The Emperor Awakes

by Alexis Konnaris

  As Giorgos and the others passed in front of him into the interior of the Library, Ptolemy stood at attention and saluted and bowed to each member of the team passing in front of him, for his mission had been accomplished and he could now rest. He had delivered his legacy to the next generation of caretaker successors and he was happy.

  CHAPTER 64

  Limassol, Cyprus

  Present day

  Three figures had followed behind them into the central structure and hid there watching. The Madame Marcquesa walked in front. Iraklios and Andrew brought up the rear. Suddenly the Marcquesa saw Katerina and, in her, she saw her nemesis and instrument of her revenge.

  If that were to be her final day then that would be her final act. She was goaded on by her warped mind that told her that that act was in her destiny and that then she would have salvation, but, satisfyingly, she would take the people she hated with her, physically or mentally, by leaving them scarred for life, or so she hoped.

  The Marcquesa sought revenge. She wanted to hurt Elli. She could have done it through Aristo, but that would have been too easy. That’s why she decided to eliminate Katerina.

  Her loss would devastate Aristo and in turn seeing her child suffer would eat away at Elli. Of course Elli cared for Katerina in her own right and so her pain would be worse.

  Obsessed with only one thing she launched herself on an unsuspecting Katerina. But for some reason it was as if a guardian angel had a soft spot for Katerina. The Marcquesa began to suspect that she was fighting a mirrored image of Katerina.

  She was sure of it. Because anything the Marcquesa threw at Katerina either went through her and caused her no harm or bounced back at the Marcquesa who was left bewildered. She was exhausting herself. Her power was weakening.

  The Marcquesa was effectively fighting herself. Everybody present was mesmerised. Iraklios and Andrew were rooted to the spot, unable to react, to help her, as if hypnotised by the drug of her torment.

  Suddenly the Marcquesa, completely drained, the remaining vestiges of her strength having left her, collapsed. She was dead. The effort took everything out of her. The stress caused her heart attack, the final nail in her coffin.

  But before she passed away from this world she became a child again, the child she was back when the nightmare was still ahead of them. She became the child that Elli remembered. She smiled at Elli and mouthed a ‘thank you’.

  * * *

  Out of nowhere a huge trunk came rolling down and nearly chopped off the heads of Elli, Katerina, Aristo, Giorgos, Vasilis and John, as well as the last Emperor’s and Eleni’s. But Aristo saw it coming and warned everybody.

  ‘Get down, now. No, don’t look, just duck for God’s sake.’ They all ducked just in time. In the end the trunk ended up knocking the hell out of one of the walls which started crumbling down together with the whitewashed frescoes until then covering its imperfections and giving it a worth and value it would not otherwise have had.

  ‘Who are you?’ Aristo said, anger spitting it out of him and infecting the air around them.

  ‘You don’t recognise me, do you? Does my voice say anything to you? No?’

  It was Andrew. Elli knew that voice. ‘You always were full of yourself, a pompous fool.’

  Andrew, like a dog with a bone, would not let go. ‘I cannot let you do this. What you are doing is perverse, a travesty. It’s dangerous messing about with powers beyond your control. Are you not afraid of the consequences?’

  Elli tried to placate him and, at the same time, to hammer some sense into him. ‘Andrew, get out of the way. Don’t be stupid. We are not doing this for our benefit. It’s not selfishness. It’s charity. Let those souls rest at last. Restrain yourself.’

  It only took a flick of her wrist to immobilise Andrew. However, he immediately managed to shake her off and free himself from her suffocating embrace. The sudden shift in advantage left her bewildered and confused, but only for a second for in the next round she managed to restrain Andrew and gain the upper hand once more.

  The situation could not be judged resolved as it kept changing with the advantage moving from one side to the other, from Andrew to Elli and back again.

  Aristo had to intervene to help his mother and prevent a catastrophe at the hands of a seemingly ruthless Andrew, even though she appeared to be handling herself surprisingly deftly. He had no idea she had it in her to be so capable in physical combat.

  Elli and Andrew were preoccupied with each other, in deliberate denial to the presence of anything else around them. They did not expect anybody present to dare to interfere.

  It was personal between Elli and Andrew now, after Andrew’s so blatant a betrayal and Elli was still smarting from the realisation as if having been slapped. Elli and Andrew’s mental blocking of everything around them apart from each other allowed Aristo enough time to react.

  He began to slowly, but determinedly, approach the near explosive spot, hoping against all odds to diffuse the pressure building to a deafening crescendo. But he was concerned that he was too far and would not make it.

  Elli had regained control of the tussle and her hold over Andrew appeared to be decisive when, suddenly, it was Iraklios’ turn to move to immobilise Elli, and, in case there was any doubt in the mind of anyone present that he was serious, he made clear his intentions by pointing a gun to her head, showing that he would not hesitate to use force to harm her and anyone daring to get in his way.

  Iraklios’ action left her even more confused than before. Even though everything up to that moment had been telling her that her brother, Iraklios, was the traitor, she refused to acknowledge the fact staring her in the eye, pushing to gain entry and blind her in the process.

  Now that the truth had finally sank in it was probably too late to deal with Iraklios. With a gun to her head, she had run out of options. With her back to the wall she was maniacally trying to think her way out of a seemingly impossible situation.

  Aristo knew he had to intervene, but without putting his mother’s life at further risk. He forgot any intentions he had of using diplomacy to defuse the situation. He just could not believe and could not accept that Iraklios, of all people, was capable of such ruthlessness.

  What could possibly have motivated him to act with such brutality? Surely he could not be doing it for the power and the money. He had more than enough of both. He could not be craving more. Aristo never saw him as being the selfish and ruthlessly ambitious kind.

  Could a person change so much or even hide his true nature so well for so long? After all this years of being like a father to him, how could he now have become this cold-blooded machine? How could he have fallen so low, if he ever was the person Aristo thought he was? He no longer knew him.

  What reason could he possibly have to hate this family so much as to resort to this? Full-blown anger took him over completely and had to be expelled or it would consume him. With his next outburst Aristo gave full vocal vent to the fury coursing through his veins.

  ‘Iraklios, you are insane. That’s your sister you are holding a gun to. Your sister. Stop this madness and let her go. Why are you doing this Iraklios? Why? What, the hell, do you have to gain from this?’

  Iraklios ignored Aristo. His stare hardened. He tightened his grip on Elli. His resolve was immune to Aristo’s pathetic attempt at persuasion. He was in no mood to allow Elli the right of appeal.

  Andrew, meanwhile, picked up the gun Iraklios threw in his direction. With Elli firmly in his grip, loath to relinquish her, knowing he had the upper hand, Iraklios gave Aristo a sardonic smile that rushed to blacken and disfigure his lips and colour his face and his cheeks, a colour that, sadly, clashed with his complexion and attire.

  Aristo had to fight the urge to laugh that was rapidly rising like bile inside him looking for an outlet into the fresh air, an irresistible urge to laugh in the face of adversity, of this unfolding tragedy, this travesty that he could not stop, the deadly spell that he felt powerless to break.

/>   Iraklios’ face was transformed into a grotesque mask of hatred, fiery sparks shooting out of his eyes. He became a man possessed, a man those present could no longer recognise, a man obsessed with his twisted principles and ideas which he would not allow anyone to question.

  A madness, so far hidden deep inside, took over. Aristo didn’t know Iraklios had it in him to be so ruthless, so brutal, and, yes, so mad.

  Andrew who had so far kept everybody at bay with his gun suddenly turned and shot Iraklios in the head. Death came instantly. Iraklios’ arm holding Elli fell limp and she was released.

  Iraklios collapsed to the floor. Iraklios had caught the shift in Andrew’s stance, the change in his demeanour. He suddenly knew what Andrew was about to do and he fired a shot at him just before Andrew’s bullet smashed into his brain.

  Andrew had no time to react, because he was not expecting Iraklios’ bullet. As Iraklios was collapsing to the floor, his bullet tore through Andrew’s heart. He was dead before he touched the floor.

  * * *

  Elli and Katerina, Vasilis and Giorgos and John … they were all waiting for Aristo. They called to him. But the tunnel was calling to him too. He turned away from the tunnel, but he kept looking back at it and its openings bursting with goodies and promises of other worlds and great adventures, the tunnel pulsating like a living organism, drawing Aristo in and making his head vibrate with the excitement and the temptation of it.

  Aristo was tempted by that tunnel. Suddenly he ran for it, as if driven by an invisible force, like an addict at the mercy of a drug, a desperate need he could not fight, because he felt he had no hope of winning that losing battle.

  Aristo had to try again, one more opening, and then another and another, until there were none left. He was ready to take the plunge into a vicious, probably without end or escape, round of exploration and new self-discovery. But then he came to his senses. Further exploration would have to wait for another time.

  Aristo’s adventures were only just beginning, or so he thought that was what he wanted. Reality and responsibility and his forthcoming marriage to Katerina and the prospect of family life was another matter and were all mistresses that beckoned him over with not exactly the most subtle of guiles. Aristo had to make a choice. He could not be a child anymore. He had made his decision.

  * * *

  They all went closer to Andrew’s body. Elli bent down and lowered his eyelids. Andrew’s last-minute intervention and change of heart absolved him in Elli’s eyes. Leaning over him she whispered ‘I forgive you, my love. Goodbye.’

  She stood up to her full height and looked at Aristo and Vasilis.

  ‘Aristo and Vasilis, Andrew was your father.’ Aristo and Vasilis stared in disbelief at their mother, at Andrew’s body and back at their mother. They were trying to process this information, but the shock had not been properly digested and was not allowing them to do so.

  CHAPTER 65

  Limassol, Cyprus

  Present day

  On their way out Aristo and Katerina decided to explore where the stairs they saw earlier halfway through the Castle-side tunnel led. Climbing the flight of stairs they found themselves in the courtyard of the Church of Ayia Napa.

  Then they went back down and tried the other staircase. That led to the Holiest of Holies, the Ieron or sanctuary, behind the ikonostasis or templon, the marble screen that held icons and that separated the Ieron from the rest of the church. But enough games for one day. It was time to get out into the fresh air and a healthy dose of reality.

  Aristo and Katerina left the Church of Ayia Napa behind. They stopped when around a corner they saw the most idyllic spectacle being enacted before them. It was a little park, next to a rock, with the sea calmly spreading away from them, comfortably flowing from land to a newly- painted landscape.

  The park was not deserted. There was a mother there with a child. The child was trying to climb the ancient olive tree and the father was indulging him, giving him a slight push and a shove, encouraging his child to entertain the idea that he was a monkey or an adventurer like the ones the child had seen on television.

  Aristo and Katerina entered the park and sat on a bench looking out to sea. Aristo had the vague sense of déjà vu at the scene before his eyes. And then he remembered. It seemed so long ago now. The deformed freak of a dream entangled with a night-mare that he had a few months ago.

  A sudden fear gripped him. The memory of the dark dream that ended that magical moment came back to him. Little did he know that this had been a recurring dream for a number of his ancestors going back to the time of Michael Symitzis in the 15th century A.D.

  Suddenly the child came to Katerina and wanted her to pick him up and sit him on her lap. She obliged at the same time that the child’s mother was calling him to her and apologising to Katerina.

  The child seemed very content in Katerina’s arms and started to fall asleep sucking his thumb. Katerina smiled. The mother came close and she and Katerina shared a rare moment of the magic that is motherhood.

  However much Aristo tried to conjure up that dream he had long ago, before he had met Katerina, he found, though, that he could only manage to remember the good part of it; he failed to do the same with its dark counterpart that thankfully eluded him. And then he understood: the foreboding he felt back then of a possible dark future for him and the woman in his life had now left him for good, because it now meant nothing.

  Aristo with the help of his select group of good people had removed the threat and changed things, changed his life. He and Katerina would no doubt have lots of challenges ahead to test them, but at least they would face them together.

  The foreboding was replaced by a sense of peace and tranquillity. For a brief precious moment it was just the two of them, in each other’s both comfortable and, at the same time, electrifying company, a one but dual-strand presence with its own distinct character, speaking with one voice. The outside world was left out in the cold, small and forgotten. Time had stopped for them.

  * * *

  A week later it was Andrew Le Charos’ funeral in Sydney. It was a grand affair as befitted one of the most prominent and wealthiest businessmen in Australia. After the funeral there was the traditional commiseration gathering back at Andrew’s house at Point Piper.

  The following day Andrew’s lawyer arrived at the house for the reading of Andrew’s will. Elli was surprised by the will’s contents, but was not as surprised as her two sons.

  Except for a few sizeable bequests to charitable organisations and a very large one to the Symitzis Foundation, Andrew had left his entire estate worth around ten billion Australian dollars to be split equally between his only children, his two sons, Aristo and Vasilis.

  * * *

  Iraklios’ funeral took place two days later. Elli was there to bury him, because Iraklios was her brother, even though she was still reeling from finding out the truth, still unable to accept that Iraklios who had been for her whole life until then her most trusted friend and business associate, betrayed her, the family and the company and joined forces with the Marcquesa, their mortal enemy, their dangerous mortal enemy.

  Elli partly understood Iraklios’ betrayal, the weakness in his character that had brought it on. He could be a bit too emotional at times. But it could not have been only that. He, at long last, had his little sister back. And that clouded his judgement.

  He threw caution to the wind and could only see in the Marcquesa’s eyes, in the person before him, his little sister at the time that she was taken. And he gave the Marcquesa the undeserved benefit of the doubt, in view of the way she was taken and the nightmares he must have had about what he imagined she must have suffered.

  Perhaps his innards had been eaten away by the guilt at his failure as her big brother to protect her, to keep her safe, to save her, to find and rescue her after she was taken. For Iraklios to give in to the Marcquesa so easily, his life must have been scarred by her abduction.

  He hid it well
, though. He must have been tormented by the thought: “How, God, she must have waited for me to come for her and where was I? Did I look for her? No. Did I move heaven and earth to find her? No, again.”

  How long, Elli wondered, would the Marcquesa have waited for him, held hope of salvation, of a rescue, before she gave up and succumbed to the inevitability of her situation, of never seeing her loved ones again? And for Iraklios there was probably also guilt that he was spared. Why her and not him?

  His emotional need to reconnect with his long lost little sister must have been intense and irresistible, the crack in his heart needing only to catch a glimpse of her to open up to her completely and unconditionally, and with apparently no space for anybody else anymore.

  Perhaps he decided that he had given enough love to the rest of the family for so long, and the Marcquesa had been deprived of it for so long that Iraklios had to make up for it; from then on there was no space, no time for anyone else; his little sister deserved his undivided attention, dedication, loyalty and love.

  That’s why he must have secretly distanced and excluded himself from the fold of the rest of his family and entered the Marcquesa’s fold, in spite of all he knew about her.

  In his will Iraklios left his entire estate including his now 25% holding in the Valchern Corporation to Aristo and Vasilis to be divided between them in equal shares. A letter arrived two days after the funeral explaining that his actions were driven by blackmail by the Marcquesa, but did not reveal why. He had given Elli the parchment in that cafe in Constantinople as his last act as guardian of the secret of the events in Cappadocia in 1453 A.D. to help her, at great risk to his life, if he was seen by the Marcquesa’s spies. He asked for Elli’s forgiveness.