Six weeks, she could hardly believe she had been home for that length of time. She had woken up in a hospital room in Damascus with Syrian officials and British embassy people crawling all over her. She told them some lame story about two men hijacking her car and taking her hostage and how when the shelling happened she almost got away but she had been caught in an explosion.
When the Syrian asked her about the bullet wounds she looked and was genuinely surprised, they told her she had been shot twice, at least that explained the pain in her shoulder. They grilled her for hours about her captors but she told them other than the two who took her from Damascus she never saw any faces before providing them with detailed descriptions of the man in the morgue and Farim.
In the end they concluded she had been shot trying to flee and what little information she could give them only backed up what they believed had happened. They seemed satisfied that the men who had been escaping the attack on Assad had indeed been in Masyaf, "At least we can be sure the guilty men paid with their lives." The older Syrian official had said before adding proudly, "Not one rebel was left alive in Masyaf by the end of that afternoon we had killed them all."
Within a week Maria had been flown home amid a blaze of publicity, Sky TV hailed their "returning heroine". Her bosses offered her a plum job in the newsroom but Maria asked them to give her some time off to consider it and recover. They had agreed and even set up once weekly counselling sessions to aid her but she knew they were pointless, she could never tell the woman sitting opposite her that the real reason she cried herself to sleep was her grief for the men who had fallen fighting for freedom.
She had escaped Syria on the back of a lie, a lie which she now had to adhere to without the slightest deviation. Unfortunately for her the tangled web she had weaved to avoid prosecution also prevented her sharing her pain or what she felt was the real story of Syria. Of the suffering she had seen but had allowed herself to deny, burying it deep inside her brain all in the name of self preservation and it was killing her.
She thought of Malik, hoping and praying they had done enough to conceal him from the army. She thought of Felix and Kadar, boys she barely knew but boys she had witnessed fighting to the death. Most of all she thought of Altair. She tried to be angry with him for using her but she couldn't. Remembering the look on his face before he kissed her... he had needed her as much as she needed him. Perhaps it was nothing more than comfort for him but for Maria it had been much more.
She could barely pass an hour without thinking about him; she would lie in bed aching for his touch and his beautiful scarred mouth. She thought of Adha too, wondering how much worse she must be suffering the loss of such a man, a man she –unlike Maria- was entitled to mourn. Six weeks and still she felt like she was in the wrong place with the wrong people living the wrong life.
She stood at the doors of the packed train facing out; she always preferred to avoid making eye contact with strangers in these situations. Having just completed another hour of "You must have been terrified, get it off your chest" chatter she was grateful to be heading home, to her sanctuary and her research.
She had begun researching the order Altair had spoken of the assassins but could find no real information relating to them beyond the 13th century. Yet she felt sure he had been connected to this faction in some way, perhaps part of a group trying to bring it back to life. They had fought mostly against Crusaders; Maria allowed herself a wry smile at how they would likely have been enemies back then the Christian and the Muslim...
Information about the Crusaders was a far easier to find and she was surprised to learn she lived close to what had been the Templar Knight's version of Masyaf, their spiritual home so to speak. The church had long been taken from the disbanded order but it still stood in London in the area which bore its name.
She glanced at the route map and realised her journey from Aldgate to South Kensington would pass right through Temple. Chastising herself for being so fanciful even as she got ready to disembark at Temple station she stepped on to the platform and made her way back out to the rain soaked streets of London.
She lit a cigarette and took a deep pull of the comforting poison into her lungs before popping open her umbrella and joining the heaving masses pounding the pavement in front of her. Navigating a path between puddles and people she made way to the arched gateway at the side of the church. She gave a cursory glance to the buildings beautiful exterior, she had seen this before many times; what she wanted to see was inside the circular chapel built to represent the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem.
Passing through the Chancel even Maria had to stop to admire the detail of the place, it was breathtaking. She knew the Templar's had been a wealthy group, in the end that is what caused their downfall but still the church that wealth had built was something to behold. The stained glass windows depicted scenes from the Crusades of knights on steeds as well as the usual religious imagery. Her excitement grew as she took in the numerous reminders of why she was really here, the Crusaders... They had been in the Holy Land trying to defend –or impose- their religion and fought with the very men who had lived and trained in the castle at Masyaf.
Her footfall seemed to bounce back from the high vaulted ceiling and even though there were other tourists here she felt slightly ashamed for disturbing the undeniably calm atmosphere of the place with her heels clanking against the floor. Entering the round part of the church she held her breath as she took in the sight of the tombs scattered around the room. She stopped beside every one wondering what he had done or how he had died. She took a knee beside the tomb of William Marshal -the most famous of all Knights of that day- unaware that her expression had become sad.
A soft voice cut her musing short, "Are you alright dear?"
Her head snapped up suddenly, despite the gentle timbre of the voice it had taken her by surprise. "I'm fine thank you reverend." Offering him a genuine smile she rose from her position on the floor. "I was just thinking how sad it is that the Holy Land of his time is still so troubled in ours."
The minister nodded and tried to look sombre but his rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes didn't lend his attempt any support, "The Levant is the birthplace of our faith and as such holds a great place in our hearts but it has long been troubled because of this. Each religion striving to be dominant and I'm afraid our Crusades helped to create that divisive siege mentality which still prevails to this day."
"We want the rebels to win in the hope we have an ally in that part of the world but the truth is we are still afraid to help them because of who else may be hiding behind the rebels, we don't want a repeat of Afghanistan. As usual it's the ordinary people who suffer, bombs and bullets don't care if you are armed or not."
He stood closer to her while visibly resisting the urge to touch her, "I assumed you were here to better understand your own ordeal over there but you pity the people." When she raised her head questioningly at him he explained. "I saw you on TV and I confess your words surprise me, I wouldn't expect to hear sympathy for Syrian's from someone who suffered at the hands of men who claim to fight for their freedom."
Maria choked back a derisive laugh, "What I suffered was not at the hands of the people we should be helping. The people of Syria, the people I saw in Daraa had no guns. We arrived after the trouble but they showed us the damage, the injured being treated in private homes because the hospital refused to treat them. A huge rectangle had been dug up and I thought they were laying pipes or a foundation for a building, a hole so wide and lined with stones I honestly assumed it was a construction site until they started laying the bodies between the lines of stone."
This time he allowed his hand to rest on her shoulder, "Then I suggest your initial assumption was accurate, they were laying foundations of a sort, for a future in which they enjoy the freedom we take for granted. That would be a most fitting epitaph for the fallen."
The minister invited her to stay and chat but it was already late in the afternoon and Maria had plans for the evening. She left the church behind disappointed and unsure why. She hadn't gone there expecting a revelation, she had arrived at the church trying to strengthen the tenuous connection she had with Altair but in the end all she felt was hopelessness creeping deeper into her thoughts.
She walked down towards Victoria Embankment but decided not to get on the Tube, it had stopped raining and she needed time to clear her head. The streets were alive with people jostling to get past each other but not really seeing them, so lost in their own thoughts. She knew it was perfectly possible to feel alone in a crowd but this wasn't really a crowd as she now understood the term. It was a pulsing mass of individuals together only because their lives had crossed paths in that moment. In Syria the crowds had been together, knowing full well they were in danger of being fired on yet still they met a singular collective of hopes and dreams all driven by the same goals.
As she passed Waterloo Bridge she heard a man's voice calling out to the people but nobody was listening, he was telling them that they needed to let God into their life before it was too late. Maria stopped to listen for a few seconds before he noticed her and eagerly engaged his unexpected audience. "There have been signs, war, famine and plagues. He will come for his children soon but will you be ready?" She blinked rain drops that she hadn't noticed falling out of her eyes but said nothing. Raising his plastic covered bible to her he said, "This is the key to your salvation, this is his word and here you will find truth."
"Nothing is true."
Shocked that she had spoken he stepped towards her, "What did you say?"
She was crying but the tears soaking her cheeks mingled with the rain and both still went unnoticed by her. "We believe one thing, they believe another. We can't all be right can we? Until we open our minds to the possibility that nothing we think we know is true and look with fresh eyes at the world we will never move forward. There may be great truth just waiting for us to be ready to accept it perhaps the next step in our evolution but we won't look for it."
He had moved away from her muttering about her being a "nut-case" but she was no longer listening to him. She had already begun making her way to the next station.
'You let them down Maria, you helped so far but when it came to putting your own neck on the block you bottled it, accept it and get on with your life.' She once more made her way among the throngs of her fellow man trying to focus her mind on her real life. Syria was behind her, he was dead and even if he had survived he was married and she had to have dinner at her parents' house in less than 4 hours, 'Get with the programme Maria you can't waste your life worrying about other people's problems.' But Syria, Altair and Malik had changed her and she knew it she just didn't know what to do about it.
She got out of the taxi and took a deep breath, setting her feet on the bottom step which led to the home of her childhood, 'This is going to be a long night.' The door opened before she got half way up and her mother greeted her, "I was sure you would be late, come in out of the rain before you ruin your hair."
Surprised that her mother had opened the door and that she was being so friendly Maria went inside and felt suspicion begin to gnaw at her.
They were of course eating in the dining room but Maria never bothered taking in the sumptuous décor, she had seen it before many times what she did notice was a man sitting on her father's left side and that the table was only set for four.
Richard Thorpe stood up to greet her, "Ah Maria how lovely you look but you are still so thin. Martha's cooking will help with that." He gestured to the man now standing at the table, "This is James Turner, he is the newest member of the board at the bank and an American but we won't hold that against him."
Chuckling awkwardly at her father's weak attempt to break the ice she stretched out her hand, "Pleasure to meet you Mr Turner"
He took her hand but his fingers slid along hers slowly, she froze almost sure he was going to raise it to his lips but he gave it a gentle squeeze, "The pleasure is mine Miss Thorpe, please call me James and if it's not to bold I'll call you Maria."
"Of course please do. How are you finding London James?"
He smiled as he retook his seat, "London keeps getting better and better."
At least now she knew the reason for her mother's unusual behaviour; they were match making and Maria had to admit that 6 months ago this man would have been met by her approval. His voice was smooth as silk, she could only guess at the number of women he had charmed with his dulcet tones. But that made of think of Altair and how she would bubble inside when he said her name. The first few courses passed with the usual dinner chatter with Maria adding a voice when she felt it appropriate but not offering much else. When James brought up the subject of having watched some of Maria's broadcasts on youtube her mother responded for her.
"I'll be honest with you James I would be happier if Maria would find a new line of work, or even take the job she has been offered in the studio. One does not wish to see one's child thrown into dangerous situations needlessly."
"I would hardly call reporting the news needless Mrs Thorpe."
Amelia Thorpe bristled but recovered quickly, 'Careful Mother you nearly let the real you show.' Maria thought.
"It's all bad news and these people always seem to have some war or other going on. We should leave them to it until they decide to join us in the 21st century." She lifted her desert fork and poked at her plate clearly annoyed. "She was there trying to help them and look how they repaid her! She had a punctured lung and her shoulder will never be the same."
"I wasn't there to help I was there to capture human tragedy in all its glory."
"Nonsense Maria, how can we help people if we don't know what they need? You were helping and they endangered you. One has to assume they learned of your prominent Father and saw pound signs but thankfully she comes from good British stock and escaped."
Maria dropped her napkin to the table but her father saw the anger flash in her eyes and tried to avert her outburst. "This is not proper conversation for the dinner table, what say you we change the subject?"
"Yes Father let's do. God forbid we should have our appetite spoiled by thinking of such trivial things as war."
"Nobody suggested it was trivial Maria I just think it would be best to let you talk to your counsellor about those things."
"Yes, yes Father. Maria and her messy experience, leave it to the professionals eh? You don't care what I went through you just want it to be over so I can get married and have sons to carry on your name, hyphens and all. I should inform you that what I went through was nothing compared to what they are suffering. I'm like you, too weak and self absorbed to make a stand against the evils I saw."
She looked across at James but he was doing the right thing and showing his desert a lot more attention than it merited. "We pretend to care but we don't. Drop a few coins into a charity box, bid at an auction to feed children in Africa. We want the Middle East to go away because it's a can of worms that could explode in our faces. Who wants to help another Taliban take control or help Al Qaeda gain power in another country? I can promise you this, the people of Syria don't want that either, they are not extremists who want to blow us to Kingdom come they are people who want basic human rights and are being killed for it. We stand aside unwilling to aid them for fear of what will replace their current leaders."
"That's enough Maria!" The legs of his chair scrapped along the parquet flooring as he suddenly got to his feet. "We are trying to be reasonable but you are upsetting your Mother and making our guest uncomfortable, bad form Maria bad form indeed."
She wasn't done, she was far from over voicing her feelings but she knew if she kept going she would blurt out more than she should. She swallowed hard wincing at how painful it was to taste the shame in her unspoken words. "I apologise, perhaps it is too soon for me be doing this sort of thing." Gesturing to the table, "My histrionics were not, I'm sure, on the menu. Please excuse me I'm going to take a taxi home."
She left the room as quickly as she could but her path to the front door was suddenly halted by a hand on her arm, "I'm sorry Maria; they can't hope to comprehend what you witnessed. I spent some time in the Congo and I have a better idea of how hard it can be to readjust to normal life. Let me escort you home I don't want us to part like this."
They took a cab to her home and Maria got out thinking he would stay inside but he joined her on the pavement. "I really do think you would benefit from sharing your experience with someone who knows a bit more about what it's like to be in a conflict zone."
"Oh yes the Congo you said. Can I ask what a future banker was doing over there?"
He chuckled "I wasn't always a future banker I used to have a soul you know." He stopped at her street door, "I was and still am volunteering for an organisation that is committed to world peace we send envoys to places in difficulties and try to offer assistance."
"That sounds very worthwhile." She knew it was half hearted at best but her head was beginning to thump, she wanted painkillers and to collapse into bed.
"I can see you're tired I'll let you get inside, it was a pleasure to meet you Maria." He leaned forward and kissed her cheek.
She actually managed to chuckle, "A real delight I'm sure. I'm sorry about my behaviour tonight my parents never warned me it was going to be anyone but us there. I suppose I'm not ready to be sociable yet."
He smiled and gave her a "What can you do look" which surprisingly made her feel better. "Oh hey, I've been invited to my boss's party this weekend you don't fancy being my plus one do you?"
As apologetically as possible she declined and he nodded graciously, "Yeah I know not ready yet but still I had to ask. I've been in town less than a month and you're the only woman I know. I'll just have to be Han Solo for the night."
Her bleeding heart couldn't handle any more holes right now so she semi caved, "Okay look if you are still stuck call me at the end of the week, you never know I might be up for it but don't get your hopes up I won't be good company."
On the morning of the dreaded party she flew out of bed running at top speed for the bathroom, her hand covering her mouth. She got to the bowl just in time and sat there for the next ten minutes throwing up or leaning against it trying to recover for the next explosion. Finally convinced it was over she spent the next few minutes gargling and brushing. She had felt this coming on last night; her dinner hadn't smelt right and tasted worse. "Great a stomach bug just to top off a wonderful couple of months." Deciding not to cancel on James unless she really had to she wandered around her flat until it was time to go to the salon.
He met her on the stairs and she had to admit to feeling gratified at the look on his face, "Wow Maria you look awesome."
She had dressed with care, self conscious about the two new scars on her back and wary of giving James the wrong impression. She wore a simple mid-length black dress but her hair was swept up in dressy up-do.
'Awesome' wasn't one of her favourite words but you can't have everything. "You don't look half bad yourself."
He took her hand and led her to the street. "Our car is at the end of the road, these narrow streets don't accommodate a limo. Surprising when you consider how fancy this area is."
The street as usual was lined with cars on either side, Maria would have had no trouble in her mini but then it was a mini and not a limo. "It wasn't built with limo's in mind I'm afraid."
He scoffed, "You can say that again everything in this city is old."
They had been driving for about ten minutes before Maria felt her mouth begin to fill with saliva, she tried to swallow it down but the nausea pushed it back up. She gagged and knew the agony was coming. Reaching for the only thing she could see she threw up in the ice bucket. The driver pulled the car over while James patted her back and poured her some water.
When she could at last speak she apologised, "Oh God this is so embarrassing. I've been doing it all day but I got some pills from the chemist and hoped it would stop."
"You should have told me you were sick Maria."
"I didn't want to seem to be blowing you off considering I wasn't so into going anyway."
He told the driver to return to her home and all the way there she apologised and he told her there was no need. He helped her out of the car and took the bucket from her handing it to the driver holding the door. Maria was overwhelmed with pity for the man she reached into her purse and pulled out some money hidden with tissues, and shaking his hand to apologise she slipped the notes unseen into his palm.
James called his boss and told him he wouldn't be there despite Maria's insistence that he go on he refused. They spent the next few hours chatting on the sofa, him taking a break to "Whip up some sandwiches" which only he ate. Initially she had wanted him to leave but as the night wore on she grew more and more relaxed in his company and for the first time in months she enjoyed a few hours without any feelings of guilt or loneliness.
A little after 11 her nausea paid another visit and to his credit he stayed to make sure she was okay before leaving to let her rest. Alone in her bed her thoughts soon drifted back to the man she had spent that wonderful night with in Masyaf but he was gone and no matter how much she missed him she couldn't bring him back. She didn't feel a spark with James but maybe it would be okay to allow herself to be distracted from her problems for a while.
She saw him twice over the next week and each time she did she liked him more. He never made any inappropriate advances and that undoubtedly helped her to settle into an easy friendship with him. Returning from a Saturday morning trip to help him pick up a few things for his new flat, where she had made a stop off at the chemist for "feminine things" he dropped her off at home telling her he'd be back around 8 that night to pick her up.
She kicked off her shoes and took the pregnancy test from the bag, puffing out air as she said, "No more wondering girl it's time to get some answers." She took a disposable cup from the pack she had bought and made her way to the bathroom. Dipping the indicator into the cup of urine she timed it with military precision before laying it flat on the toilet seat then she watched and waited. The test advised her to walk around and not sit watching for the result to appear but that was just insane, there was no way she wasn't going to be right there when it appeared it meant too much.
The egg timer on the display flashed happily away while Maria thought of the consequences of a simple pee. She had unprotected sex with Altair yet the idea of being pregnant took the better part of a week of Linda Blair grade vomiting for her to seriously consider the possibility. The most random pointless thoughts raced through her brain, 'He's dead there is no way I can be pregnant.' Then she wondered if he had other children with Adha, not that it mattered but still she did wonder.
The small display changed and she sat there for a few seconds before it gave her more information.
Pregnant 3+
'I'm pregnant to a dead man who also happened to be married.'
She wanted to tell someone but who could she tell? She was a riot of excited nerves but there wasn't a single person she could think of to share this news with. She wanted to tell Altair, wanted to see how he would have reacted to the news. Most of the married men she knew would be horrified if a fling resulted in a child probably offering to arrange an abortion before asking how the woman felt but she knew in her heart Altair would not have been like that but that might be wishful thinking. The way she saw it he was the father of her unborn child and she could imagine him any damn way she pleased.
She wandered into her bedroom and lay on top of the covers the excitement was beginning to give way to anxiety, she began to think of her parent's reaction the news honestly unsure how they would feel about a mixed race grandchild, they weren't racists but they were not the most open minded people either.
'There is an actual tiny human being inside me.'
One thing she was sure of the child would be forever grateful to her if it was born with his eyes.
She put on her PJ's, made some tea and fired up the laptop then lit a cigarette without thinking and got half way through it before she thought of what was in her womb. Stubbing it out, she tossed them into the waste basket. "No more fags for me for at least 7 months."
She had emails from yesterday which she had to reply to one from Graham and a couple from her friend Ruby. She dealt with those and checked the junk before trashing its contents but something caught her eye; it was from Damascus Blacksmith. She scanned the rest of the folder and there was another one from the same address from the previous day, she opened the older one first certain it was junk relating to her searches but as she read it she popped up from the couch still clutching the laptop.
Dear Miss Thorpe
On a recent visit to Dimashq you made an enquiry to a colleague of mine about a certain antique blade. I am pleased to inform you that the item is now in stock. Due to the rare nature of the piece I am unable to hold it for more than 2 days. Please respond to this correspondence immediately and we can begin our negotiations.
Regards
Rashid Abdul.
Malik! It had to be that was the name they had used in the hospital; he was trying to contact her. She went back to the junk folder and opened the second email.
Dear Miss Thorpe
My initial email has gone unanswered and I feel I must request you contact me URGENTLY. There is another party in London very interested in the blade. You showed a great interest in it and we would be sorry to see you miss out. You are in real DANGER of losing this, contact me immediately please.
00 963 214329526 I have included international dialling codes call me now!
Rashid Abdul
"Fuck! What is going on?" Grabbing her phone she dialled the number and paced around the floor waiting for it to be answered. A man spoke in a gruff Arabic voice but Maria took her chances. "This is Maria Thorpe returning a call to Rashid Abdul."
He spoke again in Arabic; she tried something simpler "Rashid Abdul?"
"No Rashid Abdul." Then the line went dead.
She redialled carefully but the result was the same, no Rashid. Close to panic now she returned to the laptop and replied to the email
Dear Mr Abdul
Thank you so much for contacting me, forgive my late reply. I am very interested in procuring the blade you speak of and tried to call the number you provided but there is nobody there of that name. Perhaps you gave me the wrong number? If there is a rival bidder in London please let me know and I can take steps to make sure I am not caught out.
Maria Thorpe
Over the next few hours she must have refreshed her page a thousand times but no new mail. She re-read it over and over and slowly began to convince herself that he only wanted to make sure she was okay. She had panicked at his emphasis of certain words but maybe he was doing that to make her reply fast or maybe he was in danger and needed help from her. She hadn't called James to cancel their plans so he would be here in less than an hour. She stood in front of her wardrobe picking what to wear but still thinking about Malik, the knowledge he was alive if not safe offered her no end of relief. If she got to talk to him would she tell him she was carrying Altair's child? It still felt unreal to her but those words did something incredible to her heart,Altair's child...
With her hand unconsciously cradling her stomach a soft smile crept onto her face. She realised that she hadn't even considered having an abortion; she was going to be a mother.
I had no intentions of making this story any longer but demisses made a good case for going on with it, helping me figure out some plot lines and advising me about some of the content so a big thank you to demisses for all the help :3
I went to Temple to visit the church in this chapter. It's called Temple church and it really is loaded with Templar references :D