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“You‟re sane. Maybe a little crazy in bed, but I‟m not complaining.” He gestured.

”Let‟s see what‟s here.”

“So did this Voodoo queen put curses on everybody?” Sophie asked as they began

to walk around.

“Don‟t know. She sold gris-gris. They could be used for good or evil, just like

the sword. She was practically a legend in her own time.”

“Like King Arthur?”

Michael shook his head. “I don‟t think King Arthur would have thought of

himself as a legend. He was simply trying to keep Britain from being overrun by

Saxons.”

“Still, he must have had some kind of charisma for legends to spring up and

endure through all this time. Or maybe it was Merlin‟s magic, huh?”

Michael gave her another odd look. “You‟re still skeptical?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Well, if there is one city in this whole country that holds magic, it‟s New

Orleans. Her history, from the Spaniards to French aristocrats to the slaves brought in

from many cultures—no one forgot their cultures. This was the only place in the South

that accepted children of mixed blood. Quadroon Balls were as popular and elegant as

anything on the Continent. Marie Laveau was of color and she didn‟t become a Voodoo

queen without the patronage of the white aristocracy. Here Jean Lafitte—a pirate by all government accounts—could not only walk freely on the streets, but commanded more

respect than the governor did. New Orleans protected her own and honored her dead.

She holds her secrets close. Can you feel the magic?”

SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 115

“Well…” She hesitated. “I did have an odd reaction when we turned to walk on

Bourbon earlier.”

He raised a brow. “What was it?”

“It‟s going to sound silly.”

“Try me.”

“Just for a minute I…I…It seemed that Time stood still. All the people milling

around were gone. So was the noise from the traffic on Canal. All I could hear were

horses‟ hooves on the cobblestone and ladies-of-the-night calling down from the

balconies.” She stopped and gave him a wide-eyed look. “It was weird.”

“Not so much. You probably connected with a time portal.”

“I‟m not sure I want to know what that is.”

Michael smiled. “I‟ll save that explanation for another time, but I‟m not surprised

it happened. The
Vieux Carré
is filled with spirits that linger because their descendents honor them. In fact, we can go look at Marie‟s tomb later.”

They began to walk again. “If Marie were a witch, how come she‟s entombed at a

St. Louis Christian cemetery?”

“Oddly enough, she supposedly was a devout Catholic who attended Mass

regularly and also worked with the orphans and the poor.”

“How can she be Mother Theresa and practice Voodoo at the same time?”

“I don‟t think anyone would compare her to Mother Theresa,” Michael said, “but

remember what I told you about Constantine converting pagan festivals into Christian

ones? The same thing applies here. African slaves brought their own religion with them, but slave-owners forced them to convert to Catholicism so they merely changed the

names of their spirits to be in accord with the Catholic saints. For example,” Michael

said as he stopped before a painting, “this is Ogun, spirit patron of warriors and

blacksmiths. You know him as St. Jude.” He moved on. “So, while the slave-owners

thought the Africans had docilely accepted their new religion, it was a ruse—merely a

subterfuge to keep practicing Voodoo under new circumstances.”

“That makes sense, I suppose,” Sophie said as they completed their tour of the

museum. “Speaking of blacksmiths, wasn‟t that the
ruse
Jean LaFitte used to run his illegal business?”

“Yes, but most of the French aristocracy benefited from the bounty that the Lafitte

brothers brought in, so he was considered more of a kingpin than a criminal except by the American governor, Claiborne. And the French didn‟t like the Americans meddling in

their business anyway so they more or less protected the Lafittes.”

“Well, Jean is definitely remembered here. His name is everywhere,” Sophie said

as they stepped out to the sidewalk.

“True. In fact, the blacksmith shop that you mentioned is only a couple of blocks

from here. Want to go see it?”

“Why not? We don‟t seem to be making much headway on clues for the sword.

Maybe it‟s hanging in the old blacksmith shop.”

“You‟re being sarcastic again,” Michael said with a grin.

She gave him a droll smile and pointed. “There‟s a Tarot card reader across the

street. Maybe you should ask her.”

Michael looked in the direction she pointed to an old woman sitting at a card

table. “That may not be a bad idea. Looks like she‟s got a couple of clients right now.

SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 116

We‟ll stop on the way back.”

“I was kidding.”

“Tarot can be a useful tool,” Michael said as they continued down the street. “It‟s

possible there is a connection since the four suits are divided into wands, swords, cups and pentacles, representing air, fire, water and earth. Clues to the Celtic relics are turning up in the same order. Makes sense, doesn‟t it?”

“Sure. I mean, why not?”

Michael looked at her. “Are you being cynical again?”

She paused. “I don‟t know. Last spring, if someone had told me I would

experience the things I have, I‟d have thought they were lunatics. Now it‟s nearly August and I…I‟m not so sure what to think anymore.”

“Lugnasad.”

“Huh?”

“August first is the Celtic festival of Lugnasad. It‟s a thanksgiving of sorts to

celebrate summer‟s abundance and first harvest. All things come to fruition.”

Sophie studied him as they came to a stop in front of the blacksmith shop. “Does

that mean we‟ll actually find the sword soon?”

“I think so,” Michael said. “My intuition has gotten stronger here. I just need

some small clue—a slight nudge—and I think we‟ll find it.”

“Maybe Jean Lafitte‟s ghost will be waiting for you,” Sophie said and then

laughed at Michael‟s indignant look. “Okay. Well, let‟s just enjoy history then. You‟ve got to admit a guy who seems more like a swashbuckler than a bloodthirsty pirate is

interesting.”

They spent a good thirty minutes wandering through both the front area that

served as a legitimate business and the back area that was a warehouse for all sorts of

goods that had nothing to do with being a smithy.

“I find it interesting that the expensive stuff—the silks and china and coins were

kept on some little island instead of safe in a place that could be locked up,” Sophie said as they started back toward Rue Dumaine.

“The island was well-protected by Jean Lafitte‟s men,” Michael replied, “and it

was out of the grasp of the American governor, so Jean could hold his auctions there

without too much fear of being raided.”

“But to call it the Temple was a bit ironic, wasn‟t it? Or even blasphemous? ”

“Maybe. It actually was a ceremonial site of the original aborigines that inhabited

this area. But remember what the Africans did with their Voodoo rituals. They covered

them up under the cloak of Christianity. Anyone not knowing what the Temple really

was, would be clueless, so the Lafittes were free to practice their not-quite-legal trade.”

“Well, it looks like someone else isn‟t practicing her trade either,” Sophie said as

they approached the empty table where the Tarot reader had been. “Looks like she‟s

gone for the day.”

“We can come back tomorrow,” Michael said and then squinted at the ground.

Bending down, he pulled a Tarot card out from under one of the legs of the table.

“Did she drop one?” Sophie asked.

For a moment, Michael didn‟t answer as he mulled over the card and then he

smiled. “She didn‟t drop it. She left it.” He held out the card. “It‟s the King of Swords.

I think I know where to look.”

SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 117

They left Pendragon happily slurping up gooey ice cream the next morning as

they drove over the Huey Long Bridge on their way to Grand Isle which had once served

as a warehouse for Jean Lafitte.

“So you think finding the Tarot card wasn‟t just a coincidence?” Sophie asked.

Michael shook his head. “I don‟t believe in coincidences. Things happen for a

reason.” He glanced over at her and grinned wickedly. “For example, if Pendragon

hadn‟t been sent to find you, we wouldn‟t have had totally mind-blowing sex last night.”

Sophie felt herself blushing. Never would she have pegged herself for being

sexually adventurous or given to fantasy, but Michael‟s skill with his hands and mouth—

especially his mouth, tonguing all of her private places until she lay panting and begging him to stop and then,
not
stop—had turned her into some wanton creature who craved his touch as much as any meth addict wanted dope. And the mind- linking was more

powerful than any aphrodisiac she could imagine. She was inside his head, could feel

him inside her, could feel how
he
felt inside her. There was no distinction where she left off and he began. She fidgeted on the leather seat, feeling herself grow slick and wet.

“Want me to pull over for a quickie?” Michael asked, still grinning.

“Stop reading my mind!” Sophie retorted, but couldn‟t contain her own smile.

“When your shields are down, you‟re fair game. Besides, I like the way you

think. It inspires me to come up with more fantasy games to play.”

Her face felt like it was on fire. Michael‟s imagination was boundless. Some of

those positions last night—She glanced at him suspiciously. “Are you lurking again?”

“Maybe a little,” he said and then turned his attention back to the drive. “The

closer we get to the islands, the stronger energy I‟m picking up.”

A safer subject at the moment. “So tell me why you think the King of Swords is

connected with Jean Lafitte.”

“Remember when I told you that he was considered something of a kingpin with

the French aristocrats?”

“Yes. Go on.”

“The suit of Swords represents power, action, force and conflict. Since most

swords are double-edged, it also reflects deception, illusions, areas of uncertainly that must be met head-on. Both descriptions apply to Jean‟s operations. Are you with me so

far?”

Sophie smiled. “I‟m getting used to the way you talk.”

“Well, sometimes the degree in Medieval Religion and Culture comes in handy,”

Michael replied, quirking up a corner of his mouth. “Anyway, the King of Swords

symbolizes a man who is just, fair and wise, but also somewhat ruthless in carrying out that justice. What better description of Jean Lafitte could you have? He squelched the feuding between the native Baratarians and the encroaching East Indies pirates and built a very lucrative business. From all accounts, he shared the booty freely and his men

willingly followed him. The French welcomed him into their society, even though it may

SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 118

have been for what luxurious goods he could provide. Even Governor Claiborne had a

grudging respect for him since Jean always managed to elude him.” Michael gave her a

quick look. “And remember,” he said softly, “that the Grandmasters of the Priory were

always called
Jean
. “

She gave him a startled look. “You think Jean Lafitte was a member of the

Priory?”

“Maybe,” Michael answered with a little shrug. “That old woman left the Tarot

card for us to find.”

Sophie shook her head. “I can‟t believe I‟m actually starting to think this all

makes sense.” She turned to look at the real world slipping by past the window. They

passed a roadside store where a somewhat worn sign advertised: “Jumbo PoBoys and

Hog Head Filé with Cracklins” and smiled. It certainly wasn‟t the Café du Monde, but it was
real
in its own way. She wondered what the local Cajuns would make of the story that Michael told her.

As if he knew she needed time to contemplate, Michael was silent. Sophie took

in the low- lying marsh of the Delta covered with reeds and weeds, cane, and patches of

water hyacinth. Across the bayou, craggy cypresses hung out over the water, trailing

Spanish moss. It was an oddly serene setting. She cracked the window and inhaled.

Damp earth, various aromas of plant vegetation and the tang of salt-air filled her nostrils while the cry of gulls and terns filled her ears. The
real
world. With a sigh, she turned back to Michael. “I still don‟t understand why a twentieth century descendent of a secret order of Templars would decide to bury Excalibur on land owned by pirates who—even

if they were privateers operating under a Letter of Marque from Cartegena as they

claimed—still were considered criminals by the Americans?”

“Recall your history, Sophie. The British offered Jean a lot of money and an

officership in the Royal Navy for aiding them up the river, past the forts, through the

swamps and into the city. Instead, Lafitte helped General Jackson defeat the British in the Battle of New Orleans even though Claiborne had a warrant out on him. The whole