with neither. Our defeat of the army of the shah has shattered the politics of the continent. The deep south of the continent has declared independence. The Persian Empire is in disarray. Will there be rebellion in the land of the pharaohs? I don’t know. The Persian garrisons have been emptied. There is nothing to stop it. The Mamluks have always craved to rule for themselves, in name as well as practice. They are an entrenched ruling class, originally descended from slaves, like the Janissaries.”

  “Hmm, that’s interesting,” Pedro said. He took notes, writing on paper on a wooden clipboard. Greta and Pedro were part of the group as her personal guards. They were captains, not captain knights, but they spoke freely. The others were Jodi, holding an array of papers to do with logistics, and Miles, who sat uneasily, as though uncomfortable with being still. “How do slaves become the rulers?”

  “They originally came as soldiers and administrators brought in by the ruling dynasty because they could be trusted more than the locals, who were often rivals. But eventually they became accustomed to the power that comes from these important positions and seized power for themselves, creating their own ruling, self-replicating dynasties. Their leader goes by the title of bey, usually a strongman from one of the established families. The current bey is Badr al-Din. He is called the Cat. He is notorious for being evasive. As he has been with his position on the Persian Empire.” She looked at Pedro. “You should note in the chronicles as background that the Persian Empire has always been kept together by its ability to manage intense local conflicts that are constantly at boiling point. It would not be hard for the Cat to turn his back on them. The shah has nothing like the financial or military clout of the sultan.”

  “Can we trust him?” Richord asked.

  “No, we can’t. But we can trust our own power, and now our reputation. He has granted us safe passage across his land. This means we won’t be challenged. They want us to pass through and create problems for others elsewhere, and not for the Cat.”

  “We must be vigilant,” Fulke added. “Do not trust the water, have food tested, set up roadblocks, and send out scouts. Keep our forces dispersed, but not too much, always in close communication, should an attack come.”

  “There is no military here that could challenge us,” Clavdia said. “The Persians kept the Mamluks neutered. Their defense force is nothing like the fame of the Mamluk knights of history.”

  “Yet he could raise large numbers very quickly,” Richord said. “This is a country of many millions. I saw lots of young men in the fields when traveling here. Look at all those houses over there, as far as can be seen.”

  “There is another thing,” she said. “The Cat is superstitious. It is known that he suffers from hallucinations and hears ghostly laughter at night. It has been reported in all the official newspapers that voices told him to allow the Templars to pass.”

  “Ha,” Jodi chortled. “Another strange lot we have stumbled across. I suppose we will take it.”

  “Yes,” Clavdia said. “But Richord is right to be wary. We should not linger in this land. That is agreed. Our objective must be to get out of this country quickly – but what is the best way?”

  “I have looked at the maps,” Miles said, showing some interest. “It looks like it is across a desert and a lot of hiking.”

  “What are you thinking, Lord Commander?” Fulke asked.

  “I do not have a desire to go across a desert or hike. Not with an expeditionary force the size of ours. Supply would be a nightmare.”

  “Miles is right. What other way is there?”

  “Seaborne.” She saw the blank faces and open mouths. “It is a surprise to you all. Imagine the surprise for our adversaries when we land from the sea. We know it is the best way to move forces and supplies.”

  “But how?” Richord asked. “We would have to go through the Great Canal.”

  “Yes, we would.”

  “Incredibly dangerous,” Richord said. “Think about it. Can we trust the shipping? There are many ways to die at sea. An ambush is easy. The Great Canal is flanked by walls and fortresses. Easy to be attacked from. We are not seamen.”

  “It is a question of cost. All of those things can be mitigated if we can pay.”

  “That is the other thing I was going to say – the cost
would be enormous.”

  “I know. I know. I am thinking out loud. That is why we meet to explore options.”

  “Ha.” Fulke snickered. “You don’t think out loud, Lord Commander. I reckon you have worked this out.”

  “What do you think about it, Captain?”

  “I have not thought too long ahead. I must admit.” Fulke considered and leaned forward to reach for a tray of olives. “I have been inundated with the problems of a moving army. Keeping order keeps me awake. Discipline is something that can vanish like sunshine in the Metropolis. I have been focused on keeping our men and women from the locals. I have a worry in my gut that there is an attack around every corner. And yes, I know of the shortage of funds. That gnaws at me too.”

  “All of this is important, especially if we are to be true to our objective. History is full of armies that came to this part of the world and were led astray.” She was conscious that she was talking too much. She preferred these meetings when she said little. She envied Miles and his ability to be silent.

  “The Abyssinian expedition was not a jackpot then?” Richord stated.

  Fulke groaned. “I will be honest. We looted what we could, within reason, but they were skilled in the art of crying poor.”

  “How bad is it, Lord Commander?” Greta asked.

  “War is as much about finances as all the other,” she said. “We need some positive news from the Grand Master soon. Otherwise, we will be stuck here, busy keeping our soldiers from banditry.”

  There was silence for moments. Pedro smiled. “We could sell the ark.”

  “Ha, damn you. Don’t try and be funny.” Fulke looked at Pedro with a scowl on his face.

  “There is a lot to think about and more to do,” Clavdia said. “We must pray that the Grand Master succeeds for us. She will not have lost sight of our objective, and we must not.”

  “The Holy Land,” Pedro said. “Jerusalem.”

  “True,” Jodi added. “The first Christian conquest of the Holy Land since Godfrey, nearly a thousand years ago. Templars will guard the Holy Land once again. I smile when I think of the joy that this news will bring to our brethren in every corner of the world.”

  “Yes, and we all believe in victory as you do, Captain,” Richord said. “Yet I dislike to be the constant debater, but I must ask – how are we to hold the territory? Has the Grand Master thought this far ahead?”

  “We are soldiers,” Miles said. “Let us not worry about that.”

  “Montgisard,” Clavdia said. “The Montgisard Corporation will govern.”

  Richord lifted his eyebrows.

  “That is the intention,” she explained. “The Grand Master in her dispatches has indicated a proconsul-type setup with the corporation providing the administration.”

  “Montgisard?” Richord question. “Are they to be the receptacle for all problems?”

  “The Grand Master thinks that they are the only outfit among us that would have the skill and desire to do civilian administration. In regard to who actually rules – this is to be determined. As you know there are many that claim this honor – and it is not something the Grand Master would seek for the Templars.”

  “It is wise that she is thinking of this,” Fulke said, “yet it is something that seems a universe away. There is much fighting ahead, most likely multiyear. We will be facing Ottomans again in the Holy Land, not Persians.”

  Miles showed a flicker of interest with the last comment.

  “Talking of battles,” Richord said, “there is another matter. I am not sure why – I can guess that someone thinks I have too much time for thoughtful contemplation – but I have been placed in charge of the welfare and upkeep of the so-called queen of Sheba, who is traveling with us on some kind of hostage arrangement. She is not very talkative, but via her many, many servants, she is as demanding as a horde of spoilt brats. I was hoping to pass this task to someone else – perhaps Captain Jodi. You have the most patience.”

  There was the sound of titters. “Well, not me,” Fulke the Bear bellowed. “I have no patience.” He turned to Clavdia. “Do we even need her anymore, Lord Commander? We are safely out of her kingdom. And to be honest the Abyssinian corps we have acquired look pretty impressive and well led. I have the suspicion that they will improve even more without her around.”

  “I agree,” Clavdia said. “Send her home. Has she spoken to anyone yet?”

  “Lord Commander,” Greta cut in. “She had the Guild of Assassins try to kill you. Is there no reckoning for this?”

  “She is a head of state, Captain. There’s no benefit for us making an enemy of her people. I will let fate be her reckoning. If she rules with the forces of darkness, it will only be time when those forces come for her.” Clavdia’s eyes were diverted to a clerk who had come onto the balcony.

  “Lord Commander, the adjutant wanted you to know that the leader of the Two-Headed Wolves has arrived.”

  She moved to stand. “I should see him. Will you excuse me?”

  “He is not here to collect payment, is he?” Richord asked, a half-smile on his lips.

  “No. We have paid them. They were the first to be paid.” She smiled.

  Miles stood automatically to go with her. It was agreed that she always needed a guard. Miles had always been quick to elect himself to that role when there was the opportunity.

  Kani was dressed in his battle uniform. His leather jerkin was newly polished. He stood in the hotel lobby in front of potted plants and a mosaic depicting the pyramids and the sphinx. He held out his hands. The handles of his two samurai swords could be seen over his shoulders. “Lord Commander and Captain Miles, you have located yourselves in a lovely place. A civilized bed to sleep in.”

  “This is only for headquarters and meetings,” Clavdia said. “The clerks can sleep here at their desks. Everybody else is in the field camp. And what about you? I was told you were tomb raiding.”

  He clasped her hands and grinned. “Some of my men wanted to do that, but I talked them out of it. I am a man that prefers not to disturb the graves of the long dead.”

  “Wise.”

  “What brings you to Templar Command?” Miles asked matter-of-factly.

  “It is two things,” the mercenary answered. “Firstly, I had counsel with the captains of the Two-Headed Wolves fighting company. We met at a public house where we could eat and drink. There was spirited debate – a lot of punches. We decided to sign for the next campaign of your expedition.”

  Clavdia raised her eyebrows. “You know that it will be a long one?”

  “Yes, we imagined that it would be like that when we examined all the possibilities.”

  “It should be noted that this expedition will be nothing like what we have faced. Yes, we have defeated the Janissaries and the Persian shah, but we will be confronting a force more formidable and deadly than any – the Ottoman Army of the Mediterranean.”

  “Ha, did you say that to deter us? For it will do nothing but make us more determined to be part of the action,” he said with gusto.

  “That is good news, Kani, but we are not in a position yet to offer contracts for the next stage of the expedition.”

  “Ah, the finance. I see.” He shook his head. “I had thought our price was reasonable.”

  “It is not that. We hope to have finances sorted out very soon. It would be an honor to have the Two-Headed Wolves at our side again.”

  “And secondly?” Miles asked. “You said that there were two things.”

  “Ah, yes, the second thing is that when the captains were debating, we were overheard. I was approached by a man. He was a local. A strange man. He spoke the language of the Englishmen like me, but not as good as me. He said that he was one of the leaders of the Copts. He said that the Templars would know of his people.”

  Clavdia frowned. “Yes, we do. The Church of Alexandr
ia. They are Christians that have been in this land since the time of Christ.”

  “He said this. He wanted me to arrange a meeting with you. I told him I could do this for a brokerage.” He looked at their faces. “I must always think of the well-being of the Two-Headed Wolves. I think these Copts want to add to the expedition. I know nothing about them, but people from this part of the world must be formidable. Look at those huge buildings they have made.”

  “This is surprising.”

  “You will meet him, won’t you?”

  “Where is he?”

  “With my men outside. They have searched him for weapons. He is a frail old man. No danger.”

  “All right, we will see him.” She looked at Miles, who wore his usual distrustful face.

  The Copt leader wore an ash-gray monk’s habit with the hood pulled down across his shoulders. He had a prominent, beaklike nose and solemn eyes, which he used to study Miles. “Many blessings to you, formidable conqueror,” he said in a slow, exaggerated voice. They sat in the empty hotel lobby with a low table between them.

  Miles nodded his head toward Clavdia. “She is the commander – the blessed conqueror.”

  He observed her. “Yes, this was said, that there is a lady warrior. I am Aristotle. I am a retired man, devoting myself to prayer and my community.” His long, wrinkled fingers touched a well-kept white beard. “The defeat of the army of the shah. There has been nothing like this in living memory – and I have been alive for a long, long time.”

  “Kani said that you were a leader of your people.”

  “That I am. Humbly. They have chosen me to speak for them. They wish me to make a representation to the Holy Order of the Temple. I was once a trader, merchant, owner of eating places, a builder. Now, my sons are these. This has made it that I am well known in this city. My people have sent me to you with a simple proposition. We wish to ally with your force.”

  “This is unexpected. We are not sure what to think. Your people have been allied with the bey, and with the Ottomans in the past.”