The Centaur (19 page)

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“Here! Here!” Sophia directed them as they carried Mark’s soaking wet, unconscious form into the library. She cleared the books and pillows from the leather sofa and had them lay him out in the warmest room in the old house. Gregory and Nicholas deposited him on the couch, and then Nicholas went for Captain Gallipoli while Gregory set about building up the fire in the hearth. Sophia gathered up blankets and towels and Nichole made her way upstairs to change out of her own soaked gear. Bari stood staring at the stranger, dressed in gray who knelt beside his grandfather.

Sophia seemed oblivious to the presence of the enigmatic man and even assisted him as he dried Mark’s arms and chest and inspected his face and head for injuries.

Bari sat down on the hearth next to Gregory.

“Who’s the strange fellow?” He asked in a low voice.

“Mr.
Barshak according to Nicole.”

“Where did he come from?” Bari frowned. He had met all of the soldiers and most of their nearest neighbors. He remembered no one of this name.

“He was in the meadow with them.” Gregory acted as if this explained everything.

Sophia placed a pillow under Mark’s head, and then seemed to notice her help-mate for the first time.

“Sir?” Her eyes widened as she realized that this was not one of the soldiers living down at the old academy. “How can I thank you for helping?” She got up and stuck out her hand. “I’m Sophia Cardinelli. This is my friend, Bari and his cousin, Gregory. We appreciate your help.”

Barshak’s
eyes met hers and she placed one hand at the base of her throat. He was a very odd fellow and his clear gray eyes seemed to glow.

“My help is all that I have, Sophia. You are a child of light. And this one…” he turned and placed one hand on Mark’s forehead “this one is also a child of light. A son of the morning. Light-born is he, brother of the son of the moon.”

These simple statements made her chest contract with sudden fear and her voice failed her. She had heard the others talking of the Mighty Djinni, Adalune Kadif. ‘Son of the Moon’ had been one of his titles at some time or another in his long life. His voice was smooth, soothing almost hypnotic. “There is no need to fear me, my sweet blossom. I am here to offer all that I am to your service.”

“Are you just passing through then?” Bari asked from his perch on the hearth and the spirit turned his clear eyes on the former emperor.

“You may say that if you wish. I am sometimes passing through. This time I am stopped here by your mistress. The one called Nicole, the daughter of darkness.”

“Ha!” Bari smiled and stood up, sticking out his own hand to take the stranger’s. He shook his hand energetically. “You certainly pegged that one right. Daughter of darkness. I like that.”

“You are also a son of the morning, but darkness has overshadowed much of your light. You must fling it off and let your light shine for all to see.”

Bari’s laughter faded at what he perceived to be an insult.

“My father is Omar Adam Ajax Kadif, Prophet of God, Emperor of New Persia. I do not need your preaching. Are you a priest then? A holy man?” Bari took on a more somber tone.

“You have an impressive father, but the son must live in the father’s shadow until he had grown great enough to cast his own. Have you many sons of your own? Do you make your father proud of you? How many camels have you in your tents? Do the roses of the desert bloom in your harem?”
Barshak leaned in toward him as he asked these questions.

“I have no harem!” Bari’s face went dark as he sat back down on the sofa. He had no harem, no sons, no camels and no tents. In effect, he had nothing. “This is the twenty-second century, sir. Men of honor do not keep harems. They marry one wife and, if they are faithful and true, they keep her until death.”

“Ahhh, but that is a pity. That must sorely restrict the number of sons.” Barshak returned his attention to Mark Andrew as Nicole re-appeared, buttoning up a loose cardigan sweater over a pink blouse.

“How is he?” Nicole bent over her father and felt his face with the back of her hand. When no one answered, she looked up at Sophia who still stood staring at the back of the spirit’s head. “For God’s sake, Sophia, get a grip. How is he? Is he all right?” She addressed
Barshak.

“He is simply over-taxed and his blood is thinned by the cold. He will recover.”

“Isn’t that your ring, Nicole?” Bari narrowed his eyes as he perceived the wedding ring on the stranger’s left index finger.

“I gave it to him,” Nicole said shortly. “Daddy? Can you hear me?”

Mark moved one hand and then his head rolled to one side and he spit up a mouthful of water.

“Mark!” Sophia snapped out of her trance and knelt beside him, wiping his face with a towel. “Mark! My lord, what happened to you?”

“So he is the lord of this manor?” Barshak asked no one in particular. “I should have expected as much. He carries the burden of many souls. It is a hard load to carry. He needs rest. That is all.”

“You are a mystic. I thought you a healer. Why have you come?” Sophia did not like the idea of strangers in their house, and she did not want anyone laying their hands on Mark Andrew. It was too dangerous. Too many evil things lurked in the ruins of the world.

“I invited Mr. Barshak here.” Nicole intervened as she patted Mark’s hand. He was trying to open his eyes now and having a difficult time keeping them open long enough to focus on them. “We met long ago in Edinburgh. Isn’t that right, Mr. Barshak?”

The spirit laughed softly and then placed his hand over Mark’s eyes. “There, there. You should be able to see now, little one.”

Sophia was about to protest again when someone else beat her to it.

“Sir, I must insist that you stand away from my grandfather.” Nicholas’ voice startled them. He had returned with Captain Gallipoli and several of the soldiers.

“Nicholas… you’re being rude to our guest.” Nicole pushed herself up, but did not release Mark’s hand. “My father is fine now. Mr. Barshak has restored him to us. You should show a bit more gratitude. Socrates, tell your men to wait outside and for God’s sake, put away the weapons.”

“Now Nicole…” the Captain tried to reason with her, “you know how I feel about strangers. It’s not a good…”

Nicole dropped Mark’s hand as he finally focused on Sophia’s face and smiled at her. His hand hit the floor with a dull thump. Sophia cupped his face in her hands and began to kiss his cheeks and forehead.

“Socrates…” Nicole approached her latest love interest and took his hand. “You know that I would never put us in danger. Mr.
Barshak is an old friend. A very old friend, and he is quite useful in the healing arts. I’ll bet he could take a look at your soldiers and if any of them have any medical concerns, he might be able to help them. He’s skilled in herbal medicine. Isn’t that right, Mr. Barshak?” She glanced over her shoulder at the oddly dressed pilgrim, who nodded at her without changing his expression.

“Well, Miss Ramsay, I don’t know…” the Captain went red with embarrassment. “What do you think Mr. Sinclair-Ramsay?”

“I think that he should stay down in the stables, if he stays the night.” Nicholas answered curtly. “I won’t have him in the house and that’s final. My grandfather put me in charge here while he’s away. I hope you will all remember that in the future before we invite any more guests onto the property. Please show our guest the way to the stables and make him comfortable. I will hear from my aunt what has occurred with Mr. Ramsay.”

Nicholas was not a force to be reasoned with. When he had made up his mind, it was very simple. Abide by his wishes or suffer the consequences. Nicole was learning to dislike her great-nephew immensely since their return to Lothian. He reminded her a great deal of John Paul, though he did not have the same gentle persuasion, though he did have the same deadly temper. She was quite pleased to find that she was not attracted to him as she had been to her beloved half-brother, but then considering who he had been and
moreso,
what
he had been, she could excuse herself. Captain Socrates was most obliging and he adored her. All she wanted was a bit of attention. Here she had Bari’s grumpy attention, Sophia’s friendship, which she cultivated more carefully than an exotic flower garden and, most importantly, this facsimile of her father loved her openly with the beguiling charm of a precocious four-year-old. If never her own son had loved her, this Mark had very nicely compensated for Michael Ian and they even looked alike. Nicole could never remember ever having been happier, but Mark’s predictions of impending catastrophe set her nerves on edge. If he was right, then today might be the last day of their worldly existences. She gave a consenting nod to the spirit and followed Nicholas to the kitchen, leaving Mark with Bari and Sophia, while the two soldiers took charge of their ‘guest’.

“Would you like some tea?” She asked cheerfully as Nicholas tried to dry himself with a colorful kitchen towel.

“That would be good,” he said and sat down at the table. She set about making tea in order to keep from sitting at the table with him like a child. “Tell me what you were doing down in the meadow with Mr. Ramsay? And how do you explain this?” Nicholas referred to their Mark as Mr. Ramsay. He refused to acknowledge him as a true member of the family. Nicole turned to face him, anger flashing in her eyes. He had no right, as far as she was concerned, to question her or Mark Andrew. No one dared question Mark Andrew. She would not stand for it.

“I saw the markings in the dirt, so do not try to deceive me. Why were you casting spells with him? How did he come by the sword, Nicole? Did you give it to him?” Nicholas questioned her harshly.

“I was not casting spells with him. I had to finish what he started,” Nicole told him truthfully. “He had been conjuring down there by himself. And doing quite well, judging from the storm. I have no idea what he was doing, but whatever it was, obviously had quite an effect on him. I didn’t know that he could conjure at all. He’d never mentioned it, though I knew he had some knowledge of the Arts and Alchemy. He also seems to know a great deal about astronomy and astrology. It’s hard to say what all he carries in his head. The problem is that we really don’t know exactly who he is. Is he Mark Andrew, the original, uncorrupted version… the pre-possessed, you might say… or is he simply an abandoned shell that my father left to fend for itself when he no longer had use for it? Or is he something more? Tell me, Nicholas, do you know? Can your grandmother shed some light on it for us? As for the sword… it was mine. My father made it for me years ago,” she lied. “He liked it and so I gave it to him.”

“I cannot say what my grandmother might know or not know and especially concerning Mr. Ramsay. Since she is not here, we cannot ask her. I would like to know what he was doing down there. My grandfather and my father’s brother have charged me with the safety of this party until they may return from the wars.”

“The wars?” Nicole glanced over her shoulder at him. He was fluffing his curly hair with the towel. “The war is over. Jozsef Daniel is defeated. It is only a matter of formalities in New Babylon. Surely you don’t think that creature… whatever she is… can stand against Omar and Luke Andrew? I’m sure that they’ve already marched on the city and taken it back. God, what I wouldn’t give for a good news report… television or radio. This is terrible.”

She brought cups to the table and a handful of dried berries in a bowl. She had begun to make some oatmeal as well. Mark would need something to eat, no doubt and he loved oatmeal. It was one of her only cooking accomplishments.

“You are probably right. My grandmothers are both at the siege of New Babylon along with several others. It should not take long for the city to fall,” he spooned honey into his cup. He shared his great-grandfather’s sweet tooth.

“You have news of the front?” Nicole perked up.

“I have ears there, if that is what you mean,” Nicholas sniffed and picked up his tea.

“Then, do you know what my father and the Templars are doing? Are they all right? Are they on their way back?” She asked.

“They are beginning the process of returning the Ark to the fires of perdition. We can only pray that they will succeed and return to us.”

“You pray?” Nicole raised both eyebrows at this revelation.

“Of course. My father was a priest and a prophet. Surely you remember my father?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “He taught us
the Word
.”

“Oh, yes, of course. I forgot. I’m sorry.” Nicole left him at the table and went back to her oatmeal.

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Lavon held up the staff of the Wisdom of Solomon as the Knights filed passed him and then knelt on the rocky ground in front of the stone altar. Each of them paused to cross himself in front of the angelic wings atop the staff and then kissed the great seal of Solomon on Lavon’s golden signet ring.

“O
Lord God, Holy Father, Almighty and Merciful One, Who hast created all things
,” Lavon began the opening prayers of his ceremony.

His work would precede the rest of the operation. His silky voice, speaking the words in heavily accented Latin was barely audible above the rumblings in the skies above them. Their faces were lit by the fires burning in brass braziers placed about the clearing and filled with cedar wood and hyssop. “
Who knowest all things and can do all things, from Whom nothing is hidden, to Whom nothing is impossible; Thou who knowest that we perform not these ceremonies to tempt Thy power, but that we may penetrate into the knowledge of hidden things; we pray Thee by Thy Sacred Mercy to cause and to permit, that we may arrive at this understanding of secret things, of whatever nature they may be, by Thine aid, O Most Holy Adonai, Whose Kingdom and Power shall have no end unto the Ages of the Ages. Amen
.”