The old man looked at the surrounding green paradise. “Your dream may be to live in this new world, but I feel my time here is now coming to an end.”
The prince laughed. “As it should. We can now quickly bring our business here to a close and get you and the other engineers back to your home and your loved ones. I never thought an operation this massive could have gone so smoothly.”
Master Giovanni appeared hurt. “You hired the best engineers, sappers and masons in Europe! Surely you didn’t expect any less of us?”
Prince Henry bowed respectfully. “Please accept my apologies, old friend. How could I have possibly thought otherwise?”
Thanking the workers again, he moved on to the gathering of Mi’kmaq elders. He approached the village chief and bowed his head. The chief grasped the prince by the shoulders and spoke in a deep, powerful voice that commanded the attention of the gathering.
Na’gu’set, dressed only in leather leggings, stepped up to his chief’s side. The young Mi’kmaq translated the words for the Scottish prince.
“It is good to see you again, Glooscap.”
Prince Henry gazed out over the crowd and raised his voice. “My men owe the Mi’kmaq people a great deal. Thank you for everything you have done to support my friends over the past two years.”
“It has been mutually beneficial to both peoples,” the chief responded. “Your knowledge of fishing with nets has greatly increased our food stocks for the winter. It has made our existence much easier. Therefore, it is an honour to share what we have with you and your people.”
The prince smiled. “The honour is ours, I assure you. As you may be aware, we are reaching the final stages of our mission here in your land. We will soon have to depart.”
The elder nodded. “You explained to us that this day would come. It saddens us all that our paths must part. Are you sure that you will never be able to return?”
“I wish I could explain the situation further,” said Prince Henry wistfully, “but I cannot. For now, our time among your people must remain a secret to the rest of the world. Perhaps some day, if the people in my homeland change their wicked ways, we will return to this place and share what we have done here with the entire world.”
The chief frowned. “We do not understand the need for secrecy, but we will respect your decision.”
“Thank you.”
The chief raised his arms. “We will prepare a large feast to celebrate our time together. All of your men are invited to the village tomorrow night for a feast.”
“That would indeed be a great honour,” said Prince Henry. “Thank you. With your permission, may I now share a few words with Na’gu’set?”
The chief nodded and held out an open hand.
Prince Henry motioned to the young green-eyed translator standing respectfully behind the chief. They walked away from the crowd and out along the rocky shore. Behind them the gathering dispersed to the many tasks at hand, including the unloading of the ships. Prince Henry ignored the commotion, and for a time they walked in thoughtful silence. After rounding a point and leaving the view of the busy dock, Prince Henry came to a stop and smiled warmly at his friend.
“Your help is what allowed our mission here to succeed, Na’gu’set. We owe you so much.”
Na’gu’set shook his head. “Since I was a little boy, growing up in the Village of the Teachers, I knew that I would dedicate my life to do the work of the Great Manitou. It has been an honour to work with you and those from the land of the Teachers.”
Prince Henry’s smile faded as his forehead wrinkled with concern. He turned and gazed out over the still waters of the bay.
“Glooscap, what is wrong?”
“I have something to ask of you. I fear that it will be a difficult if not impossible task.”
“If it is within my power, I will do whatever you ask.”
Prince Henry grimaced. “You are as loyal a friend to me as any of my Templar comrades.”
“What request could cause you so much concern?”
“Your home, the Village of the Teachers . . . It can no longer exist.”
Na’gu’set turned to him, confused. “My home can no longer exist? I do not understand.”
The prince sighed and looked out to the ocean. “This will be a complicated thing for me to explain. Do you remember when I told you about the many other tribal chiefs to the east, in a place we call Europe?”
“You told me that many were greedy and deceitful. The chiefs, the men you call kings, in the faraway lands killed many of your Templar brethren in order to steal their power and wealth.”
Prince Henry nodded. “After our kings attempted to destroy the Order, they searched all of our castles for our Holy treasures, but we were able to hide everything before they arrived. The kings demanded that their Templar prisoners tell them the location of their wealth. When the knights refused to cooperate, they were burned alive, one by one. They expected at least one knight to betray the Order and reveal the treasure’s location. Praise be to God that not one knight ever talked, even while engulfed in flames. To the kings, it seemed the location of the treasure died with the murdered Templar men.”
“But the treasure does live on,” countered Na’gu’set. “I have seen many golden items and pictures being unloaded onto the island.”
They both looked across the water to the tiny, mangled piece of land. Prince Henry managed a smile.
“Och, aye, the treasure certainly does live on. We could never allow such gifts of God to fall into the hands of a treacherous king. That is why we have brought it here, to this land, a land that exists only in old Nordic legends.”
Na’gu’set frowned. “I’m sorry, my friend. I still do not understand why my village must be destroyed.”
Henry’s green eyes glimmered with emotion. “You need to understand . . . this land will not stay secret forever. I don’t know if it will be ten, fifty or a hundred years from now but eventually, people from the East will rediscover this beautiful place you call home. When that happens, our work here must remain a secret. The rest of the world must not know of our accomplishment until future Templar leaders feel that the world is worthy of such treasure to once again be revealed.”
Na’gu’set began to nod. “You feel that future explorers from the east might see my village and think that your treasure may be nearby.”
“It’s unfortunate coincidence, really. There is no real connection between Oak Island and your ancient Irish village, but someone might interpret it that way and begin searching around the land for religious valuables.”
Na’gu’set set his jaw, turned and walked out to the edge of the lapping waves, staring out into the bay. Seagulls cried overhead while a distant whale, scooping up a huge mouthful of krill, sprayed mist up into the afternoon sky. The weight of the request seemed to round his shoulders.
“The Village of the Teachers was built many generations ago by my ancestors. My people you call the Irish came to spread the Word of the Great Manitou in this distant land. I don’t know what will happen to our purpose if we destroy the village. Will our mission come to an end? What will we do?”
Prince Henry stepped up and placed a hand on Na’gu’set’s shoulder. “I would never suggest that a mission as noble ever come to an end, but before I share my idea with you, I would first like you to understand the importance of what we have been doing over on Oak Island. It is time you receive a full tour. I have two other young gentlemen who also deserve a chance to see our work. I think it’s time that I introduce you to my friends, Angus and Connor.”
Twelve
The small scarred island slowly appeared at the starboard bow as the ship drifted ever closer, gently pushed by the light summer breeze.
“So this is Oak Island,” remarked Connor, staring at the approaching pile of mud.
“I’d love to know how it got its name,” quipped Angus. “There are barely any trees on it, and not one of them is an oak!”
Connor smiled. “W
e have stumbled upon another Templar mystery.”
Angus shook his head as he examined the tall wooden scaffold at its centre. “This is what the Templars built for a tribute to Mary Magdalene? A teetering wooden tower?”
“It is not your place to question such decisions!” answered Connor, palms together, imitating the Roslin monks.
Angus laughed at Connor’s poor acting skills as they left the rail to help prepare for docking. The boys’ curiosity was further piqued as the boat circled to the far side of the island. Large dikes had been built around two of the island’s small bays, and the enclosed area behind each dike had been drained of all sea water. A windmill stood beside each dike, its blades steadily turning in the ocean breeze. Water gushed back into the ocean from the base of the windmill, its tireless pump keeping the seawater at bay.
As they came ever closer to the island, the boys could see that the large wooden tower was in the process of being disassembled. Men were hanging from various parts of the structure, loosening the wooden supports then lowering them down with pulleys to the men waiting on the ground below. Whatever had been happening on the island, it was clear that the operation was quickly coming to an end.
Connor scampered up the mast and helped reef in the sails as they drifted closer to the protected pier. After tying up, the boys helped unload the supplies. Their duties were interrupted when the familiar voice of Sir Rudyard Gunn called to them from the shore.
“Boys! Leave the rest of the unloading to the crew and follow me.”
Connor and Angus ran down the pier and walked with Sir Rudyard down a dirt path towards a temporary village of canvas tents.
“Father, where did all of the trees go?”
“We used the island’s trees for building materials,” explained Sir Rudyard. “Using the island’s own timber saved us a great deal of time in avoiding any form of transportation over water.”
“But why is it called Oak Island?” asked Connor. “I don’t see a single oak anywhere.”
“Excellent question, Connor,” replied the knight, “but one I cannot answer. Perhaps you will discover the answer yourself.”
Sir Rudyard led them to one of the smaller tents, held open a flap and ushered the boys in. Four simple cots and a table with single chair filled the cramped space.
“I will be sleeping here with you for the next little while. Things have changed since my last visit. By the look of things, it appears the project is well ahead of schedule. I want you to stay here while I go and talk to the master builders.”
Gunn slipped through the opening, leaving the boys alone. Connor headed straight for a cot, and after removing his filthy boots, he threw himself onto the hay-filled mattress. Angus sat down at the table, scratching his head.
“Project? What is father on about? There’s nothing to this island but a couple of drained bays, a dock and the skeleton of a tower that is in the process of being dismantled.”
Connor rolled onto his side. “I don’t care if Prince Henry has completely lost his mind and decided to mine the entire island for mud. I’d follow him to the gates of Hell if he asked me. But you have forgotten one important thing, Angus.”
“And what might that be?” quipped Angus.
“Remember back in the Kirkwall Castle chapel, the meeting?”
“Of course I remember. Who could ever forget seeing the Ark of The Covenant?”
“What did Prince Henry say of Oak Island?”
“My point exactly,” huffed Angus. “He said there was to be a great Templar library built here, or something. I didn’t see anything of the sort when we circled the island—just a big pile of mud and tents.”
Connor pointed downwards. “He also said it was going to be underground.”
Angus looked down in surprise. “You mean it’s down there?”
As Angus pondered the impossibility of an underground library, the flap of the tent flew open. Sir Rudyard entered, grabbed the chair and sat down with the boys.
“I have been called back to the mainland. The prince is gathering all of the highest level knights together for a meeting.”
“What can we do to help, father?”
“I need you lads to walk back to the dock and ask for Master Robinson. He is in charge of the Oak Island sappers and miners. I’m sure he will find a task for two young men with strong arms. The workers here are desperate to go home and see their loved ones. Please help them get home as soon as possible by pitching in with whatever work remains to be done.”
“We will, father.”
“Be prepared for any task, boys, large or small. You are now Templar knights. You will be working from sunrise to sunset, rain or shine. As soon as you finish your first task, you will go directly to Master Robertson and receive the next one. Is that understood?”
“Aye, sir,” they answered in unison.
“Good, then I will leave you to it.”
It was not hard for the boys to find Master Robinson on the dock. With his thunderous voice, he was directing men in the reloading of the ship that had brought Angus and Connor to the island. Skids of timber, pulleys and huge metal tools were being transferred into the vessel. Master Robinson was filthy from head to foot, and his mood was just as dark. He broke from his barking and eyed the approaching boys with blazing contempt.
“Who are you two and what are you doing on my island?”
“Sir, I’m Angus Gunn, son of Sir Rudyard, and this is my friend Connor MacDonald. My father sent us to you to help with the work.”
Robinson spat into the mud. “Only men of the Order are supposed to be allowed on this island. What are two babes in swaddles doing here?”
“Sir,” replied Angus, “we are members of the Order.”
He guffawed in surprise. “Oh, really? The Order must be scraping the bottom of the bucket back in Scotland to send children overseas. Well, fellow knights, my name is Master Robinson.”
They shook hands.
“Aye, well I see you do know the Templar handshake.” He shook his head in disbelief.
“Connor and I helped fight off an English attack at Kirkwall,” offered Angus.
“Ah, that was the work of you two, was it? News travels fast among the Order. I heard about your part in the battle. Will we ever be rid of the blight to the south? Just like the pestilence, they keep returning to darken our shores year after year. I suppose our victory at Bannockburn still churns in their gut! They won’t rest until they have the Scottish people once again subjugated to their will. That’s the reason we need to get back home as soon as possible, laddies, so we can fight ’em off once and for all. It’s a blessing that our work here is nearly complete.”
Connor looked around. “How will a boatload of sappers help defend Scotland?”
“Don’t be deceived by appearances, lad. These men are more than just skilled builders. Many are also the best fighters in all of Europe. My greatest fear is that Prince Henry may have stretched us too thin. It has left our Scottish homeland vulnerable to further attack.”
“But what about Oak Island?” queried Angus. “Is this not important too?”
“Ah, the project here is a masterpiece, a jewel that will be cherished by Templars for all time and perhaps, someday, also cherished by the rest of the world. But at what cost? Must we sacrifice our homeland to the Sassenach? Must our families back home pay such a heavy price?”
Angus puffed out his chest. “My father said that he would sacrifice everything for Prince Henry’s dream.”
Master Robertson nodded. “Aye, even if we were to lose everything we had in Scotland to the English, at least we’ll go to our graves in peace knowing that we’ve kept their lecherous paws off of our most holy of treasures.”
He broke the moment of contemplation by slapping the boys hard on the back.
“Well then, I want you to follow the empty carts back to the lift and help bring to the dock the loads of dismantled timber. It’s after midday, and the men are getting weary. Prove to me that you are not
the snivelling babes you appear to be!”
The boys followed the rutted trail to the massive wooden structure near the centre of the island. It was as wide as the chapel in Kirkwall but twice as high. Within its base lay a square-shaped pit which disappeared deep into the ground. Looking down, they could see men hammering together a wooden platform across the dirt floor of the pit. They introduced themselves to an exhausted master builder named Philip who gave the boys a cart and told them to load it up then push it through the soft earth to the awaiting ship at the pier.
By sunset, the boys could see that the height of the structure had been reduced by almost a quarter. With darkness came an end to the activities. After a quick meal of porridge and ale, the boys dragged themselves back to the tent. They threw their filthy clothes on the single stool and thankfully collapsed onto the small cots.
Their sound slumber was abruptly broken by the thunderous voice of Master Robinson. Poking his head inside their tent, he cursed the boys with every lazy name he could think of before he moved on and began insulting the occupants still sleeping within the next tent. Half asleep, they threw their clothes back on and stumbled through the early morning mist to the kitchen tent. As they ate with the other weary labourers, the boys nearly jumped out of their skins when two heavy burlap bags slammed onto their table. Master Robinson let loose a sadistic chuckle.
“It’s a good thing you lads came along when you did. I’ve got the perfect task. These are bags of acorns, shipped all the way here from the largest, healthiest trees in all of Europe. And behind me,” he said, stabbing his thumb towards the dock, “are another two dozen bags, just like those. The prince wants you to plant these acorns evenly across all of the bare spots on the entire island. And before you ask me why, I don’t have a clue, so don’t bother asking!”
Robinson then tossed them two metal trowels. “Start at the water’s edge at the southwest corner of the island and work your way inwards. Understood?”
“Aye, sir.”
Leaving the boys, he turned and stomped off towards several men struggling to bring down one of the larger tents in the settlement, bellowing at them in full fury not to damage the canvas.
Betrayed Page 10
