by J A Deriu
Later, Jack sat on the roof alone. He looked over the darkened and silent town. Only far in the distance could the bobbing lamp of a night watchman be seen looking for any lawbreakers. He heard the careful steps of Gaspar approaching behind him. The Templar leader set next to him, looked at the same scene as Jack, and sighed. “I know what you are thinking, boy,” Gaspar said. “You are most likely thinking a lot of things. It was a momentous reveal. That is for certain. It is important in these times not to think too much. Trust in God. He has brought you onto this path. He will not falter.”
“I do not know what to think,” Jack said.
“A Templar will pray when his mind is like that.” He turned to look at Jack. “You must decide in your mind. Is she in the harem or not? I feel that she is not. You thought when we were on the boat that she was. Yet how could you be certain? We were too far away. You had doubt in your voice when you answered. Then, in the theater you answered with confidence that you had not seen her. This was the more compelling to me. She is not with the governess. She is not in the palace. You must move away from the quest that you had. It was not your fate. It was only with you to bring you to be in the forest at the same time as us. It woke you and made you wander the woods and see our fire. She was not your true quest. We are your true quest, Jack. Templars.” Gaspar grasped his shoulder. “These are only words from me. You must decide in your own mind. I will not say more. Perhaps if we contemplate together in silence for some time, then you can speak as you wish.” He dropped his hands to his lap and turned to face the town.
“I have contemplated and prayed over this matter,” Jack said. “Not only in these minutes but each night and at times during the day too. It has been heavy, knowing of my quest and the vow I made.” Gaspar was silent. Jack took a long breath. “She is not in this city. Joy is not my quest.” He looked across the town and then down, and closed his eyes. He could not hear Gaspar. He thought of a prayer to say in his mind to ask for forgiveness for his lying. He could not think of one. He had decided the truth differently. He was certain that it was her that he saw in the theater. She was in the palace. Yet she was not distressed. Instead, she was part of an opulent world. Why save her?
“You have done well,” Gaspar said, and Jack felt his hand on his back.
Jack nodded. “I do not fully understand this mission.”
“Yes. Say what you want to say.”
“Gunpowder. Is this really possible? What you said. A great explosion. The palace. How?”
“You would not have seen it. Gunpowder, when a lot of it is packed together and ignited – it will explode. Felix has packed enough for four great explosions. It will work. We have based everything on the secret manuals and textbooks that we have learned from. These were not easy to find, but brave men were able to obtain them. The foundations of the Great Palace are known. Others have thought about this act. None have acted. It will be us.”
“The palace will be destroyed?”
“It will be completely destroyed. It will collapse onto itself.”
“It is huge. There must be hundreds of people.”
“The palace is two things. It is a command center and a symbol. Its destruction will grant the Children of Liberty the chaos they need to rise up and take this city. Its ruins will show the country that the Ottomans are weak. That they can be attacked. That they can be defeated.”
“And how will we do this – the four of us – not Amblard, who will be guarding?”
“The gunpowder barrels have been loaded at the four main underground support pillars of the palace. These must be exploded by a fuse. Each one of us will have a fuse to light. It must be us – you may have noticed that Amblard is a fine man, but he has the mind of a young boy.”
There was noise from the landing. It was Felix who had put his head out of the opening and had seen them.
“I must go. I need to talk more to Felix before he leaves. Is there anything else?” Gaspar asked.
“How will anyone survive this? How will we survive?”
Gaspar stood. “Survival is not everything for a Templar,” he said without emotion. He turned and walked toward Felix. Shortly, they were both gone.
Jack put his head in his hands, took long breaths, and shook his head. He stopped, pulled his head away, and looked up at the stars. He tried to comprehend the gravity of what they were doing. The Templars. He was not really one of them. The awfulness of such a plan in the eyes of a brave. The awfulness of such a plan in the eyes of God. The insult to what he was taught to believe. The disaster for himself. The danger for Joy.
Chapter Thirty-One
It was supposed to be the season of spring and for there to be some warmth. Nico did not feel any. The sun was high in the sky but provided none. His breath could still be seen. He wore a fur-lined coat that gave him some comfort. He felt only unease in this terrible land. He had seen much of it and was not impressed. Why these people were fighting over this land, he could not answer. He walked away from the open window and sat on the stone bench that dominated the dark and dirt-floored room.
Count Anton was setting up a fire at the far end of the room. There was a crack as he broke another stick. A huge fireplace was black from use. “This was a great hall once,” Countess Regina said. “Your forefathers would have stayed here in their travels to inspect the empire.” Nico ignored her and turned his face to the water-stained and pockmarked wall. He did not listen as Anton joined the conversation. Regina moved in front of him. She had changed out of the traveling clothes and was dressed in a long, silvery dress that at the top curved around her neck. She had pulled her hair up and cleaned the dirt of the road from her face. “It will be a long night. Do you want something?”
“Like what?”
“There is food. We can warm turnip soup once Anton has the fire going. It is always filling.”
“Something to drink and some tobacco.”
The Mongol came into the room with his strong arms carrying heavy logs. He dropped them next to Anton and grunted. They had traveled for days since they had left the monastery, the four of them in a horse-pulled covered wagon. Anton had said that they were avoiding the main roads. They stopped at night. The Mongol slept outside under the stars. The rest of them in the wagon in a knot of bodies. During the day they made slow progress along muddy, dented roads. The others did not talk of where they were going, and Nico did not ask, but he knew that they were traveling farther into the land of the Russians and to somewhere of importance. They passed fields, barns, and few people. When they did see villagers and farmers, the count shook his head and said that they were ignorant of the world. Late one night the count and the countess left the fire to talk to a man who had ridden along the road toward them, stopped, and eyed the camp. He was covered by a cloak. His head turned momentarily to look toward Nico, but it was too dark to see his face. They talked to the man and then returned to the camp without explanation.
The next morning, they journeyed on the worst road, which twisted its way up hilly and heavily treed country. They had to break and rest the horses many times. In the afternoon they arrived at a large house that sat atop the hilltop. From a distance it looked deserted, but it was not. There were more monks and nuns living among its many rooms. And chickens, goats, and pigs in the courtyard. It had high stone walls and a fountain with no water, overgrown by weeds. They set up in rooms on the top story of the house. It was obvious that they were to stay there for some time. Nico smiled when he found a clean bathroom with running water, a waist-high basin, and soap. Deep into the night, the countess came to his room. Her body was warm. He was forgetting Isabella.
Regina handed him a flask and lit a cigarette between her teeth. They were into the second day at the house that smelled of dead things. “Do not drink too much,” she said. “We have important guests tonight.” Nico pushed the flask to his lips, took a long drink, and wondered whom she was talking about.
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br /> He tried to play the bone game with Khan Krum to pass the time. He did not understand it, so he convinced the Mongol to play another game. Whoever rolled the most bones that sat upright was the winner. The khan at first acted as if he was insulted but then clenched his fists when, after a throw, the bones landed in his favor.
Later the khan left and after an hour came back with a rabbit that was still bleeding. Nico watched as he skinned it and tore out the entrails. He noticed that for the first time he was interested in how food was made ready. The Mongol pierced the rabbit with a skewer and cooked it over the fire, using his fingers to crush herbs over it. They ate together and picked the charred meat off the skewer. The Mongol did not eat much when they were traveling, Nico noted, but he had eaten and drunk endlessly when he had been in his court.
The count seemed anxious and paced up and back in the long room. He barely spoke to the countess. Nico worried if that had something to do with him or Regina’s whip. He settled to look out the window for long stretches. The countess busied herself by ordering the monks and nuns to move a wooden table into the room and then to clean with brooms and cloths. They hung a dust-filled tapestry on the wall. She left and returned with bunches of flowers. She tied them and spread them on the table and around the room so that the foul smell of the room lessened.
The first of the guests arrived as it was beginning to darken. The windows were closed, thick church candles lit, and the fire fueled so that its noise echoed throughout the room. The guests were tough-looking men and women. They wore plain, clean clothes, and they brought plates full of food. Nico was told to sit on the stone bench and look serious. “You won’t understand them,” Regina said. “Look smart and nod.”
They stood in front of him. Their faces were weathered. The lines of their faces crinkled as they looked at him, taking off their caps and bowing from the neck. They stared at him with their mouths open for long moments before a semblance of recognition arrived across their faces. One of them completed a sign of the cross in front of him. More people arrived. These looked more serious. Young men that looked to be in their twenties and wearing the clothes of Cossacks. The long woolen coats that ended below the knees and the high, cylindrical fur hats. They eyed Nico. Regina and Anton greeted them. The Mongol picked up a plate of food from the table and sat next to Nico. “Big feast,” he said in his heavily accented English and held the plate toward Nico. It was cabbage leaves wrapped around meat. It reminded Nico of the Russian picnics of his boyhood, where everybody was dressed in the traditional clothes and the food was said to be that of the old country. He tasted the food and remembered how he had not wanted to go to those picnics to be ogled as the prince, in a country where it meant nothing, other than a chance for juvenile barbs in the schoolyard.
The room filled with people and food. Bottles of wine were opened, and the air was thick with heavy voices. It resembled a raucous party. Regina and Anton sat next to him. Their faces, tense, watched the crowd. Nico lifted a glass of wine to his lips. Regina steadied his hand. “Not too much. You want to look regal.” Some of the Russians had brought instruments, folk guitars, and horns. Soon there was music and dancing. The Cossacks leaped onto the table and kicked their legs while lowering their bodies, in the dance Nico had seen many times.
There was much spoken toward Nico. They spoke quickly. Nico understood the odd word among the many but not enough to follow the conversation. He nodded as Regina had instructed. The Russians seem satisfied and returned wide, rotten-toothed smiles back to him, except for the young Cossacks, who watched without words.
The frenetic folk music stopped. There was some silence. A violin player emerged from the group and started playing music that sounded like a painful lament. A woman stood next to him, one of the dozens who had filled the room in the last hours. She stood statuesque for long moments and stared at Nico. Her arm moved in a graceful line, and then she artfully lifted her leg. She was a ballerina. Her clothes were tight against her muscular body. It was a show for him. He nodded as she slowly pirouetted. She danced for a long time. The crowd watched, hushed, with the only sound the sad tune of the violin. The Mongol stopped eating to observe. She ended the dance by bringing her body perfectly still with her arms arched above her. There was silence for a second and then wild clapping.
The party continued long into the night. Nico had to empty himself after all the drinking. The people parted as he moved through the crowd. Some smiled, others bowed, women giggled, and men glared. One old lady touched his hair and then cried out. His head was giddy. He made it to the bathroom. A man came out and nodded his head as if to apologize. Nico splashed cold water on his face and shook his head at his reflection in the mirror. Outside, the Mongol was waiting. “I can look after myself in the bathroom.”
“I do not know these people. You do not know these people. I watch for you.” His English was better than what it was thought to be.
The people in the room slowly lessened. Nico continued to eat, drink, smile, and nod. The music stopped. He could hear the sounds of the animals from the courtyard. A dozen Russians remained sitting around the fireplace on stools and benches with Regina looking over them. She moved away, and Anton took her position. She sat next to Nico. “These are the headmen. The leaders of the rebellion.” He noticed that the Cossacks were still there with their grave faces. “There has been a lot of news to talk about.” One of the Cossacks, a young man with brooding eyes, stood across from them with his arms crossed. “This is Dragan. He is a yesaul, or captain, you could say,” she advised.
He spoke to her with confidence and a voice that echoed.
Regina listened and turned to Nico. “We have been debating the course of the rebellion. He is saying that Russians talk too much.”
He lifted a hand toward Nico and said something else. Regina replied to him.
“What is he saying?” Nico asked.
“Don’t worry. Perhaps he is right. There has been too much talk.”
He nodded toward Nico again and emphasized what he was saying. Others of the remaining Russians came across the room. Anton was among the group. “A city has rebelled,” the count said to Nico. “The Ottomans are sending a force to quash them. The Cossacks plan to attack the force. They say it would be a bounty of weapons and equipment. But we are not sure. To attack an Ottoman army, it would be dangerous. The war has not been like this. It has been fought in skirmishes, attacking the Ottomans in small groups, dynamiting their trains, raiding their supplies.”
Dragan spoke again, this time directly to Nico.
“What is he saying?”
Anton replied. “He is saying that there is a stretch of the road that is heavily forested – perfect for an ambush.”
“Why is he saying this to me?”
Regina answered. “Hmmm, you are the prince. The Cossacks have it in their mind to convince you.”
The Cossack kept talking. Nico leaned forward. He understood some of the words, and more if he thought about it. “What did he say now? Tell me exactly.”
“He said that now that we have the prince with us,” Anton said, “we will have the numbers for the attack, as many will come. He then said that this is a council of war, and we don’t simply want to parade the boy – that is you – you must lead us to battle.”
“There is no need for you to know this,” Regina interrupted.
“Why not?” Anton said.
“He is not in the command. This is strategy of the highest magnitude. Dragan and his men are throwing up anything to try and get some leverage.”
The Cossack, spoke and they argued back and forth. Regina seemed to be exhausted, but the Cossack captain was tenacious. Anton shushed them and turned to Nico. “He is insisting that we ask your opinion.”
The young Cossack moved toward Nico so that he felt the spittle from his vigorous talk that lasted the longest of all his speeches.
“Tell me exactl
y what he said,” Nico demanded.
Regina sneaked a few steps back. Anton wiped his brow and looked rattled.
“Go on, tell me … I understood most of it,” Nico lied.
“He said … well, he is saying that the countess and I are not thinking of the fatherland, that we –”
“Anton!” Regina shrieked.
“I will tell him,” the count said to her, before he continued to Nico. “Captain Dragan reckons that the two of us have lost ambition since we have had our debts forgiven.” The count understood the look on Nico’s face. “We were rewarded for bringing you to the fatherland by having our debts extinguished. It was fair.”
“Ha!” Nico sarcastically laughed. “You dragged me all this way for your own gain … what happened to for the faith, for the tsar, and for the fatherland?”
Dragan shoved Anton out of the way and addressed Nico directly again. “He wants to know your opinion on the attack,” Anton explained.
Nico smirked. “I have no clue about this type of thing.”
“See, there.” Regina sighed. “This is what I have been trying to say.”
“But he does.” Nico pointed to the dozing khan. “I am told that the Mongol Empire was once much bigger than the fatherland. Explain it to him, and see what he says. That will be my response too.”
The Cossack’s eyes were alive with understanding. He nodded vigorously. Another of the nearby Cossacks shook the Mongol. He sprung to life and reached for a half-full mug of beer. He drank it in one gulp and furiously blinked his eyes open. Stabs of light were coming through the windows. The Mongol understood some Russian, and one of the Cossacks spoke to him in Mongolian. The conversation was spirited. The Mongol asked questions, and the Cossacks answered with energy. Hands were used to make points and the Mongol shook his head, grinned, and then leaned his head with understanding.
