Knight of the Cross (4 page)

“You're right,” the Hospitaller agreed, to the disgust of Jacob who grunted loudly, surprised that his master would be taken in by the shoddy pieces the seller was hawking. “I've seen many wicked, evil things in my time as a soldier.  What's your name?”

“Leontios, my lord,” the trader replied, moving in closer as Sir Richard continued in a low, conspiratorial tone.

“Most of my brother knights could use the protection you offer,” the knight nodded. “Are these charms powerful?”

The man grinned, trying to conceal his glee at the knight's gullibility. “Sire, these may look like any other piece of high-quality jewellery for sale in the market, but” – he peered around as if he expected someone to be listening to their conversation before continuing – “these are endowed with powerful magic. It's perhaps better you don't know where their power comes from, but you can be sure they'll defend you against the devil and his many servants. I promise you, as a Christian man myself!”

“How much?” Sir Richard asked. “Not just for one of your stunning pieces, but for, say, ten, that I may give as gifts to some of the other Hospitallers?”

The seller practically rubbed his hands as he realised this English knight with the eight-pointed cross emblazoned on his red surcoat was ready to pay whatever price he demanded in return for his worthless pieces of glass.  “Well, my lord” – he began, the sentence tailing off as Sir Richard produced his coin purse and emptied a sizeable amount of silver into his palm. “I would say” –

“What do you know of Dagon, Leontios?” the Hospitaller growled, looking into the eyes of the trader who found it hard to tear his gaze from the small fortune in the knight's hand. “And the disappearances that have been plaguing the area? Rest assured,” he muttered into the man's ear, “none will know of your help in this. I simply seek information. And...if your information proves valuable to me I have gold as well as silver back in our citadel...”

The trader pondered the situation for a moment before reaching out for the silver coins in Sir Richard's hand, the lure of the money proving greater than any reticence he shared with the other market-goers at talking about the dark folklore of the island.

“I know much,” he promised, glaring at Sir Richard who pulled the handful of coins out of reach of his grasping fingers.

“Then tell me! Where can I find these people?” Too fast for the eye to follow, a dagger appeared in the Hospitaller's hand and the trader shrank back as the point pressed against his windpipe, Jacob moving in at his back to stop him moving out of reach. “Your choice. Hospitaller silver filling your pockets or my steel in your windpipe.”

The man glared at him before he dropped his eyes to the money still held invitingly in the Hospitaller's left hand. He looked up, the ingratiating smile again painted across his odd face and he nodded in acquiescence.

“I'll show you where to find the men you seek.”

* * *

“This is the way we came last night, chasing that man from the market,” Jacob noted as they left the busy village and moved into the countryside. “I remember passing those houses on the outskirts; one of them had a strange symbol painted on a flat stone beside it; like a line with five smaller lines branching off it.”

Sir Richard nodded agreement. “I remember it too.” His hand strayed to his weapon. “Be ready for another ambush, although I'm pretty sure this guide of ours is more interested in our money than seeing us dead.”

They moved at a steady pace for a while, passing through open countryside until they saw a small settlement in the near-distance, bordered by fields in which the locals, presumably, grew crops.

As they walked, Sir Richard looked at his sergeant, noticing Jacob's gaze fixed on something in the field they were passing. The knight squinted, trying to see what had attracted his man's attention, although the harsh bright sunshine made it difficult for him to see. “What is it?” he muttered.

Jacob's eyes never left the point on which they were focused as he replied. “A man. In the field, there.”

Sir Richard finally spotted the figure that had captivated his sergeant. It was a man with in a wide-brimmed hat some distance away, wearing long trousers and a long-sleeved red coat despite the heat, and he was returning their stare.

The man never moved at all as the Hospitallers and their guide walked past, just standing, still like a statue, only his head seeming to turn slightly as he kept the travellers in sight.

“He's been stood there without moving the whole time,” Jacob said. “Just watching us pass by.”

Sir Richard made the sign of the cross, unsettled by the malevolent figure's lack of movement.

“That's not a man,” their guide waved a hand dismissively, listening to their conversation. “It's a straw man. Farmers use them to frighten birds away. Have you never seen one before?”

“A straw man!” Sir Richard laughed, slapping his sergeant on the back with a grin. “Well, that would explain why it's not bloody moving! Come on, Jacob, you're jumping at shadows here, let's get a move on.”

They continued at a greater pace, the knight trying to engage their Greek guide in conversation about the local disappearances without success.

Jacob turned to the field again just as they entered the village they'd been in the previous evening. “Straw man is it, eh?” he growled. “Fastest fucking straw man I've ever seen then.”

Sir Richard and Leontios looked back over their shoulders and the Hospitaller again made the sign of the cross.

The figure was gone.

* * *

“What's the name of this place?” Sir Richard asked. “We were here last night, but the priest that's putting us up couldn't think where it was when we described it to him.”

“Krymmeni̱ Thesi,” the guide replied, giving the knight an unfathomable look. “I don't know why the priest couldn't tell you that: everyone knows this place. It's been here for aeons. ”

Aeons. Odd choice of word Sir Richard thought, looking
around at the little village. This time there were people – locals – in the streets or sitting outside the ramshackle little stone houses, watching with suspicious glares as they passed.

“I'll leave you here now.” Their guide suddenly stopped, his hand stretched out towards Sir Richard, looking for payment for his services.

“You'll leave no-one, yet,” the big knight retorted, his eyes burning, despite the control in his voice. “You've brought us here, but we need to find the men that are behind the disappearances. You'll take us to them, as agreed, and then we'll see about your payment.”

The Greek's face grew angry, but it was clear he wouldn't see any more silver unless he fulfilled his promise. “All right, my lords,” he shrugged. “Follow me.”

The man walked off, at a brisk pace, towards the eastern side of Krymmeni Thesi.

Soon they came into sight of what appeared to be an excavation by the side of the road,  touching on the land adjoining a run-down, apparently unoccupied house. The three men halted at the sight of the crudely armed guards, as Leontios didn't want to be seen by them.

“That's where you need to go,” their guide told them. “Not those men,” he clarified, waving a hand dismissively. “The leaders are underground, in the tunnels those fools are guarding. Now...” he grinned wolfishly at Sir Richard, holding his hands out expectantly.

“Fair enough,” the knight agreed. “I'll pay you this for the moment.” He handed the guide a few small silver coins.  “If your information proves useful I'll seek you out at the market and quadruple that!”

The man turned with a smile and hurried off the way they had come as the Hospitaller shouted after him. “How did you know these men were here?”

“Everyone knows,” the guide threw back over his shoulder. “They're just too frightened to say or do anything about it.”

“Then why aren't
you
too frightened...”

The Greek ignored the question, picking up pace until he was out of sight amongst the houses lining the road and Jacob snorted.

“Men like him don't feel fear; not when there's a coin to be made.”

“Well, whatever his motives,” the knight replied, moving towards the swarthy, weather-beaten men standing around the ruined tunnel entrance, “he brought us where we wanted to be. Let's see what we can find here.”

The men remained lounging against the ancient, low sandstone wall that formed a crescent around the stairs leading down to the tunnel but the Hospitallers' trained eyes noticed the slight stiffening of limbs as they prepared themselves either for fight or flight.

“What can we do for you knights of the cross?” the eldest of the men asked, his face set in a scowl. Presumably this was the foreman. His pupils were so big that they obscured the iris and, looking at the rest of the guards Sir Richard realised all had the same sinister black eyes.
They must eat some strange mushroom or something else native to Rhodes that makes them go like that,
he thought, unconsciously raising his hand to touch the crucifix he wore around his neck.

“For starters, you can stand aside,” he growled, “so my sergeant and I can take a look down there.”

“You can't!” One of the guards raised his shovel threateningly towards them.

The foreman waved an angry hand for the worker to be silent. “Forgive this man's...exuberance,” he growled to Sir Richard. “He speaks truly, though. You can't go down there – it's a religious site.”

“I don't give a damn if it's the Garden of Gethsemane,” Jacob replied, moving forward to place his face in front of the Greek foreman's. “We're
going down there, whether you like it or not.”

The other workers – four of them – stood up, hefting the spades and brushes they'd apparently been using to keep the stairway clear of sand, obviously prepared to use violence to stop these two invaders from entering their tunnel.

“My sergeant's right,” Sir Richard spoke into the strained silence, the authority in his voice lending an air of much-needed calm to proceedings. “We
are
going down there. Whether you let us pass now, or whether we have to return with fifty fully armed Hospitaller knights to force our way inside...it's up to you. But if I return with more of my brethren I'll make sure this place is brought down about your ears.” He moved forward to stand beside Jacob, and glared at the furious foreman. “We're the authority on this island now, so you'd better get used to it. Now...what's it to be?”

He placed his weight on his left leg and calmly drew his sword while Jacob followed his master's lead with a smile.

“Why do you want to go down? What d'you think's down there?”

“We were told this place might have something to do with the Hospitallers that disappeared recently,” Sir Richard replied. “I give you my word as a Christian: when we go in we'll treat the place with the respect it deserves.”

For a short time the foreman stood, apparently mulling over his limited options, the workmen at his back still bristling with the potential for violence.

“Go,” he finally told them. “But be quick. You'll not find what you're looking for, though, you're wasting your time.”

“My thanks to you.” The Hospitaller bowed slightly in gratitude and walked past him, sheathing his sword as he went down the stairs and through the heavy wooden door that lay slightly ajar, Jacob following at his back.

Inside was a simple antechamber lit by torches which led into the gently sloping tunnel they walked along now, senses straining for signs of danger, or any clue as to what this place might be used for. The air in the tunnel was cool, but there was an unnerving smell which the two men couldn't place. It told of ancient decay and unnameable horror, as if from some long-forgotten memory, and it made the hairs on the back of Sir Richard's neck stand up as they moved deeper into the claustrophobic darkness.

Some of the walls bore crude carvings, showing strange animals or insects which the Englishmen couldn't recognize; indeed, the carvings seemed to show beings that didn't look like they belonged to this world at all, but the guttering torches that hung on the walls were few and far between and it was difficult to make out much detail in the stone depictions.

“My God, I hope we don't meet that thing down here,” Jacob murmured, eyeing one bas-relief that depicted some great tentacled beast towering over buildings and the people that prostrated themselves beneath it.

The sergeant turned to look at Sir Richard as he let out a small gasp which echoed along the fetid corridor.

“Dagon.”

The knight was gazing at an eye-level carving, shadows from the flickering torchlight making it almost seem to move of its own accord. It depicted a tall, humanoid figure with obscenely long legs, arms and even fingers that appeared to be engaged in the act of stealing a small child from its screaming, yet unresisting family.

“We're not going to find anything down here,” Sir Richard mumbled, tearing his eyes away from the bas-relief. “Look at these pictures: every one of them has the moon or stars in the background. Whatever this twisted religion is, it prefers night time. Come on,” he pushed past Jacob and headed back along the tunnel towards the big wooden entrance door. “We'll get some rest and come back here later tonight. Perhaps we'll be able to see exactly what these people get up to when the stars wheel overhead and they think no-one's watching them...”