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Category:
Fantasy
Publisher: Brendan Carroll
ISBN-10: 1451540949
Type: Fiction
Pages: 288
Copyright: April 7, 2010
ISBN-13: 9781451540949
Price: $3.99 (eBook)
In a strange twist of fate, the Chevalier du Morte, finds himself suddenly catapulted into the role of Grand Master of the Order of the Red Cross of Gold when four members of the Order are struck down simultaneously in a mysterious incident. He is plagued by the idea that he has committed the unforgiveable sin while trying desperately to discover the whereabouts of the Djinn creature whom he suspects has put a curse on the Order. Once more, he inadvertantly incurs the wrath of the Grand Master and another of his beloved Brothers turns against him and calls for his head. He must defeat the Djinn, defeat his own personal demons and figure out some way to get things back to normal before the entire Order falls to pieces.
Excerpt
The cardinal had said nothing for the past several moments.
“Would you care for some lunch, Your Grace?” Mark Andrew asked them in the heavy silence. He had no idea what to say to these high-placed Church officials. No idea what not to say. He did not trust the Church very much. Not since the Inquisition. Montague sat next to him. He was extremely glad he had chosen Sir William as his second. He was, after all, the Knight of the Holy City. Holy City in this case referring to Rome, not Jerusalem. Montague had only recently confided to him that Holy City referred to a number of different locations around the globe. Jerusalem being only one of many. Rome was another. Istanbul. Mecca. The Forbidden City in China, yet another. Chichen Itza. To name a few.
“Father Domingo,” Montague addressed the other man. “We would prefer to keep these things as close as possible until we can make further assessments of the conditions of our Brothers. It would not do for this information to be spread among the Order or the Church’s interested parties at large. If it had been anyone other than the Grand Master...”
“Of course, my son.” Domingo waved one hand. The man was in his late sixties, perhaps early seventies and had a decidedly Spanish accent. “Only those necessary will be told. His Excellency will of course, want to be kept up-to-speed on the developments. There are some unfinished businesses between the Holy See and Master d’Brouchart. Who will be representing your Order in these matters?”
“Sir Ramsay is the interim Grand Master, Your Grace.” Montague nodded at the Knight of Death.
“Sir Ramsay.” Colalucci narrowed his eyes. “You are known as the Chevalier du Morte, no?”
“That is one of my titles, your Excellency,” Ramsay nodded to him and picked up his own cup.
“A very ominous one.” Colalucci eyed him suspiciously. “May I ask how this was decided?”
“A vote was taken, Your Grace,” Montague told him. “The decision was almost unanimous.”
“Ahhh. Then the members of the Council are in agreement concerning your appointment?” Domingo put the question to Ramsay.
“Yes, sir,” Ramsay told him shortly. He could read enough of the man’s expression to see the doubt there and wondered what they knew of him. He had not been to Rome to the Holy See in years and years. In fact, six Popes had come and gone since he had been summoned there last. He had been called to receive an award for outstanding service during the last great war. It had been most trying.
“His Holiness may wish to speak with you in privy chambers,” Colalucci told him blandly. “You will be notified, of course.”
“Of course.” Mark Andrew shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He closed his eyes briefly and heard the man’s thoughts. The Cardinal thought very little of him. He had read some of the reports they had made in the past few years. He was very high-placed and had direct access to the Pope’s ear. The man did not believe the report concerning the twenty-one years he had spent in the Abyss in the least. He thought it all fabrications of a lunatic. The man looked on him with utter contempt and wanted to see his tattoos! Mark Andrew slapped one hand against his forehead without thinking.
The Cardinal frowned at him.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just remembered something.”
“Ahh. You have business to attend to, I’m sure.” Now the condescension was quite evident in the man’s voice. “We will take no more of your time than necessary, my son.”
Mark Andrew cringed inwardly. The man also knew about the three weeks debauchery he had spent with the hairdresser and massage therapist in Rome. That, he believed completely. Mark Andrew shifted his attention to Domingo. This one had no clue. He had read no reports. He didn’t even know what they were about. Domingo was totally in the dark, but he was a better man than Colalucci.
“And you say you were unable to do anything at all for your Brothers?” Colalucci asked him again.
“Aye, Your Grace.” Mark Andrew intentionally allowed his Scottish brogue to slip out. The man detested the Anglos. “We did wot we cud, as humble as our abilities air. Th’ ’ealer ’as ’ealed and th’ singer ’as sung and we’ve oll danced a jig, but th’ results wair negative. We’re just waitin’ fur th’ piper t’ play th’ foinal note and we’ll bury ’em in th’ charch yard.” A slow smile spread across the Knight of Death’s face. Montague snapped his head around to look at the Grand Master in dismay. Domingo frowned deeply and Colalucci was completely taken aback as Mark Andrew stood slowly from his seat.
“I’ll tell ye gud fellas wot!” He leaned on his knuckles on the table. “I know also, my God, that thou triest the heart, and hast pleasure in uprightness. As for me, in the uprightness of mine heart I have willingly offered all these things: and now have I seen with joy thy people, which are present here, to offer willingly unto thee. Thou calledst in trouble, and I delivered thee; I answered thee in the secret place of thunder: I proved thee at the waters of Meribah. Selah. If ye wud excuse me, I ’ave honest Christian wark t’ do. Go with God, brothers.”
Mark Andrew turned on his heel and stuffed his hands in his pockets. As he went out the door to the sun porch, he began to sing a Hebrew hymn praising God.
“Ah, well, yes.” Montague got up quickly to refill the Cardinals’ goblets as they looked after Mark Andrew’s departure in shock. “Brother Dambretti should be here shortly to explain about the curse.”
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