Bad vibes from The Place of Kings?
Siobhan McIntyre
(Reuters)
Even though Sean Llewellyn may be a computer repairman by day, at night he dons a white robe for his other calling.
Llewellyn is one of many practicing druids in the area. Rather than worship one single god, he and others of his kind practice a religion whose roots are in the era long before Christianity came to be. When conversing with him two days ago, Mr. Llewellyn seemed agitated and unhappy.
"Something is wrong with Tara Hill," Llewellyn states with conviction. "It is as if some sort of corruption has taken hold there. Though he said he only received a general ill feeling upon approaching The Mound of the Hostages, other people who practice the same religion have gone as far as being physically sick.
"We are investigating this matter as one of high concern," a spokesperson for the Meath County Constabulary. "We consider Tara Hill to be a national treasure."
Tara Hill, or Temair as some would call it, is considered the place of Irish kings. Located in Meath County, Ireland, it is held in high esteem by not only the druids, but the influx of tourists to the area do much to provide needed services. In addition to the Mound of the Hostages, the site also contains the Lia Fail, or The Stone of Destiny. Legends say that if a true king of Ireland touches the stone, it will thrice proclaim their right by a mighty booming sound. Various parts of the site have been dated to as far back as 2500 BCE; as more study is done on Tara Hill, perhaps even older traces will be found.
That is all good and well, but for Sean Llewellyn, there still is the matter of what he describes as a taint upon the area. He and others are conducting rituals to find out what has happened to bring such a low feeling to those who visit the place of the High Kings.
Despite rumors of people being seen entering the area disappearing recently, no such rumor can be substantiated at this time. The same applies to accounts of seeing a reddish pall in the area of The Mound of Hostages. It is a fact of note that the Lia Fail was moved to a different location in the same area, supposedly to mark the graves of victims of one of Ireland's failed uprisings for independence.
"I can't return there until the taint goes away. Other druids feel the same way." Sean Llewellyn firmly stated. "I wonder what has happened to cause this sense of wrongness." He stared longingly at the verdant site from a border fence, so close yet now so far away.
Brother Timothy wandered into the forge around noon. He smelled coffee brewing somewhere, but his stomach felt a little upset. He bought a container of water from the vending machine and then sat down to drink it. The forge seemed to be a busy place today. What was odder was the massive increase of all sorts of clutter. A number of the immortals were not even in anachronist's garb, but wore regular street clothes. There seemed to be a lot more vehicle traffic outside.
"What is going on here?" Brother Timothy asked one of the plainly clad immortals.
"We were told that we could move around now without fear of being murdered as soon as we leave this place; I am going to live with some of my cousins in Ireland; I may even go live in the USA if I can. This was fun while it lasted, but there is too much more of the world to see." A horn honked outside; the immortal to which he had been speaking tipped his hat, picked up some gear, and left. I suppose that there is a lot to see out in the world, he thought. His reverie was broken by Nathan and Gerard bidding him greeting.
"I am wondering how long it will be before there is no one left here to play," Nathan said. "A good amount of players is in process of leaving as we now speak."
"Perhaps it is all for the better. There is a lot more of the world to see after all. What will you two be doing?"
Nathan scratched his beard. "I will be staying here for the meanwhile along with Gerard and Faustus. Lydia has already left. Marion has been doing her best to bring out your friend in conversation. She is picking up his speech pretty well."
Brother Timothy shook his head a little as he smiled. "She did not heed my warning; sooner or later she will understand it." "What are you going to do, Brother Timothy?"
"That is actually a good question: What are you going to do Ardis? I am hoping that you exterminated that Ap Hwywd spawn as well?"
Brother Timothy saw Clywd and Dactal sitting in a corner of the forge. Marion was next to Clywd. "That matter has already been addressed, friend elf."
"I saw no quickening fire where you where, though; it almost makes me think you have become weak and unable or unwilling to fulfill the geas laid upon you."
"She is not part of their perfidy; this much I now know. Her life or death will have no bearing on what will soon be."
"Then I surmise that you did not eradicate her from her earthly existence? I fail to see what the Daoine ever saw in you; you assuredly are an abject, puerile representation of your species." Clywd's eyes were wide and staring in almost an accusatory way as he spoke.
"That is fair, I suppose. This then is also fair: What on earth did humans ever see in The Daoine Na Sidhe? If humans were so weak and puerile, why do we survive to this day while your kind is consigned to bardic tales, fictional stories and people doing their best to imitate you? The Tuatha De Dannan were weak and puerile; humans survived, The Daoine did not. The matter of Gwyneth Ap Hwywd has been addressed. If you find my handling of the matter is not to your liking, well…tough! I will tell you what I intend to do though. Now that I have the items back that were stolen, I intend to put most of them into safekeeping. What is left will go with me when once more I suffer your kind again…..at Temair. Tell me, why did the Daoine not want Sardicus to touch the Lia Fail?"
"You dare profane the Stone with his name!"
"No, his name is already a profanity. Why was he not allowed to touch the stone? Did The Sidhe already know of his crime? If not that, could it be something else? Was Sardicus fully human as I or was he something else; something that the Sidhe considered beneath contempt?"
"Only those of PURE blood were allowed to touch the stone!"
"Sardicus looked human to me; was he a crossbreed?"
Clywd's silence and refusal to look Brother Timothy in the eyes were proof enough for Brother Timothy. That could explain a lot of things. "Well, it seems that I have prised loose yet another dirty Daoine secret. I will have to admit that humans are not so tolerant about cultures interbreeding, but if that was the only reason you blocked Sardicus from the stone, then you are even worse then humanity in your prejudice. When the time does arrive, I will only hope you will be there. Your general willingness to see this through seems to be tainted by your general disdain of me; I hope the two do not conflict." Brother Timothy turned back to Nathan to continue his interrupted conversation, but upon seeing Marion, he delayed that action. Marion was looking at him wide-eyed.
"Clywd, how conversant is she in Eldritch speech?"
"As is our misfortune of our kind related to hers, she speaks it very well"
Brother Timothy looked at Marion. "I guess that you are not so used to our commentary, are you?"
It took Marion a few moments to respond. "It sounds as if you hate each other versus being friends…allies?Yes, I find it rather disconcerting."
"Welcome to the ways of the Sidhe and those who knew them."
Brother Timothy laughed at a show of ire from Marion. He turned to Nathan. "At this time, I have the rest of a day to kill; I will be leaving later in the afternoon to finish up a few more tasks. Then I will return here for my two compatriots. Oh, there is one more thing you could do for me. There will be a certain immortal we have already met; he will be calling here looking for me." Brother Timothy scribbled down a number. "When he calls, have him call me at this number in case I am not around." He glanced once more at Clywd. "Worry not, you of the one true race; there will be a reckoning." Brother Timothy then left the forge as he pulled out another sheet of paper. Time to get some last chores done, he thought. His expression grew hard for a moment. Then to take care of the last of them…for good! He was laughing by the time the door to the forge closed behind him.
The Monastery of Saint Timothy
Brother Andrew was up at an early hour today. As quickly as could be managed, he got through the daily sermon and prayer. It was an hour before noon as he decided he was ready for the tasks ahead. Even if the artifacts are still where they are, I will not stop pursuit of this matter. He had no problem getting an appointment with the Monsignor. He had his story prepared; he would appear to have a weakening of his faith. The Monsignor would be more than willing to counsel him on this apparent matter. Until that appointment was to be, though, Brother Andrew had other things to do. He rifled Brother Timothy's sleep area, but found nothing that was damning regarding not only Brother Timothy's belief and faith in God, but when he considered the matter, he found nothing. That did not matter too much after he went to the Monsignor. He accepted the counseling of The Monsignor as if it meant the world to him, but he had the information he had sought: The artifacts of the Monastery were NOT there! Where could they be then if they were not in the case? He knew the answer, though. I DID see Brother Timothy with at least the sword! Despite the warnings and chiding from the superior, Brother Andrew settled on a different approach to the matter, similar to the incident that got he sent away from the Defensor ranks before. At first, he was confrontational with the Monsignor; then he switched tack. He had a rather animated conversation with the Monsignor concerning a certain monk. He still had his war cudgel. That rested in his sleeping area, ready for use. Use for what? He either did not know, or he was fooling himself into thinking he did not know. He put that matter from his mind for the moment; when Brother Timothy showed back at this edifice, and then he would ruminate upon the matter. At this moment, he was reviewing the hits he got on Brother Timothy's visage earlier. He was all prepared for confronting Brother Timothy; he had both paintings as well as the text from the Superior. He left an instant message on the secure site for the Superior to contact him later tonight; he felt by then he would have most of this matter cleared up. It felt so good to be once more working for the grace and faith of God! He was so busy thinking about how this would get him back into the favor of Rome, he never considered any other possible outcomes…
London, England
It was more of a constant, chronic annoyance than any real threat or illness, but it was…annoying. Duncan and Amanda spent most of the day looking at the sights of London and were, for the most part, enjoying it, but unless they had something of immediate concern, there would be a disquieting silence that was not really silent. It was as if many voices were talking at a volume lower then a low whisper. It permeated their consciousness, but was not loud enough to hear what was being said. The voices did not even stop when he tried to sleep; any attempt to gain the higher areas of slumber would be rudely cut off with the whispers. The voices sounded like they were angry and excoriating. The same thing was happening to Amanda as well. She said the voices sounded like elves or someone speaking Olden Tongue. The only way Duncan could get some rest was by taking some sleeping pills. He was able to sleep then, but all night long it seemed, his dreams were of verdancy and rivers of blood, people cursing at him while others laughed at him, all with a sort of unspeakable taint wherever he looked. When he awoke, he did not feel that refreshed; he felt more like he had waged a war in his dreams. Amanda was no better off, or maybe worse off. She determined that the voices were of the Daoine Na Sidhe, and they were not happy with her or Duncan. What the Daoine demand will be. Even if Duncan still had a temper, he was also pragmatic in many ways.
"You want to bet that Ardis knows what is going on? I wonder if he is laughing now as we speak." Duncan found the number for the forge and dialed it. He was surprised that the person on the other end gave him another number to call. He sat and stared at the number for the longest time. To think I wanted only to be finally shut of him and his ruinous ways. The look from Amanda left him no other real option. We need to end this, Duncan. He dialed the number and waited while it rang…
The Convent of Mary Most Blessed
It was near dusk when a cab pulled up in front of the building. Built several centuries ago, the convent was of solid, unrelenting brick, as if by its architecture alone it could bear true testament to its faith. At one time this convent did its best to preach the word of God to all who would listen, but then came the splitting of the church. As with most Catholic edifices in this area, they slowly but surely faded from prominence. This Convent was not even listed in the phone directories. Two figures emerged from the cab. One was dressed in monastic garb while the other one was in basic street clothes. They approached the entrance, stopping to admire the design on the heavy doors. Brother Timothy used the knocker to announce their presence.
"Whatever happens, do your best to keep your composure."
When no one seemed to answer his first summons, Brother Timothy repeated the gesture. An intercom became active after the second time. A pleasant voice spoke. "Greetings. How may The Convent of Mary assist you?" Brother Timothy replied without thinking:
"In nomen patronus illae monasterium, ego addo vobis unus penitentarius pro Deus. Mos vos patefacio vestri porta?"
The speaker on the other end was silent for a few moments. When she spoke again, it was with a hint of confusion in her voice. "Wait one moment please." In the background, Brother Timothy could hear several voices that also seemed confused. The voices suddenly cut off. Thirty minutes passed before the door into the Convent slowly opened. Two nuns were there. One was of advanced age; she was bowed over and hobbled with a cane. The other with her seemed rather young. While the older nun was in her habit, the younger one was not. Gwyneth's eyes went wide for a second, but she kept her silence. Brother Timothy was not fazed by the presence of a third immortal. The young nun smiled at Brother Timothy. "We are so sorry for the delay, but it has been a long time since someone requested sanctuary in Latin. Where are you from, Brother?"
"The Monastery of Saint Timothy. I have one here who seeks your protection, though she may also be of benefit to those here."
The older nun looked at Brother Timothy. There was nothing enfeebled regarding her gaze. "I did not think Latin was taught or used anymore in our places of worship. Where did you learn to speak it so fluently?"
"I felt that it would be of some use, revered Sister."
The old nun smiled. "You yourself are penitent in the name of God, and with proper deference to those senior to you in age. We will gladly take your word as to her state of being and welcome her into our cloister."
The younger nun took Gwyneth by the hand to lead her inside, but as Brother Timothy moved forward, his path was blocked by the older nun. "As there are no women allowed in your monastery, so are there no men allowed into our convent." The three women retreated behind the door and closed it, leaving Brother Timothy alone. It is done. None shall assail her here in this edifice. As if addressing an invisible someone, Brother Timothy nodded at the door, turned on his heel, and then got back into the cab. He gave the driver directions to his destination. For the first time in what seemed ages, the smile Brother Timothy had on his visage was not one of malice. He was going back to his home, though only for a short amount of time.
The Monastery of Saint Timothy
Brother Timothy paid the cab driver as he gazed upon the place that had been his home for so long. Fortunately, he was not too late, so he had no trouble gaining entrance. He immediately noticed that no one stood watch at either the postern gate or the main gate, but he paid it no mind for the moment. He stifled a yawn while he made to go to his sleeping quarters, but that was not to be. The Monsignor was waiting for him at the foot of the stairs to where he slept. The monk who had let him in probably alerted the Monsignor the moment he was back. Barely constrained anger was written all over the Monsignor's features. His voice was that of one barely keeping the anger in check.
"It is good to see you back, Brother Timothy."
"Thank you, Monsignor. I am looking forward to getting some sleep—"
"You will have to postpone that for a while. You will come up to my office immediately!" The Monsignor's demeanor made it obvious that a 'no' would not be accepted; with a sigh, Brother Timothy ascended slowly up the stairs with the Monsignor right behind him. More than a few monks were watching them.
The Monsignor possessed enough of a professional demeanor so that the reason for his anger did not erupt before he closed and locked the office door. "I see that you have been liberal with your expenditures, though not profligate. That is not the reason we are here now. I want to know what in HELL did you do while away from here!" The Monsignor smacked several papers down upon his desk. "What in HELL have you done!? Five dead in Wales and a report of someone in monk's robes there! THIRTY people, possibly more, died in Paris! What or who in HELL do you think you are! I want an Explanation, damn it! And this does not even cover an attack upon five agents of the church! Once more, someone in monk's garb!" Brother Timothy waited for The Monsignor to be done with his tirade.
Before he said anything, he opened up the satchel he was carrying. "The writ of excommunication. It is a little more worn then it was due to some rough handling. Here also is the cross." He laid both upon the desk before emitting a deep sigh. "Monsignor, I will not deny the charges that you have laid down upon me. I chased the thief to Wales, but he left before I could catch him. I finally caught up to him in Paris, but others interfered. As far as the thirty go, they attacked me; they got what they deserved. The Agents of the Church were after that cross you now see upon your desk. I had no intention of letting them have it."
Monsignor Leopold's anger had subsided a bit upon seeing the cross on his desk, but he still was livid. "Your robe has several rents in it and even I can smell the reek of blood upon you! Did you have to kill all those people? Do you realize that even Rome may not be able to cover this up? A homicidal maniac in a monk's robe! That will assuredly gain us more parishioners!" Brother Leopold sat down at his desk and put his head in his hands.
Brother Timothy spoke into the silence. "Why aren't the guards at the front and postern gates?"
"They are not there because I relieved them of duty! There was a dismembered body of a local child spread across two gravestones in our cemetery. The police immediately co-opted the matter, making the sentries here irrelevant. We now have a night watchman patrolling our grounds."
She was here, then! Interesting. "I suppose that was the best route to take; there will be no more desecrations like that though. She is gone."
"Don't tell me you KNOW who did that!?"
Brother Timothy sighed yet again. "The fact is, I do know who did that. She did the same thing back in 1607. That time she and her cohort were able to break into the monastery. She was driven out and most of her cohort was killed. She was after me then and probably was again this time. She will not be returning. As to what she is, I would find it hard to describe that to you. I came back here to be sure you had that cross and writ. I need to put back a few other things that were stolen from me. Then I will need to leave…one last time I hope."
The Monsignor was tight-lipped and still angry. "You know I could revoke the travel permission you have and turn you over to the authorities."
"Perhaps you could, but I do not think that you will. Regardless of what permissions I have, I still will be leaving again very soon. There is one more matter that I need to address, and it cannot be addressed at this edifice. I admit that I have caused some problems—" The Monsignor snorted as he shook his head. "—but I am trying to figure out how to explain something to you; trust me, it is not easy."
The Monsignor's anger was replaced by a look of disgust. "Try me. This had better be good, though."
"How do I explain something that happened over 5500 years ago, Monsignor? Christianity did not even exist then."
The Monsignor paled, "5500 YEARS!?"
"Yes, Monsignor, 5500 years. Badb and Morvran were worshipped then; the concept of peace towards your fellow man was not in existence. For over 800 years, a sort of a truce was cast between me and my enemies. That has been irretrievably sundered with the theft of the items taken from me and the havoc that has reigned since that time. I know that at this time you are not happy with me or the events that have occurred, but this needs to be finished, Monsignor, once and for all. Regarding the adverse publicity that I have generated, the ones seeking that cross have a pretty good aptitude for making things go away."
Monsignor Leopold had a slight pallor regarding his complexion, but it was his turn to sigh. "Okay, I will not interfere in the matter you raised. I guess I have no choice but to trust you in this matter. We need to have a real long discussion when you return."
"Well, Monsignor, I need to get some sleep. I assure you that this will work out in the end. All that you need is some faith." Brother Timothy laughed at the Monsignor's expression as he left the office to go to his sleeping quarters. As soon as the door closed, the Monsignor's expression became one of resolve. He neglected to mention that he and Brother Andrew had already completed a discussion of their own. The discussion they had would not have made Brother Timothy very happy, but in the Monsignor's mind, it was all he could do, especially when shown the items that Brother Andrew had in his possession. As sure as Monsignor Leopold had been, this situation left him feeling very unsure. If there was any one game at which the Monsignor was adept, it was chess. This to him was a sort of very dangerous chess game. Am I doing the right thing? This is on my head if anything happens. I will have to see how this plays out.
Brother Andrew had his information printed up and placed in a manila folder. In addition, he had his laptop PC with him; the wireless connection gave him internet access anywhere in the monastery. An identical folder of information was now in Brother Timothy's file. Brother Timothy has returned! As much as the news uplifted his spirits, he now had to think about the uses for the war cudgel he had appropriated. It seemed to mock him and glare at him at the same time. With a look of stern resolve etched upon his countenance, he grabbed up the cudgel as he left his quarters. Time to mend the error of your ways, Brother Timothy. If you will not do so, then perhaps you will with some help from me. Brother Andrew grabbed one more thing before he left. It was a gold medallion upon a chain; its weight around his neck felt so right…..
Brother Timothy was only too glad to see his sleeping area. His first idea was to simply undress and go to sleep, but even as weary as he was, he knew right away something was wrong. Was it that the bedding looked like the bed was so slovenly made, or was it too neat? He had been gone for a while, but he did not ever recall being that sloppy. The pillowcase also looked askew. He checked his closet. The shoes he wore, instead of being tidy, looked like they had been kicked around. One robe hung askew upon its hanger. Someone searched this place. For what? He did not keep anything of consequence in his room; all of his collected items were in his sanctuary that he had constructed. Who searched my room and what were they seeking? Brother Timothy set down all he did not need and decided he had better check his sanctuary. He was so wrapped up in this issue that he did not see someone watching him from the shadows. A second person also watching him proceeded to shadow him as he walked to where the entrance to his sanctum was. He slowly walked out of the sleeping area into the main room of the monastery and towards the first door. The main room had only sparse illumination, so he only could hear the sound behind him; he could not see who was there. He listened for a few moments. When he heard nothing else, he unlocked the door and quickly shut it behind him. Soon he had the door to his sanctum open and shut and the lights turned on. A quick but detailed search showed nothing apparently amiss. He set the satchel down before opening the drawer on the right side. The two tomes that had been stolen were put back where they belonged. He also put away the crossbow; he could foresee no real use for it this time. He gently set her half circlet in the drawer with a small touch of melancholy.
All that he had now was the larger circlet, the debit card, and some other odds and ends from his travel outside. This included a disposable cell phone. He had it shut off; he considered them to be rather annoying, but they had their uses. He turned on his computer to type out yet another letter. He sealed it in an envelope and put the Monsignor's name upon it. He had freely mentioned the Ap Hwywd name to many people, but had purposefully neglected to mention one of the clan in particular: Sardicus Ap Hwywd. I may not be able to kill him in battle; as skilled as I am, he may be more skilled. Brother Timothy was practical regarding the matter; he only now faced the possibility that he would lose in this coming battle, but he did not intend to go out without a fight. He badly needed some rest, so he powered off the computer and then locked up his sanctuary. He thought he had heard yet another sound out in the main area, but he ignored it. Shortly after he had left though, a figure did emerge from the shadows. They went to the locked door and tried to open it. They had no luck with it. The person shrugged and then proceeded to follow Brother Timothy just as they were doing before.
Brother Timothy had every intention of heading back to his sleeping quarters for some needed rest, but his curiosity got the better of him. The sparring room where the monks practiced with quarterstaffs had a light on inside. He opened the door and stepped inside without even giving the action any thought. The practice staves were in their rack, but the rack was pulled away from the wall. A quick inspection showed one of the war cudgels to be missing. That is odd, he thought. Where would it be? Because several monks now knew where they were kept, there were at least that many possibilities. He backed away from the area in order to pull the practice stave holder into its normal place, but he heard the door open behind him where he himself had entered; then the lights were turned out, leaving the room in darkness. Countless millennia of combat experience overrode any sense of safety and wellbeing. As such his quick maneuver saved him from the full force of the cudgel. The blow still knocked him into the wall. He felt ribs crack under the impact. He ignored the pain and agony and levered himself quickly away from the wall. He deliberately aimed his motion towards the ground. As he fell to his back, he saw the cudgel cross above him by only 2 feet or so. He snapped himself upon his feet hoping to catch and render the cudgel useless, but its wielder was quite skilled. They snapped the cudgel back from its vulnerable position, then brought it forward as a heavy missile with an iron-wrapped end. They had pinned Brother Timothy against the wall and the floor in such a way that he could not draw his weapon; with the cudgel's reach, there was no way for Brother Timothy to get at his attacker, either. A harsh sounding voice came from the darkness, one that Brother Timothy knew.
"Are you going somewhere, Brother Timothy?" Brother Timothy's assailant turned on the light. Brother Andrew was holding the cudgel, a look of victory written on his visage. "You will answer my questions if you so state that you are penitent to God. " Brother Timothy looked over at a small table that was in the sparring room. On the table was a manila folder along with some pens and a laptop computer. Brother Andrew pulled the cudgel away but set it up by the chair in which he now was seated. "You will answer the questions I ask you, Brother Timothy, or whoever you say you are."
Brother Timothy was in shock for a few seconds but then had to contain a rising urge to laugh. Who in hell does he think he is? Torquemada? This was so ludicrous, so comical, that he had to play along with it. Brother Timothy got himself up off the floor; he had to keep from doing so too quickly because Brother Andrew had one hand upon the cudgel. He straightened out his robe, found another chair upon which to sit, and then seated himself where Brother Andrew pointed him
"It seems I taught you well, Brother Andrew," Brother Timothy made as if he still was in pain; what pain he had suffered was long gone in reality, though.
"You will lower your hood while you are speaking to me, Brother Timothy! I will not tolerate ANY insolence from you, not anymore!" Brother Andrew glared at him for emphasis.
Brother Timothy shrugged and lowered his hood. "All I see there are pens, a folder and a laptop computer, Brother Andrew; where are the thumbscrews, the rack, and the iron maiden? Also, shouldn't you be dressed up in some fancy robes? I think a white brocade—"
"That is enough from you! You will be properly respectful of those above you in standing here!" Brother Andrew took something out of the folder. He spread the three pictures upon the table. "That is unmistakably you, Brother Timothy! Why did you attack five agents of the church?"
Brother Timothy looked at the pictures and chuckled. "May I have a 5 by 7 of the center one; I did not realize I was that photogenic!"
Brother Andrew glared pure malice at Brother Timothy. "You do not realize how much trouble you are in for your actions! Only by admitting your criminal actions can you hope for any leniency from Rome in this matter! Why did you attack five agents of the church who were following the orders given to them by their superior?"
"They and I apparently were after the same thing. Maybe they need to send more than five the next time; the ones they sent assuredly were no threat to me. Especially after I injured them."
Brother Andrew was taken aback for a moment. He did not expect Brother Timothy to confess to the deed straightaway. But he was thrown off kilter only for a moment. "Interfering with an agent of the church in their duties is a grave matter, Brother."
"Interfering with me, Brother Andrew, is also a grave matter; a matter of how quickly graves can be dug for those who transgress." This idiot is for real! Brother Timothy was laughing so hard inside it was almost impossible to keep a straight face, but he managed. "Was it you who trespassed upon my sleeping quarters? You were not very neat in your action."
Brother Andrew turned a harsh gaze upon Brother Timothy. "It was necessary to do so to make sure you were not hiding anything, Brother Timothy. That brings up several other matters of import." Brother Andrew slapped down another photo; this one was of a sheet of paper with some Latin inscribed upon it. "Did you write out this missive in Latin, comprising a dire threat aimed at who so ever should read it?" Brother Timothy stifled a yawn and looked at Brother Andrew. Brother Andrew slammed a fist down upon the picture. "You will look at this NOW and answer me!"
Brother Timothy glanced at the picture. He already knew what it said. "I believe I did, Brother Andrew. What I find amusing is that you have that missive in a picture. How is it that you have a copy of it?"
Brother Andrew did not answer him. He was busy at his laptop computer typing something. Brother Andrew nodded at the computer and then turned to look at Brother Timothy.
Brother Timothy repeated his question. "How is it you have documents that only the agents of the church are supposed to have?"
"That is NONE of your concern, Brother Timothy. You are in a lot of trouble! You are in so much trouble that my superior wishes to directly address this matter with you!"
Brother Timothy immediately stopped laughing inside. His superior? He chose to verify that information. "Did you say your superior, Brother Andrew?"
"They were once until I was sent away to this place! I cannot believe how much this place has fallen from the true path to God! But even if we have to address the matter one monk at a time, I will gladly do it and be thankful that I can serve God!"
Brother Andrew had neglected to look at Brother Timothy for the last few moments. Had anyone else done so, they would have backed off as far as they could go, not continue on as Brother Andrew did. "Another matter of issue: Who gave you the permission to remove the holy artifacts of this monastery and WHAT gives you the right to WEAR them as you do even now?!"
Brother Andrew was quickly typing on his laptop, so he was not looking at Brother Timothy. As Brother Andrew looked up to glare at Brother Timothy yet again, all he saw was a blur of brown. Then a blow to his chest knocked him down to the floor. He quickly rose to his feet to grab the cudgel, but it was no longer there. The cudgel made a good amount of noise as it clattered to the floor. It now was at the opposite end of the room. Brother Andrew whirled around to look for Brother Timothy, but his action was halted once an armored hand grabbed his neck. Brother Andrew made the mistake of looking into Brother Timothy's eyes. What was there was beyond plain malice of hatred; his gaze seemed to burn through Brother Andrew. "You are Defensor Fidei." Brother Timothy said it as a matter of fact statement.
"You will take your hands—"
Brother Andrew's outrage was choked off by an armored hand crushing the life from him. He did his best to unhook the hand from his neck, but it was to no avail. He heard a icy tone of voice even as he struggled to draw a breath.
"Defensor Fidei state that they are the ones who are truly penitent to God. I consider them to be an insult to the name of God; by invoking God, agents of the church do God an injustice. The only choice to make now is do I cut you up into pieces and toss you upon a midden heap as the other Brothers of this monastery were treated long ago, or do I dig an extra grave for your remains? I guess there are no longer any midden heaps around, so an extra grave it will be." Brother Andrew saw his vision rapidly fading as he struggled to draw a breath of air.
Another person entered the sparring room. "No, Brother Timothy, let him go! I will not suffer murder in this holy edifice!" It was the Monsignor. His hands plus Andrews hands allowed Andrew to draw a breath of air. He gulped it in greedily as he finally managed to break free of the grip that nearly killed him. Brother Andrew staggered a couple of steps but then regained his feet as well as most of his composure. The three men now faced each other: Brother Andrew was no longer so cocksure of himself. He would have murdered me! Brother Timothy was almost visibly exuding rage as he pulled his armored hand away from Monsignor Leopold. The Monsignor looked as angry as he could possibly be, although his complexion was a bit pale. "I will NOT tolerate murder in this place of God! I WILL not!"
Brother Timothy regarded the Monsignor with open contempt. "Did you know who he was when he first entered here?"
The Monsignor stepped away from Brother Timothy as he replied. "I knew of his situation, yes; he needed someplace to go."
"Why here of all places? You would allow murderous vermin of this sort to pollute this place?"
"We are NOT murderous vermin! You dare to impugn us with your malicious speech—"
Brother Andrew fell silent upon getting a stern look form the Monsignor. Brother Timothy looked at the contents of the manila folder. Even though materially there was not much in the folder, what was present was rather damning in relation to what he really was. He saw Brother Andrew sidling towards the door. He would put a stop to that very quickly. He whirled towards Brother Andrew, his sword half out of its sheath. "You will die if you lunge towards that door; if I miss, I will chase you through this monastery until I pin your corpse to a wall." Both the Monsignor and Brother Andrew froze where they were. "I take it you were following me around also, Monsignor. Did you allow Brother Andrew to attack me with that cudgel as well?"
"I most certainly did not!"
Brother Timothy looked at both of them. "There is something going on here that I do not like; it makes me think of…collusion?"
The Monsignor was quick to reply. "I resent the usage of that word! All that I was trying to do in regards to Brother Andrew and I was to verify some happenings outside this monastery."
"You mean such as what we discussed first earlier?"
"Yes! I gave you dispensation to travel, not leave a trail of dead and injured in your wake!"
"I want to know right now what you told Brother Andrew." At the Monsignor's hesitation, Brother Timothy reiterated his last utterance. "You will tell me NOW!"
"We spoke only of what we saw in the papers, nothing more."
"Do you expect me to believe that? You and he were following me around here tonight. He attacked me with a cudgel in the dark, and you show up just in time to stop me from killing him? Bullshit."
The Monsignor's eyes widened. "You have no right to speak to me in such a disrespectful way! I am your superior in this edifice!"
"Despite all of that, I still say…bullshit."
Suddenly, Brother Timothy remembered that Brother Andrew was here as well. He also glanced at the laptop device. "Were you conversing with someone on this computer?"
Brother Andrew spat back, "That is not your concern! When I am done, you will be thrown out of here in disgrace!"
"Is that so?" Brother Timothy tapped the space bar on the laptop, making it come to life. While the whole screen was filled with a database search result, a text box was overlaid upon half the screen. Brother Timothy turned to the Monsignor. "I am not very happy with you at this point, sir, due to the fact that I think you are responsible for enabling this murderer of the church in his pursuit of alleged holy justice."
He looked at Brother Andrew. "With whom are you conversing on this machine? Is it the superior that you mentioned earlier?"
Brother Andrew smirked at Brother Timothy. "Even if it is, your fate is assuredly sealed. I will have you cast out of this place. The authorities may even get involved. I hope you enjoy rotting in prison. Maybe you will begin to like it!"
Brother Timothy had finally had enough. It was time to wipe that smirk from Brother Andrew's face for good. First, he addressed the matter of the text box he saw. It looked like the person on the other end was waiting for a reply. He typed in that he would be right back. Now to deal with this bastard called Brother Andrew. "You know Brother Andrew, that is not the first time I have heard that. It may not really be the last time, either. When I forged this sword I now carry, I was around, but you were not. When this monastery was founded, I was there and once again you were not. When your piece of shit Defensor Fidei member named Brother Lucien tortured and killed five brothers from this monastery, I was there, but yet again, you were not. I was also there when I shot him in the head with a crossbow bolt. Long after your mortal remains are eaten up by worms, I will also be there, but you will not be there. Do you see a pattern here? I do."
Brother Andrew had at least lost his smirk. Brother Timothy waited for him to reply. "You need the care of a psychiatrist and some strong medication! You expect me to believe that crap?" Brother Andrew was openly laughing now. I guess more extreme measures will need to be taken; I cannot simply kill him off. The monsignor is now involved. "Monsignor, it would be a simpler matter to simply kill him and bury the body. It is a shame we just can't do that though." Brother Timothy looked around the sparring room. Someone had left a pair of scissors lying around. They would do just fine. Brother Timothy picked up the scissors and walked over to where Brother Andrew was. Brother Andrew tried to back away, but he had nowhere to go. "Brother Andrew, would you say these scissors are sharp? Let's see if they are, shall we?" Brother Timothy opened them up so that the sharp points were separated. He had difficulty grasping them with his left hand, but he managed to do so. Without any fanfare, he transpierced his hand with the scissors. Blood oozed out of the wound on both sides. Brother Andrew was looking at Brother Timothy as if he were mad. Brother Timothy proceeded to extract the scissors from his hand. He held the hand in front of Brother Andrew so that Brother Andrew could see it. A slight bluish crackle across his hand and the wound was no more. Brother Timothy washed his hand off in a nearby sink. The skin of his hand showed no blemish. Brother Andrew had nothing to say; it was as if he suddenly went catatonic. "Well, at least he is not laughing at me now, Monsignor. Now I think I will deal with this superior shithead on the computer. This may be a lot of fun."
As Brother Timothy turned to address the computer, Brother Andrew spoke. "How did you do that?"
"Do what? The scissors through my hand? That is simply something I can do; you see, I am not like you or the Monsignor. Not even a mortal wound can stop me, Brother Andrew."
"That is impossible," Brother Andrew said softly.
"Actually, it is quite possible, though I don't know exactly why. You see before you proof that it is possible." Brother Timothy was waiting for the inevitable next comment.
"Who are you? WHAT are you?" Brother Andrew was regaining composure from his initial shock. "I and others of my kind are immortal, Brother Andrew. That is I in the paintings you have here."
"You then are saying that you killed those Defensor Fidei in 1414?"
"Yes. They earned it for their treachery and perfidy they committed in the name of God. One moment. I am going to have a little talk with your former superior." Brother Timothy finally turned to the computer and began typing.
I am back now as promised
User15: Welcome back Brother Andrew. How are you doing regarding getting the answers that we need?
I am more than happy to give you all the answers that you want, Superior.
User15: Who is this? May I remind you that this is a secure site and that we will prosecute any hackers we find?
I am Brother Timothy. Brother Andrew is indisposed at the moment, though he still is alive. I strongly advise you not to break this connection either. We have some matters to discuss.
After a rather long period of silence, more text appeared in the box.
User15: This is highly irregular. I am hoping that this discussion might prove to be positive?
That depends solely upon you for the most part. I take it that your agents are recovering?
User15: I do hope that was not an attempt at humor on your part, brother monk. That is a very serious matter indeed. Has Brother Andrew apprised you of the circumstances involved?
Yes he has. What threats he made are pointless and useless. Let's cut to the chase. I now have in possession the items you sent your agents to retrieve.
User15: Those items belong to Rome and Rome only. I will not have a lowly monk in a monastery claiming ownership of such! They must be returned here at one; we can also use numerous legal means if necessary!
If you give me what I want, that will not be needed. The price for the cross and writ is pretty simple: A Writ of Rescindment nullifying the original action.
User15: That also is a serious matter indeed. Only the Pope can authorize such as that. The request will have to go through channels…
Bullshit. Just because you can no longer excommunicate a king or queen does not mean you lack power. The other Defensor Fidei I knew were quite independent of the Pope.
User15: That is not true! In the Pope rests the ultimate power in things such as this.
The Pope you now have is a placeholder, no more. The price is non-negotiable: A Rescindment for the cross and writ.
User15: I will see what I can do regarding that matter. That still does not excuse your behavior towards the Agents of the Church you injured.
Yes it does; they attempted to retrieve the cross for themselves. Until this place has a formal rescindment, that is not going to happen. You see, I have means of leverage myself. They are necessary when dealing with people like you. You have the note I wrote; that should explain things rather fully.
User15: It does to an extent, but it creates more issues than it solves. How did you break into this archive to find the original warning that was written?
You give me far too much credit, superior. I do not possess that sort of computer skill. I am so sorry that you did not find an easy answer therein. Brother Lucien masqueraded as a Brother in this monastery. In reality, he was a Defensor Fidei Superior like you. He tortured and slaughtered five brothers from this monastery. He was paid back in his own coin. I left the note as a warning.
User15: You lack proper respect for someone of my stature.
I hold you and yours beneath contempt. You should be grateful that your agents are still alive. I still remember Brother Lucien. If you expect me to respect someone like that, then you may be as tiny minded and puerile as I can imagine.
Brother Timothy could almost sense the agitation coming from the other user in the chat.
User15: So you have no apology to offer for attacking my agents, you claim ownership of something that is not yours, and you dare insult me even after knowing of the rank I hold here in Rome. You assuredly are NOT an asset to the church; the church would be far better off without such as you in its folds.
That was well said; I suppose the priests caught sodomizing altar boys are a better example. You are entitled to your opinion; I feel entitled to mine. Let me tell you how things will be happening so that you have no mistake in your mind. First, you will get that writ of rescindment in exchange for the cross and writ I have. Secondly, there are some issues I have regarding Paris, France. You will make them ALL go away. Thirdly, you will dispose of all of your information on me. All things considered, Brother Andrew attacked me with a cudgel. He is still alive despite that act of violence. Is this what you teach Defensor Fidei?
User15: What makes you think I have that sort of influence?
Easy. Who else would be moving pedophilic priests from diocese to diocese so that they do not have to answer for their crimes? I could say that I will put a crossbow quarrel through your skull, but these are modern times. A different sort of weapon is needed. Are you conversant with the Coptic Christians?
User15: They are also heretics like you, but you are nothing but a total affront to the church! You are in enough trouble so that I can have you thrown out of the monastery where you live!
That will not happen either. The Coptics still are an interesting sort. They were one of the first to adopt the concept of God and Jesus Christ. They also had what was probably the real version of the bible, not the gutted one that emerged from the Council of Nicaea. They and I got along quite well; well enough so that they let me copy some of their works. One especially is interesting. It is the epistle of Julius. Now if it were to be 'found', Rome would be so busy exercising spin control that the matter of my alleged sacrilege and heresy would be swept under the rug. The thing is, they would be able to carbon date the manuscript I have to about 15-25 A.D.
User15: Even if you had such as that, you would not dare do what you say.
You are welcome to not believe me if you wish. All I want is to be left alone. Instead, you send skulking spies to my monastery who attack in the dark with cudgels. When it comes down to that, I will do what I deem necessary to protect what is mine, just as you feel obligated to protect the Catholic faith from all of its enemies. Consider it in this fashion: We all can either win, or we all can lose. It is your choice; be glad you are in a position to make one.
About 15 minutes later, a reply came back.
User15: You battle as well as any Jesuit I have known. Regarding the answer about the written text, it has been ascertained that we do not want an answer. How do we procure the papal cross and writ?
You can undertake that matter with Monsignor Leopold. I think that you and he can faster reach a common ground.
User15: The other matters can also be ameliorated, but not unless we have some assurances….
Such as?
User15: No publication of unknown epistles or other such matters. Also, the holy artifacts stay where they are supposed to stay.
That can be arranged. If the matter of the cross is taken care of in a proper manner, then I will have no enmity towards your church agents.
User15: Will that also include Brother Andrew? He was sent away from here due to a bit of…overzealousness. We had no other place to put him at that time. He gets to stay there in one living, breathing piece.
Done. Anything else?
User15: We do NOT want any further answers about the issue with Brother Lucien. This also applies to the other things you have stated. We will encrypt what items we have that pertain to other aspects of things, but any information specifically concerning you will be digitally shredded.
It seems that we are seeing eye to eye, superior sir.
User15: LOL! You almost made me think you meant that!
Perhaps in time, I just might. I will see how you deal with this matter. If you choose to deal under the pale, you will regret that. That is a promise, not a threat. I need to get some sleep; am I correct that our business is concluded?
User15: Yes it is. May I speak to Brother Andrew again? I will make him get rid of what information he has on you. I also think I will revoke his archive access for the time being.
I then bid you good evening, superior sir.
Brother Timothy pushed the laptop towards Brother Andrew. "It seems your friend wants to talk to you again. I would listen well to what he has to say." Brother Timothy turned to the Monsignor. "You and the person on the other end of this conversation will need to contact each other. You have work to do regarding the cross." Brother Timothy yawned. "I am in need of some sleep." Brother Timothy once more turned a baleful look upon Brother Andrew. "It will be in your best interest to do what your superior says to do." If not, then you may yet be killed. The implication of Brother Timothy's words were no lost upon Brother Andrew.