Call of the Kings (18 page)

They came to the last box. Placed on its own on a high plinth, it was a different shape than the others, being long and thin.

Odo crossed himself before it and turned to Twilight with tears coursing down his cheeks.

‘I mentioned one exception,’ he said quietly between tears. ‘And although I consider myself, like you, a nonbeliever of any faith, I cannot withhold my tears in its presence.’

Out of respect for his companion Twilight did not use his power to see inside the box. After a short while Odo sniffed and then reverently touched the long, thin, unadorned marble above his head and began to talk again.

‘Following the demise of the mighty Roman Empire led by those wonderful emperors whose sarcophagi we have just seen, the next four centuries saw a myriad of small, mainly warlord-led state and mini-kingdom squabbles that occasionally broke out into major battles. Gradually, the invading barbarians receded behind mountainous far eastern barriers, and the great fight began to polarize between the two mighty faiths. On the one side there were the Muslims, a word meaning
those who submit
and known, in fighting terms, as Saracens. Led, in the beginning, from the Caliphates of Damascus, and later Baghdad, their great war symbol was called
Zulfiqar
, the mighty two-handed curved sword also known as ‘The Cleaver of Vertebrae.’’

Odo paused to gather his thoughts.

‘And on the other side the Christians, whose spiritual base was that magnificent seat of empire, Constantinople, named after my favourite Caesar and known as ‘the New Rome.’ Their great symbol was the Holy Lance, a huge spear believed to be adorned at its tip by the very nails that had once pierced the hands and feet of Christ on the cross and said to guarantee its owner perpetual triumph . . . In this marble box rests the Holy Lance.’ There was a long silence between them.

Finally, Twilight spoke.

‘And your fear is that
Zulfiqar,
the Cleaver of Vertebrae, and this Holy Lance will come together in a mighty conflict?’

‘The enmity between the two great faiths has been festering for hundreds of years. With the gap between them ever widening due to the similarities of their origins, hatreds are once again spilling over. Our civilizations are facing some of the bloodiest encounters in history, and this time we do appear to have strong leaders at our head like they have. Strong leadership is a signal for war.’

Odo waved his hand in the direction of the sarcophagi.

‘Zulfiqar
, the Cleaver of Vertebrae, and this Holy Lance are more than symbols. Both were said to carry the blessings of their individual founding gods, Mohammed and Jesus, and men would gladly and proudly die for them. Like beacons of pure light held aloft at the front of every marching, charging, or retreating battle formation, and in a world still teeming with seething masses of pagans belonging to neither side but ready to seize any opportunities the conflict might offer, these two mighty weapons represented the future of each sprawling alpha civilization. It’s Hope. I fear those two great symbols will soon be held aloft in all-out war again. This box will be empty soon as the Lance is taken to reinforce the hearts and minds of its followers.’

That afternoon Odo and Twilight sat invisible on the high, circular roof of the San Angelo Castle overlooking the Tiber River. One of Rome’s most famous landmarks and the first sight far-off travellers saw of the city, the castle, built by Emperor Hadrian, had since become the guardian of the riches of the pope. Its treasury rooms deep in the centre of the castle held untold amounts of gold, silver, and jewels accumulated by the various greedy pontiffs over the centuries.

But Odo and Twilight were not here for that. Their attention was focused on the activities on the riverside wharf below.

The slave market.

Bobbing around the river wharf were a number of swift-sailing, many-oared galleys with three of them carrying the high, dragon-headed prow of Viking vessels. Twilight remembered Olaf Tryggvason, the red-haired chieftain and second in command to the Viking
jarl,
Guthrum. The berserker had growled that he learned Latin in order that he would not be cheated by the ‘whore mothers’ who dealt in the ‘trell’ trade, his word for slaves.

Odo pointed to the boats.

‘Those are the vessels that rob and plunder the coasts of mainly the Africas in search of slaves, then bring them back here for sale. It was the pirates and corsairs on such a craft that killed my wife and stole my two boys all those years ago.’

They watched as a long line of black male slaves were herded out of a makeshift wooden building on the wharf that served as a sort of holding pen. Fettered together by a chain throat collar and tied at the ankles so as to allow only short steps, they were pushed and kicked up a series of steps to a viewing stage. With their shiny, ebony skin stretched over well-muscled bodies and a defiant but melancholy dignity etched on their faces, each was carefully scrutinized by a group of buyers standing on a parallel stage. Some even stepped over to the slaves and began to feel various parts of their bodies as if they were buying a horse and needed to ensure it was sound or endowed sufficiently as to meet their requirements.

Odo pointed out one young, overweight little man wearing a blue silk turban strolling arrogantly between the slaves, squeezing and groping them at will. Following his every step closely, two huge, jet-black Nubian protectors watched every move, ready to pounce should anyone threaten him.

‘There are no prizes for guessing whose son that little puff ball is. He oversees the buying of slaves for his odious father, your friend the Sheik Suleiman Abdul Ra-Hulak. He’ll be around here somewhere as well.’

‘He’s in that building over there drinking coffee,’ said Twilight, nodding toward a single-story, red-tiled building. ‘His sedan chair is out the back guarded by four of the Nubians.’

They watched as the sheik’s son bid furiously on all the slaves. He bought pretty much every one of them, and they were herded into carts with sturdily fixed wooden cages built in. Once full the horses were whipped up and they rumbled off, the black slaves clinging to the sides of the cages as yet another strange world passed before their weary eyes.

‘Where do they go now?’ Twilight asked.

Odo spat to show his utter hatred of it all.

‘Ra-Hulak has a holding compound the other side of town. It was an old prison. He ships them out from there all over. To the east, to Saxony, Rus, Gaul. Great caravans of closely guarded humans chained together for sale to the highest bidders. There’s evidently a big demand for them, especially those big black ones with broad shoulders.’

‘Stay here,’ said Twilight. ‘I’ll be back in a moment, and then we’ll visit the holding compound, eh?’

‘If we must,’ growled Odo.

‘Did you know,’ said the old astounder arriving back some minutes later, ‘the sheik and his odious little puff ball look-alike arrived here in a two-man sedan chair that has six big Nubians to carry it? Fancy that, six of them!’

‘How interesting,’ grumbled Odo as he watched the big sedan chair suddenly come around the corner of the coffee house carried by four Nubians, who were immediately joined by the other two that had been guarding his son. One of them opened the door and the son stepped inside. Moments later the fat sheik himself emerged from the coffee house and joined his son in the sedan chair. On a command the six Nubians picked up the chair with their individual handles and trotted off. At the first corner two legionnaires moved in front of them with swords drawn and began the now familiar refrain of ‘Make way. Make way there.’

Odo began to mutter oaths at them as the chair progressed through the crowds across the Campo dei Fiori Square.

‘Careful.’ Twilight chuckled. ‘You might be putting an evil spell upon our trell-trading Turks.’

‘I’ve been trying to put a spell of death on them and all their like for many years. It’s become a habit now, albeit a useless one that never works.’

‘Well, it might just work this time.’

Just then a piercing scream rent the air, followed by a series of others. The six Nubians quickly placed the sedan chair on the ground. As they did so the door shot open and Sheik Suleiman Abdul Ra-Hulak fell out clutching his fat throat.

Where a deadly snake had sunk its fangs and still hung.

His son quickly followed him out the sedan chair, and he, too, had the same species of snake clinging to his throat.

As the two of them thrashed around the floor tearing at their throats, a crowd began to gather at a safe distance. The Nubians and soldiers took one look and ran off. Slowly the thrashing limbs and arms of the two slavers began to subside.

‘Two black mambas from the Africas were dozing peacefully in the sedan chair,’ said Twilight in Odo’s ear. ‘Pretty appropriate, don’t you think?’

Odo could only watch in stupefaction as the thrashing limbs of the two Turks reduced to just an occasional twitch of the legs.

‘Takes about eight to ten minutes to stop the heart, although the poison will have rendered all their other bodily function immobile now.’

As his sight began to dim in death, Sheik Suleiman Abdul Ra-Hulak heard a strong, clear voice in his head. He didn’t recognize it, but then he wouldn’t recognize anything, ever again.

The final moment of your misery-inducing destiny has just arrived. Good-bye.

Twilight removed the two blood-satiated black mambas and spirited them back to their native habitat. Then he and Odo transformed to the holding compound. They waited in the sky above the compound until the cages carrying the newly purchased slaves arrived, and with them the news of the death of the sheik and his son. Then, with a wave of his hand, Twilight released every shackle on every slave and opened the heavily barred gates. With the guards rushing headlong to get out of their way, two hundred slaves charged through the gates. Some would be recaptured, some would taste freedom, and some die in their attempt, but whichever option befell them, it was a better chance than they’d had before.

Twilight and Odo sat on the bench where they had first met a few short days ago. They both knew that it was almost time for the old astounder to go back to England and his adored Wessex.

‘I will never forget the faces of those slaves as they ran for freedom through the gates of that compound,’ said Odo wistfully. ‘Nor the twitching bodies of those two dying Turks. In a few short days here you have achieved a great deal with your wonderful magic . . . but there is one more request I have of you.’

‘Go on.’

‘When I was searching the slave routes for my boys, I did not see the places I passed through or notice the countryside. I was blinded to all vistas and their people other than the ones in my mind’s eye of my two lovely little gods. But now, having heard your wonderful story and before time closes my eyes, enfeebles my ability to reason, and renders this thin, ancient old body to maggot casts, there are just two things I would like to see.’

Twilight nodded. He now knew what was coming. ‘Those wonderful Stones of Destiny at Avebury and the mighty sarsens of Stonehenge,’ continued Odo.

‘Don’t forget the menhirs of Carnac in Francia,’ said Twilight. ‘They are equally as memorable.’

‘Okay, make it three things then. Oh, and I should also like to meet the wonderful Tara and her new husband, Virgile. Then I can number three powerful venefici among my friends.’

Twilight looked at him with genuine warmth.

‘Odo, you have made my stay here in Rome one of great joy and discovery. You have allowed me a glimpse of the past through the eighty-six sarcophagi of the ancient emperors, the Holy Lance, and the literary wonders of the Tabularium. I would be failing in my duty if I did not return the favour and show you our stones, which, although they pale into insignificance against the glorious history you have afforded me, are still the foundation upon which my venefical codes are based.’

‘When can we go?’ Odo asked eagerly.

‘Now.’ Twilight smiled. ‘Take my hand.’

Chapter 12

‘It was written in the stars from a long way out.’

The old Roman hermit had the time of his old life in Wessex and Carnac. After a whole month of wandering the mighty stones and menhirs of Wessex and Francian venefici, and living through their myriad tales of enchantment, treachery, and history with Tara, Virgile, and Twilight, the cold and damp weather, especially that of Wessex, began to seep into his old bones. With the warmth of early winter Rome beckoning, long and tearful good-byes were made, and Twilight returned him to his natural habitat to divine for water and direct tourists for a few coins again. With the promise of a further visit to Rome soon and constant communication, Twilight bid his new friend a fond good-bye and transferred back to Avebury.

To find a message waiting. Could Tara, Virgile, and himself kindly attend the court of King William of England as soon as possible? He had an urgent matter to discuss with them.

‘More power games,’ said Twilight quietly to Tara as she contacted Virgile. ‘I wonder who he wants to dominate now?’

Nevertheless, like dutiful citizens they attended William at his palace in London. As usual Twilight sent a short message to warn of their arrival.

Either side of William sat his two most trusted advisors, William Fitz-Osbern and Roger de Montgomery. There were no guards in the room but plenty stationed outside the door and around the palace.

‘Ahhh,’ exclaimed the new English king at their sudden arrival. ‘Thank you for coming so promptly, my magical friends.’ Although his English was good, it was accompanied by a thick accent.

He waved at his two companions, introduced them to Tara and Twilight, then turned to Virgile. ‘You, of course, know William and Roger well, Virgile. Both are recently here from Francia, where the air is thick with rumour and innuendo. Tell me first about the Confrerie. I understand the three of you got rid of them?’

Virgile’s deep bass voice rumbled through the process they had employed to eradicate the three venefici. When he’d finished, the king thanked all three of them on behalf of his former country and then turned to Twilight.

‘And then you accompanied King Philip on his unfortunate trip to Rome?’

‘I did. As a direct result of us ridding Francia of the Confrerie, the king asked all of us to accompany him. My two friends here, however, had a pressing engagement elsewhere, and I agreed to go only if I did not have any official duties. It is a city I have always wanted to visit.’

‘I understand he was poisoned?’

‘That is what they say, and before you ask, my liege, I have no idea who was responsible. As you will know, Rome is a city perpetually full of intrigue. I was not there when Philip died and purposefully kept away from all subsequent activities connected with it.’

‘Jumieges thinks the man behind the poisoning could have been a well-known but nasty piece of work called Sheik Suleiman Abdul Ra-Hulak.’ This time the question came from Roger de Montgomery.

Twilight smiled enigmatically. ‘Does he now?’

‘Ra-Hulak and his son also died soon after King Philip. Had their necks bitten by some rare and very poisonous African snakes. I wonder how
they
got there.’ This time it was Fitz-Osbern’s turn.

Twilight inclined his head and pursed his lips to indicate he shared Fitz-Osbern’s wonderment at such a thing.

King William suddenly started to laugh. ‘Whatever the riddles and your involvement, or not, in them, that’s not the reason I asked you to come here today. Roger, could you outline our problem for our venefical guests please?’

Roger de Montgomery cleared his throat.

‘Although King William has chosen to make his home here as monarch of England, he is still very much involved with Francia, in particular with his home estates in Normandy, where there are many loyal staff and family. We are worried that following the death of King Philip, matters will revert to the ways of the old Gaul when everyone who had more than three men and a horse thought it his right to challenge for the monarchy. One of those groups would have undoubtedly been the Confrerie had you not taken care of them, especially following the subsequent death of Philip. Right now, every warlord worth his shield will be scheming to overthrow his nearest neighbour to increase his holdings. The clock has been turned back to the old anarchic ways of kill or be killed. Mass is strength - the size of one’s private army and the lands held dictate the pecking order. Democracy, still a long way from holding sway, was beginning, under Philip to get a little purchase. Now it’s gone with his death, and the barbarian scrabble for the crown of Francia will begin all over again, and, as always, it will be the peasantry who suffer.’

Twilight addressed King William directly.

‘With respect, my liege, had you still been living as the Duke of Normandy, you would be involved totally in that scrabble for the crown of Francia yourself.’

‘No doubt about it,’ said the king. ‘I’d be as bad as any of the others . . . worse, in fact.’

The large, powerful frame of William the Conqueror leaned forward in his chair and he smiled wolfishly at Twilight.

‘I still might be.’

‘Are you saying that you might consider challenging for the crown of Francia as well?’ Virgile asked.

‘I might be, Virgile. I just might be. After all, it was a subject that formed the basis of many a conversation between us in the past.’

Virgile smiled. ‘But you weren’t the King of England then, my

liege. Now you have a crown, and it’s every bit as important as that of Francia.’

‘You are correct, it is as important. However, there is an even bigger threat looming over both England and Francia that concerns me. A threat so grave as to shake the very Christian foundations of both countries . . .’

King William turned to Twilight.

‘A threat, no doubt, you encountered, or at least heard of, in Rome.’

Twilight nodded. ‘You are referring to the looming battles between those who follow
Zulfiqar
and those who support the Holy Lance?’

‘Precisely. The Saracens and the Christians. Even as we speak, the Saracens are preparing to take Jerusalem, a city so completely bound up with Christianity as to be at the heart of all our faith. And that’s not all. If Jerusalem is the heart of Christianity, then Constantinople is its soul. That great Byzantine walled city on the Bosporus is also under threat from the Saracens. The very roots of our creed are being challenged!’

‘My liege, you are aware of the neutral venefical stance with regard to religions?’ Tara spoke for the first time.

‘I am,’ growled the king. ‘And the request I have of you will not alter that.’ Again he turned to Twilight.

‘You are obviously knowledgeable upon this subject?’

‘I have some idea of it. The problem is its intractability. Both sides venerate Jerusalem for the same reason; it was the birthplace of their god.’

‘That may well be the case,’ said William Fitz-Osbern. ‘But possession is all. At the moment Jerusalem is in Christian hands, and naturally we would like it to stay that way.’

‘What would you have us do, my liege?’ This time it was Virgile.

William the Conqueror paused for a moment before replying.

‘In the swirling dust and desert sands, the great Caliphates of the east are gathering their forces. In Baghdad, Cairo, and Damascus, plots are being hatched and plans made. In the Spanish Muslim enclaves of Cordoba, Al-Andulus, and Granada they are sharpening their scimitars. The Jihadists are preparing to follow
Zulfiqar
to Jerusalem and Constantinople in a holy war. That much is widely known, but that’s it. We don’t know who their leaders are, the caliphs, amirs, and rulers who shape their aims and desires. Are there any potential discussions to be had with them over Jerusalem? Can accommodations be reached whereby both sides can worship in peace, Christians in our churches and Muslims in their mosques? Or is it all or nothing, and must thousands of the devoted die on both sides? For us these are important questions that need to be answered before the black pall of death taints the two religions for all time . . .’

William paused and looked around at his listeners. Twilight, chuckling inwardly at the suggestion that the conqueror of England - a man who, not so very long ago, had brutally invaded a land to which he had no rights - should now so blatantly be looking for ways to open a dialogue with the Islamists. He must feel threatened, nervous. The former fearless and mighty Duke of Normandy and now King of England was worried; he had looked east and trembled at what he saw.

Virgile’s deep bass voice rumbled over the group.

‘Let me get this right, my liege. You would like us, or more specifically Twilight, to seek out the leaders of the Saracens to see if they would be prepared to have a dialogue with you, and presumably other western leaders, on the efficacy of a peaceful sharing of the religious facilities in Jerusalem and Constantinople?’

King William nodded. ‘Find out what it will take to accommodate their wishes. You can visit directly with them. Your magic enables you to bypass guards and ignore buildings and transport instantly to wherever they are. In a matter of weeks you can be back here, having accomplished something that would take my normal emissaries at least a year of travelling with no guarantee that anyone of importance would see them.’

All eyes turned to the old astounder.

‘Sure beats dispatching the occasional local witch,’ he said, black eyes shining.

Tara, Virgile, and Twilight spoke long into the night about the request of King William. They also factored in Twilight’s meeting with the spectral Zeus, the experiences of his trip to Rome, his age - approaching ninety-three, the same age the long magus had been when Twilight had joined him as a tyro - and the complete relinquishing of his own venefical duties to Wessex and the wider England. With regards to the last one, Tara had fully assumed those duties some time ago anyway, and he only acted in an advisory capacity when she needed it.

‘That is what the spectral Zeus meant when he said we, in this case, you, were to go where and when you deemed it necessary,’ said Virgile. ‘He knew the world order was changing and that the venefical role needs to change with it. Indeed, I think he was more than aware of this Christian versus Muslim conflict; after all, it’s been simmering for centuries. He also knew that it would come to a head eventually and therefore couldn’t be ducked by any caring, code-bound venefici. He meant you to understand that. He knew you would get involved because of your great experience, having watched you for the last eighty years since that fateful day at Stonehenge when you were thirteen and collapsed after resisting the catatonic sound of Tiresias’s booming commands. Every enchantment you have cast, battle you have taken part in, berserker or diabolic dispatched, love experienced, and pica lost, the mighty leader of the Presidium has experienced all of that with you. Whilst I’m sure that our intended betrothal was, as you said, part of the reason he appeared to you, I am convinced that he had another, more important reason. Regardless of how many other venefici there are in the world, few, if any, will have your knowledge, understanding, and abilities when it comes to picking a way through some of these seemingly intractable problems of the east. I would even go as far as to say that when he appeared to you, Zeus knew that you would be the one sent in order to try and find a solution. It was written in the stars from a long way out. The fact that we are the last ones to know or understand it is just the way of such things.’

Tara and Twilight nodded at Virgile’s excellent erudition.

‘It is,’ said Twilight, ‘an immutable and naked truth that religions clash and their many followers will die defending them. Whilst I am most happy to go to these places and gather all the information I can, nothing can prevent this conflict. It is bigger than King William and his fellow Christians, bigger than the caliphs and emirs of the Saracens, bigger than anything mankind can muster to prevent it. I fear this conflict just has to take place before a certain natural order will exist. It is driven by the remorseless vulnerability of history. My other worry is just how long it could last. This could go on for centuries, such is the degree of implacable enmity over Jerusalem between the two sides. As for what the king said about getting it all done in a matter of weeks, that’s another misnomer. It seems to me that even with our powers, the whole of the seven short years I have left doesn’t give me enough time to advise on how to tackle such momentous world challenges,’ Twilight said softly.

‘It was long enough for the long magus to make something very special of the ragged little thirteen-year-old village boy who arrived here,’ said Tara.

At that precise moment a huge thunderclap boomed across the cloudless night sky. Someone was signalling approval.

Looking skyward and understanding the meaning of the echoing detonation as it rolled across the great Avebury Stones of Destiny, Tara smiled at Twilight and continued.

‘And Rome, dear teacher, was, I suspect, just the beginning of your travels. The span of your venefical expertise now appears to encompass the entire known world.’