The Dove

by Brendan Carroll

  Lucio considered his son’s words. Vanni had been right about disturbing Mark Andrew and he’d not listened. Perhaps it was time he gave a bit of credit to his son’s wisdom.

  The Italian nodded and turned back toward his own room.

  “Come and tell me about Greta, Vanni.” He took his son by the arm. “I would like to hear the entire story from the beginning.”

  “Of course!” Vanni’s face lit up in a grand smile. “I would be glad to tell you about it, Poppi. It was most amazing.”

  “Santa Maria.” Lucio muttered under his breath.

  They walked back down the quiet hallway together.

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  Simon swung his sword at the two men who continued to attack him in his dream. They were relentlessly charging and retreating, shouting insults and taunts at him. Their faces were obscured by the face shields of their helmets and all the blows he managed to land were either parried easily or deflected harmlessly from their chainmail armor.

  “Master!” He heard someone shouting near his ear and turned quickly, bringing up the silver sword with the twin serpents on the hilt. A lovely young girl with golden red hair and big blue eyes stared up at him. “Master Simon! What are you doing?!” She asked him.

  One of his attackers swung at him and he threw himself on the girl, trying to protect her from the blade. They tumbled to the floor in a tangle of bed linens.

  “Master!” Came the muffled shout again from beneath him.

  Simon scrambled to his feet amidst the clutter and pulled the struggling form of the Tuathan healer from the floor. He stood with the sheet draped around his shoulders like a Grecian statue.

  “Selwig!” He blinked at the healer in shock. “I’m sorry! I thought… I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

  Selwig brushed off the sheet, tugged on his shirt and picked up his yellow bag from the tangle.

  Simon grabbed him again to make sure he was all right and then let go of him when his attackers shouted at him again.

  “Die, Infidel Dog!” The voice was very familiar. “I spit upon your standard. Throw that rag to the ground and stand aside.”

  “Back, fool! Or taste the bitter steel of death!” The other shouted in answer.

  The sound of blades clashing against each other drifted through the open window. Simon hurried across the room and pulled back the drapes. He stuck his head out the window and stared at the two swordsmen engaged in what appeared to be a deadly duel in the grass outside his bedroom.

  The two fighters lunged and attacked each other, fell back, clashed again and fell back. The shorter of the two raised his sword over his right shoulder, stepped forward, dipped slightly and brought the sword completely around in what would have been a deathblow, if the other had not ducked and come around behind the first, slapping him on the back of his helmet with the flat of his blade, sending him sprawling in the grass. To Simon’s shock, they were practicing with naked blades instead of wooden replicas like Barry used in his classes.

  “A fatal mistake!” The taller one placed his foot in the small of his downed opponent’s back. “You think to take me with that?! That is one of the first things our mother taught us!” He kicked the downed man’s side and turned away, pulling his tight helmet from his head. His long, wavy hair fell around his face. The defeated man pulled his helmet from his head before he got up. The silky, black hair fell into the grass.

  “You didn’t have to hit me so hard, Nicholas!” Gregory pushed himself up slowly and rubbed the back of his head. He shook himself out and stood up. “Oh! Master Simon!” He smiled and his blue eyes twinkled in the bright morning sun. “I hope my brother didn’t disturb you!”

  “Oh, no not all!” Simon shook his head and withdrew into his room. Nicholas and Gregory. Always fighting and playing at war! Always ready for adventure and danger. Always…

  Selwig was checking the contents of his battered bag.

  “Selwig!” Simon sat down at his desk and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, my friend. I was having a nightmare.”

  “I see.” Selwig glanced up at him. “The King sent me to fetch you.” He tied the strings on his bag. “Something is amiss at the barn.”

  “Oh? Really?” Simon frowned. “One moment, please.” He looked about in confusion. There were signs that Lydia had returned during the night and then got up and left again with the morning. The tea cup was gone and her nightgown lay draped over the back of the chair in which he sat. “What a night!” He rubbed his eyes. “Let me get dressed and we’ll go down together.”

  Selwig nodded and stepped out into the hall.

  Nicholas and Gregory! He’d forgotten about the two great-grandsons of Mark Andrew. They were formidable, fearless and free. They had both taken the Templar oath as apprentices, but they were not indispensable to the Order. They were immortal in their own right and had held their own when de Goth’s men had attacked the Villa in Italy. Mark Andrew had even taken them on a dangerous mission to New Babylon when he had gone to bring back Lucio Dambretti. They would perfect for the mission! The mission! He was appalled that he was already calling this latest folly a mission! His mind raced as he changed his clothes.

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  “Who cut you down when you were hanging from the pinnacle at Giza in the belt of Orion?!” Diana rushed at Shammash angrily, pointing one long, slender arm toward the unseen roof of the cavern. “How long would you have suffered there in your guilt and shame if Adar had not taken you down and comforted you?!”

  Shammash’ eyes blazed with rage at the mention of that time long past when he had hung himself over a bottomless pit because of his unrequited love for Semiramis. Semiramis, who had betrayed him and stolen a mighty secret from him much as Delilah had betrayed the great Samson. He raised one hand as if to strike her down, but Semiramis stepped forward quickly to shield her dark-haired sister. She raised her chin slightly as if daring the mighty Lord of the Fourth Gate to carry through with the threat. They stared at each other for several seconds and then she turned, taking Diana’s hand, escorting her to the edge of the circle.

  “Do not provoke him, my sister.” Semiramis whispered in Diana’s ear. “I would not wish to see you turn cruel.”

  The Lords and Ladies of the Seven Gates sat or stood about a roughly circular depression in the center of the natural cavern. They had been presenting information, comparing notes and making arguments of strategy for quite some time.

  Shammash regained his composure and lowered his arm. His shining robe rippled and seemed to change colors as it moved.

  “In spite of my sister’s reminder, I would still like to know if I am being coerced or invited to join in this little venture.” The golden god swept his eyes about the room. “Long have I walked in the Fourth Gate, minding my own affairs, keeping my own counsel and ever praying to the Creator for mercy and forgiveness. Why now should I be dragged into this dispute of men? They are the very cause of my plight now! Had I not tried to help them in the days of Nimrod, I would not have come to this repugnant state! It is because of men, that I am fallen from Grace and it is because of men that all that is fallen will never rise to glory again! Yet it was the treachery of my own kind that was my undoing! Bah!” He spat the words contemptuously at Diana and Semiramis who had resumed their seats on a low shelve of smooth dripstone, slightly apart from the others. “And I have heard it said that I was the cause of the flood. The great deluge? Bah!” He spun about and pointed at the members of his small audience. “Men brought this on themselves. Let them suffer under the yoke of evil! I do not care. Why should I help them now? Where are my monuments? Where are my followers? Where are they who set me up to fall and taught us to sin?” He turned again and locked eyes with Mark Andrew. “Where is Azazel, our brother? What did you do with him, Uriel?!” He paused as if waiting for an answer. “I have heard it said that the Musselmen call him the great Satan. The seducer of mankind! The son of fire who refused to bow down to man. What
of this accursed lie, Uriel? He taught them to make swords and shields and weapons of war to defend themselves against their enemies and made mighty conquerors of them when they crawled like worms. He taught their women to be beautiful and to adorn themselves with precious jewels and aromatic oils when they stank like goats. And I have heard it said that the Hebrews cast their sins upon him and made him their scapegoat! The mighty Azazel! They called him the Lord of Hell. Such is the gratitude of men and the fickleness of women! Bah! I spit on them! Show me Azazel, Uriel. Where is he?”

  Mark Andrew stood up slowly and held one hand back to Sophia that she should stay put.

  “There are many such legends among the ancients, Lord Shammash. The days of old are gone and men have forgotten the old ways and the old names. Azazel is no longer on this world. He left long ago and if men who would dare to remember his name fancy him to be something that he is not, what matter is it to us now? If you would redeem yourself in the eyes of the Creator, you would know that He is Love and nothing, but Love, even for all that is fallen. If you would not join us, go back to your pit and wait for Yaldabaoth to visit you. I assure you that what I did there will seem as nothing when he comes again to light!”

  Shammash licked his lips and his eyes flickered briefly at the mention of the Ancient Evil. He turned quickly and took up a seat on a rounded boulder, whipping his shimmering robes about him with an angry flare. He pressed both hands on his waist and leaned forward slightly, staring at Mark Andrew intently.

  “And you, mighty Uriel! Flame of God! Regent of the Sun! Adar, the mighty Hunter! How came you to be one of the fallen? You were one of the highest. The most esteemed. One of the first to be taken from the pretender and made holy. What happened to you? I have heard it said that you are the father of the Hebrews, that you were called Jacob-Israel. That you stole the body of a man so that you might learn what it meant to be human. Have you learned, Adar? Tell me, my brother, what have you learned? Have you learned that it is a harder fall from the Seventh Heaven than from the First? I see that you have fallen in more ways than one.” Shammash leaned to the right and narrowed his eyes at Sophia. “How came you to be separated from yourself?”

  Mark Andrew raised one eyebrow.

  “Tampering with such things never brought anything good, Lord Shammash. I would venture to say that your little bargain with Semiramis might have had something to do with it, but at least I know who I am and I am not arrogant enough to blame my own sins on another. The Creator left us free will, brother. If we allow ourselves the pleasure of doing nothing, someone else will do it for us.”

  Shammash laughed aloud. “You make no sense! You have yet to answer my question.”

  “Lord Uriel!” Lucifer pushed himself up from where he sat on the sandy edge of the depression. “If I might be permitted to speak to this August gathering…?”

  “By all means.” Mark Andrew held out one hand and went back to his seat beside Sophia.

  “I see that you have all made mistakes.” Lucifer turned about slowly. His golden trappings glittering in the false light emanating from the crystals embedded in the walls. “And I, too, am guilty of many sins. It is the curse of free will that was delivered upon us by the one who made us. If we had never been made, it would have been a far better thing.” He stopped turning to face Shammash. “I will not pass judgment on you, Lord Shammash. Your intentions were quite honorable in the beginning and I have spent some time among men since being awakened. I can very well understand the temptation that overcame you and hope that such never rules my own heart again.” He turned quickly as a red blur and stopped in front of Mark, but his eyes were on Sophia. “I felt the pull on my own heartstrings when I first saw you.” He smiled and Sophia looked away from him. “Do not look away from me, Sophia. I can see why my brothers would make a spectacle of themselves… two spectacles, it would seem.” This remark brought a small, but unmistakable twitter of laughter from somewhere in the cavern. “But!” He spun about again and pointed one finger at Shammash. “You asked a legitimate question and you deserve an answer. I believe that what Lord Adar, as you call him, was trying to say is that it is up to you to decide. But if you do not do your part, someone else will carry your load and the Will of our Father shall be done whether you take part in it or no. In fact, it may be that He intends that you should not take part at all. From what I can see, you would serve no useful purpose. There is too much enmity in your heart. Too much bitterness and too little compassion for your fellow creatures. You do not even seem to have a sense of duty or purpose. What is it you do, Lord Semyaza? Do you lay about your miserable cave, sucking on bitter roots and drinking sour wine? How long will you wait for salvation? You have heard many things said; have you heard that works are necessary for salvation? To know the Word and do the Work! Even the descendents of the Hebrews knew this. Michael taught it to us! We do the Father’s Work! He said ‘I must be about my Father’s business.’ He was speaking of the Creator of the Universe. The Father of all Fathers. We are all now Sons of God. And Michael, the first begotten Son of God has taught us how we must be about our Father’s business. Where have you been, Semyaza? Ahhh, but I know the answer… you have been sleeping in your pit and I have been dreaming. It is time that we were about our Father’s Work. But as Uriel has said, we must make our own decisions. I grow weary of listening to you moan and groan about your misfortunes. Do you think you are the first to be deceived by the charms of a woman? It is all well and good that my brother’s brothers say ‘the company of women is a dangerous thing’, but it is one thing to say it and another to know it. But is it not unfair to women to say such a thing? Somewhere inside me is this very danger. It is not easy being one and the same! One would think that such a creature could not be deceived, but is it not fascinating to look upon her, Semyaza? Is it not simply a curiosity to know what it would be like to be separated? Even Uriel is beautiful to me because I am two made one.” Lucifer spun about and gave Mark Andrew a decidedly wicked smile. “You see? Sin is like an insidious disease and spending time with the separated ones leads to curiosity and curiosity leads to questioning and questioning leads to answering that we should know what we should not know.” He turned once more with incredible speed and stopped in front of Lord Nebo who seemed to be sleeping with one elbow propped on a dark stone that glittered with encrusted diamonds. “Nathanael? Have you nothing to say of this? I have seen you looking at Sophia. You find her beautiful, do you not?”

  “Lord Lucifer!” Mark Andrew stood up. “We did not come here to discuss Sophia’s countenance!” The shining face of the Knight of Death, holder of the golden sword of the cherubim, went dark.

  Lucifer laughed and bowed low before the angry Watcher.

  “I was merely making a point, brother. And you make another. Jealousy. Is it not the greatest of all sins?” Lucifer gathered his crimson cloak and sat down near one of his warriors, further back among the crystalline structures of the cavern.

  Lord Nebo dropped lightly from the stone on which he had been sitting and looked down at himself as if surprised. He was wore bronze greaves on his legs, bronze and leather wrist and armbands, a white tunic, a broad golden belt and a purple mantle edged with golden pomegranates and lotus blossoms. A crown of gold and silver sat upon his red curls and he wore leather and bronze gauntlets on his forearms. At his hip was a heavy sword. He looked remarkably like King Corrigan without the colorful feathers. His cherubic features seemed to glow with amusement as Mark Andrew eyed him disdainfully. He’d not felt quite so wonderful in many ages.

  “Lucifer has a point, Uriel.” Nebo smiled at him. “I find Sophia quite lovely to look upon, but you know my history! I would be the last one to cast stones. But even in your jealousy you make a good point. We came here to discuss the war and I suggest we get on with it. I’m sure that my men are in great distress by now. They will think the old man dead!” He laughed and then turned his attention to Marduk, who sat on an elevated ledge slightly above them with his legs dangling ov
er the edge. The dark Lord of the Sixth Gate was not happy to be here. He did not like being in the same vicinity as both Semiramis and Meredith Sinclair. They had both made fools of him. It irked him to no end to see Sophia sitting so close to Adar while his own counterpart would not come near him. If the feminine members of this party could have had their collective ways, they would all be sitting near Lord Adar. It was embarrassing and to think that he had tried to woo the Lord of the First Gate! It made his head reel every time he looked at the hulking beast that hunched over the sandy floor, rocking back and forth on his great splayed feet, drawing in the sand with one gnarled finger as if he were all alone in the chamber. Meredith was part of this thing? He closed his eyes briefly. Even Nergal had Ereshkigal. They sat on another shelf of rock, ogling each other like a pair of sick doves! Now the great Nebo was speaking to him, drawing attention to his solitude. He cast a glance at Reshki and saw that her goblin captain sat in her shadow. Another slap in the face. His dark angel, Abaddon, had abandoned him. Abaddon. Apollyon. Shaitan. The very name meant ‘great abandoner’! Of course! He should have expected it.

  “Lord Marduk! Are you ready to do your part?” Nebo asked him.

  “I am ready to be done with this thing.” Marduk answered grudgingly. “I have been ready.”

  A snorting noise came from Nanna, but the great creature said nothing. He had only just recently flushed the Lord of the Sixth Gate out of the ruined tomb in China where he had been cowering in total fear of the Ancient One.

  “Good! Are we then agreed that we must first ensure that Yaldabaoth’s Ark is not delivered to the Ancient Terror? My son’s son will care for it when we have delivered it into his hands. We will take it to the temple on Mt. Horeb and there we will destroy it.”