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.