Chapter Twelve

Dover, England during the reign of King Henry the First 1100-1135

A light snow fell as Colin stepped onto the wharf. The new powder whitened the dirty, dingy snow already lying on the frozen ground. Shoppers hurried along the storefronts as they rushed home to their holiday dinner. The wharf emptied except for a lone shadow in the corner, peering, and unobserved, Colin walked away from the docks.

A frigid wind blew right through him, and he gathered his coat around him for warmth, the icy gust piercing the thin threads of his scruffy coat. More importantly, the coat hid the red flared cross of a Crusader, Robert insisted he bear the cross, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be associated with the horrible massacres. He picked his knapsack up and rushed away from the wharf. He knew where he was going. He only hoped he wasn’t too late. His thoughts raced. He mouthed the words he intended to say and daydreamed of his sweet, beautiful Amelia running into his arms. However, when he opened his eyes in the dream, the woman in his arms was not Amelia, but Alison. He whispered Alison’s name. Amelia, not Alison.

A passer-by on the street glanced at him, looked him up and down, and then hurried on their way. Colin never noticed the lone figure stalking him. The blustery weather blew a wisp of blond hair from the hood of the cloak. As he neared the inn, a lump came to his throat, his mouth became dry, and beads of sweat appeared on his brow. His hands were shaking so much that by the time he reached the inn’s door, he could scarcely turn the latch.

He took a deep breath, crossed himself, and stepped inside the door. There were a few drunken sailors  sitting by the fireplace singing bawdy songs.  While a table in a corner sheltered Robert’s spies. And a woman Colin did not recognize fluttered between the two tables.  A young blond-haired girl stood at the hearth without turning to see who entered. Colin closed his eyes and remembered the smell of fresh bread that wafted through the room. He breathed in, but the smell from before was gone.

You can never actually go home.

He almost turned around, but just as he was leaving, the man behind the bar bellowed, “Merry Christ… Saints preserve us, whom do they choose to drag into my inn on Christmas Day? My dear friend Colin Harcourt, I can scarce believe my eyes. Come in, come in,” Alexander said wiping his hands on his apron. “You look well, hell you look as if you haven’t aged more than a few days. Life must have been good to you. Enter. We have so much to talk about. Look, Adela, Colin has returned. Your sister was right all along.”

A young blonde-haired girl dropped her ladle, ran from the hearth to Colin, and hugged him, “It is good to see you, Colin.” Adela was as beautiful as ever even though the years added a few pounds to her figure. “I am sorry, but I must tend to the soup. We can talk tomorrow. You are staying?”

Alexander took over the questions. “Take off your coat. Let’s sit by the fire. I must know all about your adventures. Did you find the Earl? Rumor has it he died in Spain a few years back.” Alexander made the boisterous, drunken sailors move to another table and sat Colin in front of the fire. “I must know everything,” he told Colin. “Take off your jacket. You’re among friends.”

“I think I’d rather keep the jacket on.”

“Nonsense, the fire will warm your bones.” Alexander opened the front of Colin’s coat, saw the tunic, and stopped.

“I fear my clothing might cause a stir.”

Awe-struck, Alexander was speechless for the moment. “A stir? You would be treated like a returning hero.”  He stood, patted Colin on the back and bellowed, “Guests, I would like to make an announcement. My good friend and cousin have just returned from…”

Colin interrupted Alexander and said, “Has just returned from Canterbury after an extended visit with friends.”

Colin spent the next hour telling Alexander about his exploits during the Crusades. He left little out. Alexander was empathetic at Rango’s death. He wasn’t surprised when told the Earl took an instant dislike for him, and he was emotionally and physically devastated when he heard about the abhorrent siege of Jerusalem and the needless death of so many innocent men, women, and children. He hung his head in shame at the savage attack leaving rivers of blood in the streets of the holy city. Colin purposely did not mention the part where Robert was getting ready to retake his father’s kingdom from William. He said that Robert was more than upset at William. Colin also omitted the mysterious scarab necklace hidden beneath his shirt.

“Haven’t you heard? William died last April. William was hunting with his brother, Henry, and Sir Tyrell. I believe you have met him. He left a foul aftertaste in your craw as I recollect. They ruled the king’s death an accident. I have my doubts. The fact that Henry rode straight away to William’s castle and claimed his brother’s treasure and the kingdom is questionable. The act did not bode well for him. I’ll admit that Henry is doing much more for England in his eight months on the throne than William’s entire thirteen years wearing the crown. Most people are happy with King Henry and couldn't care less how he came to the throne.”

“My knowledge of English monarchs is limited. How did history record the reign of Henry?” asked Grant.

“With the exception of fighting with my friend, Robert, for the first six years of his reign, Henry was a great king. He outlawed slavery and passed a law stating those barons and those of royal blood needed to treat their vassals better. He set up a judicial system that removed any of those same barons from handing out too harsh of a punishment. We still have severe penalties, but at least the people were given the right to a court hearing. He also reunited Normandy and Britain. Overall, there was peace and economic growth throughout King Henry’s reign.” Colin smiled at Sally before continuing. “The only problem has he left no heir to the throne. His only son died tragically.”

“How tragic?”

“Henry’s son  was called William. When William was seven-years-old, Henry took the child to Germany to betroth him to the German king’s daughter. Henry and Prince William stopped in Calais on their way home. There was a young man with a brand new boat, and he pleaded with the king to use his boat for his return. The king could not change his plans. Thus, he offered his son as the royal guest. The ship, White Star, came to inclement weather on the crossing and sank. Sailors placed the young prince onto a lifeboat and rowed him to safety. When the Prince heard that women were left on a board of the sinking vessel, he insisted that they return to rescue them. The boat sunk after the women on board the lifeboat and there were no survivors.”

“How sad,” Sally brows knitted together.

“Yes, it was, and England mourned the loss. I think he would have been a good king.” Colin continued. “Yes, but the gloomy part of the story comes up next. Well, at least at first I thought it was miserable, but now I am grateful for the turn of events. It was at that moment I told Alexander of my intentions for Amelia.”

“Amelia?” Alexander stoked the fireplace.

“No, Alexander, I intend to ask Amelia to be my wife,” Colin said as he warmed his backside with the roaring fire

“I didn’t think Amelia ever gave you any idea that she would have inclinations of that sort.” Alexander fidgeted with an empty glass left by the sailors.

“No, but I figured she was waiting for a hero, and I thought she might take my hand now. I’m not the same scallywag I was when I came here first.”

“That is true. However, you are asking the wrong person, my friend. Amelia found another calling soon after I lost my dear Anabel and just before my daughter Ava married the baker.”

“You lost Anabel? I grieve for you, my dear friend, she was a beautiful woman She was a kind of spirit, if ever there was, one can only wish for.” Colin clapped his hand on Alexander’s back.

“Thank you, she was my reason for living, but now that she is gone, well, I still have my girls.” Alexander stared out the window, deep in thought.

“Yes, and you said Ava married the baker?”

“Yes, Anabel fell sick the winter after you left, she was too weak to fight the fever. Ava married the baker the following spring. The Baker has a face to frighten children, but he is a good man, and I get free bread daily. And Ava is now the mother of my first grandchild, a granddaughter wouldn’t you know, and another child on the way.”

“And Amelia?” asked Colin

“Amelia finally found a man worthy of her. She became a nun. She joined a cloister outside the walls of the Holy Vatican City. Praise be to God Almighty.” Alexander shut his eyes tightly as he spoke the last sentence.

Colin lowered his head. “I am too late for my dear Alison.” He sat on the bench near the fire and buried his face in his hands.

Confused, Alexander raised his hands and said, “Alison, I thought you said Amelia,”

“Yes, I meant Amelia. What became of the child, Alison?”

“Colin,” Alexander said, “You are not too late for Alison. She isn’t a child anymore. She is a grown woman and has all the boys of the town fawning over her. Like Amelia, she will not give them any notice. She has eyes for only one.”

“Don’t tell me she will also become a nun?”

“No, she is a different story. She spends most of her free time at the wharf waiting for her true love to return. It’s getting dark. She should be home soon.” Alexander glanced at the door.

“So, she forgot about me? Good, I am glad she found someone to make her happy,” Colin said disheartened. At that moment he realized why every time he thought of Amelia, he saw Alison in his mind instead.

“No, Colin,” Alexander said, “She waits for you.”

“Me… I…” Colin stopped in mid-sentence as the door opened. Alison stepped into the Inn, shaking snow from her hair.

Colin’s heart froze. She ran down the stairs, tears trickling down her cheeks. She leaped into Colin’s waiting embrace. “I knew you would return,” she said then she kissed him passionately.

Colin’s heart stirred, and all thoughts of Amelia vanished.

“I knew it would be Alison,” squealed Sally jumping for joy and clapping her hands in excitement. She ran over to Colin and gave him a hug, her eyes sparkling.

“You were right all along, Sally. It was Alison, not Amelia that became my first true love.”

“First true love?” asked Sally’s mother. “Most of us only find true love once in our lifetime.”

Colin thought of the many true loves his heart can go through in his life. He peered into her brown eyes as if he could touch her soul, “I agree, but most don’t live for hundreds of years.”

“I am sorry, Colin, I forgot for a moment about your… longevity,” she smiled. “If you don’t mind me asking, how many true loves have you had in your lifetime? Why didn’t you give the scarab to another or at the least dispose of it?”

“I have had more than my share, each one as true as the last one. Each one broke my heart when I left because of my curse. Each one left an emptiness in my heart as I outlived them. Mrs. Crawford, I know the pain you are living through. I have lived through the same pain countless times.” Colin walked over to her and touched her gently on the shoulder. “As for giving my curse to another or throwing it away, I tried. The person that I gave the necklace to died instantaneously. It isn’t only the scarab that gives you immortality; remember the damned thing bit me. I’m immortal with or without the necklace. I wear the thing because I get sick without it.

Sally interrupted the moment as she ran and placed herself between her mother and Colin. “You were telling us about Alison. I want to hear about Alison,” she said hugging her mother.

“You’re right, Sally, we were talking about Alison,” Colin said as he paced the room again. “Her father drew up the contract immediately…”

“Contracts?” asked Grant.

“It was a different time. Fathers who wished to arrange a marriage for their daughters were required to sign a contract if the father owned land that is. We were also expected to be granted a papal blessing.” Colin gripped his coffee cup, asking James for more.

“What’s a papal blessing?” asked Sally.

“We needed a blessing from the Church before we could get married. I must say that my Crusader tunic was more than beneficial. The Priest granted his consent without hesitation.”

“And the contract?” asked Grant.

“The agreement gave ownership of the Inn to me if Alexander were to die. Women did not have the right to property. I would have gladly given the Inn to Alison and Ava if it was within my power.”

“It is still an unpopular custom in most states,” Grant declared.

“It is a wrong belief, no matter the timeline,” Anne said adamantly.

“Alison, talk about Alison,” Sally demanded.

Colin smiled the memory vivid in his mind.  “Yes, Sally. Alison and I were married April 7th, 1101. She never looked so beautiful. Alexander walked her down the aisle, and Adela’s husband stood in for me. Ava was the bridesmaid.”

“Their wedding ceremonies sound much like today,” James added using a éclair to conduct the make-believe Felix Mendelssohn’s Wedding March, which he hummed.

“Where do you think the tradition originated? However, we did not have Mendelssohn’s lovely arrangement at the time. It has just recently become all the rage at weddings if I am not mistaken.”

“Alison. I want to hear about Alison,” pouted Sally

“I’m getting there dear child. Ava passed away during childbirth the summer after Allison and I were married. Alexander passed peacefully in his sleep ten years after the marriage. Alison and I lived a blissful life. I would do anything for her, and she for me. Clarice, the first of my daughters, greeted the world and us May 17th, 1106. Emma, Mary, and Anabel followed in rapid succession. I had all a man could pray or wish to have. I had a loving wife and four beautiful daughters. Sally, you remind me of my Clarice.” Sally blushed. “The Inn prospered. There was peace throughout England. It was truly a glorious time to be alive. Everything changed on the eve of our twentieth anniversary. Clarice and Alison cornered me saying we needed to talk.”

“Papa, you know we love you?” Tears filled Clarice’s eyes.

“Yes Clarice, I know your mother, you, and your sisters love you and me. Now if you will excuse me, I have tasks to complete. Have you finished your chores?” Colin tried to push past them.

“Papa, this can’t wait. Mama and I are worried about you. Mama has not been able to approach you about her concerns,” she said, the tears spilling over onto her cheeks, tracing tiny paths down to her jaw.

“Don’t cry, sweetie. I’m healthy. Well, healthy for a man my age.”

“Listen to her Colin. This is hard for her. I could not approach you. I took the cowards way out and asked for help from our fourteen-year-old daughter.” Alison trembled, sniffling tears away.

“This is nonsense. I had my birthday. I feel as strong as an ox. Show me another man my age than can do the things I can do.”

Alison sobbed as Clarice gathered her composure. “That’s just it Papa. Nobody can guess your age.”

“Alison, you know my age. I turned fifty-five two weeks ago.”

Alison’s entire body shook with sobs. She was unable to speak.

“Papa. You don’t age. You have looked the same for as long as I can remember. Do you ever look in the mirror?”

Colin paused for a moment, sat in a chair and stared at the ground. “Yes, I look. I was hoping it was just me that saw it.”

“No, Papa. We all see that you don’t age. We are all worried.”

Alison draped her arms around her husband. “Dear, understand, it’s not us. We don’t care if you never age. We love you and will love you forever. Colin, the townspeople have noticed, too. They say you are a wizard. They mean that you sold your soul to the devil in the Crusades.”

“Do you believe that?” Colin searched her eyes for an answer, finding only her tears. “What shall I do?”

“No, dear, of course not. We don’t know why you don’t age and are aware you are no wizard. We are aware you haven’t sold your soul to the devil.”

“Papa, Aunt Adela overheard people talking in the town square. The council has said that you are the reincarnation of the devil. They are seeking help from the Church as we speak. There is also talk about your  soul must be absolved. And, Papa, the last time they decided a soul needed to be vindicated, they burned a man at the stake.”

“You must leave at once, Colin. I cannot bear to see you burned at stake,” cried Alison as she wrapped herself around her husband.

“I can no more leave you than I can fly…” Alison hushed her husband with her finger aside his lips, followed by a passionate kiss. Clarice ran into her father’s arms.

“Papa, you must leave at once. If you stay, the townspeople will kill you. Please for our sake, go now,” whispered Clarice.

He gathered his wife and daughter to his chest, unashamed of his tears.

Colin silently slipped out of the back door, the moon hiding behind dark clouds. He carried only a knapsack. Tears fell to his cheek as the clouds burst. He left a note at his wife’s side. I’ll try to send for you when I can. He stopped in the muddy field, taking one last look at the Inn. He wiped his tears away with his shirtsleeves. He shouldered his meager belongings and went on his way. His heart broke, even more, than he thought possible with every painful step. He wondered if his wife would ever forgive him, let alone follow him.

“I bid my family farewell just after midnight on my twentieth wedding anniversary. I wrote letter after letter to get her back. First, they went unanswered. Then I never mailed them. It seemed better that way. The curse of immortality had claimed its first victims. For several years, I drowned my sorrows in alcohol. I returned to Dover whenever possible and watched my family grow from a distance. I saw Emma once in the marketplace, she smiled and waved, but said nothing for fear of my safety. All four of my daughters grew to maturity. They were as beautiful as Alison was. The four of them married and gave me grandchildren. I outlived all four. I attended all four funerals from a distance.”

“What happened to Alison?” Sally’s mother asked, tears falling down her cheeks.

“Alison never remarried. The Baker took over ownership of the Inn; his son took over after his death. Alison passed at the age of eighty-two. I was not there to mourn her passing.”

“Why not, Colin?” asked Grant.

“Two years earlier King Henry II had a falling out with Mother Church. The reasons are too many to explain now. The King forced his friend, Thomas Becket, to accept a position of Archbishop of Canterbury, a position Thomas refused at first. He wouldn’t dance to his friend, the king’s, wishes once he accepted the position. The king tired of his friend’s antics in 1164, the year Alison died. He banished Thomas from his kingdom. I was not there when Alison died because I was escorting the archbishop to Paris. It’s ironic how the title of Archbishop of Canterbury often affects my life.”

“I drank too much. I fought too much.” Colin had made a tsking sound before he continued.  “I spent time with the wrong people and dallied with the ladies, much as I had been when I was younger.” He looked at his audience to see if they showed any animosity toward him “You would not have liked me then. I did not like me then.” His voice cracked. “After Allison had died, I met other “true loves,” and the whole vicious circle started again.” His arms hung at his sides.” The one thing we can all look forward to in this world is to love and to die in the arms of our loved ones.” Frowning he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I could never give that to any of my wives, and I knew it would never happen for me.” Shaking his head, he sighed.  “I remembered the man who gave me this curse and realized he died alone. I too would die alone.” Staring at the wall, he stood and paced a few steps before returning to his seat.” This preyed on my soul. When I was between wives, all I could think of is to find some way to end the curse.” Maybe he was telling too much. Should he stop? No, he’d gone this far he might want to continue. “I volunteered for every treacherous adventure. I have already told you I sailed with Columbus. Time will not allow me to tell the tales of my adventures.” Pointing to nowhere, in particular, he talked as if the scarab had mesmerized him. “They are all stories within themselves.” Sighing, he took a quick breath.  “War is the most dangerous of adventures if His Majesty declared war, I was there. Unfortunately, the curse seemed to bring with it an uncanny ability to avoid death.”

“How is it you came to the Americas? Did the Archbishop send you?” asked James.

Colin hesitated, tears stinging his nose. “I arrived in the Americas when they were still colonies, in the winter of 1755. Being fluent in French, and yes, I finally learned that cursed language, I was assigned as an attaché to Major General Edward Braddock.”

“That would have been around the beginning of the French and Indian War,” Gran said.

“That’s correct, general. I came to the Colonies to help defend the Crown against the French.”

Chapter Eleven

Washington D.C. April 16, 1865

A light tap at the door brought Colin from a deep sleep. He threw the covers aside and knuckled the last vestige of sleep from his eyes. He grabbed his torn, tattered robe from the foot of the bed and struggled to get it on as he headed to the door. Colin paused and stared at the tattered garment remembering the moment his dear wife gave it to him, almost sixty years ago, on their first Christmas together. A tear fell from his eyes. One day he would have to replace it. He certainly never lacked the money to do so, but not this year, maybe not next year, but someday. Visions of his life over the last six decades flashed through his mind. Colin rubbed the robe with care. A smile crossed his face as he remembered the day their first child, a beautiful and charming son, was born. He passed away peacefully a few years ago. One daughter died during childbirth years ago, losing her child as well. His second son died earlier this year.  His eldest daughter, Dolly, was his only child still alive. Dolly was ill, so he arranged with a mortuary to have the funeral on Friday. He realized he would say goodbye to another loved one soon. This was the curse of immortal life. He loved. He lived. He grieved. Then the process would start all over again. A tap at the door brought him back to the present.

A hotel clerk waited nervously on the other side of the door. “I’m sorry to bother you sir, but there is a slight problem downstairs that needs your attention.”

“A problem? Can’t the hotel management solve this issue? I am only a guest,” Colin said drowsily. “What manner of the problem are we dealing with?”

“Sir, there is a large crowd gathering in the lobby.”

Colin rubbed the cricks from his back. “How is that my problem?” He cinched the top of his robe.

“Well, Sir, they are waiting for your arrival to finish your story,” the clerk said.

Colin stepped back, his eyes wide, “Waiting for me? I distinctly remember there were ten people yesterday, no more than that. I would not consider that a large crowd.”

“It seems, Sir, they have friends. All I know is we have opened the ballroom to facilitate them all. Oh, and a correspondent for The Washington Post is among the crowd. Sir, I was there yesterday. Your story is fascinating.”

“A reporter? I can’t tell this story in front of any journalists.” He ran a jerky hand through his hair. “I need my anonymity. I should not have started this in the first place.” Clasping his hands together, then standing, and sitting.  “If the public found out about my past, well, it could be very inconvenient for me.” He thought about his choice to tell Grant his story. “I never intended to make my story a public event.” Slipping his hands into his pocket and feeling the letter. “I needed to talk to someone. I have made a grotesque error in judgment.” Frowning he decided. “Perhaps I should sneak out the back,” Colin said as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Well, Sir that would be an option. But this may only give further credence to your story.”

“Yes, I’m afraid you’re right.” Colin stood in the doorway pounding his fist into his open palm.

“And, there were several members of your party sir, which I think would truly like to hear the end of your story and would consider your privacy a major concern. I’m thinking of myself, sir, as well perhaps General Grant.”

“That’s true. You have a point,” Colin said, as he paced the open doorway. He stood in silence for a moment. “Tell me, young man. Is the general in the crowd?”

“Yes, sir, he was the first to arrive this morning.” His eyebrow arched over one eye.

“And Sally and her mother are they also in the crowd?”

“Yes, sir, they are sitting with the general.” The clerk glanced at Colin’s attire and immediately concentrated at a small spot on the carpet.

“Excellent. Listen carefully,” Colin, said. “I have something I want you to do. Carry out my instructions precisely, and there will be something in it for you.”

“Yes, sir, I will try my best.”

“Discretely ask the General, Sally, and her mother to join me in my room at eight-thirty. Make sure they know not to draw attention to themselves. I don’t want them followed. Understand?”

“Yes, sir, I understand, I think.” The clerk turned to leave.

“One more thing,” Colin said, “Could you please bring us a pot of coffee, some pastries, and maybe some milk for Sally at around nine?”

“Yes, sir. Uh, sir?”

“Yes, young man?”

“Would you mind if I joined you, sir? It was a fascinating story, and I would like to hear the rest,” the clerk pleaded.

Colin smiled. “Sure, as long as you aren’t a reporter from The Washington Post.”

“Oh, I’m not, sir. I can’t even read and write, sir.”

“Well, that is something you should remedy as soon as possible. Let that be a lesson in life for you.” Colin shut the door before the clerk could say another word. He needed time to perfect his speech, denying the truth.

The clerk left and stepped briskly down the corridor.

People packed the ballroom to capacity as Colin strolled in and saw Grant, Sally, and her mother in the front at a small table. Other tables and chairs were set up and filled. The aisles and edges of the room were standing room only. He noticed the young clerk as he whispered something to the general. As the clerk left, Colin meandered up to the podium and cleared his throat.  General Grant whispered to Sally’s Mother.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention please?” As Colin spoke, the voices in the crowd slowed to a murmur and then to silence. “It appears I owe all of you an apology. I am a playwright and an actor.” The crowd became agitated.

General Grant stood up and silenced the crowd. “Give the man a chance to tell you his story.”

“I know how everyone feels about actors right now. I had an idea for a play and wanted to see if people would be interested in such a play. I did not intend for anyone to believe me. I am sorry I used a lack of judgment and timing. Look at me. Do I look eight-hundred years old to you? The thought is preposterous. I made the entire story up, and I apologize.” Colin gazed at the general, hoping he understood what Colin was trying to do.

“What about the necklace?” asked a man sitting in the front?

Colin brought the chain from its secure hiding place. “This is nothing but a prop. I found this in a book in the library, and I paid good money to an artisan in Boston to replicate this necklace.” Colin tucked it back inside his shirt.

“So, when does this so-called play open?” an angry man in the back wearing a black armband said.

“I do not understand. I didn’t say I’d finished writing the play. I wanted to see if anyone would be interested in the story. I’ll complete it soon. Then I’ll work out the details as to when and where it opens. I will see to it that the Post gets a press release when that happens.” Hands shot up all over the room. “No further questions will be answered at this time. Again, I apologize and please have a good day.”

The crowd jostled to get near Colin, but a security detail from the hotel quickly removed him to safety. Hotel staff took him to his room via a secret passageway. The security detail prevented any guests from following him. The hotel manager pounded the gavel on the table. “We will have order,” he shouted. “As you can see this was just a misunderstanding. Mr. Harcourt meant no harm. If you will all please leave my hotel peacefully, I don’t wish to call the authorities. We have canceled breakfast and lunch for the day. We will resume dinner at the usual time. The special is our world famous roast beef and herbed potatoes.”

“What room is the actor in?” demanded a correspondent.

“Mr. Harcourt is a guest in this establishment, and he is afforded the same courtesy and privacy as the rest of our guests. I’m sure you can understand.”

“I would like to book a room. Can you book me a room on the same floor as Mr. Harcourt?” The reporter handed the manager his credentials.

The hotel manager looked at the young correspondent for a moment before answering. “I’m sorry, due to last Friday’s tragedy. All, of our rooms, are full. If you need a place to stay, you can remain in the room above the stables.”

“We have the right to know,” the reporter said.

“Mr. Harcourt has told you all everything you need to know. I can’t believe that room with intelligent adults could believe that the man could be eight-hundred-years- old. I’m sure that you have important things to write about. This is a very grievous time in our country’s history.  Now, if you will excuse me, I have a hotel to run.” He turned and then pivoted back. “And if you are thinking of causing any more trouble, General Grant has given me permission to call for the army.”

“Where is the general?”

“He has urgent business with the vice president, which is understandable if you were to consider recent events. He always understood that the story was untrue. The general regrets that anyone might have overheard their private conversation. He apologizes for any inconvenience on his part in the ruse. He has asked me to relay to Mr. Harcourt that he thinks he is writing an excellent play and is looking forward to the day the play opens at the theater.”

The crowd grumbled as they left the ballroom. A handful milled around the building, but they left as a squad of soldiers patrolled the streets.

The manager turned to the clerk at his side, “It is eight-fifteen. I believe you have a tray of coffee that needs to go to room 605?”

“Yes, sir,” the clerk said.

“Oh, and James, I want to hear every detail of Colin’s amazing life.”

“Yes, sir.” The clerk said as he headed to the kitchen.

Guards led Colin up the staff elevators and then to his room. He entered his room at twenty minutes after eight. He declined the offer for an armed guard outside his door. An armed guard would be a sure giveaway as to which room he occupied.

Once he was inside his room, he rearranged the room and made it ready for his guests to arrive. General Grant arrived first, looking over his shoulders before entering the room. Sally and her mother arrived five minutes later. Sally was dressed in a blue-striped Sunday dress and petticoats, her brown hair in pigtails. Her bright eyes sparkled as she smiled and gave Colin a huge bear hug. Mrs. Crawford, Sally’s mother, wore a widow’s black dress buttoned at the neck. Her eyes twinkled. General Grant wore a three-piece suit. A gold watch fob flashed from his vest pocket. General Grant sat on the end of the freshly made bed, Sally’s mother sat in the only chair in the room, and Sally sat on the floor with her knees tucked under her. Colin paced in front of the daintily curtained window.

General Grant was the first to speak, “Colin, I must congratulate you on how you handled the press. It was a genius, pure genius.”

“Thank you, General.”

A knock came at the door. The general stood up quickly and trotted to the door and motioned to Colin to stay out of sight.

“It’s all right, General. That should be our breakfast.”

Grant cautiously opened the door. James, the clerk, entered the room pushing a wooden cart.  A tray of the freshly brewed pot of coffee, four cups, and a tray piled high with various pastries and a large bottle of cold milk with a glass sat on the cart.

 “Are you expecting another guest, Colin?”

“No, why do you ask?” Colin said as he winked at Sally who erupted from the floor and grabbed a huge chocolate éclair. He poured her a glass of milk and handed her a napkin.

“There are four cups of coffee.”

“And there are four adults in the room. I have invited the clerk, uh, what was your name?”

“It’s James, and I appreciate your kindness. How do you like your coffee, Mr. Harcourt?” the clerk said as he poured the coffee.

“With milk and I’ll have one of those crullers.” Colin licked his lips.

“And you, General?” James poured a cup of coffee.

“Black and no sweets for me, my wife insists I need to shed a few pounds.” He peered over the tray of pastries and took in a deep breath. “Ah, hell, I’ll take a éclair too, but no one says a word to my wife.”

“And you Ma’am?” James grabbed a pastry for her.

“I am fine, thank you,” she said with a smile.

“Pour yourself a cup James and have a seat. There’s room on the bed.” Colin sipped his coffee and nibbled on his pastry.

“I believe I was in Calais about to board a ship provided by the Duke on Christmas Day.” Powder from his pastry dotted his chin. James pointed vigorously to his chin.

General Grant raised his hand. “Forgive my curiosity. Four years earlier, you could not cross the channel during the winter. Why were you able to cross the channel now? Isn’t winter the same on both sides of the channel?”

“I suppose that seasons matter little to a duke determined to claim his Kingdom. The Duke returned to Normandy to replenish his troops while he recruited a handful of spies to garner information for the imminent attack on Britain. They allowed me to passage on the scout ship. I faced certain death if the ship were captured.” Colin wiped his chin with a napkin provided by James. “Thank you, James.”

“So, you would surprise Alison on Christmas Day? You would be her Christmas present.” Sally smiled, as she took a napkin and dabbed the chocolate from her face.

“Amelia, it was supposed to be Amelia,” sighed Colin. 

Chapter Ten

The Crusades May 1097-July 1099

Colin leaned toward the general and drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair as he glanced at the people passing by the window.  “You know of the horrors of war?”

“I know too well the horrors of war,” Grant said with his head bowed. “A friend once told me, it is well that war is so terrible. Otherwise, we would grow too fond.”

“A wise statement, General,” Colin said. “Do you mind if I ask who the friend was?”

“Not at all. It was my good friend Robert E. Lee.”

Colin sat in silence a moment before he continued. “Nicaea was no match and fell swiftly. Our march took us inland through Anatolia, in which we slaughtered the citizens with little resistance.” Colin looked down, “A sudden ambush outside Edessa took the life of my dearest friend, Rango. We were eating our small breakfast and suddenly, he jumped up. Rango knew I don’t know how, but he knew. The arrow he took that day was meant for me. Despite the years that have passed since that day. I still relive the horror every time I think of it.” Colin bit his lip. “We arrived at Antioch in October 1097 and battled until winter of 1098. The casualties on our side were heavy. I would have nightmares for centuries from what I saw after we breached the walls.” Colin stopped a moment, tears pooling in his eyes and running down his cheeks. He took a deep breath. “Bodies were strewn as far as my sight could go.”

“I think you need a break. It must have been a horrendous experience.” Anne said, placing her dainty hand on his.

“I think I will take a break. Thank you, Anne.” Colin left the lobby, but he was not alone, several memories followed him. He stared at the walls as if he could see the battleground, anyone it didn’t matter. There were so many of them.

 A hush came over the hotel’s lobby when he entered and took his seat. “Some things cannot be forgotten, no matter how hard you try, or how much time intervenes.”

 “It was in Antioch that I came across my curse and my blessing.” He grabbed his scarab.

The Duke of Normandy’s page stood next to Sir Robert from atop a large hill just north of the citadel. Sir Robert scowled at the city below. Colin watched with disgust as black flies buzzed over rotting corpses, and hungry dogs sniffed the latest carnage. The putrid smell of every man, woman, and child butchered and left to rot in the sweltering sun assaulted his nostrils. Twisting through the countryside like a cobra on wind-blown olive trees, leaving nothing in its wake. The Holy Church’s marauding army’s carried a momentum that no one could impede as they spread the word of God to infidels.  Now Antioch stood before God’s Army and their holy objective. Antioch was impenetrable with over four hundred towers.

“Sire, why is Antioch so important to our cause?” Colin asked, his parched lips burned yet he dared not rub them lest they start to bleed again.

“This is the easiest route to Jerusalem,” the duke said, stretching in his stirrups and looking at the fortified city before him.

“My lord, some say that there are many Christians living within its walls."

“I have heard that to be the case from our spies.” The Duke’s black hair matted with sweat and stuck to his brow. He shielded his eyes from the blinding desert sun. Brushing a wayward fly from his face, Duke Robert continued. “But we have orders. An iron-fisted Sultan rules Antioch. It’s he we are after. The envoys from the Church insist God will take care of the rest.”

“Sire, I know that it is above my station to complain, but we started this siege at the end of October, and it is now the middle of December. They told us that the walls would fall like a house of cards. The walls are still standing,” Colin said with his head held down, fearing the Duke would strike him for insubordination.

“Our leaders are incompetent imbeciles. They told us nothing of the fortified walls that go beyond five dunes.” The Duke slapped his glove on his knee to punctuate his anger.

“Have the Byzantines not promised aid?” questioned Colin.

“The Byzantines? Surely, you jest! They are a bunch of serving wenches.” The Duke spat onto the sand and wiped his mouth with an ungloved hand. “We are fools as well. The order to tunnel under the walls when we failed to breach them after our first assault was insanity. They are fools, pure simple-minded fools!”

Colin’s face paled as he shifted his uncomfortable stance. His entire body itched fiercely with many days’ worth of sand caked to his skin. He feared scratching the itch would bother him more. “Sire that is blasphemous talk,” Colin said cautiously looking to see which of the Pope's spies might be listening. "I beg of you to keep your voice low. The Pope's ears are everywhere.”

“Let them listen." Robert rubbed the back of his neck in defiance.  "We all feel the same way. It is time for action. When our leaders allowed the Turks to repair their wall after the tunnel had collapsed that was absurd, sheer stupidity. We should have attacked then.” The duke continued to scan the horizon.

Colin watched the battle carry on throughout the winter with much suffering from their enemy. The Crusaders, starving and desperate for sustenance, and often forced to eat their horses and as a last resort, ate the bodies of their fellow knights who did not survive. Their water supply became close to non-existent. Dehydration was a constant enemy. 

The impenetrable walls fell in January as forty-thousand bloodthirsty warriors entered the city with slaughter and destruction foremost on their minds. Colin watched in horror as they destroyed Antioch. Wafts of smoke billowed over the rooftops. Scavenger birds circled, swooping down for unseen prey. Screams of pain mixed with chants of victory.

Colin waited impatiently to remove any earthly possessions that remained from the dead and claim them for the duke as bounty. Any spoils of war belonged to the swiftest. The horrors in the streets of previous villages haunted his memory.  He could not forget the charred, mutilated bodies and young children with their innards hanging at unnatural angles. His stomach turned inside out the first time he saw a dead body, but he became numb to the gory sights. Blood flowed through Antioch up to Colin’s ankles and occasionally to mid-calf. The leaders told the Crusaders that killing Muslims was good for their soul. They must have felt their souls needed a lot of improving. They showed no mercy.

Colin came across the body of a man dressed far differently from the others. He was already stripped of his gold. The man wore a plain necklace with a crude Scarab attached. His plain white robe tied at the waist and his feet were bare and calloused. Arrows pierced his heart and side. Colin knelt next to the man and crossed himself. Noting the injuries, he determined this odd man must have been dead for some time. Jerking the necklace from the dead man’s neck elevated his head off the ground before it fell back onto the blood-filled street. After a quick look, he decided that the necklace was of no value and kept it out of habit. He shook his head and turned to go.

A bony hand grabbed Colin’s arm. “Caglar icin simidi alt,” the dying man said. His ghost white face pleaded without fear. He grasped Colin’s hand. Colin felt the necklace prick his finger at the dying man’s touch. Startled at the ice-cold touch, he dropped the necklace. The dying man moved swiftly, too swiftly for a man in his condition. He grabbed the scarab before it reached the bloody ground, and handed the talisman to Colin again.

The man’s eyes met Colin’s, a look of relief spread across his face. Colin smiled back at the dying man, holding his skeletal hand, and comforted him in his last breath.

“Lanet dikkat.” The man turned his head to the side, closed his eyes, let out a long sigh, and then slowly dissolved into dust, his hand vanishing from Colin’s grasp. The scarab quivered at the moment of his death. Colin shuddered, a shiver running down his back as he held the necklace.

“You mean he literally dissolved into sand?” asked the general.

“Yes, he dissolved into the sand, and the wind blew him away. Even his robes dissipated. I would have expected the sand to sink into the blood in the streets, but it stayed on top until the wind came. The man left no evidence that he ever existed.”

Sally’s eyes opened wide with awe as she asked, “What did you do?”

“To be honest, Sally, I was too shocked to react at all. A knight rode up soon after and asked what I clutched in my hands. I showed him the scarab. He scowled and told me it was worthless, and I could keep it before he galloped away, spraying me with blood as he did so.”

“What did the old man say to you?” Grant asked.

“It was a language I didn’t know. I took four hundred years to discover its meaning.” Colin took three deep breaths and exhaled. “I wore the cursed scarab. There was no good excuse for me to keep wearing it. I figured there was something to do with the fact I stopped aging. I knew it was impossible for me to be without it.”

“Well, tell us, Colin. Don’t keep us in suspense. What did he tell you?” Anne demanded, smoothing Sally’s hair.

“I was in Constantinople when I heard a young man from Genoa was looking for adventurers to join his quest to find a faster route to the Orient. You might have heard of him?”

“You mean you sailed with Christopher Columbus?” Grant said, amazed.

“Exactly, but that is another story. I only add this because you asked if I ever found the translation. I stopped by the Vatican on my way to join this unknown sailor. I stumbled upon an old book while searching in the Vatican’s vast library. There was an ancient book with a drawing of a man wearing what appeared to be my scarab necklace. The exact words the old man said were written next to the drawing of the man.”

“Was it a drawing of the man that gave you the scarab?” Sally vaulted up excited.

Colin shook his head. “It appeared to be the same man, but it would have been impossible. The book was dated 3794 in the Jewish calendar or three years after the crucifixion of Jesus. Further studies produced papyrus from Ancient Egypt going back to Joseph’s time.”

“That is interesting but what about the meaning of the words?” Grant said as he paced in front of the fireplace and took long hard drags from his cigar.

“I’m getting there. Obviously, the monks did not write the meaning of the words on the book or the papyrus so I searched for anyone that might know. I found an elderly cardinal and asked him if he knew of anyone that might translate, making sure the scarab was well hidden.”

Cardinal Antoniotto Pallavicini stroked his chin as he contemplated Colin’s question, “Why is it you ask, my son?”

“The words have been passed down for years, Your Eminence.” Colin felt no shame in lying to the clergyman.

“I see. You are aware those words have a deep secret that follows them. It has been rumored that a sacred artifact accompanies these words.” The Cardinal peered into Colin’s eyes. “The Church would pay handsomely to anyone that might have this certain artifact.”

“I swear, I only know the words,” Colin lied again.

“The rumor, my son, is that Patriarch Israel bestowed the artifact in question to a grandson just before he died in Egypt. The grandson’s name has never been revealed, and the story has never been substantiated.” He motioned Colin with two fingers to advance. “There are some that swear the artifact was indeed given to a grandson of Noah.” He paused, before peering into Colin’s eyes.  Colin felt as if the icy stare pierced his soul. “I have heard rumors that Father Adam was the original owner.” The Cardinal motioned Colin closer and whispered. “I do not hold dear to any of such stories.” Colin took several steps backward. The cardinal smiled, thin-lipped. 

“What is the purpose of the artifact?” Colin asked, fighting the urge to feel for his scarab.

“It is believed that the artifact is to be used to unfold. Of course, that is mere speculation on behalf of true believers, of which I am not a member.” The Cardinal licked his lips. “However, such an artifact, if true, would be invaluable to the Church and the scientific community. I believe Da Vinci, in particular, would be interested in studying this artifact and the bearer.”

Colin bit his lower lip. A glare from sunlight filtered through a stained glass window and illuminated his face.  “I have heard of Leonardo da Vinci.”

The Cardinal's eyes narrowed and curled his lips. “Swear on your soul and damnation that you know nothing about the scarab necklace.”

“I swear,” Colin lied again for the third time. His soul was already damned. Lying to a priest wouldn’t hurt.

“Very well, the first set of words translate loosely from a Turkish dialect. You belong to the ages. The second set of words is far more ominous. They translate into beware the curse. It is rumored that any person wearing the scarab is granted, for lack of a better word, limited eternal life.” The cardinal said piously, sitting rigidly in his red velvet chair. The chair appeared to be more like a throne. “Once the scarab has finished with its quest, the holder of the necklace will die.”

“And the curse?” Colin asked, even though he knew. He needed to hear the curse from the lips of another.

“You need not worry about the curse if you are not in contact with the scarab,” he leaned over and whispered something in a priest’s ear. The priest nodded and departed in a hurry.  “But I would think the curse would be self-evident. The wearer of such an artifact would never age. While his loved ones would age and die before his eyes.”  The holy man dismissed Colin with a curt wave of his ring-incrusted hand.

Colin bowed and left the Cardinal’s presence, deep in thought. The scarab must have been finished with my poor predecessor. I hope not to die in such a fashion when this damned curse is through with me.

Colin left the Vatican but kept a watchful eye on his back.

The siege of Jerusalem was in its second day, the losses on both sides were heavy. Colin and the Duke crouched low behind a rock only a stone’s throw from the city wall.

“Be careful my liege,” Colin said as the Duke crept above the rock for a better vantage point. Suddenly Colin’s chest quivered, and he tossed his body against that of the duke’s, toppling him over just as an arrow whizzed past and ended in the chest of another man. The Duke showed no concern for the knight as he writhed in pain and coughed up blood. Colin watched on in dismay as the poor knight took his last breath.

“You saved my life, Colin,” the duke said, slightly winded. “How did you know I was to be the next target of that cursed shooter?”

“I don’t know, my Lord. It was a feeling. It’s hard to explain, but I felt a quiver in my chest and a strong feeling that death was imminent and then I moved. I didn’t even know I was moving until it was done. It was more like a reflex than a planned rescue, my Lord.” Colin wiped the beading sweat from his brow.

“And yet, you saved my life.” The Duke patted him on the shoulder, causing Colin to flinch. “Have you ever wondered why I brought you with me on this quest, Colin?” Duke Richard cautiously gaped over the wall once again.

“I wondered that my Lord. I have no experience as a squire, or in war yet you have kept me close to you.” Colin glanced at him and then back to the ground.

“My soothsayer foretold of this day. She foretold that a young man and a dwarf would visit me in the castle. She warned me to keep the young man close to me because the day would come when he would save my life. I placed you in the keep only for your safety. The Earl told me I was a fool, he wanted you dead, but he would not question my authority.  He believed the soothsayer to be a fraud and only taking my money. Today, young Colin, you have proven him wrong.” He waved his hand in front of Colin’s face.  “I now pronounce you a free man, Colin Harcourt, and a friend to my kingdom. Make your wishes known and I will grant them.”

“My Lord, I only wish to return to Dover, if I survive this. The woman of my dreams dwells there, and I would make her my wife.” Colin kept a watchful eye on the wall. He knew the perils, for at any moment the enemy could break through the wall.

“Ah, the beautiful Alison, you speak of in your sleep.” The duke said kneeling at the side of the poor soul with the protruding arrow, the one meant for him.

Colin looked surprised, “No, my Lord, her name is Amelia. Alison is her sister.”

“Well, your request is granted. You will sail with me when I retrieve my kingdom from my brother William, at least as far as Dover. But, let’s survive this siege first.” He closed his eyes and crossed himself, saying a silent prayer over the man’s lifeless body.

“Yes, my Lord. Thank you, my Lord.”

“Destruction awaited Jerusalem. Crusaders, true to their reputation, put to the sword every man, woman, and child, brutally murdered in the name of God. The Holy Land was now safe for pilgrims to worship in the city once again. The price was high and paid for by the innocent citizens of the city. I can only imagine the tears shed by God as he saw His people slaughtered like animals. I have seen a lot in this world, and one thing I believe with all my heart is that no matter how we worship, we are all God’s children.” Colin bowed his head, flashes of maimed women, fallen men, and screaming children plagued his mind.

Grant saw a tear fall from Sally’s eyes.

The room was silent.

“The Crusades were over for me and the Duke of Normandy. I set sail from Calais on Christmas Day in the year of our Lord 1100. I was determined to find Amelia and marry her. The trouble for Duke Robert only barely begun. Remember, his brother King William was dead and Robert was determined to retake his kingdom. The Duke's younger brother, Henry, came up with some completely different plans. Henry’s knights arrested the duke in 1106 and threw him into Henry’s dungeon where he remained until his death twenty-eight years later.” 

“Amazing.” the general said.

“I would say unbelievable. Perhaps even blasphemous,” a man in the back of the room said, and he turned and waddled away.

“Yes,” Anne, Sally’s mother said. “It seems beyond belief, and I have always been a skeptical person.”

“I agree,” the general said. “But I have believed every word you have said, Colin Harcourt.”

“You believe him, too, don’t you, Mother?” Sally said.

“I don’t know what to believe.” Her eyes met Colin’s, “Forgive me.”

Grant intervened. “Colin, now we know about the scarab but how did you meet your wife here in America?” A fatherly countenance filled his face, reassuring both Anne and Colin.

“That’s a good question and an even better story. A story I will be happy to share tomorrow morning.” He grasped Anne’s hand for the briefest of moments. There was no need to speak.