Authors: Mike Handcock
Truthseekers (8 page)
“Well you would need to get yourself there by 5.30am, we leave from Calk Bay marina. If you can be there I will take you. Do you know where that is?”
“Yes,” said the man. Reaching into his jacket he folded out 2,000 rand and forced it into Abbey’s hand. She found herself slightly regretting the decision for an instant, although she couldn’t quite understand why.
The man shook her hand and held her door open on the steep Waterkant hill street as Abbey got in. He then got back into his own car and faced his friend.
“Tomorrow, Jack, we will be doing some shark feeding.”
Petr De Odes addressed his last day on Earth as he had every other day for the past fifty-five years since landing on the continent we now know as America. The first few weeks had been brutal. It was Christmas and the cold was bitter. He had lost his leader and best friend Bertrand St Clar in a mutinous fight with knights that he had known for years and who were under his command.
The traitors had been killed and after burying his friend he had to partake of his orders and take Chancery and run far away, to protect this charge, who was never to know who he was and his importance to the world as the one surviving bloodline of Jesus Christ and Mary Magdalene.
De Odes had to make some very difficult decisions. His group totalled thirty-three individuals. He found this
to be a very spiritual number and of course it would never be thirty-four or thirty-two. After burying the dead and before winter could grasp them any more than it had he made a decision that not only ensured the longevity of the bloodline, it won a war and created a country and yet no one in history, not even De Odes himself, would ever realise the significance of that one decision to the world. All he did was simply look at his resources, a motley, somewhat depleted group of men and women, some knights, some not, himself wounded from the arrow that had grazed and taken a chunk from his forearm, and decided he had an opportunity. That opportunity was either to dig in and last out the winter and regroup or to go. As a senior Templar, although he was still in his very early twenties, he was taught a process to check in with his intuition. On this day his intuition bent neither one way nor the other, so he decided to do both. To both stay and go. He split the group.
Taking Chancery, the chosen one, and five of his chosen knights who were still in good shape and could move fast along with six women, he split the decision and left the rest of the group on the island thus creating one of the most sacred numerical relationships from Egypt – 13:20, the harmonic bridge. Thirteen were to leave and twenty were to stay.
His orders to the twenty who stayed via De Villiers, the one he put in charge, were to lock down, survive and thrive, build a fort against attackers and when all was good to return to Europe, but not to France, to Scotland as the Celtic Church had no ties with the Catholic Church and in Scotland they would find solace with St Clar’s brother’s knights and the King of Scotland Robert the Bruce. De Odes told De Villiers he was only to share with St Clar about the fate of his brother and the departure of the thirteen.
With that, fifty-five years ago he had taken the other twelve and departed, never to see his homeland again and never to drink the fruits of his labour but simply to seek out a life in a new, complex and harsh land, to overcome all obstacles in front of him, to ensure Chancery bred with one of the womenfolk and to create a legacy of survival for the bloodline of Jesus Christ.
He was never to know that De Villiers, who was only twenty-one at the time, would in seven years rebuild a ship capable of returning to Europe and with just eighteen of the original individuals (as two of the women had died in childbirth during the time) made it back to the coast of Scotland, found and connected with Robert the Bruce and St Clar’s brother, and had arrived just days before the most important battle in the history of that country in Bannockburn. It was a battle that the British had taken so casually that when they saw the red cross of the Templars, hardened and certain after all that time in exile and instead of just a dozen knights they saw hundreds of them, they panicked and were slain by Scottish farmers, women and children—securing the greatest victory for the Scottish king and ensuring for ever more Scotland’s sovereignty from England and the integration and respect of the Scottish people for the knights who then went underground and were led by a St Clar family that in modern times would become Sinclairs and the keepers of much of the knowledge of the ancient world.
What De Odes did know, however, was what he had endured in his long life.
He had taken his group of thirteen and first heading south, telling De Villiers that’s what he would do, he cut west and into the deepest of the storms and snow. They walked for weeks through blizzards, sub-zero temperatures and yet all the time they nurtured each other, killing bison and deer for clothing and food, and always finding shelter.
Eventually De Odes found the shelter from the harshest of winter in something he knew was there, but stumbled on like a needle in a haystack: old mines. Lots of them. He was near the great lakes of America and he intuitively had his people make boats from the trunks of great trees, as he had seen the native people do. These natives had even occasionally taken them in and fed them. There was a deep respect between this strange group of white stragglers and the red-skinned people, but the knights learned quickly the ways to connect with the indigenous. They shared trinkets, methods of cooking and storing food and of course a smile and a solid handshake seemed to work as well
here as anywhere they had travelled previously. What really helped was that one of his knights having spent much time in Cyprus and Greece was actually able to communicate with a group of the Indians. Some of the words were shared and they had an understanding. He could never explain that, but it helped.
Upon reaching the mines, De Odes hunkered down for the remainder of winter, the lake nearby producing fish, and them being able to grow some seeds and vegetables in the entrance of the mines, enough to survive, although by spring they were hardly in the best of condition none of them had died. They had survived.
De Odes then went into production to upscale weaponry from the metals found in the mines that the ancient people, the Minoans, had travelled further than even these knights to receive and as summer was coming they headed further west to find a place that would serve as a base, a lifestyle, a shelter from the elements where they could settle and claim land and start to grow a tribe of their own.
Fifty-five years later De Odes was satisfied. Chancery had died many years before, but his son and grandson were very much alive. Their number had grown to forty-nine individuals. It was a small community, within the bounds of a timber fort, close to a river full of fish and with crops firmly planted including both aloe vera and corn, not something De Odes had ever seen in his time in France. He had built a solid relationship with the few local tribes, who were more transient than fixed in the area and often during his life had shared his ideas at the great tribal councils, never quite speaking the language yet always being able to communicate his ideas.
His one regret was not leaving this place. He should have done it years ago, but although the winters were still harsh, everyone seemed to prosper here and his memories of France, his role and what had happened were still bitter in his mind. He just couldn’t bring the group into more potential trouble so he had stayed put.
De Odes’ mind was still sharp. The others in the settlement saw him as some grand elder. The local chiefs held him in huge respect. He was
seventy-nine years old. The next oldest in the group was fifty-three. De Odes was withered and suffered from terrible arthritis. He stood leaning against an upright support beam of his small hut. His own sons surrounded him along with the fifty-three year-old: Bertrand Malice, named after his old friend and leader Bertrand St Clar.
“Father you are not well. It is time to lie down,” spoke one of the two sons.
“No, my sons. It is my time. I feel it. I have lived a long and purposeful life. I have done everything I can to build this community and to keep you and the others safe.” Drawing breath De Odes turned and grasped Malice firmly. “Bertrand, it is time. Cast the rune stone, burn this place and leave it. Change your names – all of you. You have spent years learning the language of the Vikings and the ways of the sea. You have ships on the lake; they will lead you to the ocean. It’s time my sons. You must go. Keep them safe. You know your roles.”
“Father,” the other son spoke. “We will do as you say, of course. We have been preparing for this our whole lives, but you must come. It’s not your time to die. You will never die.” Starting to shake and a tear welling in his eye… “How can you possibly say that? How do you know?”
De Odes leaned on a chair and slowly sat down smiling.
“Because, my sons, I can see my old friends Bertrand St Clar and Jacques De Molay. They are here for me and they are beckoning me.”
And with that De Odes smiled, his eyes went vacant and his breathing slowed. The chemicals inside the old man’s brain sent endorphins and he relaxed in a state of euphoria and rejoined those he had fought beside and held dear.
His sons wept and Malice began the clearing of the fort.
Stacey had been up most of the night. At first she had ignored the emails and texts from David, asking her to investigate his premises on the hooked X. Then she simply couldn’t sleep so she had turned her laptop on and become absorbed in the links and process. She was pretty happy with herself. She was a damn good researcher, probably the best even she knew of and she loved to surprise David with new lines of thought and angles he hadn’t considered. She had sent him what she had and then grabbed a couple more hours’ shuteye before being up and ready for the early pick up by Abbey.
Abbey was spot on time at 4.45am. Stacey found herself quickly warming to this girl. Not only was she sexy, she was savvy and meticulously prompt. Abbey
always looked amazing as well. Today her blonde hair was tied back loosely and her shirt was open and low cut, yet feminine and workable. Stacey found that she wanted to spend a bit more time on her appearance around Abbey and even put lipstick on at 4.45am, even though it was against her reasoning that the sharks would care. She found this curious about herself and wondered if she was not in some way competing with Abbey, as she was sure David would be very interested if he ever came to meet this girl. Yet something about Abbey also triggered her curiosity and as the complete researcher Stacey knew she should have done some research on Abbey, yet just did not get the time between David’s needs and her sleep requirements. Sitting next to her in the pick up truck she felt a little unprepared so she plucked up some courage and asked:
“Abbey, you’re very unique. You look amazing, yet there is something very rugged about you. Don’t worry I’m not hitting on you,” Stacey giggled and a wry smile came to Abbey’s face as she steered the car onto the M3 heading for the port and her boat.
“Stacey, why not, lots of girls hit on me… I’m disappointed.”
“But… But … I’m not like that. What I meant was…”
Stacey was cut off by the sound of Abbey laughing. Then with a slap of the hand on Stacey’s right thigh Abbey said:
“Only joking my dear… ask what you want.”
Stacey rummaged in her seat and cleared her throat discretely.
“What I meant was… who are you? Have you always done this? You look equally at home in a luxury shop or on a catwalk… and why are you single… are you?”
“Yes I am single, Stacey. Are you sure you are not fishing?” Abbey smiled and continued.
“Oh I guess I have had a varied past, was a bit of a tom-boy but this shark thing is really to help my brother out. I know you really like him, but you must have noticed he is one of those guys that something always happens to and you have to dig him out. Sometimes I think one of us was adopted. Anyway, I’m boring tell me about you, and this company you work for. I did a little referencing and I must say your boss is a total hottie.”