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Authors: Steven A McKay
Tags: Historical fiction
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village. If we don't do something about it now, it could spread throughout the whole island and our Order will find itself homeless again.” He patted Jacob on the shoulder and addressed Sir Jean. “My sergeant and I have been told of another entrance to this tainted shrine, where hopefully we'll come face-to-face with the leaders of this religion. We'll head there now, while you take the rest of the men down into the tunnel and make sure no-one escapes when I interrupt whatever blasphemous rite they're in the middle of.”
“Assuming that informant's information was right,” Jacob muttered.
“Leontios has led us right so far,” Sir Richard retorted. “I believe his story, now...let's move.”
Sir Jean de Pagnac nodded as his superior officer rode into the darkness with his faithful sergeant-at-arms, then ordered two of the mercenaries to guard the rest of their horses.
At the bottom of the staircase Stephen lifted the latch on the great door into the shrine and slipped inside, the remaining Hospitallers following at his back.
* * *
Krymmeni Thesi's church was a small building, but sturdily built from the local sandstone and appeared well maintained. There was a large three-barred crucifix above the small but functional altar and crude but pleasant enough paintings showed scenes from Christ's life, death and rebirth.
It seemed to be nothing more than a normal Orthodox church. There was nothing openly sacrilegious about the place. No obscene bas-reliefs had been carved into the walls and the book that lay open on the marble altar was just a bible.
As they tied their mounts to a post outside Sir Richard held up an armoured hand and the two soldiers stopped in their tracks, breath held, senses straining.
The sound of men speaking could be heard, muffled by the heavy stone and oak construction of the building, but it appeared to come from the vestry, to the rear of the altar through a narrow doorway.
The knight drew his dagger, knowing a sword would be nothing more than a hindrance within the cramped confines of the church and Jacob followed his lead as they crept through the doorway, the muted voices becoming louder as they went.
“Leave one alive,” Sir Richard whispered.
They walked silently into the vestry where two Greeks stood chatting. They had short wooden sticks by their sides and looked dangerous, each of them being a fair bit taller and broader than either of the Hospitallers.
“Hey!”
The men spun at the unexpected voice, hands reaching out instinctively for their weapons, large dark eyes wide at the intrusion.
The nearest of them roared in anger and charged, his massive bulk bearing down on Jacob, ready to slam the smaller Englishman into the wall.
Before he could reach the sergeant Sir Richard threw himself shoulder first into the charging Greek, slowing his momentum and sending him barrelling sideways into the wall. At the same time the knight punched his dagger deep into the man's groin, feeling warm blood spill onto his hand despite the gauntlet he wore. He pulled the blade free and the man landed with a gasp on his backside, the breath blown from his lungs and his life-force oozing from the mortal wound.
The second of the men stood stock-still, eyeing the Hospitallers warily, but with no fear in his black eyes, only anger.
“What do you men want?” he demanded.
“We need to know how to get into the underground cavern,” Sir Richard replied as he moved forward, Jacob following a little way to the left, giving their opponent two oncoming targets to worry about.
The man's gaze flicked between his silently approaching opponents, sweat beading on his finely wrinkled brow. “I wouldn't tell you Catholic scum where it is,” he spat. “Even if I knew.”
Beneath the ground, the rhythmic sound of a chant could faintly be heard and Sir Richard knew they had to act fast before any more innocents like the earlier night's couple were sacrificed.
“Get him,” he grunted,
“Assuming that informant's information was right,” Jacob muttered.
“Leontios has led us right so far,” Sir Richard retorted. “I believe his story, now...let's move.”
Sir Jean de Pagnac nodded as his superior officer rode into the darkness with his faithful sergeant-at-arms, then ordered two of the mercenaries to guard the rest of their horses.
At the bottom of the staircase Stephen lifted the latch on the great door into the shrine and slipped inside, the remaining Hospitallers following at his back.
* * *
Krymmeni Thesi's church was a small building, but sturdily built from the local sandstone and appeared well maintained. There was a large three-barred crucifix above the small but functional altar and crude but pleasant enough paintings showed scenes from Christ's life, death and rebirth.
It seemed to be nothing more than a normal Orthodox church. There was nothing openly sacrilegious about the place. No obscene bas-reliefs had been carved into the walls and the book that lay open on the marble altar was just a bible.
As they tied their mounts to a post outside Sir Richard held up an armoured hand and the two soldiers stopped in their tracks, breath held, senses straining.
The sound of men speaking could be heard, muffled by the heavy stone and oak construction of the building, but it appeared to come from the vestry, to the rear of the altar through a narrow doorway.
The knight drew his dagger, knowing a sword would be nothing more than a hindrance within the cramped confines of the church and Jacob followed his lead as they crept through the doorway, the muted voices becoming louder as they went.
“Leave one alive,” Sir Richard whispered.
They walked silently into the vestry where two Greeks stood chatting. They had short wooden sticks by their sides and looked dangerous, each of them being a fair bit taller and broader than either of the Hospitallers.
“Hey!”
The men spun at the unexpected voice, hands reaching out instinctively for their weapons, large dark eyes wide at the intrusion.
The nearest of them roared in anger and charged, his massive bulk bearing down on Jacob, ready to slam the smaller Englishman into the wall.
Before he could reach the sergeant Sir Richard threw himself shoulder first into the charging Greek, slowing his momentum and sending him barrelling sideways into the wall. At the same time the knight punched his dagger deep into the man's groin, feeling warm blood spill onto his hand despite the gauntlet he wore. He pulled the blade free and the man landed with a gasp on his backside, the breath blown from his lungs and his life-force oozing from the mortal wound.
The second of the men stood stock-still, eyeing the Hospitallers warily, but with no fear in his black eyes, only anger.
“What do you men want?” he demanded.
“We need to know how to get into the underground cavern,” Sir Richard replied as he moved forward, Jacob following a little way to the left, giving their opponent two oncoming targets to worry about.
The man's gaze flicked between his silently approaching opponents, sweat beading on his finely wrinkled brow. “I wouldn't tell you Catholic scum where it is,” he spat. “Even if I knew.”
Beneath the ground, the rhythmic sound of a chant could faintly be heard and Sir Richard knew they had to act fast before any more innocents like the earlier night's couple were sacrificed.
“Get him,” he grunted,
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