“You are in the land of the dead, but it is not the heaven you may have read about or been told.” Richard took her hand in his. It was soft and warm like William’s. “Walk with me for a while.”
Nadira locked her step with his and they sauntered over the grassy field. A bright sun shown down upon them and a fresh breeze lifted the strands of her hair and blew them around her face. “This is very like Andalusia,” she said to him. “I was in heaven as a child and did not know it.”
Richard squeezed her hand. “This is my heaven you are sharing at the moment. It can be anything I desire. Wait and I will show you.” They stopped and as she looked about her the landscape changed, becoming darker and colder. Hills grew up among the grasses, trees sprouted out of the ground growing thirty years in a few seconds. Soon they stood in a leafy forest, the bright sun a mere memory. Filtered light spangled the ground before their feet as Richard led her forward again. “This is where I grew up. I played in this wood until I was put in long pants and sent to university.” He tilted his head and smiled at her with such love that Nadira had to stop and put her hands to his face.
“Richard, you are so sorely missed by all. Even now your brother is in agony for your sake. His heart is quite broken and I fear it will never heal. I wish he were here to see you. It is he who needs to be walking with you in the wood. As much as I rejoice to see you whole and well here in this beautiful place, I cannot have peace while he suffers so.”
Richard’s eyes lost their merry twinkle. “I have felt his pain, and many times I have tried to come to him and tell him I am happy here. I have entered his dreams, but he casts me out as soon as I enter. I cannot speak to him. His grief colors the ether around him and creates an impassable wall that I cannot penetrate. If I brought him here he would not see a grassy plain or a cool shaded wood as we do. His fear and guilt would create a hellish environment full of war and disease and death. There would be no comfort in his visit, Princess. None. This is why I called for you.”
“You called for me? Can the dead do that?”
“We call, but not all can hear. I have been asking for you, but you did not respond before. That is why I was so excited, and though your eyes did not recognize me at first, your heart did. That is how you can be here so easily, otherwise you might find it difficult to travel without a guide. Because I was calling for you, you came. Do you understand?”
He embraced her again. “I want to thank you for your kindness to me in my last days. You gave me what I needed so badly and you gave it so freely and sincerely. Until your soft hands soothed my hurts I had not known a woman could touch more than a man’s flesh. Your eyes contained so much of your gentle soul that my pain was eased just looking into them.”
Richard smiled shyly. “Every woman I knew in my life had been a fool, Nadira, always whining and complaining or prattling on about silly matters. You showed me something important I did not learn from books. We wrong all of humanity by keeping women from the halls of learning. The emptiness of their minds is then filled with superstition or unhealthy religion. It is only now, here in death, that I know this.”
“But you must know that all women are not so reduced to poverty of the mind.”
“And I do know this now. I see the women of Greece and Egypt and Anatolia. I can see the women in the convents of Bavaria and Prussia and the wealthy ones in their towers. And here is what I was sent to tell you. The women of Elysium are calling for you, but you are not listening. Just as Robin will not hear my voice, your love for him is deafening you to their call. They have sent me to find you and send you to them. They will welcome you and it is there you will find all your answers. They have the knowledge and wisdom you seek. It is yours already, you must merely show yourself to them, yet you travel to Istanbul instead.”
Nadira dropped his hands. “My love for him?”
Richard’s face became serious. “It should not be so. Love should never be an obstacle but always a companion of hope. I admit I do not understand what they mean, for I am not a woman. They say that they cannot penetrate your wall of emotion to get their message to you. If you would read the book again they could speak,” Richard took back her hands. “Or taste the elixir of Elysium. That would take you to them as well.”
“I may.” She thought about DiMarco’s vials and this reminded her why she was here. “How much time do I have?” she asked.
“Time has stopped, Princess. We can linger in this place for an eternity and you will still return at the moment you left. Do not rob me of your company so soon. I have something else to tell you.”
Nadira put her hand on the arm he offered her and they continued down the path. They strolled in silence for a long time before Richard said very softly, “Massey is in Alexandria.”
“No!” Nadira covered her ears with both hands, though she knew she was not using them to hear Richard’s words. “Stop! Do not tell me this! I don’t want to hear this.”
“One cannot unhear what one has heard, Princess.”
“Even here,” she cried, “you cannot release the idea of vengeance.” She stopped and fell to her knees in the soft leaves.
Richard knelt beside her. “Tell my brother. He has been begging you for this information. He is a man who never begs, yet you refuse his pleas.”
“And you will be satisfied if he is killed trying to avenge your murder?”
“Massey cannot kill him.”
“What? The dead know all things?” Nadira snapped at him, “I have learned that nothing is predestined, and the idea of destiny is a crutch for those who refuse to direct their own lives!”
“Do not be angry with me, Princess.”
“Stop calling me ‘Princess’! I am angry that even after death the horrors of life continue to haunt you.”
Richard put his arms around her and held her to his chest. There was no sound of a heartbeat. “The horror of my death does not haunt me. I bear no ill will toward Massey. I do not long for his death, for as you see, death and life are not the end and the beginning.”
“Then why entreat me to send your brother into such danger? I have been trying to gentle him into forgiveness.”
“You cannot tame him. He is not malleable to forgiveness. Surely you know this already,” he added tenderly. “He will destroy himself from the inside if he is not permitted to confront Massey and fight him.”
“And die?”
Richard laughed mirthlessly. “It is not about death! Stop thinking so! Only when he has Massey face to face will my brother be at peace. Do you see? He is killing himself right now. He does not need an enemy to do that.” Richard’s eyes became somber. “I can see you do not understand. I will try to explain. Robin is healthy, alive. His heart beats, his arms and legs are strong and solid. But inside he is slowly dying. His soul is cracked, Princess, and when his body eventually dies he will not find me here. He will go somewhere dark and cold and alone. You will not be able to find him with an elixir. He will be lost. Do you see now?”
“I know he suffers…all can see it.” Nadira tightened her lips, remembering her lord’s face at table. The strong drink only deepened the lines around his mouth and eyes.
Richard continued, “He must face Massey. Until he does he will feel he has failed, and that failure is destroying him. One day you will wake up beside him and not recognize the man you love. Only a shell will remain.”
She looked into his eyes, hoping to see deception. With her mind she sent a tendril of herself into his chest, probing for falsehood. Nothing. He was true. In return she felt him enter her heart with his own spirit. He felt comfortable inside her; the way one feels when one enters a warm house after being out in a cold storm.
She said, “How can murder be justified? Another man will be dead. Probably more than one. He will have to cut through all of Massey’s crew, perhaps innocent sailors who were not involved. How can their deaths ease his hurt? How can such violent murder salve his failure?”
“Princess. Are you telling me that you
are going to use your vast abilities to try to defeat Death himself? You will prevent Death from raking in his harvest? You believe you can stop Death from taking even a single person whose time has come? Perhaps Robin acts as the hand of God. How would you know? You may be a princess, but you are not God.”
Nadira opened her mouth to reply, and then closed it. For the first time a great realization overtook her: a great vision of the proper place for all people and the way the world fit everything into place. It was not the act of murder that would save her lord. It was the idea of justice. She pushed herself away from him and staggered to her feet. Yet Robert is not the judge.
She shook those thoughts from her mind and brought herself back to task. “I nearly forgot my purpose, Richard. I have come here to find someone who also is in the land of the dead.”
He rose from the ground and brushed the leaves from his legs. “I have seen no other but my teacher. I have been very lonely.”
“Lonely? Is there not a multitude of the dead to populate heaven?”
“It is not that way. We are each of us alone until we have learned…I don’t know...something. I haven’t learned it yet. But we have no company but our gentle teachers until that time.” His face was sad for a moment, and then brightened. “But there are more books to read here than you can imagine. I am still working my way through heaven’s library, Princess, and it is vast. Tell Robin about Massey. Tell him.”
“Never. I will heal his hurts with love, not deepen them with thoughts of vengeance.”
Richard shook his head and repeated, “It does not work that way. I cannot make you understand. You are not truly here; you have not died yet. You bring here beliefs about reality from your physical existence there. How can I explain eternity to one who still sleeps and wakes in rhythm with the sun and moon? You are here because I called for you.”
She looked at him with despair. “How can encouraging him to violence be the correct path? I have learned that brutality shuts the mind against all progress. It swerves the soul away from this path.”
Richard stared at her. “Now they are calling you from below.”
“Tell me if I may find one who has died and bring her back with me,” she asked him urgently as she began to feel the familiar tug at the back of her neck that signaled she would soon be back in her body.
“Only a necromancer may harrow hell and reap a soul back to the land of the living. The gates of hell must be propped open by one who dwells there. You need a special book to call for a demon if you would force a soul to return to be visible to the living. She would appear as a flimsy shade and then return.” He looked around the vast library that formed around him. “That kind of book is not here.”
“Hell? What if I seek someone in heaven?”
“There is no heaven but the ones we make. Most who die find themselves in hell at first. They must find their own way out and create a heaven for themselves. Once there they will not leave. Only those in hell can be persuaded to leave it.”
“And you?”
“I never believed in hell.” He shrugged. “I felt little guilt. I pity every soul who does. I grieve for those who must punish themselves to atone for their sins. Their sojourn in hell can last forever.” He looked at her with his brother’s eyes.
He and his library faded and was replaced by Corbett’s face peering down at her. He smiled when she opened hers. “Good. I see you have been far away. Have you been successful?”
“Yes and no,” she answered truthfully. He helped her to sit up. She put a hand to her head. “My head aches. This is not how I usually feel after a journey.”
Corbett’s eyes grew concerned. He turned to look at the riverbank and back to her. “The others will be joining us soon. Can you tell me if we will be able to raise Madam DiMarco?”
“I have been to the land of the dead. It is a vast landscape and there is no map,” she answered. “And I have been told that I cannot raise Madam and bring her to the land of the living without a book to call for her.” She blinked at him. “A necromancer’s book.”
Corbett nodded slowly. “As I thought.” He took her hand. “But there is a map. The Grimoire is the map. I had hoped you might be able to circumvent that requirement, but you have confirmed what I have learned over my many years of study. The land of the dead is not like the hills and valleys we travel in our bodies. Here, the sea and the mountains remain firmly in place. Men can climb the mountains and sail the seas and then carefully draw maps so that other men can follow them. But in the land of the dead the landscape changes with every thought. Souls travel a landscape of the mind that cannot be navigated without a grimoire. Once there, the demons who reside in that place will not want you to leave. If you cannot do it without the book, no one can.” He sighed. “How do we convince DiMarco that we are a better source than the sultan’s necromancer? The magus has the book. We do not.”
Nadira squeezed his hand. “But you say you will get it. I will read it.” She frowned at him. “How do you plan to obtain it? I imagine the price to be…exorbitant. I have doubts the necromancer would sell it.”
Corbett’s cheek twitched. “No. This book cannot be bought and sold. It must be earned.” He touched her chin with his gloved finger. “I want the elixirs. They provide the door. The book provides the map. You provide the transport. I must have all three together to bring de Molay to me.” He stared hard at her. “The fee I pay is in the form of favors and protection and acquisitions…and it is willingly paid. You must understand me. I will pay for the book in other ways than gold.”
“I do.” She glanced at DiMarco and Calvin sitting some distance away. “You could just take the elixirs. I will find a spirit to tell us what they are. He cannot be trusted.”
“I am no thief.” Corbett set his jaw. “If I steal them, I will not be pure of heart and therefore de Molay will not tell me his secrets. All true knowledge is gained honestly, Nadira. Power that is borrowed or stolen is never really yours to use. I have learned that much.”
“You are certain de Molay is in hell, and not among the dead in their land?”
“I am not certain of anything anymore, but those in the past who have made this attempt before me have returned unsuccessful from the land of the dead. De Molay can only be in hell or they would have found him before now.”
“Then what shall we do?”
Corbett tapped his knee. “As you say, I now have the Hermetica. It is mine by right, for the Knights of the Temple compiled it and bound it. I could return to my house and brew my own elixirs.” He made a wry face. “But as DiMarco said, it would take years to collect the plants, brew the potions, then test them. I am old. I may die before I am successful. Calvin is strong and passionate but does not know herb craft. He cannot do it. You would be gone. Your baron would take you away in the meantime. You would swell with his child and no longer care to travel to the land of the dead when you hold new life in your arms.”
Nadira did not tell him it was unlikely she would swell with child. Instead she prompted, “We must encourage DiMarco to join us, then. Transfer his intent from the sultan to us.”
They both turned to eye DiMarco again. “We may have ruined that avenue,” Corbett murmured. “How can he see himself as anything but a hostage? Look at him. He is bound hand and foot.”
Nadira gave him a sly smile. “Unbind him. Hold the elixirs hostage instead. He will follow willingly.”
“Can we afford to take that risk? If he travels to Constantinople without us, he will gain admittance to the sultan’s magus and turn him against us. I do not wish to spend my energies in defense against so powerful an enemy.”
“You have laid out the options yourself.”
Corbett sighed. “Very well.” He stood and pulled her to her feet with him. “Let us release our prisoner and tell him he is free to go…or stay.”
DiMarco rubbed his wrists and ankles with exaggerated motions before standing and straightening his velvet hat. “I wish you had seen the folly of your action
s before today,” he grumbled.
“I have apologized,” Corbett answered calmly. “My reader has assured me that you will come willingly if I hold your treasures myself.”
The alchemist checked the buttons on his doublet one by one. “I know her abilities.” He straightened his belt. “But she lacks experience. I do not think she will be able to go to the dead and return with what I desire. The necromancer has been there many times.”
Corbett opened his hands. “He has been to hell, perhaps, but Senore, is not what you desire in heaven?”
DiMarco stopped. He raised his eyes slowly to the Templar’s. Nadira saw the struggle there. Heaven? Hell? Are they two places or one place with many rooms?
Corbett pressed him, “The necromancer may not gain entrance to the heavenly spheres. His soul is corrupted, polluted with the greed and lust of the living. He has not been saved by the blood of our Lord, Jesus Christ.”
DiMarco snapped his eyes at them, “Neither has she, a godless Barbary--”
“Stop!” Corbett took her hand in his. “Look at her, DiMarco.”
DiMarco refused. He was breathing hard with emotion, his face red and puffed with conflicting thoughts and warring decisions.
The knight continued, “You have been inside her mind. Tell me she is corrupt.”
DiMarco’s doublet rose and fell with his turmoil. He covered his eyes with one hand, then squeezed the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger in frustration.
Corbett met her eyes and nodded toward the alchemist. Nadira obediently extended a silver tendril from her heart to DiMarco’s. The old man inhaled deeply and held his breath as her shining thread entered his body. Slowly he let his breath out and a blissful expression made its way across his face, relaxing his features. “She is beautiful,” he whispered. “She shines with a blue light…like the Madonna.”
“How can Our Lord turn her away from the gates of heaven?” Corbett asked him. “Will the sultan’s magus enter as easily? Will God forgive you for seeking the service of the infidel sorcerer?”
The Necromancer's Grimoire Page 8
