HMS Diamond (6 page)

      
"Then he got a far-away look in his eyes and he muttered to himself, ‘No, it’s not the Order of the Seraphim that I have in mind for the colonel.’ He then called his officers together, pulled out his sword, and made me a Knight Commander in the Order of the Sword. He then promised that he would formally request that King George confirm the knighthood on British soil.

      
"When I got back to England, I found out that Gustavus had indeed asked our king to confirm the knighthood. I guess His Majesty thought it was a small price to pay to keep a potential ally happy. And, here I am."

      
There was silence around the table as the group digested the enormity of Smith’s story. Finally, Walker broke the silence.

      
"This is disgusting."

      
"What’s that?" Smith asked.

      
"Well, here I am sitting with a ‘prince,’ a ‘lady’ and a ‘sir.’ Yet, I can remember when SIR Sidney was selling the favors of LADY Whitney along a dusty roadside in Virginia, and PRINCE William was yanked off an outhouse ‘throne’ and forcibly kidnapped to safety."

      
The group roared.

      
"You haven’t done so bad yourself DOCTOR Walker," Susan pointed out.

      
"Indeed. Indeed." Then Walker grew serious. "But the question occurs, my friends, what do we do next?"

      
It was a question that had run through the minds of each of them. Ten years of separation had taught them that they belonged together—that they were each misfits in the world outside of that circle. Now they were together again. A bit older and a lot wiser, but none of them could easily imagine taking leave of the others.

      
No one said a word for along moment, and then Smith spoke up. "I might have a suggestion in that regard." He immediately had everyone’s attention.

      
"As you know, the world is becoming a perilous place once again. The revolution in France is gaining momentum and war between France and Austria seems like a sure thing. Who knows how long we can remain out of it. Complicating things even more is the situation in the Middle East.

      
"The Ottoman Empire runs from the Bosporus to Egypt and the shortest route to India runs right through their territory. We need to know if the Ottoman sultans are capable of resisting France or anyone else if they were to make a play for control of that territory."

      
"So, what could that possibly have to do with us?" Susan asked.

      
"I am getting to that.

      
"The Foreign Secretary, Lord Grenville, has sent my brother, John Spenser Smith, to Constantinople to be part of the British Embassy to the court of Sultan Selim III. Truth be known, he was sent there to spy on the Ottoman military, to learn their strength and capability."

      
"I am with Susan," Walker said. "I still don’t see the connection."

      
"The biggest problem is communication between London and Constantinople. When it exists at all, it’s insecure. They have an agent in place, my brother, and he presumably has things to report but they have no secure way of getting his information.

      
"Lord Grenville has asked me to go to Constantinople, do some rooting around on my own, and bring back any information my brother has for him. Even better, he’s given me £1500 for expenses.

      
"I’d like you all to come with me. It’d be like taking a vacation together—the exotic east and all that. What do you say?"

      
Walker didn’t hesitate. "I am in."

      
"Susan?"

      
"What? And leave you two unsupervised? I don’t think so. I am certainly in." Her eyes were glittering with excitement.

      
Bill... er... Your Highness?

      
"That’s the problem, Sidney. I am not ‘Bill Hanover’ any more and I fear I never will be again. I am in a gilded cage now and must decline."

      
"I am sorry to hear that," Sidney said. "I truly am. You’re a good man and I’d be proud to have you by my side in a scrape."

      
"Thank you, Sidney. That means more to me than you’ll ever know."

      
After a few minutes of discussion, it was agreed that the group would meet again the following afternoon to plan the details of their "vacation."

      
As they were each walking away, Walker caught up to the Prince.

      
"Prince William? Could I have a word with you?"

      
"But of course, Lucas."

      
"Do you still have pull with the Board of Admiralty?"

      
"I think so. The First Lord is my cousin and I know most of the members. Why?"

      
Walker held Prince William’s arm as they walked down a long corridor talking about a strange disease called "scurvy."

Chapter Three

      
"IT really
is
like a vacation," Susan thought. "A wonderful, relaxing, adventure." She slid her arm inside Walker’s as they bounced along the dusty road.

      
Walker, Smith and Whitney had been in the Ottoman Empire for almost a month, mostly in Constantinople. Sidney Smith was currently in the seaport town of Smyrna working with the Ottoman Navy, so Walker and Susan decided to do some sightseeing.

      
"Susan, do you think this donkey understands English?"

      
"I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?"

      
"Okay. ‘Hey, donkey! DO... YOU... KNOW... WHERE... WE... ARE?’"

      
The ancient animal just kept plodding along; pulling a wagon that was, if anything, older than he.

      
"I don’t think he understands."

      
"Have you considered looking at the map?"

      
"I did, but it doesn’t speak English either."

      
Susan gave her patented "MEN!" sigh, and opened the book they bought before leaving London. It was called:
A Gentleman’s Guide to Travel and Tourism in the Levant with Special Attention and Detail Devoted to Sites of Historical and Religious Interest
. She unfolded the map that was glued to the inside back cover.

      
"Okay, here is Smyrna. Fifty miles to the south, on the coast, is Pamucak. That’s where we landed and rented the wagon. We’ve been heading inland for about four miles, so Ephesus should be up here in another half-mile or so.

      
"What I don’t get is why we’re going to go past Ephesus to get to..." Susan consulted her map again. "...this place called Selcuk. I thought you wanted to see the religious sites."

      
"I do," Walker replied.

      
"Well, isn’t Ephesus the place where Paul preached—you know, the
Letters to the Ephesians
and such?"

      
"Yes. But, Selcuk pre-dates modern Ephesus. It was Ephesus before Ephesus was Ephesus.

      
"Don’t worry, we’ll catch the sights down here too. I especially want to see Mary’s House."

      
"Mary who?"

      
"Mary! You know, as in, mother of Jesus, wife of Joseph. It’s in the book"

      
"The Virgin Mary lived here?" Susan was genuinely surprised. "How did that happen?"

      
"According to legend, when Jesus was on the cross, he asked the disciple John to take care of his mother. John decided that Jerusalem was too dangerous for her, so he brought her here. He built a small house for her up in the hills and, with John watching over her, that’s where she ended her days."

      
"All right. That should be interesting. So, why then are we going to Selcuk?"

      
"Because that’s where John died. They buried him on top of a hill outside of the original Ephesus then, later, built a church on top of his grave. It’s called the Basilica of St John. Of course, over the centuries, the basilica has fallen to ruin; but I still want to see it."

      
Susan was content with that. She was no historian or religious scholar but she was as interested as the next person in ancient things. Besides, it was a beautiful day, not too hot, the air was crisp with the hint of a sea breeze still in it and she was content to be with her... friend. Friend? She thought. "Is that what we are Lucas? Friends?"

      
The precise nature of their relationship was a topic neither of them broached. They were indeed friends but there was something more there. It was the "something more" that they avoided talking about. Susan remembered, however, how she felt when she thought Lucas had died at the Battle of the Saints. Her reaction was not that of someone whose "friend" had just died. It was as if a part of her had been ripped away.

      
She unconsciously slid a little closer to him, and the donkey just kept walking.

***

      
Walker increased tension on the reigns, which he had negotiated with the donkey as his cue to stop walking. Standing by the side of the road staring directly at him was an old man dressed in a brown, tattered, and very worn monk’s robe. He was short and seemed thin to the point of emaciation. On this warm day his hood was down revealing a head of badly tonsured gray hair, and a frail-looking face that was set off by a bright red birthmark that ran from the left side of his neck to half-way up his left cheek.

      
"Susan, what’s the local lingo for ‘Do you want a lift?’"

      
"How should I know? If I knew that, I’d..."

      
Before she could complete her sentence, the man replied softly in only slightly accented English. "No need, my son. I speak your language. And yes, I would be thankful for a ride." With that, he got in to the back of the wagon, settled down into the jump seat and said nothing more.

      
Walker tried to hide his astonishment as he got the wagon underway again. "I am surprised you speak English," Walker ventured. "Not many people in this part of the world do."

      
"I speak many languages."

      
"Really?" Walker was trying to be friendly. "How many do you speak?"

      
"All of them," the old man said and again clamed up.

      
There was a long period of silence when Walker decided to try again.

      
"I am Dr. Walker and this is Lady Susan Whitney. And your name is..."

      
"I am called John."

      
Walker knew that frequently members of religious orders only used their Christian names, so he didn’t press it.

      
"Well, that’s a coincidence. We’re on our way to the Basilica of St. John in Selcuk."

      
"Yes, I know. I will accompany you there."

      
What a strange old bird, Walker thought. Not... ‘Do you need help getting there?’ or ‘Would you like me to guide you?’ It was a simple declarative sentence: ‘I will accompany you.’ And what did he mean by, ‘I know?’ Walker was starting to get a bit nervous about this old guy.

      
After a while, John spoke again.

      
"Do you see the road off to the right that we are passing, Dr. Walker?"

      
"Yes."

      
"That road leads to the ‘Cave of the Seven Sleepers.’ Are you familiar with that legend?"

      
"No, I’m not. Never heard of it. What is it?"

      
"The story goes back to the Roman times," John began. "It seems seven boys ran afoul of the Roman authorities over their faith. To avoid persecution, they ran into a cave that is at the end of that road back there. The Roman troops followed and found them asleep; but they decided not to kill them outright. Instead, they sealed up the cave; thus, they thought, sealing the boys’ fate as well.

      
"They would have died, Dr. Walker, except God was protecting them.

      
"Some time later God sent an earthquake which woke the boys from their sleep and broke open the cave entrance. The boys climbed out and decided to sneak into town to buy some bread. Only, when they got there, the Romans were gone and the town was almost completely unrecognizable because 200 years had passed."

      
The monk paused and then said, "Is not God’s hand a wondrous thing, Dr. Walker?"