Patrick regarded it with fascination. “You’ve kept it all these years?”
Lucan laughed. “No, it was lost to me early on. It’s been traveling the world almost as much as I, but on a separate path. I had heard it came to rest in the hands of the German kings, but I didn’t believe it until the German kings became the emperors of the Holy Roman Empire—for it is said any who wield the spear will be undefeated. The empire grew at an incredible rate. So I offered myself into the empire’s employ to help usher in the end of the world.
“And I waited... and waited. When the Salian Dynasty came to the throne, the spear no longer helped in battle. The emperors kept this a secret, but still managed to use it as a threat in negotiations. By the time Emperor Henry Salian took the throne, he had come to see the relic as a quaint antique, a useless symbol, which he squandered. Last I knew it rested in his treasury. His son snuck it out to give to Teodorico to give to me in the hopes it would help me take the cup.”
“It worked,” Patrick pointed out. “Until now, only Chansonne could touch it. Now you can. Perhaps we could use that to our advantage.”
“The spear touched it, not I,” Lucan argued. “You prevented me from following through on my experiment.”
Patrick motioned for him to try again and they approached the altar.
Lucan tapped the cup again, making the tinging noise, but still his hand passed through it, even while holding the spearhead. The smell of roses filled the air.
“I was afraid of that,” Lucan said. “I still cannot hold the cup. It only teases.”
“I guess a broken spear just doesn’t hold the same power over destiny as a complete spear,” Patrick mused out loud.
Lucan’s head snapped up.
“I think you may have something there,” he said, and reached inside his tunic and pulled out an object affixed to his neck by a leather strap.
“Is that what I think it is?” Patrick gasped, eyes widening at the sight of the jagged piece of metal.
Lucan matched the two pieces together. “Perhaps if we complete it, destiny will be on our side.”
“You’ve had it all this time.” Patrick shook his head. “It wasn’t ‘assumed’ into heaven as you claimed. Why?”
Lucan turned the bit of metal over in his hand, smiling ruefully. “I was in the employ of the Empire long enough to see they had become bogged down in politics and were not going to bring the apocalypse I hoped. When Emperor Henry sent me to Antioch to retrieve the tip, I had already decided not to give it to him. I had planned to wait for a better emperor to come along. Unfortunately, his son, the younger Henry, was no more promising.”
Lucan’s smile turned roguish. “But then Lilith found me and told me of Teodorico’s plan and I knew I had found my man. The power of an empire coupled with religious fervor around the cup? That I believed.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t hard for her to convince me. She found me at my lowest. Also, I guess it was a way of having control in a world where I felt none. It was my way of telling the emperor to toss off.”
“Lillith?” Patrick frowned.
“Lilliana,” Lucan explained. “Lilith is her real name.”
“What is she? How does she fit into all this?” Patrick asked, newly angry.
“She is immortal,” Lucan said, “and far older a creature than I. She has existed since the dawn of time, and she, too, finds no peace until the world ends. Her motives are almost identical to mine.”
“She is a demon?”
Lucan mulled that over, taking his time to respond. “Something else. She was once human. She is cursed. Did you know in the Garden of Eden, Adam had a wife before Eve?”
Patrick shook his head.
“God fashioned a woman from clay and breathed life into her, just as Adam,” Lucan continued. “God named her Lilith. Adam was the first creature to have free will, and Lilith had an abundance of it. She was to be the mother of the world, to be a companion to Adam. Though she wanted children well enough, she was much too independent and wanted her own identity, separate from Adam’s.”
Lucan screwed up his lip and raised his eyebrows. “Apparently, when your gift is to help start a world and you turn your back on it, God takes offense. So, she was cast out of Eden and cursed with immortality so she could ponder her rebelliousness for all time. God also cursed her with barrenness, giving her immortal life but with no ability to make it. The years twisted her, turning her into a monster. They say the Devil found her and made her an offer; gave her powers like a demon so she could exact her vengeance on mankind, especially women, the daughters of Eve. She has a particular hatred for women who can bear children.”
Patrick watched the play of emotions across Lucan’s face and thought he recognized them.
“You love her, don’t you?” Patrick said.
“Once, but no longer.” He hung his head. “We had our time, and because we did, I know there is still goodness deep down inside her. There is, as you say, hope.”
Patrick wanted to scoff at that notion, considering what she had done, but suppressed it and changed the subject.
“And she found an instrument to manipulate in Teodorico?” Patrick surmised.
Lucan nodded. “We are the willing damned, chasing each other in circles.”
“No,” Patrick said confidently and clapped Lucan on the shoulder, “we will break that circle. Come with me to the council chambers. Let’s see if we can reforge the spear, and forge our destinies.”
#
Within the hour, Patrick presented Lucan to Father Hugh, Sir Corbin, and Mother Superior and explained the situation.
“After some vigorous discussions,” Patrick vouched, rubbing his swollen cheek, “I’m certain Lucan is truly in our camp.”
To reinforce this, Lucan laid the spear and tip on the table in the council chamber. He took a knee, hung his head, and begged forgiveness. The council regarded the fragments and him with open mouths. Father Hugh reverently touched the relics.
“You are Longinus?” Father Hugh said in wonder. “So the legends are true. You walk the earth still, and now you are here.”
Only Mother Superior seemed to have moved beyond her awe. “It makes sense. Avalon attracts the supernatural like a flame among moths.”
Corbin shook with excitement. “Yes, we can use this. This is the miracle we’ve been waiting for. With these we can lead a successful assault on the trebuchet. Patrick, did you not say it was the tip alone that led the crusaders to victory at Antioch? Imagine what we can do with both pieces.”
“With a little work first, perhaps,” Patrick cautioned.
“What do you mean?”
Patrick nodded to Lucan who stood and addressed the council, explaining the true nature of Lilliana.
“She has the power of a demon,” he finished his summary to the shocked faces. “If a battle for the trebuchet swings in Greensprings’s favor, she undoubtedly will enter the battle in her monster form, and the spear pieces will not stop her.”
“But a reforged spear will,” Patrick added.
Lucan nodded in agreement. “It will not kill her, but it will harm her, evening the odds.”
“Long enough for the spear to shatter the trebuchet launch chain into pieces.”
“Chansonne’s voice will keep Lilith back from our walls,” Corbin mused out loud, “and a reforged spear will give us a battlefield advantage. Both will buy us time.”
The assembled leaders looked to one another and nodded.
“How long will it take to reforge the spear?” Mother Superior asked.
“Hours, no more than a day I reckon,” Corbin replied.
“Make it so,” she commanded, and she kissed the blade.
#
Not surprisingly, the keep smith was named Smith.
He assessed the metal in his hand and stated, “It can be done, but it won’t be quite the same. There will be a weld-scar at the seam, and it could be weak at that location as well.”
“But it can be done,” Corbi
n confirmed, pulling at his collar to relieve the heat from standing so near the forge. “How long?”
Smith chewed his lower lip. “Four hours?”
“Excellent,” Corbin said, “Set to it then and—”
Before he could finish, a rumbling filled the air and a shout went up from the wall.
They exited the smithy’s forge just in time to watch in shock as a fiery meteor shot through the sky, just clearing the keep’s tallest tower. Even from the sky, it still bathed them in its heat. It disappeared over the western wall and sent a rumble through the dirt as it landed.
“Greek fire,” Corbin breathed, despair creeping into his voice. “We’re out of time. The trebuchet is operational.”
“Not quite,” Patrick pointed out. “That was a test shot. The engine is too close and overshot us. They will need to move the engine back at least five hundred paces, which will be no easy feat with an engine that size. We have time, perhaps just enough.”
Corbin nodded and turned to Smith. “Hurry, but don’t take any risks. We need that spear solid and in one piece.”
Sir Waylan and Sir Brian rushed up then.
“We have a problem,” they said.
“Clearly,” Corbin replied, jerking his thumb in the direction of the fireball.
“Not just that,” Brian elaborated with deep sadness. He and Waylan exchanged a pained glance. “They’ve captured Sir Jon.”
Chapter Eighteen
When they mounted the wall, they found Philip standing just within shouting distance and a group of Lost Boys behind him, making a wall of shields.
When Patrick and Corbin appeared, Philip gestured to his men and they parted to reveal a bedraggled Sir Jon on his knees with hands tied behind his back. His face was bloody and beaten, and his new Avangarde surcoat was dirty and torn at the collar.
“What do you want?” Corbin called.
“You know what I want, but I don’t expect you to give it to me over one knight,” Philip called back.
“Then, why bother?”
Patrick turned to Fletcher at his side. The archer predicted his question and shook his head.
“Because you’ve angered me,” Philip answered coldly, “and I wish to demonstrate my displeasure.”
“That won’t be necessary, Philip,” Corbin argued. “Hang on to Jon, and after a battle or two, we’ll undoubtedly have some of your men as prisoners and we can make an exchange.”
“If you ever capture my men,” Philip replied, taking out his dagger, “feel free to kill them for me for their failure. I would expect no less. This is about communication. This is about communicating to you exactly what you can expect when you defy me. When you try to sneak around me. When you trample my men in their tents after a long day’s work.”
He sauntered up to Jon.
Fletcher nocked an arrow and took aim, but bit his lip and shook his head in frustration.
Philip’s men readied their shields.
Philip grabbed Jon by the hair and the half-conscious knight moaned.
“Philip!” Patrick shouted when he raised the blade. “We both know what you really want! Release Jon and I will come down to you!”
“Patrick!” Corbin hissed.
Though his helmet’s visor covered his eyes, Philip’s wicked smile conveyed a world of malice. “Oh no, Patrick. You will be the last to die. After you see everyone you care about die first. You will know what it means to be helpless. To fail.”
Philip jerked Jon’s head up and bared his throat.
“Patrick,” Jon called weakly, “it’s okay. I’m going home now.”
Philip and the Lost Boys laughed.
With Jon’s words, the bottom fell out of Patrick’s stomach and he moaned. Nevertheless, he still hoped somehow...
Philip ran the blade across Jon’s throat. A crimson chasm formed, gushing blood.
A berserker’s rage engulfed Patrick and his vision turned as red as the blood spouting onto the earth. “Damn! No! Jon!” A long string of nonsense frothed out of Patrick’s mouth. He lost all sense and it barely registered in his mind his comrades struggled to restrain him as he attempted to jump over the wall in his passion.
Philip’s smile did not waver as he let Jon’s twitching body slump to the side. He bent over and used the edge of Jon’s cape to wipe his blade.
As the immediate rage subsided, Patrick could not believe his ears at what he heard next.
“Philip,” Corbin called, “you’ve communicated well to me just now the difficulty of our situation. I have a certain perspective I didn’t have a moment ago. Perhaps it’s time we talk about how we can all get what we want.”
Patrick shook his head as if the act would make him understand better. Surely Corbin could not be suggesting what he thought? He distantly noted how remarkably calm Corbin remained.
Philip shrugged. “Send over the girl in the white dress to negotiate with the pope.”
“No,” Corbin explained, “this discussion will be just for us soldiers. The men who matter.”
“Very well, I’m listening,” Philip returned.
“No,” Corbin continued. “I will not shout at you like this, among so many ears.”
“You can’t negotiate with him! Not after what he just did!”
Corbin waved Patrick off, keeping his eyes on Philip as he continued, “Five of us will come down to you unarmed, and five of you can meet us halfway, unarmed. Have a group of horsemen behind you. They can cut us down if our archers start to fire on you.”
Philip bobbed his helmed head. “Agreed. Twenty minutes.”
“You can’t be serious!” Patrick shouted in disbelief.
Corbin turned on Patrick and drew his dagger and growled. “Listen! I need you to trust me right now!”
Corbin lifted his hands and attempted to cut another mark in his gauntlet. His hands shook. Patrick saw the number of marks cut stretched from the tip of his thumb to his wrist.
“Do you think I want to do this?” Corbin said between clenched teeth, and gave up trying to cut the mark. “Do you think I enjoy watching my friends die? I never asked to be Steward of Greensprings, nor to be leader, but the duty fell to me. Sometimes we must make the best of what lot we cast. I have a plan, so please, just go down there with me. All will make sense soon.”
He said this last while giving Patrick a piercing stare.
Patrick ground his teeth, hoping Corbin’s plan was good enough. Together, they descended to the gate and handed their swords and daggers over to their comrades.
“Fletcher, I don’t think I need to tell you what needs done if they don’t hold up their end of the bargain,” Corbin said.
The tall archer nodded.
When Philip’s horsemen had arrived, the gates rattled open. Woodenly, Patrick followed Corbin and three others out to parley. Among them Patrick recognized Jeremie Le Beau and Jon de Lorraine. When they came within a few paces of each other, they stopped. Patrick looked away, so angry he had to cross his arms to keep his hands from striking out at Jon’s murderers.
“I’d like to make you an offer, but I don’t think Teodorico will like it,” Corbin declared.
“If you’re trying to bribe me, it won’t work,” Philip replied. “I assure you the pope has made it very clear what will happen to me if I don’t put the cup in his hands.”
“He will have the cup. You see, I plan on giving it to him.”
Patrick grew dizzy with disbelief. “What! You can’t do that! How could—!”
“Patrick! I am in charge here. It is my decision. Do not question my authority. I don’t need to explain myself. Trust me!” Corbin shouted, stabbing a finger at Patrick.
Patrick felt the blood drain out of his face and the paralysis of shock overcame him. Philip smiled at the reaction.
“I don’t see how Teodorico obtaining the cup will disappoint him,” he said.
“Because you are going to refuse to destroy Greensprings once he has it,” Corbin replied. “You see, I don’t care for
the cup anymore and the troubles it has brought us. I care for the lives of the people behind these walls. When Teodorico has the cup, he is still going to order you to destroy us to satisfy his petty ego. You may very well be successful, but it will cost you, I promise. You can avoid all that by taking Greensprings’s considerable treasures without a fight because we handed it to you. Just leave us in peace.”
Philip’s lip curled. “I’ve already escaped one excommunication. I don’t care to have another because I refused a pope’s demands.”
“There is enough treasure in Greensprings to pay off Teodorico and soothe his anger,” Corbin explained, “with enough left over to buy your father’s kingdom back. You shouldn’t have any trouble changing Teodorico’s mind. He is a greedy politician, I’m sure you know the type. Every day he keeps you in his employ is a day he has to feed and supply you, which I’m sure is a costly affair. If he has the cup, which is all he really wants, he will go back to the mainland merry, and with more coin in his purse to show for it. Besides, flattening an unknown castle on an island no one believes exists does not benefit him politically, so why would he bother?”
Philip pursed his lips and his head bobbed.
“I think I like this plan,” he said at last.
Patrick felt blood return to his face, this time threatening to boil out his eyes. He opened his mouth to protest, but Corbin spun on him.
“Shut it! Now!” he shouted.
“Ja, Patrick,” Philip jeered, “listen to your betters.”
“Are we agreed, Philip?” Corbin asked.
“Agreed.”
“Very well, then. Is that Teodorico’s tent there, on that hillock?” Corbin said, pointing to a large white canopy.
“Ja, it is,” Philip said. “You can bring the girl and cup there.”
“Not the girl,” Corbin clarified. “We captured Lucan trying to sneak out with the cup. For whatever reason, he can hold it.”
Philip froze, pondering the veracity of this news, looking for a ruse.
“You can confirm with Teodorico when you give him the news,” Corbin assured. “I’m sure he will tell you that is precisely why Lucan joined our side, to act as a spy and thief.”
Ripples in the Chalice: A Tale of Avalon (Tales of Avalon Book 2) Page 45
