Read Online Red Templar by Paul Christopher - Free Book Online
Authors: Paul Christopher
Tags: Fiction, Historical
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the question. In fact, the question had touched a nerve somehow. Why
was
he here? Why had he taken the notebook from Rodrigues in the first place? He’d taken on an enormous responsibility and he wasn’t really sure whether he knew why. Was it some quest for a faith or a purpose that had eluded him all his life, or was it simply a knee-jerk call to duty he’d been trained for all these years? Don’t think, do. The question nagged. He changed the subject.
“Let’s get back to the matter at hand, Dr. Genrikhovich. Let’s connect the dots, shall we?”
“By all means.”
“You lied to me about speaking English. Why?”
“Because I didn’t want there to be any hesitation or suspicion on your part when I spoke Russian to the people we will surely need to talk to on our journey. Your friend
Gospodin
Cabrera will provide you with the reassurance that what I say to these people is what I say to you.”
“What exactly is this journey we’re supposedly going on?”
“We know of three of the Templar swords. We must find the fourth.”
“Why is it so important?”
“It will lead us to the Apophasis Megale, the Great Declaration of Simon Magus, just as Brother Dimitrov explained.”
“And the key to the location of the sword is somehow held within the Kremlin Easter egg?”
“Yes, also as Brother Dimitrov told you.”
“And how do you come to know this?”
“It is a long story, Colonel.”
“I’m not doing anything else at the moment except being chased by your New Age KGB friends. I’ve got plenty of time.”
“They are not
my
KGB friends, Colonel. If you will recall they were shooting at me on that road as well as you.”
“The story,” Holliday prompted.
“Have you ever seen a photograph of Czar Nicholas the Second and George the Fifth standing together?”
Another crazy question that didn’t seem to have anything to do with anything. “Not that I can recall,” answered Holliday, irritated and exasperated by Genrikhovich’s pedantically convoluted speeches. The man could have been a professor droning along in a lecture hall filled with bored students. The thought brought him up short; he’d done just that for more than ten years at West Point.
Genrikhovich cleared his throat and began speaking again. “Many people commented that they looked like brothers. Wearing the same clothes they looked like twins, although there were three years between them.
“The truth is that, while certainly not twins, the two men were half brothers, both sired by Edward the Seventh but birthed by different mothers. In the czar’s case the woman was Empress Consort Maria Feodorovna, the wife of Edward’s cousin, the czar Alexander the Third, while George’s mother was Alexandra of Denmark, Edward’s wife at age seventeen.”
Holliday sighed. “Does all this information lead somewhere?”
It was Genrikhovich’s turn to sigh. “Of course it’s leading somewhere, Colonel. If I wanted to give lectures just to hear myself think I could do so at St. Petersburg State University,
nyet
?”
“Sorry,” apologized Holliday, not quite meaning it. “Go on.”
“The point I am endeavoring to make is that the two royal families were closer than even history tells us. The generally accepted reason for George the Fifth’s not rescuing his cousin the czar and the czar’s family during the 1917 revolution is that he feared just such a revolution in his own country. The facts offer a much simpler reason for King George’s inaction—he was afraid that with his half brother in England there would be a dispute over the line of succession for the throne of the British Empire. There were already grassroots rumors of the two men’s common father, and being the elder son, Nicholas would have had a legitimate claim. Had the czar shown any indication after his arrival in the British Isles of wanting the throne, there would have been chaos. The war was already bankrupting England; scandal over the monarchy would’ve
was
he here? Why had he taken the notebook from Rodrigues in the first place? He’d taken on an enormous responsibility and he wasn’t really sure whether he knew why. Was it some quest for a faith or a purpose that had eluded him all his life, or was it simply a knee-jerk call to duty he’d been trained for all these years? Don’t think, do. The question nagged. He changed the subject.
“Let’s get back to the matter at hand, Dr. Genrikhovich. Let’s connect the dots, shall we?”
“By all means.”
“You lied to me about speaking English. Why?”
“Because I didn’t want there to be any hesitation or suspicion on your part when I spoke Russian to the people we will surely need to talk to on our journey. Your friend
Gospodin
Cabrera will provide you with the reassurance that what I say to these people is what I say to you.”
“What exactly is this journey we’re supposedly going on?”
“We know of three of the Templar swords. We must find the fourth.”
“Why is it so important?”
“It will lead us to the Apophasis Megale, the Great Declaration of Simon Magus, just as Brother Dimitrov explained.”
“And the key to the location of the sword is somehow held within the Kremlin Easter egg?”
“Yes, also as Brother Dimitrov told you.”
“And how do you come to know this?”
“It is a long story, Colonel.”
“I’m not doing anything else at the moment except being chased by your New Age KGB friends. I’ve got plenty of time.”
“They are not
my
KGB friends, Colonel. If you will recall they were shooting at me on that road as well as you.”
“The story,” Holliday prompted.
“Have you ever seen a photograph of Czar Nicholas the Second and George the Fifth standing together?”
Another crazy question that didn’t seem to have anything to do with anything. “Not that I can recall,” answered Holliday, irritated and exasperated by Genrikhovich’s pedantically convoluted speeches. The man could have been a professor droning along in a lecture hall filled with bored students. The thought brought him up short; he’d done just that for more than ten years at West Point.
Genrikhovich cleared his throat and began speaking again. “Many people commented that they looked like brothers. Wearing the same clothes they looked like twins, although there were three years between them.
“The truth is that, while certainly not twins, the two men were half brothers, both sired by Edward the Seventh but birthed by different mothers. In the czar’s case the woman was Empress Consort Maria Feodorovna, the wife of Edward’s cousin, the czar Alexander the Third, while George’s mother was Alexandra of Denmark, Edward’s wife at age seventeen.”
Holliday sighed. “Does all this information lead somewhere?”
It was Genrikhovich’s turn to sigh. “Of course it’s leading somewhere, Colonel. If I wanted to give lectures just to hear myself think I could do so at St. Petersburg State University,
nyet
?”
“Sorry,” apologized Holliday, not quite meaning it. “Go on.”
“The point I am endeavoring to make is that the two royal families were closer than even history tells us. The generally accepted reason for George the Fifth’s not rescuing his cousin the czar and the czar’s family during the 1917 revolution is that he feared just such a revolution in his own country. The facts offer a much simpler reason for King George’s inaction—he was afraid that with his half brother in England there would be a dispute over the line of succession for the throne of the British Empire. There were already grassroots rumors of the two men’s common father, and being the elder son, Nicholas would have had a legitimate claim. Had the czar shown any indication after his arrival in the British Isles of wanting the throne, there would have been chaos. The war was already bankrupting England; scandal over the monarchy would’ve
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