Mad Gods - Predatory Ethics: Book I (35 page)

Quentin interrupted Martin with his next question.
“But how did they get into the Vatican, Father? They possessed someone who was
blessed by the pope, himself. He wore talismans, in order to prevent evil ever
coming this close.” Quentin was beside himself with concern.

“The infiltration, of which I told you earlier, is
only one manifestation. The corruption of our church is such that they were
able to send someone within its walls. That’s why it is crucial we stop their
plans to enthrone Lucifer.” Martin saw a reinvigorated faith in Quentin’s eyes.

“Who are these filth and how do I remove them?”
Quentin intoned.

“‘This filth, you must understand, has evolved beyond
us. Just as animals think of comfort and food, our concerns are money and
success. Most people who draw breath are like this, but not they. They consider
neither of these things. They have not thought about them for centuries, even
millennia. They are part of the wealthiest, old families of which we know. They
are another species, altogether.”

Martin added, “They work for the return of their
Prince, but in a much less obvious way. Earlier, I said that evil is advancing
through very small steps, through tiny adjustments to beliefs and the world
order, which are almost never noticed.”

“As you said, yes, until it is too late,” Quentin
said.

“The surprising thing is how one of their own came to
get these codexes. They are extremely secretive. Even rumors of their existence
have been crushed, so whenever they are mentioned, it is like speaking of
ghosts or demons.” Quentin nodded.

“I will go to the Apostolic Testis and have them look
for the Council of Foreign Relations, Trilateral Commission and the Dark
Nobility, in each and every part of their scans.” Martin added, “The codexes,
for which Moriah was looking, were right beside him. They were a few of the
codexes through which you had chosen to look. Now, we must concentrate on
these, since they were seeking them, wouldn’t you agree?”

Quentin replied quickly, “Yes, I’ll wait for you
here. In the meantime, I’ll start with the
Sangrael
Gospel
.”

“Father Quentin, how did your meetings go this time?
Will you have the men and the resources necessary to assault their positions
across the Atlantic?” Martin had nearly forgotten their primary objective.

“Yes, once you and your Jesuits became involved, it
gave legitimacy to my ramblings. What could’ve taken years, instead, took
months.” Quentin removed an envelope from his pocket and handed it to Martin.
“Here are the names of the men who have been sent to deal with our problems.”

Martin asked, “Have they full authority of judge,
jury and executioner?”

Quentin answered, “They are the inquisition, reborn,
and on reinforced leather soles, Father. None may stand against them, not even
the police, government or military.”

“I’ll return in a few moments. I wish we had
telephone service down here…” Martin stopped short.

“But we do, Father, there’s one just around the
corner there,” Quentin answered, “but it only dials out and I would suggest you
don’t use it. If they could get this bugger in here, we should assume that we
are also compromised in other ways.”

“Yes, good thinking. I am but a humble Jesuit; I had
not even thought of that.” Martin looked apologetic. “I’ll return soon and
we’ll tackle this together.”

Quentin added, “I think this will be the first time
the Apostolic Testis have been given directions about what to look for.”

“Yes, if that’s true, then this will give solidity to
most of their previously unfounded beliefs. Perhaps this will also do them some
good.”

TIME: NOVEMBER 27TH, 1963. DIGBY ISLAND, BRITISH COLUMBIA,
CANADA

On November 22nd, the regular programming on every
channel was interrupted for an unprecedented event in modern times. The 25th
U.S. President was shot to death at Masonic Dealy Plaza. Though most people
weren’t aware of the fact, there was a veiled significance, both to the
location and the date of his execution. It gave Kosta an additional reason to
accelerate his preparations and planning for unwanted visitors.

Two days later, Kosta and Adam watched as Kennedy’s
reputed killer was shot at close range. The police charged with his custody
looked on.
 
Debates about the
Kennedy assassination would continue for decades. It was asked why an unknown
shady character, like Jack Ruby, would want to kill Lee Harvey Oswald. Many
said it was to keep him quiet and that Ruby was part of a conspiracy to bring
down the President.

Many theories flew around concerning Communists,
mobsters and conspirator government agencies, chaffing under the moral
individualist in the Oval Office. Maybe all of the theories were true Kosta
thought. They were all true, so nobody could ever know who actually planned and
succeeded in executing the President. However, he did not share his beliefs
with Adam. He preferred to allow the boy to be a child; he need not worry about
conspiracies and global entanglements until it was absolutely necessary.

Soon enough, his life would be rife with it. Until
then, Kosta vowed that he would shield him from it, so he could appreciate
quiet and entertainment.

- Menace D’Ours D’Enfer - Depth of Correction VII:
Wounded Rib III-

TIME: DECEMBER 28TH, 1219. MONTSEGUR, FRANCE

Not long after his induction into the position, the
new Grand Master, Pedro de Montaigne, entered the gates of Montsegur. Only one
man, his most trusted friend and seneschal, Armond de Peigord, accompanied him.
Both wore their plain surcoats, emblazoned with the red cross over their mail.
They wound their way through the refugees from the crusade, raging around the
formerly affluent French county, and were viewed with suspicion and open
animosity. The Grand Master could not tell if this was because the Templars
were still allied to both Romans and Cathari, or if these unfortunates hated
them for their continued wealth. They dismounted and ran to the easternmost
wing of the fortress, asking Perfecti and Credentes where Simon could be found.
Several told him, and finally, Pedro knocked on a stout door and was answered
by the voice he remembered from the caves.

Once he entered, the new Grand Master found Simon
behind a table, close to the window, with a few cots arranged around the fire.
The voice continued, coming from a corner behind the open door.

“Seneschal de Montaigne, have you any news from your
Grand Master? Have you heard if Natalie still lives?”

De Montaigne lowered his head and shook it with
regret. “I fear the worst, good Alumnos. Much has befallen our order. I am the
new Grand Master; William de Chartres is dead, at the prompting of the
Signatura and the Penitentiary. They would’ve dissolved the Order at the new
pontiff’s urging, but Honorious did not want to deal with the chaos that would
ensue if the Templars ceased to exist.”

“How fortunate for your order that Honorious was not
as rash as Innocent,” Simon stated from his position at the window. “It seems
the good knights of Solomon are still of use to the Catholics.”

“It was not fortunate for me, sir. I had to carry out
the Pope’s edict. At first, I refused, but William ordered me to run him
through so the Order could continue. In the church’s eyes, by granting aid to
the Cathars, we have fallen greatly. So, don’t speak of fortune.”

Pedro held back the outrage he felt at the
ingratitude shown to him and his Order. William told him they could be far
worse. Theirs were the death throes of the just and the right in the face of
clearly less righteous, but more powerful, foes.

“So, you’ve come to tell us about the calamity of
your Order. I’m sorry to hear it, Grand Master. I am sorrier still that there
is no news of Natalie. Have any of the other Sangrael heard anything?” The
voice slowly took form as Alumnos mournfully strode toward the fire and sat on
one of the cots.

“No one has heard or seen her since the fall of
Muriet. Some reports of a Sangrael came to us from Jerusalem, Constantinople,
London, Antioch and Mystra, but they all were only rumors, or distant relatives
who traded their lineage for position.”

Pedro came closer and was only slightly taller than
the sitting Alumnos. After several meetings with the giant, he had warmed to
his honesty and calm and was no longer unnerved by him, or the scarred face he
always hid within his drawn hood. “I am sorry, my good Parfait, but one of the
last things William said was he regretted that we never found Natalie. The loss
of one of the line — especially one who showed so many of the qualities
of our savior — is a great tragedy.”

“But not the only one here, amongst all this tragic
life into which we’ve been born,” Alumnos sighed with a depth that broke upon
his lips. “I am exhausted, Templar. I don’t want to do anything anymore.
Anything I try only ends in disaster. I’ve muddled everything. Despite my best
efforts it has all gone to hell.” Simon heard the resolute despair and rose
from his seat. “Thank you for coming to tell us, Master de Montaigne. I would
appreciate it if you give me some time with our friend.”

To all appearances, Simon just dismissed one of the
few men who answered to no man other than to the Pope. Pedro de Montaigne, and
every seneschal he ever knew had always deferred to Simon. In their Order, he
never held a position of authority, yet was always obeyed. So, with a nod, he
got up and left the two alone, as he found them.

“Alumnos, Natalie’s loss touches me as well, more
than you know,” Simon said. “She was much more than the line from which she
sprang and the Parfait she became.”

“Yes, much more,” the forlorn giant added. “No one
else accepted me as she did, and without question. Now, there is only you. She
accepted me when I was but a beast in the wilds, naked and raging against any
who crossed my path.”

“You will always be with me, Alumnos, but tell me,
who did Natalie accept, if not the same man who sits with me now? Who were you
then? What were you called?”

“I wandered most of my life. I was born into a family
terrified of me, and you can see why. They never named me, so people, wary of
me, gave me the name of Ursus — a beast that attacked without
provocation. Understandably, they were frightened, but the name was not
accurate. I kept to myself and never wanted to attack anyone. I only defended
myself when some young errant decided to prove himself and slay the ravaging
beast.”

“Is that how you got your scars?” Simon asked.

“No, not like that. My mother gave me these.” He
pulled back the hood and Simon did not flinch at the sight of the scars, left
by both fire and the whip. He looked like a demon from the depths. In fact, all
he needed to complete the image were fangs and horns; his proportions were
terrible enough. Hair had long since stopped growing on his scarred head and,
mercifully, the marks were not too close to his eyes.

“I grew too quickly. They brought me to the monastery
at five, and there I was given to the monks, but not before she was told she
must remove any connection she had to me. They made her whip me to banish the
evil, which had turned a five-year-old into an adolescent.”

Alumnos/Ursus went on recalling his past, as though
he was reading a fable. “She did not need to be convinced. She took the leather
to me without hesitation. All the while, she never shed a tear, but her eyes
were wide with terror. While she was ripping my flesh off in ribbons, I broke
free. I don’t know how I did it, but the pain of the blows, combined with her
maddening terror, empowered me enough that I ran without heed. I ran headlong
into a blazing fire, which I thought was an open door. Even naked, I caught on
fire and ran, screaming, into the woods.”

Simon let Ursus continue, not wanting to halt his
story. “Thankfully, they didn’t go after me, believing I would either die, or
return to the hell from which they assumed crawled. I stayed away from people.”
He covered his face with his hands. “I was mad and welcomed foolhardy knights,
who believed they could make a name for themselves by killing me. At this
point, I actually believed I was the beast for which I had been named. I lost
count of how many men I sent screaming to hell, I would’ve, had I known how to
count. Then Natalie came.” His face brightened at the mention of their first
meeting. “She looked at me with a mysterious expression. Something I had never
seen before.”

“How old were you, do you remember?” Simon was
curious about the date of their meeting.

“I don’t know, but at the time, I was fully grown,”
Ursus replied.

“How had you survived that long?” Simon asked.

“I found plenty to eat, and as I said, there were
many who offered themselves up to me. Robust knights would last quite a while
in the cold of the woods.” Ursus continued, “Natalie saw the bones of the
fallen and could see I had committed many sins and crimes, but she did not
care. She looked at me with an expression I did not know; later, I learned it
was compassion. She loved me without question and without condition. She saw
evidence of the depths of depravity in which I lived and loved me anyway.” As
he spoke, his face revealed no emotion.

“Did she ever tell you why she was so instantly taken
with you?” Simon wanted to learn all he could about this odd relationship.

“She did once, but only after many promptings. I
asked her why she loved me and she finally answered that it was because she saw
herself in me. We were far beyond soul mates; we were one. When she was with
me, she felt complete and needed no one else. I could never believe how lucky I
was, or that such a woman cold love a brute like me.”