Dark Wolves

by J A Deriu

  Miles leaned forward. “We will need to check everything you say. This needs to come from someone who is known. At this time, we do not know you.”

  “I can understand,” Aristotle said. “We have done what we have done to survive, but the world is changing. The old order is falling. We must look forward.”

  “What do you mean when you say you want to be an ally?”

  “There are groups of us that are ready to fight. These are good men that will stand tall in a battle. We have a proud history.”

  “Yes – a proud history fighting for Persians and Ottomans,” Miles said, straight-faced.

  “You will understand. You will see,” Aristotle replied. “You have Janissaries in your ranks.”

  “How many men do you offer?” Clavdia asked.

  “There will be more than one hundred thousand. Perhaps many more.”

  Clavdia stood. “Would you wait whilst we confer?”

  She moved to stand behind a column so that she could not see Aristotle. Miles followed her. He looked at her and waited for her to talk. “Factions within factions, as always,” she said in a suppressed voice. “This place is a like a volcano. We need to keep moving. Otherwise, we will be dragged into local conflicts.”

  “Do you think he wants to ally to use us to punch his enemies?”

  “I suspect this. They were not said to be people that we could trust. Yes, they are Christian, but they have allied themselves with Ottomans many times, as you said. Yet one hundred thousand is a lot of men. We could have many uses for such numbers. I want you to see what you can find out about how genuine he is.”

  There were few in the kitchen tent. The stew that was served was only slightly warm. He looked at her when he ate. “The meeting went for three hours,” he said. “It was mostly painful. I cannot tell you what came out of it. No one would know. A lot of cross talk.”

  “How many meetings have there been?”

  “This was the third.”

  “These things take time. It is not something we have. I would like a unified command before we leave Cairo.”

  “I don’t see how it is possible,” Frank Paulus answered.

  “It is possible with money. If we are able to increase the remuneration rates under the corporation, it will naturally attract support.”

  “That is your area, not mine.”

  “Hmm, yes, I will see what can be done. Things are not liquid at this time. You keep these meetings happening. Every step forward is a victory.”

  “Not easy. No one listens to a cadet.”

  “You are not a cadet anymore. You are a senior officer in the Montgisard Corporate Militia. There is no one more senior attached to the expeditionary force.”

  “That could be the problem. A lot of these Volunteer outfits are reluctant to cede control to unknowns.”

  “I have a man that I hope will join us soon. I have requested for the Grand Master to assign him to the force. I don’t know the outcome yet. He may already be in transit. There is some shipping due from New Europa in the next days. His name is Theodore Grudge. His organizational skills are exceptional. He will help you create the command and control for the militia.”

  Frank shrugged. “You are not eating.”

  “We are used to eating in silence. It is customary for a Templar to not talk when eating a meal.”

  “I won’t eat either then.”

  “And don’t worry. He is not overbearing. He is the least overbearing man that you will meet. If he comes, that is.”

  “What do you expect it to be? The militia?”

  “We need it to work well with Templar Command. The Volunteer numbers almost match that of the Templars. We can’t have the escapades of the last campaign. There must be unified action. Particularly with the foes we will face next time. The Ottoman army will most likely present us a front with many points of conflict. In the Holy Land, each step will have to be fought over. I don’t need anything sophisticated. Templar Command can provide everything – scouting, artillery, mechanized calvary. I only need a lot of soldiers working together, that if we need to have them attack in a disciplined force, they will do it. Then they need to understand that warfare does not end and be able to manage a civilian population where friends and enemies will be side by side.”

  Frank nodded slowly and then looked over her shoulder. “Your captain is looking for you.”

  She turned to see Captain Miles standing in the tent opening. “I must go.” She slid her bowl across to him. “You can finish mine. We will talk more later.” Miles waited for her. She slowed her step. For a moment she felt like a too-eager girl. They walked out together.

  The captain turned back to look at Frank. “How is the boy going with the militia?”

  “He is not that much younger than you. He is making progress.”

  It was dark. They walked past the quiet camp tents. “Have you noticed?” Miles said. “The camp is empty. The gates are opened.”

  “I have noticed.”

  “Templars are roaming the city. We have been welcomed by the bey. I have come from outside. It is like a city liberated. Alive with celebrations.”

  “I hope our men and women are being wary.”

  “I doubt it, Lord Commander. Would you like to see for yourself? My motorbike is over here.”

  The streets were teeming with people. Fireworks exploded either side of the road. She saw Templars among the locals. Little groups standing back or tentatively mingling, like sailors on shore leave. Miles cruised along a wide boulevard, gently swerving to avoid people and other vehicles. It soon became too crowded to continue, and he stopped and rested the motorbike against a lamppost. The River Nile could be seen across a promenade. “Did you find out any information about Aristotle?” she asked as they walked toward the scent of the water.

  “So far, nothing to worry about. He could be genuine. This concerns me too. It would have been easier without the extra headaches.”

  “I can agree. But if we can find a use for so many men, we could be blessed. War is never straightforward. There are always risks and opportunities. Hey, let’s look over here. There looks like there’s food and dancing.”

  He followed her as she hurried through the crowds. “You have something in mind, don’t you?”

  She smiled back to him. “If we need to guard our exit through the canal, one hundred thousand men could do the job.”

  “Unchecked? You think so?”

  “I didn’t say unchecked.”

  He stopped for a moment. “I see. The Black Swans could do the job. We could ride with these fellows, keeping your flanks clean.”

  “Did you just expand your command by one hundred thousand?”

  “Ha.” He laughed. “I really see what you are doing now.”

  A woman-only train car clattered across the road. They passed Templars among the crowds. They were easy to see in their uniforms. Some were buying from the food vendors, others danced, and some in the midst of romance. They kept walking and only slowed when no more gray uniforms could be seen. The road narrowed. Tired donkeys, tethered to posts and shoved to the wall, turned their heads to watch them pass. Jutting balconies with clothes hanging enclosed them. Carpets were displayed outside storefronts. Exotic smells weighted the air. Baskets were filled with dates and figs. A toothless man wearing a fez held up thick fabrics for them to look at.

  They stopped in a covered area with lamps hung from the rafters and a band furiously playing instruments. They stood at the periphery. Their Templar uniforms were not noticed by the celebrating crowd. The center of the area was thick with bodies dancing. “Do you dance?” she asked.

  He smiled modestly. “You do. I have seen it. You were with the Janissary general.”

  “Once. He was teaching me. And you? Have you ever danced?”

  “I danced at my wedding.”


  “You are married? I didn’t know.”

  “I was. She died in the pandemic of six years ago.”

  “I am sorry. I pray she is with the saints.”

  “That she is. She led me to the order. I am grateful for that. I have not danced in a long time. If you would show me, I would like to.”

  “I have no skill to show, but I will try.”

  They stepped onto the dance floor. Clavdia glanced at the others for guidance and tried to recall what Tobias Deen had taught her. The others were moving with frenzied hand, hip and leg actions. The young people had their hands around one another’s waists, and their hips moved together. He placed his hands at her sides with the same confidence he used on the battlefield. She leaned into his rugged body and pulled the ribbon from her hair.

  Her hair fell across her face. She clasped his hand. He avoided her eyes for a moment. Then they could not. Their bodies shoved closer together. Her face touched his. Her lips were against his jawline. Their eyes separated. She felt his lips on hers. He then suddenly pulled away. “Lord Commander, I am sorry.”

  She pulled him back and kissed him firmly.

  Chapter Thirty

  Amblard looked out the window. There was gray looking back at him. Jack stood behind him angling his face to get some of the pale light onto it. He felt a reassuring hand on his back. It was Gaspar. “Don’t worry. We will be on the move soon,” the Templar leader said. “This confinement will not last another day.”

  “You do not seem concerned.”

  “I get to spend time with my Templar brothers,” Gaspar said. “Why would I be?” They had been in the one-room apartment for days. Odo was sitting at the table peeling and slicing carrots while humming. The cat and the dog were both sitting at his feet with their necks outstretched sniffing at the food. Hoston was sitting on the ground with his legs crossed, cleaning his sword with oil and lifting an eyebrow toward Odo.

  There had been an attack on New Kons island. It had not been reported in the local newspapers, and no explanation was given by the Zaptie for the confinement orders. The districts of the greater city were all closed. No one was allowed out of their home. The rumors allowed to circulate were that the confinement was to allow the governor the chance to find the perpetrators of the unsaid, but impactful, crime.

  Gaspar had gone out one night and collected illegal pamphlets, which told what had happened. He had lain them on the table. “The Children of Liberty have killed the governor’s chief of Secret Police. He was in a motor vehicle traveling to see his mistress. It was a warm day. The windows were open. The vehicle stopped. A rubbish tin had rolled across the road. The driver maneuvered to go around it. Men came from the sidewalk. They stuck their pistols through the window and shot the chief. Because he was going to see his mistress, he did not have his usual security. The men ran into the streets and have not been found.”

  “Great effort, I say,” Odo quipped.

  “Will they find them?” Jack had asked.

  “I doubt it. You have seen the size of the city. There are a million places to hide. The governor knows this. The confinement is punishment for all subjects. He is hoping it will force someone to talk. I don’t think this will happen either. Or no one will talk that has true knowledge. The Children are becoming better. Few would know who the operatives were. Probably only the operatives themselves.”

  “What is the significance? Why the Secret Service?”

  “This is the biggest scalp that they have had. I am thinking that it is truly significant. Can you imagine all the knowledge such a man would have? His loss will weaken the governor.”

  “The governess you mean, don’t you? She is the real ruler, we are told.”

  “Ah, yes, of course.”

  They passed the time by talking and praying and then drifted into what each liked to do best. Amblard with the animals. Odo the food and his books. Hoston practiced with his sword. And Gaspar taught Jack.

  Gaspar seemed content with the confinement. He would not say more than it suited his plan and instead reverted to his role as a teacher. “The Ottomans have been able to rule for so long because they have been able to carry out the illusion that they rule for all. It is not true, but the mirage has been great. My own father was in the Ottoman Navy for three decades. He fought at the battle of the Baltic Sea. Five hundred ships. The Scandinavians thought they would be Vikings again. He watched their ships burn for days. He would swear his loyalty to the empire every night. It has this power to make people from unlike backgrounds think that they are part of it. The truth is that they are not. My father could never become more than a cannoneer. He was the wrong religion to be more. The empire will claim it keeps peace, but he spent most of his life at war. It claims it keeps order. This is true. The poor will always be poor, and the rulers will always rule from one generation to the next.” Gaspar looked up to see that the others were listening. “This is no longer. The empire is collapsing. A Templar army has defeated the Janissaries on a distant battlefield. The governor’s treasury is empty. The loyal are not so loyal when their coin does not arrive. The desperation of the despots only makes more enemies.”

  There was banging at the door. Gaspar held up his hands for them to be quiet.

  “Brothers, it is me.” A restrained voice came through the door.

  Gaspar stood. “It’s Felix.” He opened the door. Felix came inside. He had his collar turned up so that most of his face was covered, and he wore a hat with the curve of the brim pulled over his eyes.

  “You have done well, brother,” Gaspar said.

  “The streets are quiet, but there are still enough with a permit to travel that I was able to sneak about without being stopped. I will have a drink and then inform you of what I know.” Odo handed him a flask of water. Felix looked at it. “I was hoping for something stronger.”

  “We are Templars. What do you expect?”

  Felix took a long gulp, and his breathing slowed. He looked at Gaspar. “Am I to talk like this, or would you wish for the two of us to go to the roof?”

  Gaspar considered. “Talk as we are. This is for all of us to know. We are all Templars.”

  He drank from the flask again. “Let me first tell you of the state of the city. There is turmoil. Violence from all sides. It is a tinderbox. If you are in the wrong area, wearing the wrong colors, there is danger. The Zaptie are not on the streets. They will only help those that they choose to help, which means those with coin. I spoke to Roberto, and the barber reckons that the confinement has pent-up the anger of the commoners. The Children of Liberty are beating the drums. The assassination of the Secret Service chief was only the start to signal for their men and women to be ready. They will use the confinement to prepare.” He paused. “This is the state of the city. I do not exaggerate or dramatize.”

  Gaspar had remained standing while Felix spoke. There was silence as they waited for his opinion. He touched his finger to his chin like a scholar. “I am grateful, Brother Felix. You have brought us the news we need. There is no doubt that this is the favorable time for our act.” He looked at each one of them for a moment. “Gunpowder. This is the time for gunpowder.” Felix nodded.

  “Will you talk of this?” Odo asked. “You have mentioned the name often. We have waited for the particulars and understood the need for secrecy – that a plan as valiant as we hope should not be in the head of more than one man.”

  “It is the time. First, let me ask, Brother Felix, is it ready?”

  “It is ready.”

  “I will explain what Felix and Roberto and his agents have done. Under the palace of the governor, there are man-made and natural caverns. They are accessible from the harbor. You have seen them, Landry, when we first confirmed their existence. Felix has a permit to be on the harbor. He has been on the water many times. He is a master of dealing with the Ottomans. He has bribed and tricked his way to the caverns eac
h time. Roberto and his men have aided. They have been filling the caverns. Smuggling into the caverns, bit by bit, each time. The Children have been providing help in return for the information we gave to them to do with the theater operation. Roberto has supported with cover by stocking hair brill, midsized barrels of it.” He paused. Nothing, no breathing, could be heard. Even the animals were silent. “There was not hair brill in the barrels. The barrels are filled with gunpowder.” The Templars made noises. Jack was silent. “The barrels have been loaded at four strategic locations that correspond to the foundations of the palace above.”

  “Ha!” Hoston laughed wryly. “You have shone, brother. This surpasses my most steadfast prayer.”

  “This is legend.” Odo slapped his hand on his knee. “This is a truly a holy mission.”

  The Templars smiled grimly and nodded at one another. Gaspar looked at Jack. “Do you know what this means, Landry?”

  Jack opened his mouth but said nothing.

  “It means that we are going to destroy the governor’s palace with a great explosion.” Gaspar’s eyes turned to the others. “There are four spots to be blown. One for each of us. This will be our mission. The five of us, not Felix – he will be elsewhere on another project. Amblard is to guard. The other four will have a post each. We must act soon, as there is the chance that the barrels will be discovered. They are hidden underground, but they will be seen if a patrol ventures into the caverns.”

  The Templars had drawn closer to each other when Gaspar was talking. They grasped one another, shook hands, and gave satisfied sighs. Odo broke away from the group. “There is something here.” He opened a cupboard that was in the part of the room where he kept his cooking equipment. He rummaged inside and took out a dark, long bottle. “We should celebrate this great news. Brother Gaspar has truly played the part of a genius coupled with the boldness of a general.” He pulled at the cork of the half-full bottle. “We will be revered. We will be legends of the Templar cause. There are no glasses. We will need to drink from the bottle.”