The Red Cross of Gold I:. The Knight of Death (70 page)

“Holy Mary!” Dambretti whispered breathlessly
when he saw the Grand Master carrying the baculus up the hill.

D’Brouchart found him out immediately and
looked directly at him, meeting his terrified eyes with a stern
look of warning before traveling on up the hill. Valentino followed
behind the Knight of the Holy City with a pistol pointed at his
back. She wore a look of grim determination mixed with expectant
delight on her face.

“What is going on, Master?” Christopher
whispered the question.

“Only God knows,” Dambretti told him
reverently. “But I am sure we will soon find out.” He started out
of his hiding place, but then fell back quickly. “Wait! Someone
else is coming.”

They fell in silently behind Simon and von
Hetz when they passed the same way a short time later.

“What is happening?” Lucio caught up with
Simon, startling the healer.

Simon just shook his head and kept walking,
too disturbed to speak.

((((((((((((()))))))))))))

Mark Andrew tried every door on the second
floor. Merry was not there. He hoped beyond hope that she had left
via the service stairs and was now on her way to town. He bolted
back down the stairs and out through the patio doors, turned left
and ran toward the garage. The El Dorado was still parked in the
building just as they had left it, along with the white Cadillac
limousine and the dark blue four-wheel-drive SUV. He stood looking
at the cars in shocked silence. Where was she? Where had she gone?
His mind went blank. What to do? Go back to the house? Follow the
Grand Master? He knew how to hotwire a vehicle, even a new one.
Christopher had kept him updated on the newer models. The SUV would
be easiest. He eyed the vehicle and chewed his lip nervously. He
could leave now… or… he could do the right thing. He had brought
them to these straits; it was his duty to see it through to the
bitter end. If he left now, he would have no hope of ever finding
peace. If he played his cards right, he could regain his standing
and perhaps take time out next year for a long overdue holiday.
There were no rules against going on holiday… in America… in
Texas.

“Damn it!” he shouted into the dim interior
of the building before racing back out into the midday sun. He
looked back at the house once more, searching every window in sight
for signs of life and then up at the limestone outcropping behind
the garden.

There were no more options. He was out of
time. He ran back toward the garden and up the path where the Grand
Master and the rest of the strange entourage had disappeared.

((((((((((((()))))))))))))

D’Brouchart looked about the relatively flat
top of the barren hill and walked to a spot near the center of the
clearing. Sweat ran down his neck, soaking the collar of his dress
shirt. He hooked one finger under the knot of the tie and tugged it
loose. Montague took up a stance near his left shoulder. The Master
held the baculus out in front of him and set the base of the staff
upon the ground.

Sir Montague shuddered. He longed to be back
in his office in London, sitting in his comfortable leather chair,
reading the Wall Street Journal on his computer screen, sipping a
cup of Earl Grey. Buying and selling stocks was his forte. Checking
the market trends. Overseeing the financial holdings of the Order.
That was his first love. This mystical stuff was beyond his
comprehension. He was a businessman, not a Magus. As a history buff
and an armchair philosopher, he loved his wine in the evening, a
good cigar and an old Bogart movie. He took two holidays a year. In
the spring time he spent two weeks basking beside the pool at the
Villa north of Pompeii and in the dead of winter he took another
two weeks in the Florida Keys staying in one of the quaint old
hotels there. It now seemed that his whole life flashed in front of
his eyes like a dying man, but his first duty was to God and
whatever the Grand Master said was final. It was the Will of God
that he was there when he should have been dead years ago. Every
moment of his life was a precious gift from the Creator and Master
of the Universe. He gritted his teeth and steeled himself for the
worst. He would see this thing through to its conclusion and do the
best he could to serve God and his Master. He slipped his hand
inside his jacket and touched the butt of the pistol there.

“If you would, my lady,” d’Brouchart
addressed Valentino solemnly “please stand in front of me and face
the Staff of Power.”

The woman sighed and rolled her eyes. “Staff
of Power. It figures,” she muttered.

Valentino positioned herself directly in
front of the staff, but kept her distance. She trained the pistol
on Montague.

“If anything goes wrong, I’ll shoot him first
and then I’ll shoot you and take your staff. Got it?” she warned
them both and they nodded solemnly.

D’Brouchart nodded and then drew himself up
to his full height, an unlikely six feet, three inches, though his
weight made him seem shorter, and raised his eyes toward
Heaven.

“All ye gathered here,” he began and the
words drifted across the hilltop as if he were speaking into a
microphone “behold the work of God and tremble. From the bowels of
the earth I call upon the powers of the Creator of the Universe to
work his mysterious miracles for the benefit of the children of
Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.”

Valentino kept her eyes moving nervously back
and forth from the globe of the baculus to the faces of the two
men. Montague had stopped watching her and was now staring at the
amber orb atop the ivory staff. It seemed that a tiny flame had
been ignited in the center of the cracked glass. The white triangle
seemed to be ablaze inside the crystal. The wind whipped around
them suddenly, picking up bits of dried grass, cedar needles and
debris. A cold shiver coursed up the accountant’s spine. Something
very bad was going to happen. He was sure of it.

“O great Creator of the Universe. Most
Excellent and Holy, most High, look down upon the misery of your
people and help them in the hour of their need. Bless them with the
miracle of your abundant love and show them signs of your all
powerful presence.”

Montague squinted at the globe. The flame in
the center grew brighter and it seemed that the brilliant rays of
the midday sun dimmed a bit. He blinked his eyes and glanced at the
woman. She no longer watched him. The pistol was still pointed at
him, but her eyes were glued to the top of the baculus.

Montague had never heard these words before.
The fear in his heart made his pulse race and his legs tingled. He
didn’t know if it was just his imagination or if it was some effect
of the ceremony. Perhaps the Master was just trying to frighten the
woman with some mystical display. He swayed slightly and righted
himself quickly. It almost felt as if the ground had shifted below
his feet. He had to get hold of himself or they would be picking
him up off the ground.

((((((((((((()))))))))))))

The three Knights of the Council of Twelve
and one apprentice lay on their stomachs at the crest of the hill
like truant school boys and peeked across the flattened ground at
the three people standing near the observatory tower.

The apprentice lay next to Simon D’Ornan who
had begun to whisper prayers in French. Christopher crossed himself
again and again as he watched the strange drama unfolding in front
of him and tried to keep up with the prayer that the Healer was
praying next to him. He knew which one it was, but he said the
words in English. His French was worse than his Latin.

The sun dimmed as if clouds had passed in
front of it and his ears popped. Glancing up, he saw nothing, but
blue sky. The wind blew bits of dried grass, dust and debris in his
face. None of them looked up or said anything when Sir Ramsay
joined them quietly. He lay down next to Christopher and squinted
into the dust, pushing the Flaming Sword out in front of him on the
ground, ready for attack or retreat. They could easily hear the
voice of the Grand Master as it echoed eerily in the silence. Even
the insects in the grass had ceased their chirping and buzzing.
Gradually they became aware of an oppressive humming noise, more
felt than heard, enveloping them. The clear blue sky turned a
sickly shade of green.

“Santa Maria!” the Italian Knight uttered his
favorite sobriquet. His voice sounded strangely muffled in the
gloom.

“In the name of King David and King Solomon,
I summon forth the powers that lie beneath the mountains of the
earth and beneath the seas and beneath the fields of grain and
beneath the waters that flow. I call upon the great and powerful
mind to ease our burdens and make quick the building of the
temple.”

Von Hetz drew in a sharp breath and turned
his eyes on Dambretti, looking at him in absolute shock. Never in
his long career with d’Brouchart had he seen such a thing. In fact,
he’d had no idea that the precious relic was anything more than
simply that: a relic. Now he marveled that this staff was somehow
part of the Master’s mystery. Dambretti had no idea what was
happening, but the look on the Apocalyptic Knight’s face told him
more than he wanted to know. Simon continued his frantic prayers
and Christopher continued crossing himself though his eyes were
closed tightly against the dust. Mark Andrew scuttled back a bit
and then threw himself down on the ground beside von Hetz.

“What is this, Brother?” he asked when von
Hetz looked at him.

“We must confess,” von Hetz told him and
plucked at the silver earrings in Mark’s hair before hitting him on
the shoulder with his closed fist. “Shrive me, Brother.” He did not
wait for a response before beginning his confession. “Forgive me,
Father, for I have sinned. I have taken the name of the Lord my God
in vain. I have lost my temper with my Brothers. I have disobeyed
the commands of my Master. I have taken the thoughts of my Brothers
against their will. I have willfully injured my Brother.”

Ramsay hit the Knight on his shoulder and
nodded “Go in peace, my Brother, your sins are forgiven.”

“What is my penance?” Von Hetz asked him in
surprise.

“Most of those weren’t sins, Brother. They
were part of your duty. God understands.” He hit the man again and
closed his eyes. It was his turn.

“Shrive me, Brother. Forgive me, Father, for
I have sinned. I have lost my way and sinned against God. I have
committed adultery against the Order. I have lost my temper with my
Brothers. I have had impure thoughts. I have broken my vows of
chastity and I have spoken during a meal. I have drunk spirits
without just cause. I have taken the name of the Lord, my God, in
vain and I have committed murder and rape in my heart. I beg Your
forgiveness.”

“Go in peace, my Brother, your confessed sins
are forgiven,” von Hetz hesitated briefly and then hit him again
and turned to Dambretti.

Mark Andrew frowned deeply at the Knight of
the Apocalypse. Surely he had not heard him correctly. Von Hetz had
added a word to the litany. He was sure of it, but he wasn’t sure
what word it had been. There would be retribution, punishment for
what he had done. Dambretti stared at him and then hit him on the
shoulder.

“Confess, my Brother, before it is too
late.”

“Shrive me, Brother,” he said in Italian and
then began to confess his own sins which included impure thoughts
and driving his Brother to anger. Mark pretended not to hear the
confession, but was greatly relieved when the Knight of the Golden
Eagle did not mention breaking his vows of chastity though he did
include lying with a woman over thirty times since his last
confession. Mark knew that this could not be Meredith. Well, at
least not all thirty… surely…

((((((((((((()))))))))))))

Sir Montague swayed again and realized that
it was not his state of mind, but a rather more alarming
development. The ground was indeed moving below his feet! He looked
up at the sun and saw it riding high in the sky through a greenish
haze, but the hill top seemed shrouded in twilight, as if it were
early evening. His ears popped and he repressed the urge to stick
his fingers in them. He worked his jaw, trying to make them pop
again to no avail. Everything sounded muffled. Valentino gave a
short shriek when she felt the ground move, but quickly returned
her gaze to the baculus, unable to look away, mesmerized by the
Master’s words and entranced by the flames in the amber ball
gripped in the golden claws.

“O great and powerful Lord, I beseech Thee, I
implore Thee in the names of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. Of Joseph.
Of King Solomon and his father, King David. Show us Your
greatness.”

A slight tremor shook the earth and small
rocks skittered down the hillside. A bolt of purplish lightning
streaked from the sky and struck the earth in the dead center of
the hill. The electrical bolt split into thousands of branches,
dancing about the surface of the exposed limestone rocks, engraving
them with strange markings, before disappearing into the ground.
Valentino slapped her hands over her ears as the thunder which
accompanied the lightning, threatened to deafen them all. Montague
seized the opportunity to relieve her of the pistol and threw her
easily to the ground at his Master’s feet. D’Brouchart turned
around and looked toward the place where the ground steamed and
hissed from the impact of the strike. He began backing away slowly,
almost stumbling over the woman behind him.

Ramsay was up first, quickly followed by von
Hetz and Dambretti. Christopher was still confessing a considerable
list of sins to Simon, which seemed impossible since he had just
confessed only a few hours before in the cave. Simon stayed with
the apprentice, but wore a shocked look on his face. Mark heard
only part of his apprentice’s words. “… and murder in my heart six…
no, seven times… at least and impure thoughts about Master
Dambretti and Miss Sinclair and I have grumbled against God three
times. I cursed my luck six times and Master Beaujold a dozen or
more times under my breath and I…” Mark didn’t know if Simon’s
shock was because of the Grand Master’s activities or the
apprentice’s sins. The three Knights raced across the shaking,
shuddering ground toward their Master who continued to back away
slowly. Montague dragged Cecile Valentino back by one arm, while
she kicked and struggled to free herself from his grip. Ramsay
reached for her other arm and yanked her to her feet just as the
entire hill seemed to lurch under them. All six of them were thrown
to the ground as a splintering noise erupted from the center of the
hill, followed by a geyser of steam that shot several dozen feet
into the air.