The Dove

by Brendan Carroll

  “But I had you much longer than any of them.” Luke would not let go of him. “I want to go home, Mark! I want to go home to Scotland. I want to walk in the meadow and lie in the grass and smoke a good pipe with Paddy Puffingtowne and get drunk with Barry of Sussex around a campfire. I don’t want to be King!”

  Mark pushed him away and held him by his arms.

  “When things are set aright, God willing that they will be, you can go wherever you like. You can move the throne to Lothian if you like. You can name a successor and retire to Scotland. Your brother is mortal and he will need you. Luke, he is innocent. Do you hear me? He is a new man, literally. He will need someone to teach him, and he is a teacher. You can learn from him and he from you. And there is something else…” Mark looked up at the ceiling of the purple and white tent as it seemed to breathe in the desert breeze.

  “What?” Luke blinked back his tears and wiped at his eyes.

  “Sophia is pregnant. They will need to be married and the child will be special.”

  “All children are special, brother.”

  “But this one will be the one we have been waiting on.” Mark smiled at him.

  “What do you mean?” Luke frowned and then sank onto a small canvass stool.

  “I mean that this will be the one.” Mark told him again more slowly. “He will call him Michael Emmanuel and he will be the Morning Star and the Evening Star, and the Alpha and the Omega. The high priest of the line of Melchezedek.”

  “I don’t want to hear this!” Luke put his face in his hands.

  Mark took him by the shoulders and jerked him to his feet.

  “Listen to me! You must help them. You heard these shallow potentates. Nothing has changed. You have fought the battle of Armageddon here, and they don’t even know it. It crept upon them and passed them by and still they are oblivious to its passing. They do not hear the still, small voice, Luke. They will go back to their Christmas trees and stockings and hope that all is well. If the coming fire doesn’t destroy them, then they will rise again in the glory of their ignorance. This battle may have served a purpose, but the people still err, still turn a deaf ear to the Truth and the Light.”

  Luke closed his eyes and then opened them slowly.

  “Then I will do my best. I can’t guarantee you anything. I am a simple Lowlander. I am not even a priest.”

  “He doesn’t need a priest. He needs a protector. What better protector than a King?” Mark asked him. “Keep them in your heart and the heart of your kingdom. But you should keep this knowledge also in your heart and when the time is right, the Anointed One will make himself known. Swear to me that you will not abandon your brother.”

  Luke nodded and Mark let go of him. He crossed himself, closed his eyes briefly and then swore to defend Sophia and Mark with his life.

  “Now come out and speak to your captains. They are waiting on you. There will be trouble in the morning, and I have some business to attend to… personal business.”

  The King of the Brits walked stiffly from the tent to where his aide de camp waited patiently with his horse. Mark watched from inside the billowing silk of the command tent as his brother climbed on his horse and rode away without looking back. Two Frankish soldiers, dressed in blue and yellow, stood on either side of the canopy. He summoned one of them and sent them off in search of his son, Luke Andrew. When they returned almost an hour later, Luke entered the tent cautiously. He was still dressed in his bloodied tartan as if wearing it as a souvenir. His hair was disheveled and his face was smeared with blood, sweat and dust. Mark almost felt as if he had suddenly stepped back several centuries as his son stopped at the head of the table and stood looking at him with a deep frown on his face. It was very obvious that he had not wanted to come here.

  “Please, sit down, Luke.” Mark waved one hand at the only real chair in the structure and Luke sat down, folding his hands in his lap.

  When he said nothing, Mark continued. “I know this has been very hard on you, and I believe I know what you are thinking... you don’t understand what has happened. You don’t realize who I am.”

  “That pretty much sums it up.” Luke nodded.

  “This man whom you have found here is not your father. He is not King Ramsay, nor is he the Chevalier du Morte. I know you went through this before, but that was a different circumstance altogether. This man is simply what he would have been had I not tampered with him a thousand years ago. He is truly the brother of your Uncle Luke Matthew and he is probably as confused as you are about all of this.”

  “Have you seen him? Have you spoken to him? He knows more than you think.” Luke Andrew asked, reluctant to let go of the hope that King Ramsay had somehow been restored to them.

  “He knows a great deal because he has trapped a tremendous amount of knowledge in his head even he does not understand. Perhaps he might have been a great prophet if I had not intervened in his life; perhaps it is because of my interference he suffers these things now. I cannot say. I do not know. But as I told your uncle, he is innocent and none of this is his fault. It will be very difficult for him to adjust to life.”

  “I would ask you not add to his confusion, but rather help him as you might help a younger brother. In fact, it would be in your best interests to simply consider him your brother. Take him in as you have taken in Galen and Michael and Omar. You have a particular brand of charisma for young people, Luke. They look up to you. God knows why, but they do. Selwig admires you. Vanni respects you and Il Dolce Mio treats you like royalty. Surely you appreciate this fact. Even the Mighty Djinni has a certain affinity for you. What I’m trying to say is that you are loved, Luke, whether you believe it or not. And I, of course, am biased because I am your father. I believe you have a good future ahead of you. I had my doubts as you know, but a man can change his mind and so can the rest of us. Even Queen Ereshkigal liked you.”

  “You don’t need to remind me of that!” Luke looked away from him.

  “Never-the-less, there is no need for you to agonize over this new development. Simply accept it for what it is and make the most of it. He will be going back to Scotland with you when you go. I can see no better place for him… or Sophia.”

  At the mention of Sophia, Luke jerked his head up.

  “She was in love with you.” He said suddenly. “Is she now in love with him or what? And what about you? I saw you with her. Are you going to give her to him? Is it some kind of consolation prize for them to have each other rather than you? Is it a consolation prize for myself and Uncle Luke to have them instead of you? You say you were leaving, and you would not be coming back. It is the first time you have ever said such a thing and so I know that it is true. You were always famous for saying ‘I’ll be back’, just like Arnold Schwarzenegger’s character.” Luke was very close to tears and his voice broke as he wrung his hands in the hem of his kilt.

  “Who?” Mark frowned.

  “Never mind. It’s just very hard to understand.” Luke looked down at his hands. “Now you want me to take care of him? Now I am my father’s brother?”

  Mark smiled. “I have heard it said that we are our father’s brothers and our son’s sons and our wife’s brothers and our father’s fathers. It is just another part of the mystery of life. Let it go, my son, and set your spirit free. Perhaps Simon would be a better one to explain it than I am.”

  Luke got up slowly and approached his father, who had remained standing during the exchange. He looked at him for several long seconds and then clasped him in a great hug.

  “I will miss you.” He said, but there were no tears as Luke Matthew had shed. “Will I see you again?”

  “Most likely.” Mark told him. “Probably when you least expect it. I need to speak with Sophia and … and your new brother before we go on any further. I will be leaving with Omar tomorrow. We will be marching on New Babylon. If we can take it back, we will. If not, we will move on.”

  “Then Omar might be coming to Scotland?” Luke perked up a bit.
He had missed his nephew more than he cared to admit.

  “Perhaps. It will be very difficult for him to face Hubur. He will need help.”

  “Yes. What about Bari?”

  “He will be going with us.”

  “So you want me to send Sophia down to see you?” Luke turned toward the door.

  “Tell Il Dolce Mio to escort them down here, and see if you can find Simon. It might be good if he were to come as well, if he is not too busy.”

  “I’ll do what I can.” Luke told him and disappeared into the growing twilight.

  This time, the wait was longer. Night fell and the stars came out in the sky like so many diamonds twinkling in the cloudless sky above the desert. The path of the Milky Way was distinct, it almost seemed that one could have reached out and touched it. Mark squinted at the western horizon in the direction in which he knew the comet would be coming. The sky was familiar and without the slightest hint that anything was amiss. When the sounds of tinkling bells approached, interrupting his musings, he saw a line of blue lights bobbing toward him across the battlefield. The elven King had brought a sizable entourage with him. Mark disappeared into the interior of the tent and waited for them to arrive. He had no idea how his doppelganger would react to him. He had managed to avoid him successfully so far, but he had simply been putting off the inevitable meeting until a more opportune moment. Now, he felt there would never be an opportune moment and his palms were actually sweating as he waited to see who would come to see him first. He sat drumming his fingers on the table in the light of a single electric lantern.

  Simon stepped inside the tent and came to take a seat next to him.

  “Do you think this is a good idea?” The priest asked him at once out the corner of his mouth.

  “It has to be done. I should get it over with.”

  “But how do you feel about Sophia? I know that you were… interested in her at one time.” Simon looked away from him.

  “It was nothing.”

  “It was something. It has never been nothing with you, Brother. I know you.”

  “It should have been nothing. It will be nothing.”

  “Which would you see first or both together?” Simon eyed him doubtfully. “Do you want me to stay?”

  “I would appreciate your company, but I would appreciate your silence.” Mark told him bluntly. “Sophia, first.”

  “Done.” Simon got up and went to call the woman inside. She entered much as Luke Andrew had done… with great caution. When she saw him, she drew a sharp breath in spite of herself.

  “Sir Ramsay.” She nodded and took a seat across from where Simon sat.

  “Sophia.” He rummaged about on the floor and came up with a bag of plastic cups. A rarity, indeed. He put out three of them and then produced another rare commodity. Red wine. Jozsef had traveled in style.

  “Thank you.” She took the cup and drank it down as if she were thirsting to death.

  “I’m sorry for disturbing your rest. I know we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.” He said slowly.

  “It was no problem. I was expecting it sooner or later.”

  “I want to thank you, first of all, for seeing after your charge.”

  “My charge? Is that what you call him?” Sophia raised one eyebrow.

  “I didn’t call you here to fight with you.” His face reddened. “I don’t know what to call him.”

  “Try his name. It should be familiar to you.” She offered.

  “All right then. It doesn’t matter. He can keep it. It is, after all, his and not mine. I was merely borrowing it. All that aside, thank you for helping him. I will cut right to the chase and ask you to continue to help him. He loves you, no doubt.”

  “No doubt.” She nodded.

  “Good. And you? Do you love him?”

  “How could I not?” She smiled genuinely. “He is a good catch.”

  Mark’s embarrassment deepened. She was not making it any easier.

  “I’m sure he is not quite so abrasive as I tend to be.” He agreed.

  “He is as pure as the driven snow, like a child, which brings me to what I would like to say for all the good it will do. I don’t know what you intend to say to him, but I hope you will not confuse him anymore than necessary. He was quite shocked when he met Luke Andrew, and he was even more perturbed when he saw Luke Matthew, whom, by the way, I thought was very rude to him. He could have at least acknowledged him. He is bewildered by all of this and his feelings are easily hurt. He loves for people to speak to him. He thinks it an honor to converse with men.”

  “That is interesting.” Mark pursed his lips. “You will have to forgive my brother… his brother, Luke Matthew. I believe the shock was mutual. Luke is not a callous man. He will come around. I promise. In fact, he has sworn to protect the both of you and you should not take such an oath lightly. He would not make it, if he did not mean it.”

  “That is a comfort.” Sophia said and frowned at Simon. The priest sat stone-faced across from her. She wondered why he was there.

  “I also wish to tell you two more things.” Mark said abruptly. “One is that I love you, Sophia, and I will do everything in my power to see that you are safe in all that you do, wherever you go, I will never be far from you.”

  This announcement astounded her and shocked Simon as well. Sophia could not look at him or Simon. She had not expected this. She stared at her empty glass. Her attitude had been one of defensive defiance. She had expected to lose Mark now, once and for all. Expected them to whisk him away in one direction and send her in another.

  “Secondly,” Mark rushed on, “I know this is quite sudden, but you are pregnant and you must be very careful.”

  Sophia’s mouth fell open in absolute surprise. Simon’s eyebrows shot up, but he made no comment as promised.

  “When the time comes, I expect Father Simon to attend you.” He glanced at Simon. “It will not be an easy birth, but the results will be well worth the trouble.”

  “That is a terrible thing to simply dump on me, Mark Andrew,” Sophia started to get up and he caught her arm. “This is preposterous! How would you know?”

  Simon coughed and cleared his throat, obviously bursting to say something, but he had promised.

  “I am only trying to be honest. Your husband will be a good father and he knows that his son will be special…” Mark tried not to smile at her. “I’ve heard it on good authority.”

  “His son?” Sophia fell sitting on the over-turned bucket. “It is not your son?”

  “Look,” Mark gazed up at the tent poles. “I know this is no hillside in Judea and I am no singing cherubim, and I don’t have the personal magnetism of Gabriel, but I am telling you the same thing. Consider it a message from God.”

  “Saints preserve us!” Simon almost shouted and then clamped his hand over his mouth.

  “Simon!” Mark frowned at him, and Simon nodded his head like a child.

  “Father Simon knows what I am talking about if you have any questions.” Mark returned his attention to the petrified woman.

  “But this is ridiculous. I am no Virgin Mary.” She raised her voice and then leaned forward. “Impossible!”

  “Not impossible. Just… unusual. He was the virgin, not you.” Mark had to suppress the smile again. “Didn’t anyone ever warn you to be careful what you wish for?”

  Sophia covered her face with her hands.

  “How did you know? Were you there?” She asked quietly.

  “Not exactly. Just trust me.” Mark stood up and took her hand. He pulled her from her seat and hugged her briefly before kissing her lips. “Don’t be angry with him, Sophia. He will make a good husband.”

  Sophia shook her head slowly.

  “Good bye, Sophia.” Mark pushed her slightly toward the tent flap. “Take care and remember that God is with you.”

  She continued to shake her head as she stumbled toward the flaps.

  “Go and fetch Mark Andrew Ramsay.” He told Simon when she wa
s gone.

  Simon stood up, swayed and then caught the edge of the table.

  Mark touched his arm and then withdrew his hand as Simon cringed from him visibly.

  “Please do not touch me, My Lord.” Simon looked down at the table.

  “Simon, don’t do this.” Mark’s eyes filled with tears. “Don’t desert me now.”

  “I can’t do this.” Simon shook his head.

  “Yes, you can. Now go on.”

  Simon walked slowly to the flaps of the tent and came back shortly, following behind Mark’s mirror image. The first eye contact was like an electric shock, and then Sophia’s Mark fell on his knees and closed his eyes tightly as if waiting for the death blow… again.

  “Simon!” Mark Andrew jerked his head toward the terrified man. “Pick him up.”

  The priest pulled him from the floor and helped him into the chair at the head of the table. He would not open his eyes and held onto the arms of the chair with all his might.

  Mark Andrew walked the length of the table and stopped. This was not going to work.

  “Brother.” He said quietly. “Wait for him outside.”

  Simon rushed out of the tent and dropped the flap behind him. Mark knelt beside the chair and placed one hand on his image’s arm.

  “Look at me, Mark Ramsay.” He leaned close to him and took his chin in his other hand. “Look at me!”

  Mark snapped his dark blue eyes open and stared directly into his own face. They locked eyes briefly and then both dropped their heads in mirror fashion. Mark stood up and placed his hand on the other’s head.

  “Thank you.” He said quietly.

  The other looked up at him intensely.

  “Thank you?” He repeated the simple phrase. “Is that all you have to say after so many years?”

  “What would you have me say?”

  Mark turned on his heel and left him sitting at the table. No one moved or said a word when he exited the tent and walked away into the darkness.