The Centaur (24 page)

He looked over his shoulder at her and then stood up. The golden beam had passed him by and moved up the altar toward the cross as the sun rose higher on toward noon and afternoon.

He leaned close to the Queen of the Brits and whispered in her ear.

“What is the trouble, your Highness?”

“I think we need a break, Mark. We’ve been praying for almost an hour and a half. Can we at least stretch our legs? Get a drink of water, perhaps?”

Mark rose up and chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully. He felt parched himself.

“All right. Take five minutes, but do not leave the sanctuary. Bari!” he turned toward the young man. “Find the wine of the sacrament. Bring us a few bottles. From the cellar.”

Bari groaned and rolled his eyes as if to ask ‘why me?’ He got up, stretched his arms over his head and yawned as the soldiers moved out of the pew behind him to the center aisle. The mention of wine had raised their spirits enormously. Praying was thirsty work. Nicholas, Gregory and Captain Galipoli were talking together in low tones while the ladies milled about in front of the confessionals. There were no ‘facilities’ at the old chapel.

Bari pulled open the slightly warped door to the bell tower and shuddered at the cold air that rushed past his head and the smell of mildew. He had never been to the ‘cellar’, but surely the wine would not be that hard to find. He glanced back once, but no one was looking at him. The lower reaches of the crypts was dark before him, illuminated only by the light filtering down from the belfry. He muttered a curse and started down into the darkness. At the bottom of the stairs, he squinted in the dim gray light. The place was huge, eerie and he could hear water dripping somewhere. The voices from the sanctuary were barely audible.  The wine was in an old iron rack in an arching niche cut in the stone. The bottles lay on their sides, their bottoms
glistened dully under a thick coat of dust. It had been a long time since the Holy Communion had been given in the chapel.

Bari pulled two of the green glass bottles from the rack and cringed as the glass grated on the metal and echoed down the corridor. He turned to make a hasty retreat up the stairs and then stopped as he distinctly heard his name called from the darkness.

“Father?” He whispered the word. The voice had been unmistakably that of Omar. He turned slowly on the balls of his feet and stood on tiptoe, ready to flee. “Father?” He repeated a bit more loudly and waited.

“Bari?” The voice answered.

“Where are you?” The tremor was clearly audible in voice and his blood felt like ice water in his veins.

“
Here. Bari I need to talk to you.  It’s important. It’s about the star.”

“The star? You mean the meteor or whatever it is?” Bari relaxed just a bit.

“Yes. The meteor.” His father’s voice sounded a bit hollow as if the Prophet was here only in spirit, not in material form. It would be quite simple for Omar to accomplish such a feat.

“Father, can you come upstairs? Sir Ramsay is acting quite weird and they treat me like a slave.” Bari could not help but take the opportunity to complain a little. “I’m sure they would all want to hear the news from the east. How are things… in Baghdad?” He was not stupid. He knew it could be a trap, not really his father at all, but some malevolent spirit.

“I would rather not. Let us speak in private, my son.”

“Allow me to take this wine up for the ladies, and I will be right back.” He would tarry here no longer. Omar would not wish to hide himself from the others. He turned again and mounted the steps rapidly. Whatever was in the cellar under the chapel was not his father, and he did not want to know what it was.

He burst from the door in such a rush, Sophia actually shrieked and then held her hand over her heart.

“Sorry, Miss Sophia.”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Nicole said and smiled evilly at him as she took one of the bottles. The irreverent daughter of Mark Andrew had found Simon’s collection of chalices and confiscated them for their use. She popped the cork deftly from the bottle and filled four of them for herself and the other ladies before handing the open bottle over to her Captain.

“That’s really funny, Nicole.”

Bari delivered the other bottle to Mark Andrew and watched as the wine disappeared before he even had a chance to have a swallow.

“Bring us another bottle, Bari,” Nicole said and pushed him toward the cellar.

“You go get it!” He shook his head. He did not want to go back down there.

“Now Bari…” she shook her finger in his face, “you’re not going to tell me that you’re afraid of the dark, are you?”

“I’m not afraid. I’m just not a servant.”

“OK, then, be that way!” Nicole cursed under her breath, crossed the aisle and found her captain, showing him her empty cup. He smiled and nodded and headed for the door under the belfry. Bari rushed after him and caught his arm.

“What is it?” Socrates frowned and looked down at the shorter man.

“Be careful… I mean, it’s dark down there and I heard rats… big ones.” Bari smiled and felt stupid.

“I have a flashlight.” Socrates patted the pouch on his web belt. His voice was full of condescension. He was disgusted with the whole affair. When Mark had disappeared into the rear of the sanctuary, he had taken his men and gone to the front doors, but it had been a useless endeavor. Even though the midday sun was obviously shining outside the stained glass, the way out was barred with what appeared to be a small tornado spinning in the parking lot, extending onto the porch and up over the roof. The wind was very strong outside the doors and the dust and clouds swirling around the parking lot made it impossible to leave the chapel without breaking out the windows. Nicole had persuaded him to give her father a bit more time, citing his recent bump on the head and unexplained night excursion in the middle of a tremendous electrical storm.

“Oh, yeah, right. Exactly.” Bari backed away from him. “Silly me.”

Captain Galipoli shook his head, laughed and disappeared into the bell tower. This was the craziest family he had ever seen.

Sophia followed Mark into the transept and found him staring up at the wonderful stained glass portraits there. A long dusty table and twelve chairs were the only furnishings. At some time or another, she imagined, the Council must have met here. He jumped when she touched his arm.

“Mark, why are you holding us hostage here?” She asked him softly. “What has happened to you? You are not the same Mark Sophia knows and loves. What is wrong? Is it the comet? Are you still worried that it will hurt us?”

He let out a long breath and turned toward her. The colors from the window bathed her in a colorful glow.

“You are very beautiful, Sophia. You should not worry yourself about me. You told me it was time that I looked after you for awhile. Didn’t you mean that?”

She nodded, but frowned and he kissed her nose.

“Then let me worry about this. I believe we will be all right here. I know you think I am crazy and maybe I am. A little prayer never hurt anyone.”

“But not like this,” she had to smile. “These people are not children. Two of them are Queens, one is a Captain and one is the former emperor of New Persia. The rest are formidable soldiers. How long are going to play this game with them? How long do you think Nicholas and Gregory are going to allow you to continue?”

“Allow me?” Mark laughed slightly and gripped her shoulders in both hands. “Sophia, Nicholas and Gregory are not allowing me to do anything. It is necessary that we pray. When we are past this danger, I will release them. Believe me… trust me. Everything will be fine.”

“Mark?” Meredith poked her head around the partition behind the altar. “There you are!” She crossed the floor and set her empty chalice on the dusty table.

She stood facing the ghostly presence from the past and her resolve fled. The last time she had been in a church with him, he had been taking her confession and administering the communion. She remembered that time with great embarrassment. She had been flustered and he had been worse than flustered, but the memory was as clear as yesterday and she wondered just for a moment if he still had feelings for her.

“Mark… can we talk… alone?” She glanced at Sophia and the younger woman nodded slightly before glancing up at him. He smiled at her and pushed her gently away from him.

“Let me have a few moments with the Queen, Sophia.”

Sophia still did not understand why she felt something terrible was about to happen. Not that Mark had predicted a comet that might destroy them all. Not that the entire Templar force was in the Middle East about to do the unthinkable. Not that a crazed demon woman was running rampant in New Babylon, but that something even more sinister lurked just around the bend. She nodded curtly to Meredith and joined the others just as Captain Galipoli returned from the crypts with more wine. The five minutes were up, and she wished now Mark had not granted them. Now she felt prayer was definitely in order. Now she felt something very evil had entered their lives and she wondered if Mark had caused it.

“I’m sorry, Mark,” Meredith said after Sophia was gone. “I hope I didn’t make her mad at you.”

“Sophia never gets mad at me, your Highness. She loves me.”

“She is quite a gem. I just can’t seem to picture the two of you together. I suppose I always thought of you and… and… Sister Meredith as a couple, that’s all.”

“Since when were you concerned with Sister Meredith’s love life, Merry?”

Meredith was shocked by the question. Something was very wrong here. He was not supposed to remember her in such a familiar fashion. He had always called her Merry and he knew quite well, she did not care for Sister Meredith even in spite of the strange truths that had come to light about Mark’s Meredith. She could have been his instead of Luke Matthew’s wife. She could have been. He had told her he loved her, that he would always love her, but he was so different from Luke. The thought made her cheeks burn with embarrassment and then she remembered this was not
her
Mark at all, not the Mark she had come to know over the years. If she had understood Sophia correctly, this was the purely human part of Sister Meredith’s Mark. The one that had killed her Mark in the underworld. But what had Sophia meant by purely human part?

“You don’t have to be embarrassed with me, Merry.” He did not smile, nor did he frown, but he seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. “It is I, who should be embarrassed. I should never have presumed to touch you. I’m not who you think I am, and you were never who I thought you were. Would you like to know who I am?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Merry backed away from him.

“I would like someone to know. I’m sentimental like that.” He stepped toward her.

“No. I don’t think so. I only wanted to know why you are holding us here. I know that your… your… Brothers, the others… I don’t know what to call them… have done some strange things in the past, and they all had their purpose. I would like to know the purpose of this. The Captain is not very happy. He may try to arrest you and charge you with kidnapping or something.”

“He’ll get over it. He’s in love with Nicole and Nicole loves me. She will see to the good Captain.” Mark turned away from her and looked up at the stained glass again. “Beautiful. John Paul was nothing like his father.”

Merry looked up at the rendition of the Blessed Virgin Mary and the scenes from the imagined Christmas of modern Christendom. It was impossible to fathom the meaning of his words. John Paul had brought these treasures here from around the world. She especially liked the scene containing the three wise men and, in the mornings, when the sun was just so, the light would make the haloes around the baby Jesus and the Virgin’s head look real.

“You met John Paul?” She asked softly.

“Not really. I think I would have liked him. John Paul, I mean. His father’s church is much gloomier.”

“Then you are not his father… I mean, you are not really Sir Ramsay?”

“Who would you like me to be?” He raised both eyebrows and again, he did not smile, though his eyes twinkled almost mischievously, like a child and she knew that this was the same Mark Andrew whot had come to her house in Texas all those years ago. The same one who had been so very afraid of her and yet not afraid. Not the one who been running her husband’s life for the past few years. This was the one who had come to her bed one time and then never forgiven himself for it. She remembered it well enough. He had been the most wonderful lover, but in a strangely brutal sort of way compared to Lucio Dambretti with whom she had spent a few short weeks. That Mark and her husband Luke Matthew were supposed to be identical twins, but how could it be? He was dead. Luke Matthew had told her the whole gory tale of how he had lost his head in the underworld, and then how his body had been stolen by Queen Ereshkigal in the Abyss. How could he have come back? His deep blue eyes told the very same story as the very first time she had laid eyes on him in Texas. He still loved her. In spite of everything, he still loved Meredith Sinclair beyond all hope and all despair. Thankfully, she was not
his
Meredith Sinclair, she was Merry Ramsay, wife of the King of Briton.

Merry turned quickly and found her way back to Nicole and Sophia. Oriel was dusting the altar with her sweater and humming softly to herself as she checked over her father’s prized Communion cups. The petite blonde seemed unconcerned about the odd circumstances in which they found themselves. Her many occult experiences in the past had taught her the power of patience and given her mastery over the most trying circumstances.