flying above the remains of the bell tower. The black cross whipping in the summer breeze lifted Erhard’s spirit. It showed that no defeat of the righteous was permanent.
It did trouble him somewhat that there was little sign of anyone reclaiming the mission here. He saw no monks as he approached, only armed men bearing various tabards over their armor, all quite serious in their bearing. Erhard could tell by their dress and the varied ways they wore their hair and trimmed their beards that these men were all secular.
At least this house of God is well defended
.
He rode up and one of the guardsmen took the reins of his horse as Erhard dismounted.
“You must be our new Landkomtur,” came a voice out of the entry.
Erhard turned to face the voice. “Brother Erhard von Stendal,” he said, squinting. The intense sunlight rendered the shadows in the recessed entry near impenetrable, and his host’s approach hadbeen masked by the fact that he wore black, from tunic to trousers to worn leather boots.
The man stepped into the sunlight to meet him. “I am Brother Semyon von Kassel.”
Brother Semyon held out a hand, and Erhard noted that he even wore black gloves. Erhard took his hand and said, “Hochmeister Hermann von Salza sends his greetings.”
Brother Semyon smiled. “But more important, he sends you.”
There was nothing particularly unusual about the man, other than his choice of black clothing in the summer heat. Brother Semyon was about Erhard’s height, if more slightly built. His face was lined by approaching age, but his hair still held most of its color, white only invading at the fringes of his temples and around his neatly trimmed beard. His eyes were gray as a stone.
The face was unremarkable, but the smile …
There was something in Brother Semyon’s smile that made Erhard uneasy. There was knowledge there—knowledge that probably was best not shared.
“I am here,” Erhard said. “But I’ve not yet been told why.”
“Why? To serve God, and the pope.” Brother Semyon chuckled and let go of Erhard’s hand. “Come, I have much to show you, and we have much to discuss.”
rother Semyon and one of the secular guards led him down a corridor black with shadow. It was a relief to be out of the sun, but the dimness rendered the brother little more than a darker shadow beside him. Erhard had the uncanny sensation that the darkness here was more than the absence of light.
“You’ve been given quite the honor. To be first to lead one of our special ‘provinces’ is a unique duty, and one that the Hochmeister only trusted to the most disciplined and discreet knightof the Order. Your command will be exclusive. You will have no peers.”
“I assume you’re going to tell me what this command is?”
“All things in their proper order.” They stopped in front of a massive door. “Do you know why you were chosen?”
“I have not been enlightened.”
“The reasons are manifold. In the Holy Land, you proved adept at the more subtle arts of warfare—attacking the heathen in the mind and the soul as well as the body. You are adept with spies, subversion, and assassination.”
“I serve the Lord, my God.”
“And you do so with an admirable lack of sentimentality.”
Brother Semyon’s guardsman opened the door. It swung inside silently on well-oiled hinges. It revealed a corridor beyond, lined with several long cages. The cages were new, the black iron bars showing no rust, the stones forming the floor flat, even, and closely fitted together. The cages were tall and narrow, along the single outside wall, and lit only by vent holes in the upper wall no larger than Erhard’s fist.
Even so, after the darkened corridor, his eyes were adjusted well enough to see the cages in their entirety. They were barely wide enough for a man to spread his arms inside, and about twice that long. The occupants were uniformly naked, each chained by one leg to a heavy staple set in the center of their
It did trouble him somewhat that there was little sign of anyone reclaiming the mission here. He saw no monks as he approached, only armed men bearing various tabards over their armor, all quite serious in their bearing. Erhard could tell by their dress and the varied ways they wore their hair and trimmed their beards that these men were all secular.
At least this house of God is well defended
.
He rode up and one of the guardsmen took the reins of his horse as Erhard dismounted.
“You must be our new Landkomtur,” came a voice out of the entry.
Erhard turned to face the voice. “Brother Erhard von Stendal,” he said, squinting. The intense sunlight rendered the shadows in the recessed entry near impenetrable, and his host’s approach hadbeen masked by the fact that he wore black, from tunic to trousers to worn leather boots.
The man stepped into the sunlight to meet him. “I am Brother Semyon von Kassel.”
Brother Semyon held out a hand, and Erhard noted that he even wore black gloves. Erhard took his hand and said, “Hochmeister Hermann von Salza sends his greetings.”
Brother Semyon smiled. “But more important, he sends you.”
There was nothing particularly unusual about the man, other than his choice of black clothing in the summer heat. Brother Semyon was about Erhard’s height, if more slightly built. His face was lined by approaching age, but his hair still held most of its color, white only invading at the fringes of his temples and around his neatly trimmed beard. His eyes were gray as a stone.
The face was unremarkable, but the smile …
There was something in Brother Semyon’s smile that made Erhard uneasy. There was knowledge there—knowledge that probably was best not shared.
“I am here,” Erhard said. “But I’ve not yet been told why.”
“Why? To serve God, and the pope.” Brother Semyon chuckled and let go of Erhard’s hand. “Come, I have much to show you, and we have much to discuss.”
rother Semyon and one of the secular guards led him down a corridor black with shadow. It was a relief to be out of the sun, but the dimness rendered the brother little more than a darker shadow beside him. Erhard had the uncanny sensation that the darkness here was more than the absence of light.
“You’ve been given quite the honor. To be first to lead one of our special ‘provinces’ is a unique duty, and one that the Hochmeister only trusted to the most disciplined and discreet knightof the Order. Your command will be exclusive. You will have no peers.”
“I assume you’re going to tell me what this command is?”
“All things in their proper order.” They stopped in front of a massive door. “Do you know why you were chosen?”
“I have not been enlightened.”
“The reasons are manifold. In the Holy Land, you proved adept at the more subtle arts of warfare—attacking the heathen in the mind and the soul as well as the body. You are adept with spies, subversion, and assassination.”
“I serve the Lord, my God.”
“And you do so with an admirable lack of sentimentality.”
Brother Semyon’s guardsman opened the door. It swung inside silently on well-oiled hinges. It revealed a corridor beyond, lined with several long cages. The cages were new, the black iron bars showing no rust, the stones forming the floor flat, even, and closely fitted together. The cages were tall and narrow, along the single outside wall, and lit only by vent holes in the upper wall no larger than Erhard’s fist.
Even so, after the darkened corridor, his eyes were adjusted well enough to see the cages in their entirety. They were barely wide enough for a man to spread his arms inside, and about twice that long. The occupants were uniformly naked, each chained by one leg to a heavy staple set in the center of their
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