Chapter Dedication: I rarely do these, but this one goes out to 'Scary Kitty', who bequeathed me with the most thorough review of my life. Thank you for acting in place of a beta, I'm endeavoring to fix all my mistakes, and I'm planning an expansion to Laeva Dei that will deal with the major issue – grief for Anna – which you mentioned. Much thanks!
The following morning dawned brightly, despite the clouds lingering ominously with the distant promise of rain. Carl, exhausted from several days of near-constant work, did not see it. Van Helsing, however, was quietly watching the Holy City awaken, from the one of the two cupolas of St. Peter's Basilica which overlooked the Square.
The sun's first gentle rays illuminated the early workers striding purposefully across the square. He saw a far figure, tall and lanky, directing workers at the entrance to the square. Deacon Ceslovas was organizing his workers from the city for the beginning of the spring season. The sounds of their passage were muted by the dawn, not yet grown to the crescendo of a crowd.
The chill of winter was on the wind, Gabriel mused as he leant forward over the balustrade, gazing out on the city. While the next century was a full decade away and more, change was not contingent on the calendar; and he found himself marveling over the differences he could see. Not those that took place in the past year – those alterations still lay gently upon the Holy City, more of a shift in spirit than in stone. The view of which he now availed himself had changed so much.
There had always been something about this place that compelled the people to gather. He remembered thousands of years past, in the time when the people of Italy were wandering nomadic bands. This place had been a gathering of the wandering tribes, a place of feasting and merriment, trade and exchange – not just items from the coast, but information and language, traditions, cultures and knowledge, the most precious commodity of all.
Much later, with the rise of the Etruscans, known in later times as the Romans, there was building on this spot, yet congregating continued. It was brought to a bloody climax in the time of Nero, when a great circus maximus had been erected in this place. Many – not just Christians, although they were by far the most numerous of the criminals listed – met horrible ends here, gleefully observed by a bloodthirsty crowd.
Closing his eyes with a suppressed shudder, Gabriel turned his face into the bright sunlight, recalling with sorrow the pungent smell of burning flesh as crucified men and women were set alight to illuminate the games in the arena below.
Two hundred years of persecution had been followed by emancipation, under Constantine. Peter's death had been commemorated, then, by the first Basilica to ever be built on the spot. Where crowds had once gathered to adulate the spilling of blood, the descendants of their victims drew together to worship God.
Gabriel slowly opened his eyes, but the open plaza of ages past appeared before his eyes, rather than the modern Square.
That building had been large enough to accommodate the increasing crowds of Christians who flocked to worship. He remembered the structure clearly. It had nothing approaching the present day Basilica's grandeur, but there was something raw and pensive about the silence that reigned in those functional, if not decorative, walls. The suffering that had taken place mere decades before had always permeated those stones. Remembrance was a simple and easy thing there, uncomplicated by ornate austerity. About twelve hundred years later, the building was in such disrepair that the pope – Julius II, if Gabriel recalled correctly – made the decision to replace the dilapidated church with a newer and more elaborate structure.
Construction had begun in 1506, drawing such artists as Raphael, Bramante, Michaelangelo, Bernini, Della Porta, and many more. The Rinascimento had been drawing to a close, its end only to be more fully realized some twenty-one years later, when German and Spanish troops sacked Rome itself, beginning the incursion of foreign rule on the proud city. One hundred and twenty years after its inception, the building - the St. Peter's Basilica of the present century - had been completed. But still, repairs and enlargements were nearly always underway, and –
A noise caught his ear, and Gabriel turned to see Gaspar entering the cupola. He turned back to the vista before him, the sun now long since risen and golden light spilling liberally over the Square. "Michael told me you were up here," the new Head commented. "I trust I am not interrupting?"
Gabriel declined to answer. He was wary of relaxing his guard around the other man, and would be unable to do so until he knew the other's true motives.
Sensing that no response would be forthcoming, Gaspar approached the balustrade on Gabriel's right and mirrored the hunter's posture, leaning on the stone railing and gazing on the courtyard below. "I have your next assignment," Gaspar said quietly. He extended a piece of paper to Gabriel and the hunter took it, immediately recognizing the letter that Jinette had handed to him the previous night.
Wryly recognizing that the former head was passing on some of his skill at manipulation to the younger, he quickly ran his eyes over the sheet. The other man began to speak before his perusal had finished. "The missing agent's name is Warren Gray. I want you to go to Boxborough and discover what is truly going on there. I will assign two members of the Order to accompany you. "
"I want Carl on my team," Gabriel asserted calmly, looking up from the paper and meeting the other's gaze. Neither was willing to waste words on an issue of this import.
Gaspar raised a doubtful brow. "Carl does not have the appropriate training for field missions," he pointed out.
"Carl designed, built, and tested nearly every weapon I have used while with the Order," Gabriel countered sharply. "He is more than capable to work as at least a secondary field agent."
Gaspar appeared to consider the thought for a moment, shifting to look out over the Square. More and more men and women appeared as the day made itself known. "I want you to train with him," he said at last. "I will require regular reports of his progress."
"We don't have time for that," Van Helsing objected immediately.
"Then I will have Bharat make an initial assessment of his skills, and his participation in this assignment will be contingent on his ability as of now," Gaspar continued, unruffled by the protest. "If the head of our trainers finds his skills satisfactory, then he will be made part of your team. I reserve my right to choose the third member of your team, regardless of the outcome. Agreed?"
Gabriel nodded slowly, fingering the paper in his hands. He held up the letter, and commented, "I think that having access to all previous correspondence from this agent would be beneficial."
"Of course," Gaspar consented. The two men stared at each other for a moment before Gabriel turned more fully away from the other. Despite the awkward pause that stretched out, this was looking to be the most civil conversation the two men had ever shared.
"Did you know that today is Michael's birthday?" Gabriel asked abruptly, ending the silence.
Gaspar started at the sudden question, and floundered for a moment before gruffly responding, "No, I didn't." With sudden suspicion, he asked, "How did you know?"
Gabriel shrugged. The two men were staring out at the city, a distance of two feet or more separating them from one another. "Carl mentioned it. I thought you should know."
Gaspar raised a brow curiously. "Why is that?"
Gabriel didn't turn. "The boy looks up to you," he said finally. "It would mean a great deal to him if you were to say something." Birthdays among the clergy and members of the Order were never a cause for fuss, and in fact were barely worthy of notice, except among the few young ones in service at the Vatican. On their birthdays, they would be prayed for, and sometimes given small gifts. They were granted a bit of praise and appreciation for that one day, though no extravagant attention was lavished on any one child – it simply wasn't their way.
Gaspar inclined his head in thanks, and after a moment murmured, "Were you aware of the circumstances by which he came to the Order?"
Recognizing the statement for the olive branch it was, Gabriel responded with a noncommittal, "Not the details."
Gaspar let his hands settle on the wide stone railing, gazing out past the borders of the Vatican, into Rome itself. "Michael was born in Ecuador," he began softly. "He had a disability. We cannot know for sure, but Taddeo thinks it might have been polio – he was unable to stand or walk. When he was five, he received a vision of the Holy Virgin, and was cured. He first came to our attention a year ago, at age eight, when he was protected from a wild bull; it was a miracle he was not mauled. The Christian Brothers spoke to him, and he expressed a desire to join our Order."
Gabriel nodded at the mention of the small offshoot of the Knights of the Holy Order who had settled in Ecuador. "All the more reason for you to speak with him," he said quietly. "You know his story," he added needlessly.
He could feel Gaspar looking at him, searching for the hidden meaning, and after a moment Gabriel turned, looking at the other man levelly. Whatever Gaspar thought to find, he seemed satisfied, and nodded once. "I will think on it. Good day." With that, he departed.
The hunter felt the cool morning breeze pick up, noting with chagrin the chill in the weather which he had been steadfastly ignoring up to this point. Much as they might all desire it, true spring was still a good ways off. Conceding to the cold, the hunter left the open cupola, returning to the lower levels of the Basilica in a search for Carl.
After combing the catacombs and wandering the halls for several hours, he made his way to one of the several kitchens scattered within the Pontifical Academy of Sciences on the rumor that Carl had taken a break for lunch there.
The noise level dipped considerably when he walked into the room, but Gabriel paid it no mind. This area was predominantly peopled with the scholars and researchers of the Order, men and women who worked only indirectly with the labors taking place in the catacombs. They did not expect a hunter, let alone this hunter, to appear in their midst.
Carl, absorbed in explaining one of his experiments to a younger scholar, didn't notice that someone was approaching until his audience's eyes widened, and the youth's gaze drifted over his shoulder. Carl turned, and the amiable, somewhat unassuming attitude he displayed dissolved into a scowl as soon as he saw Van Helsing. "I thought you were Gaspar," he huffed, somewhat surprised.
The quirked grin Gabriel threw him surprised some of the people watching. "No," he replied, holding back a laugh with only a little difficulty.
Carl checked his exasperation, reading hidden mirth in the hazel eyes. "What now?" he asked, twisting around on the bench in order to face his friend more comfortably.
Looking at Carl's mostly filled plate, Gabriel raised a brow and seated himself on the edge of the sturdy bench, prompting the youth across from Carl to gulp. "Tell you after you've eaten," he said quietly.
"I'm not going to like this, am I?" Carl eyed the hunter warily.
Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Carl. Eat."
Grumbling under his breath, Carl took a bite of the bread in front of him and continued lowly, "You know, the last time you got that look in your eye, we ended being chased by hundreds of vampires before jumping out of a window into a canal!"
The youth across the table, the only person near enough to pick up on the comment, choked on his food and began to cough.
"So, I'd really rather if you told me now, before I get in over my head without knowing what's going on," Carl hissed, being certain this time to keep his voice down.
It was a little late for that, Gabriel thought with some amusement. "You and I," said the hunter patiently, "have an appointment with Bharat."
"The head weapons master? Why?" Carl asked blankly.
"For our next assignment," Gabriel replied vaguely, more than aware of the eager audience.
"Our next . . ." Realization dawned and Carl gaped in surprise, fork dropping unheeded to his plate. Everyone was staring now, at the slight friar and the taller hunter, who was deliberately refusing to cause a stir. "But I'm not a field man! I don't -"
"Haven't we already had this conversation?" Gabriel calmly asked him as he rose, stepping away from the table. Carl, he knew, would be unable to eat after such an announcement – which was the main reason he had delayed in relating the information.
Carl, completely forgetting his food, stood as well. "But – but I – where are we going?" he demanded weakly, following Van Helsing to the door.
"America," Gabriel returned, looking over his shoulder concernedly at the friar.
Carl's mouth fell open and his eyes lit up. "Where?"
"New England," Gabriel replied, his eyes on the many people traversing the hallway. Carl's face dimmed a little, but the smile was still there.
"When do we leave?"
"Whenever we get the third member of our crew," Gabriel returned, and Carl moved up next to him as the people thinned out, making a noise of disgust.
"He'll be a lackey," the auburn-haired man stated with certainty. "He's testing us!"
"Don't be too sure of that," Gabriel warned him, passing the letter to the other.
Carl read it twice through as they walked, Gabriel's hand on his shoulder guiding him round corners and stopping him before he heedlessly walked down a series of stairs. The friar didn't look up once, completely absorbed in the letter. "That's it?" he asked finally.
"That's just the last report," Gabriel responded, guiding them outside. Carl hissed at the cold air, and Van Helsing turned so he was blocking the slighter man from most of the wind. "Gaspar will be giving me the rest, and we'll have to see what we can make from them."
"Do you think Warren Gray is dead?" Carl asked soberly. He rubbed his hands together, tucking them into his robe to stay warm.
The hunter's face was grave. "I don't know," he replied honestly. He looked up as they reached a side entrance to the Basilica.
"Ah. Bharat," Carl changed the subject, and Gabriel almost smiled at the anxiety in the other's voice.
"You'll be fine," Gabriel assured him, propelling the younger man inside with a firm hand on his back.
"Are you sure - "
"Carl."
"But-"
"Carl!" Rolling his eyes, Gabriel followed the obviously nervous young man into the smaller side catacomb that Bharat had appropriated for training space upon his appointment to weapons master. Gabriel had spent a good deal of time here during his recovery several years ago, and still came back on occasion; however, he found that the constant assignments he was given did more to hone his battle-sense than any controlled exercise, no matter how well executed.
"Van Helsing," Bharat greeted the hunter warmly, the clear camaraderie between the two startling the friar and bringing a full grin to Gabriel's face. The two gripped each other's wrists, and Gabriel looked the other man over.
Shorter and broader than himself, Bharat was in his physical prime. Dark skin proclaimed his proud heritage as a child of Nigeria, although his kin were originally from deeper within the African continent. His stature was imposing, with thick muscles from his work dominating the impression most received from him. He didn't give a whit about what others thought about him, which was a testament to his character – he simply worked everyone under his tutelage until he was satisfied that they would not only survive, but succeed. His respect was hard-won and not easily lost. Gabriel liked him, for he had a refreshingly down-to-earth attitude that brooked no nonsense with much of the political and situational maneuvering which took place elsewhere in the Order.
Realizing that he was also on the receiving end of a thoughtful assessment, Gabriel smiled and moved aside. "Bharat, this is Carl."
The friar swallowed and stepped forward. "Pleased to meet you," he said evenly.
Bharat raised a brow, looking the short, slender man over. Carl flushed but stood straight and tall, meeting the other's gaze. Bharat glanced at Gabriel, who was smiling knowingly. "You've been informed of why we're here?"
Bharat nodded somewhat brusquely, his shaved head gleaming in the light. "Come with me, boy, and we'll see what we will see."
Carl gave Gabriel a pleading look of disbelief. Bharat led them to a cleared space that was obviously a target range, and several weapons were already set out and waiting, all of which Gabriel recognized. Carl apparently recognized them as well, and he went to stand in front of them at a gesture from the weapons-master with a somewhat puzzled look.
At Bharat's instruction, the unimposing young man quickly disassembled and reassembled several of the complex weapons, cleaning them carefully with clever fingers. Only two of the weapons were projects developed by the Order in which Carl had not had a hand – primarily because they were much before his time. Given a minute, however, the young friar was able to work out the rudiments of their use and care, and Gabriel saw swiftly concealed surprise on Bharat's face. He smothered a smile, keeping his features bland.
However, it was when Carl began to demonstrate his accuracy that other attention in the room drifted toward the target range. With the clinical interest of a technician, as opposed to the passionate involvement of a hunter, Carl methodically shot each of the weapons, choosing a different target each time and compensating for quirks in the weaponry – it took him only two shots to correct for a crossbow that tended to hit left of the crosshair sighting, a weapon Bharat kept faulty on purpose to test the mettle of his students.
There was a stunned silence in the room when Carl put down the last weapon, checking it carefully. He turned and jumped in fright to see several people staring at him. Bharat frowned at the gawkers, who quickly found somewhere else to direct their concentration.
"That was impressive." Bharat's deep voice rang out after a moment in which he stared hard at the friar. Gabriel heard the almost inaudible murmur that followed, knowing the weapons master was speaking only to himself. "He'll do well." Carl's face had slowly turned a beet red, and he mumbled a thank-you to his feet. "Do you think you could do that if there was a person, instead of a target, at the other end?"
Carl's head snapped up at the harsh question, blood draining out of his face so quickly that Gabriel stepped forward, afraid he would faint.
"He doesn't have to. That's what I do," Gabriel asserted softly, eyes worriedly seeking out his friend. The friar nodded slightly to the hunter, a silent signal reassuring him that all was well. "We're just here to see if he knows enough for you to give Gaspar the assurance that he's prepared for this mission."
"I don't like sending them out squeamish," Bharat admitted frankly.
"But?" Gabriel pressed.
Bharat eyed him, then threw his hands up in a gesture of defeat. Gabriel grinned.
"He knows the weapons well, and he has skill with them many would be envious of. I'd be right in thinking you built some of them, eh?" he commented without a pause. "Other than that, I'll assume he has little or no hand-to-hand combat skills. He can learn those from you later," Bharat continued.
Gabriel threw Carl a somewhat wicked grin, and the friar's eyes widened. "The hell be damned I will!" Carl finally found his voice.
Bharat grinned, white teeth flashing in a dark face. "He'll do very well."
(((((( Wow. Sorry for the delay. My sense of perfectionism kept me from posting until I convinced myself that I liked this chapter – as a result, it's somewhat longer than usual. The contest winners are: Daemon Fairy Aerika, who got that #2 is Jeanne D'Arc, the Maid of Orleans. Winner 2 is trecebo who knew #2 and also that #1 was Indiana Jones. Alice is the third winner, who specified that it was Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. Way to go! I'm sort of in shock – 99 percent of reviewers knew at least one of the answers, and many more than I expected knew that it was Last Crusade. Guess I'll have to work on my subtlety . . . hehehe! I'll be waiting the questions of the winners with bated breath!))))))