by J A Deriu
The report came that all nine entry points had been breached. The enemy had fallen back to the Temple Mount. Any defenders left to hamper them were easily wiped out. Progress was only slowed because of the many traps.
The first shafts of the morning sun lit the Holy City. The steps to the temple were open, with only smoldering hand bombs blocking a clear path. Sporadic firing echoed throughout the streets as the forces grouped.
The captains and company leaders looked toward Clavdia to ready for the final stage of the operation. She was away from them, slumped against a half-knocked-down wall in a nearby building. The black cross on her tunic was stained with blood. She touched it for a moment and looked at her fingers. She was interrupted by Pedro, who stood in the doorway. He crouched next to her. Greta stood sentry behind him. “Lord Commander.” His face was dour. “This is a historic moment. You should be at the front. I know that it is messed up because of the many we have lost.”
She touched her rosary beads to pray, but there was no time. She put her hand on his shoulder and used him to stand. “I know, Pedro. You are the chronicler. Make sure that you record all of their names.”
They had gathered on the benches under the canopy of an eating house. The owner was sweeping the sidewalk as if he were readying to open on any normal day. Fulke the Bear stood and rushed a Templar salute when she arrived. In the distance the Temple Mount could be seen, as could the thick ranks of Templars and allies who were massing in front of the steps. Kani Minamoto nodded, drank from a small cup, and lifted it toward her. Tulock the Abyssinian, Davos Walgren of the Bear-Hounds, and Andrzej of the Order of the Holy Ghost stood next to him. She glared at Magnus of the Hospitallers for a moment. He had ignored the order of battle again and had marred an otherwise sound operation. Captain Jodi had her nose pointed down, and her salute was tired. She was no doubt saddened by the loss of Captain Miles, a man who had come to represent the dare and spirit of the Templars like no other. Clavdia stopped to commend Frank Paulus. “The Montgisard Militia is battle worthy. A force to be reckoned with has arrived.” Frank’s eyes widened as his questioning mind dealt with her words.
Captain Richord hurried toward them. He had lost his cap, and his face had its usual look of worry. He stopped in front of Clavdia and forgot to salute. “Lord Commander, I have received a report from the forward scouts,” he said breathlessly. The others slanted toward the conversation. “They have reported that the defenders of the Temple Mount have been seen jumping to their deaths or shooting one another. It is over, Lord Commander. It is ours.”
There were sighs from the others. The Templars fell to their knees, and the others hollered cries of victory.
“For the Blessed Virgin,” Clavdia said. “We dedicate our victories to the Blessed Virgin Mary.”
The Templars swarmed up the ancient steps and filled the dusty plaza that surrounded the holy buildings. A narrow gap opened through the soldiers as Clavdia walked up the steps. A tough phalanx was on either side of her. Her guard and the captain knights were close behind. The Templars were silent. Some touched her. Others moved their lips in prayer and clutched their crucifixes. The enemy had fought like devils, but Clavdia believed that the destiny of the Templars had been greater.
It was a wide plaza, but Clavdia could only see a small distance in front of her due to the mass of Templars. Many still held their weapons and had not cleaned away the blood and dirt of battle. She looked to the sky for a moment. It was a clear, heavenly blue. As she got closer, the ranks became ordered and a clear narrow path was made for her. The legion stood either side. Their faces and bodies were rigid.
She was covered by the shadow of the holy building. She lifted her hand to touch her rosary beads. The doors were opened to what the Templars called the Temple of Solomon. She looked for a moment into the darkness and then stepped inside.
Chapter Forty
Jack watched the shadows that danced on the walls. The lantern was affixed to the front of the boat. It moved with the water. His body was stiff and his mind clouded. Gaspar had left with the same certainty he always carried. It was a confidence that gave Jack no entry for what he wanted to say, although the Templar always told Jack to say what he wanted. He answered with what he thought Gaspar wanted to hear. Now it was too late to say what he had wanted to say.
Amblard was no company. He spoke less than usual. He sat on the stone jetty and was without doubt thinking about the cat and dog as he stared at the oily water. The lamp only gave them a small circle of light. The rest of the cavern was a foreboding black. They had been there for a good length of time waiting for the others to return.
It had been a feat to get to the position. There had been many troubles, reversals, and worries since Gaspar had announced his plan weeks ago. The time had come – they had rushed to get ready – and then it had not. The confinement had been lifted, and then it had been reimposed with no explanation.
Felix had arrived at night again with breathless information. There were rumors of protest in many strange quarters. The waiters’ guild had called for a strike. Fistfights were common, even among brothers who had chosen different sides in the conflict. One of the governor’s welfare buildings had been looted and another firebombed. At night slogans denouncing the Ottomans had been painted across walls. Templar flags and symbols had begun to appear. Felix described a city on edge. The Zaptie had become indifferent to crime and only concerned with their own wealth. He said, “The more turmoil, the longer the confinement – the longer the confinement, the more turmoil.”
The only chance for the plot was for a massive bribe so that they could get on the water again. Roberto and Felix drained the Templar coffers and managed to obtain papers so that they could venture out. The five of them had left in the morning. The papers showed that they had a special fishing permit for the day, as one of the governor’s steel tycoon friends needed fresh seafood for a party.
They had floated in a fishing zone during the tense day and passed time by catching fish in case they were checked. Jack’s thoughts told him that the plot would not eventuate. What Gaspar had described was beyond imagination. Yet so much of what he had seen and experienced in the last months would have been beyond his imagination until they had happened. The others were unusually quiet too. There were none of the good-humored quips among the Templars. The day had slowly drained away. The night came. They peeled away from the few other boats and aimed their boat for the head of the great island that was called Manhattan. The sea was calm, the night was overcast, they blended with the darkness. They followed their secret path to the caverns in silence, and what was happening was finally real for Jack.
Gaspar, Hoston and Odo returned out of the dark passageway. They had been gone for a long time, and Jack presumed that it must be nearing the morning. The Templars stepped into the murky light and held steely expressions for a moment before Gaspar spoke. “All is ready.” He squatted and looked at each face. “Remember the instructions. Amblard will be the boatman. Have the boat ready, my friend. The other four of us will take a corner each. It is in the hands of the saints if we make it back to Amblard and the boat. If these tunnels cave. If each of us is saved. This is secondary. The concern is to make sure each of us does our job. That our corner collapses. These fuses are a delicate matter. Too short, and they will explode before we are ready – too long, and there is the chance that they will extinguish without a man near to relight.” He stood and took time to look at them again. “The time is here. Let us do our duty. Let us say a prayer and then depart.” He held out his hands, and they joined. Jack held Gaspar’s dry hand and the moist hand of Odo.
Gaspar started the prayer, and the others joined. “O Lord, shield and protect me with your divine light. Let no weapon fall against me prosper. Let the divine angels walk by my side and show me strength and purity. I invoke thee, my Lord and Savior, for the full ascension of my being. Almighty God, Eternal Father, Lord of Lords, forgive me
of my sins, and deliver me from fear. I say the Templar words with all of my spirit. Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto thy Name give glory.”
The hands dropped. The four Templars unbuttoned their shirts, pulled them off, and let them fall to the ground. Underneath they had been wearing their Templar tunics, the white tops with the bold red-cross on the chest and the arms of the cross touching each side.
“Brothers – whatever happens, it has been an honor to be your brother,” Gaspar said. “Jack come with me. I will show you your place.”
They embraced firmly with long holds and separated.
Jack followed Gaspar, who led with a lamp held in front of him. The ground was uneven with scatterings of broken bricks. The cavern was low so that they had to move with a bend. The smell was of stagnant water and bare dirt. The air was hard to breathe and Jack was soon panting.
They had to almost crawl for a distance before they could lift their heads again and step over puddles of water that had drips splashing into them from cracks in the cavelike ceiling. A man-sized hole had been smashed in a brick wall. Gaspar stepped through first and turned the lamp back. Jack lowered his head and followed. The jagged end of a broken brick scratched his back.
He was assailed by an overwhelming stench that smelled like a mix of charcoal and piss. They were in an area that was enclosed by brick walls. A lamp with a dim light was hanging from a post. Gaspar and the others had already been to the spot to check on readiness. Midsized barrels that would have been able to be carried by one man with two hands were piled around the base of a thick brick pillar. There were more than a dozen, with some stacked neatly and others crammed into nooks in the rough ground. The pillar pushed through the cavern roof to hold its great load that was above the ground.
Gaspar put his lamp on the ground and looked over the work that had been done. He took out of his pocket a timepiece. “I have shown you how this works.” Jack nodded. In the tall timbers they had clocks, watches, and timepieces – not many, but enough so that he knew how to tell the time. He looked over the pocket watch. “There are thirty minutes.” Gaspar pointed to the clock hands. “It has been set. It will ring when it is time.” He took steps away from the barrels. “As soon as it rings, you are to light the fuse. It is over here. It is best to be ready.” He was standing at the end of a long-twisted chord and holding the frayed end. He put next to it strike-on-box matches. “You are familiar with these. No different than lighting a fire. Make sure the fuse is well lit, and then get out of here.” He left the materials on the top of a dry brick and paused for a moment. “I must go and check on the others. Is everything understood?” Jack nodded without conviction. Gaspar put a firm hand on his shoulder. “This must be done. There is no other choice for warriors. It is in the Lord’s hands. May he bless our mission. And may he fate us to meet again. Once the fuse is well lit, run like the wind. You are Landry now.” He let go of Jack and hesitated. “You never talked of a father. I assumed there was not one to talk of. I hope that perhaps you think of me like you would a father.” He scrutinized Jack’s eyes for a moment and disappeared into the darkness.
Jack tried to steady himself and fell to sit on the naked dirt. He rubbed his hands over his face and tried to think. He was interrupted by the ticks of the timepiece. He picked it up and held it tightly to his leg to quell its noise and leave him free to think. He was sure that he could not do what Gaspar wanted. He was equally as sure that he could not fail his brothers.
He lifted his head. There was another noise. He tried to block it from his mind so that he could return to his thoughts. His face tensed. It was the faint, ghostly sound of people. He moved to the broken entrance. It was dark. The stone was rough against his hand. He prepared to return to the fuse. His eye caught a flicker of light deep across the cavern. It seemed to brighten as he watched it.
It must have been some type of small opening to the world above. A slash of morning light pointed at him through the gap. The noise traveled with it. He looked at the timepiece, which he still held. Only a few minutes had passed since Gaspar had left. He was intrigued by the sound of people. He moved across the dirt. He slipped in a muddy puddle and lowered his head as the space narrowed the closer he got to the light. He had to move on his hands and knees. The gap was covered by an iron grate.
He could hear the sounds clearly. They were familiar. The sound of young voices merry on a playground. His eyes concentrated to see a manicured lawn. They were the laughing voices of girls. He felt the grate. It was rusted and brittle. He edged closer to try and see them. The grate was sunken, and he could only see the green of the lawn for a short distance and the brightness of the light. He pushed his shoulder against it.
He thought of her straw-colored hair. If she was among the voices he could hear, she was in danger. The grate easily moved. He could tell them to run away and still do his task. Gaspar would not want girls to be hurt. If Joy was there, it would be the greatest dishonor of his quest if he did not warn her. The grate moved further. Yet he could jeopardize all of the holy mission.
The joyful shrieks of the girls came closer. He checked the timepiece. Many minutes had passed, but his mind would not work out how many. They must have been exercising like they had been when he thought he had seen her from the harbor. There were too many thoughts coming at once. He tried to uncloud his head.
He came to the one thought that he had to do what was right. He had to do what a brave would do. He used both his hands to push at the grill. The bolts that kept it secure had rusted loose, and the grill moved enough for him to get through. He twisted across the dirt and used his shoulder to shove the grill for more room to get past. He was crouched in a pit. If he lifted his head, he would be able to see across the lawn. He kept it low. His uncertainty had not left. He ducked back toward the open hole. He needed more time to think. He had left the timepiece on the other side.
There was a flare-up of laughter, and a ball rolled into the hole. A skipping shadow came toward him. He held the ball and stood up. A girl dressed in white almost fell forward with the suddenness of her stopping. She put her hands to her mouth and shrieked. They were a lot closer than he had expected. He could only see their outlines with the sun shining behind them. There was maybe a dozen of the young, feminine shapes. There was a chorus of screams, and the shapes ran away from him.
He looked behind to orient himself. The palace loomed massively across a brick concourse. The grate was at its very end, and he had crawled from under its belly. He turned back. The shouts of the girls sounded across the lawn. They were running along a bend that took them back to the palace. One shape had remained and stood rigidly to watch him. She came toward him without fear in her steps. He was unable to move, even though his thoughts were screaming at him that it was time to disappear into the hole. Perhaps if he could warn this one, his duty would be done. She stopped not more than the throw of a ball from him and placed her hands firmly on her hips as though she were inspecting.
The light changed for a moment, and he saw the color of her hair. She took another two steps toward him. He was breathing as if was about to be sick.
“Is it you?” Her hair was straw-colored. She was now within touching distance of him, and she lowered herself so that she could fix a ferocious glare at him.
“Joy?” he asked, barely able to move his mouth and certain of the answer.
“It is you. Why?” she answered.
He could not answer. The sound of the screaming girls had ended as they had entered the palace.
“Will you say something? You are in danger. They will do bad things to you. There are no men allowed.”
“I made a quest to help you. Then I thought you did not need helping. Now, it is certain that you do.”
“I don’t …” She looked behind him, as there were violent shouts coming from the steps of the palace.
“The palace will be blown up. You must leave.”
“Are you mad? I cannot leave.” She had lost the girlishness he remembered and spoke to him as if he were the child.
“I am not making it up.”
“You must get out of here.”
His eyes lifted to see what must have been a guard coming onto the lawn. He was moving quickly, wearing a dark uniform and carrying a club. Jack was distracted from behind. The timepiece he had left at the grate was ringing. “There is no time.”
Joy looked at him with a face that was part anger and part confusion.
The guard arrived quickly, and there was no time to exchange any more words. Jack had fleetingly thought of disappearing into the opening to the underground, but he was too numb to move.
The well-built guard did not stop in his charge. He aggressively said words to Joy and swung his club so viciously toward Jack that the guard’s cone-shaped, flat-top hat fell off. Jack avoided the club but felt the wind from its swing. The guard steadied himself and assessed Jack for another strike.
The guard’s club-wielding arm was slowly rising when he was disturbed by a thunderous sound. Jack used the chance to leap out of the ditch. The guard ran toward Jack but toppled forward, as Joy had kicked at his leg. He hit the ground hard, and the club rolled away. Jack turned behind for a moment. Black smoke billowed from underneath the palace. A second explosion shook the ground, and the breaking of glass followed.
The guard reached for his club but missed it, as Joy had picked it up. She did not hesitate and swung it neatly to smack the back of the guard’s head. He flopped to the ground. She stood over him and said to Jack, “You must get away.”