Betrayed (27 page)

“I think the surprise attack just made our task a lot easier,” said Angus, once the guards had passed.

“Remind me to tell you about the time I last stood on Egyptian soil,” grunted Sir Rudyard, as he moved back onto the dirt path. He passed out canvas sacks to the three boys. “Quickly, now. We don't have much time.”

They then circled the octagonal stone building to ensure that it had indeed been abandoned. Drifting up from the valley below, the air crackled with fire and shrieks of death. The modest chapel seemed to somehow float above the surrounding sea of carnage. Sir Rudyard led them quietly through the main entranceway, their weapons drawn. “Seems quiet,” he commented.

The inner chapel was just as Prince Henry had described. It was tiny and still in need of decoration. Sir Rudyard had explained that the priority had been to get the village finished before putting in the time required to build a proper church. This simple round design was to help remind the men of home and serve the needs of the small community until a proper church could be built. The golden Ark of the Covenant sparkled on its simple altar at the rear of the octagonal room. On either side of the Ark were displays of jewel-encrusted crosses, books and statues.

Sir Rudyard strode up to the Ark. “When we first built this chapel, it was to be the beginning of a perfect nation. The Ark was to be our symbol of our land, our oneness with God for all who believe in the Great Creator, be it Muslim, Jew or Christian.”

Connor shook his head. “I reckon you didn't foresee today's events when this chapel was first built.”

“You are absolutely right, Connor, but we can talk about all of that later. Na'gu'set and I will start putting the smaller artifacts in the bags. Angus and Connor, I need you to find the wooden case for transporting the Ark back to the ship. I don't see it here in the chapel. Check upstairs. They might have stored it in the upper chamber.”

Connor and Angus threw their bags onto the floor and
ran up the stone staircase and into the darkened room. As their eyes adjusted to the gloom, they could make out a large number of boxes and sacks neatly arranged along the curved wall. Connor spotted something rectangular just to their right.

“Is that it?” he asked.

The boys carefully made their way through the gloom.

“Should we light a candle?” asked Angus. “I can barely see anything.”

“I think not,” replied Connor. “The light might attract attention from the valley. We can tell if this is it by feeling for the carvings your father described were on the outside.”

Examining the box with their hands, they discovered that it was indeed covered with detailed carvings. Two long poles leaned against the wall next to the container.

“Seems about right,” said Angus. “Let's take it down to father.”

As they each grabbed an end, a quiet cough broke the silence of the room. They quickly lowered the box, and Connor drew his sword, pointing it in the direction of the noise.

“We know you are there! Show yourself!” Connor commanded. He took a careful step forward.

“I still don't see anything,” whispered Angus.

“Someone else is up here with us.”

Silence.

“Angus, we have no choice. Go down and grab an oil lamp. I'll stay here to make sure he doesn't leave. Let's find out who is hiding in the shadows.”

Angus sprinted down the steps while Connor remained crouched in the gloom, sword drawn, protecting the stairs and the only possible escape route from the room. It took
several long, silent seconds before Angus finally returned with a lamp in one hand, his drawn sword in the other. As soon as the light pierced the darkness, both men immediately lowered their swords in horror.

“Oh, Lord,” gasped Connor.

A young woman was slouched next to a small, cold fireplace. Her bruised and bleeding arms were shackled above her head in thick iron rings. Hanging lifeless with sodden hair, she was curled in a kneeling heap against the stone wall. They could barely make out the heaving of her ribs beneath the soiled dress. Her body stiffened momentarily as she coughed again.

“It's Princess Sarah,” whispered Angus.

“Angus,” shouted Connor, “help me release her!”

The boys ran to the princess. Angus put his arms under her frail body. He gently lifted her up off the ground while Connor reached up and removed the long iron pins that held her wrists to the wall above her head. Her bloodied and torn forearms fell heavily to her side.

“She's near death,” whispered Angus. “She's as light as a feather.”

“Can you manage her down the stairs?”

“Aye.”

“Hurry!”

When the two boys descended with the unconscious princess, Sir Rudyard nearly dropped a priceless cross onto the stone floor.

“Lord in Heaven, is that Princess Sarah? Boys! What happened?”

Angus gently lowered her until she rested against his knees. “She was shackled in the room upstairs, and I think
she is close to dying, Father!”

Sir Rudyard searched the chapel. “Connor, grab that cloth from the altar and tear it into strips with your sword. Na'gu'set, get the rug from behind the pulpit. We need to keep her off this cold floor.”

“Sh . . . she was shackled to the wall like a common thief!” Connor stammered, trying desperately to keep control of his emotions. “Who would do something like this to her?”

Her eyes flickered to life, startling the men. “D . . . Doug . . . las.”

Sir Rudyard fell to his knees. “Princess Sarah!”

He gently stroked her hair as if she were his very own daughter. “It's Sir Rudyard Gunn, princess. We've come to rescue you.”

“It no longer matters,” she whispered, her face ashen and lifeless. “Henry . . . is dead.”

“No!” exclaimed Sir Rudyard. “Listen to me! Henry is alive! In fact, he's in New Jerusalem right now. We rescued him from the underground chamber on Oak Island, and now we've come to rescue you as well! Do you understand, Sarah?”

Several seconds passed before Sarah opened her eyes fully. They were reddened and welling up with tears. It broke Connor's heart to see it had taken every ounce of her strength to simply look at them.

“Please, Sir Rudyard, don't spare me from the truth. I need to know. On your honour as a Knight Templar, is my brother truly alive?”

“Aye, Princess. I swear to you, Henry is alive and well.”

“Henry . . . alive . . . !”

The men didn't know what to do as the princess broke down in weak sobs of happiness.

“We have to get back to the ship,” exclaimed Sir Rudyard, taking control of the situation. “The princess needs to see a physician.”

Na'gu'set, who had been watching the disturbing scenario unfold, put down a handful of relics and disappeared behind the communion table. Returning, he brought back a glass bottle and a silver chalice. Sir Rudyard smiled.

“Well done, Na'gu'set. You found the communion wine.”

Na'gu'set knelt down, put a finger to the side of Sarah's neck and frowned as he found her weak pulse. “The grape water might help her regain her strength.”

He filled the chalice with wine and brought it to her lips.

“Please, drink slowly,” said Sir Rudyard. “The wine will help you prepare for the journey back to the ship.”

Princess Sarah gagged on the wine but managed to swallow a mouthful. Connor sheathed his sword and placed a mound of cloth strips beside the stricken princess. Gunn looked up at the concerned faces.

“Na'gu'set, you stay here with Princess Sarah and bandage her up as best you can. Boys, we need to finish our packing so we can leave for the ship as quickly as possible.”

Na'gu'set knelt down and started by bandaging her bloodied forearms. The boys left the chapel and ran back up the stairs for the wooden box and poles. When they returned, they placed the box in front of the altar and removed its lid. They each grabbed an end of the two poles and carefully lifted them up and over the Ark itself. Sir Rudyard was explicit that they were not to touch the Ark itself, for it was the holiest of earthly treasures, and no man without a direct blessing from God was worthy to touch its surface.

The Ark itself was so radiant, the two guardian cherubs on the lid so lifelike, that it glowed, almost hummed, with an energy all of its own. Following Prince Henry's instructions, they carefully went around and under the lid until each pole locked into its carefully designed golden socket. Taking a deep breath, the boys gently lifted the Ark off of the altar. Sir Rudyard stood with them to direct the boys as they carefully lowered the Ark into its wooden case. The boys strained under the weight of the surprisingly heavy Ark but were relieved as it slid into its case perfectly. The knight secured the lid, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

Sir Rudyard took one last look around the chapel. “We can do no more. We must go. Angus, you are the strongest. You are going to have to take your own bags of artifacts as well as one of my own. I'll take the second sack and carry Princess Sarah on my other free shoulder. Connor and Na'gu'set, you will be in charge of the Ark.”

Sir Rudyard gently picked up the bandaged princess as the boys took their positions. As quietly as they had come, the raiding party stole away back into the night, proudly reclaiming the very heart and soul of the Templar Order.

Black Douglas was momentarily dumbstruck as the ghostly apparition blocked his escape. But his quick mind returned to his senses as the voice registered as one he had heard for most of his adult life. His ability to elevate cold logic above emotional shock and religious fear had saved his life on more than one occasion, but still he was having a difficult time coming to grips with his bewildering dilemma. A man who should have been deceased now blocked his exit . . . but Black Douglas was not going to allow even the undead to unravel his perfect plan for greatness.

“Well, if it is not the Earl of Orkney, Prince Henry Sinclair, himself. Back from the dead, I see? You don't know how much of a relief it is to see you alive.”

Prince Henry recognized the sarcasm and raised the tip of the sword. “Master Robertson told me everything, Douglas.”

“Ah, yes . . . I should have guessed it would be the spineless Robertson who would spill his guts to you. I hope you gave him a nice, slow death for his betrayal.”

“Indeed I did, but it will look like an act of mercy compared to the plans I have for you.”

Black Douglas smiled. “That's all well and good, Henry, but being Grand Master of the Templar Order, I'm afraid
I have other duties to attend to at this moment. It seems that the colony we had founded together is now under attack, so I am, at present, rather busy. If you would like to come back and see me some other time, perhaps sometime next week . . .”

“I should have guessed you would live your delusion right to the end,” said Prince Henry, stepping forward. “If you prefer to die thinking you are a Grand Master, then it is of no consequence to me.”

Black Douglas held his ground. “So tell me, Henry. How did you do it? How did you escape from the underground temple?”

Halving the distance between them, Prince Henry pointed the sword at Black Douglas' heart. “With a little help from my
loyal
friends, which is a concept that is well beyond your ability to comprehend. You know what galls me, Douglas? It's the fact that I didn't see this coming. I thought that our two clans had buried the hatchet; that we were willing to work towards a greater future for all Scotland through the Templar Order. Think of all of the things that we accomplished together: the building of New Jerusalem, putting Mary Magdalene to rest in a beautiful temple, bringing the Ark of the Covenant out of Africa and into the Templar Order, breathing life into Freemasonry Brotherhood—this was to be not just a new beginning for the two of us but for all of mankind! We were creating a world in which every person, regardless of race or religion could live as equals! And now, all of those dreams have literally gone up in flames because of your insatiable thirst for power!”

Black Douglas laughed heartily, his belly shaking under his nightshirt. “Henry, you always were an idealistic fool. Do you really think that humans could ever live in true
equality and peace? Look at the greatest civilizations ever to rule the world! The Egyptians! The Romans! The Great Eastern Empire! They were all ruled by fierce, powerful leaders who didn't think twice before decimating societies like the one you were trying to create, if it was in the best interest of their empires. You can't deny it, Henry. We destroy! It's in our human blood! It's who we are! God has created us in His image, fierce conquerors, just like Joshua and David, the great generals of the Bible. They destroyed any civilization that threatened their power! The strong survive. The weak perish. You and your ridiculous projects on the this side of the ocean not only severely drained the Templar treasury, but it also transformed one of the most powerful fighting armies in the world into a community of timid builders and farmers! And if you were not so blind, you would have seen that I am not alone in such feelings.” He pointed out the window to New Jerusalem. “Many others support my view as well. The Templar Order needs a strong leader with a strong military vision.”

“A leader like you?”

“Exactly. With your death, the leadership was able to change quickly and painlessly. I was only doing what was best for the Order.”

Prince Henry's eyes narrowed with sudden comprehension. “It was
you
back in Kirkwall! You formed a traitorous alliance with the English then ordered the attack on my sea fortress while I was away dealing with the bishop!”

Black Douglas snorted. “The English didn't like your growing naval influence in the north. They promised to preserve Scotland's autonomy if I helped to eliminate the naval power of the Sinclair clan. I was doing Scotland a
favour
by helping them destroy you while at the same time bringing peace to Scotland.”