Chapter XXVI: Keys of the Royce Family
April 7, 1582
Sebastian struggled against the window to close it. Against the gilded glass, even that strong young man had some trouble shutting it as if this castle opening was some old Leviathan’s maw spewing icy daggers of water into his bedroom with every howl of its breath.
The victorious crash of his arms closing the window was greeted by the thunderous roll of lightning splitting the air. It had been close, only a second earlier did the light of it inverted the shadows on Sebastian’s handsome face.
“Father says God’s angry with us,” an innocent boy said sitting casually on the edge of the bed in that room. His voice was only barely audible against the steady slicing of water against window pane.
“Well your father’s probably right, Harry,” Sebastian responded as he bolted the window and shook some residual droplets out of his straight auburn hair. When he looked forward again past the diagonal crosshatching of the window, he could see the muddy deluge erupting below along the streets of Belfast. Even if lightning continued to strike, he doubted anything could catch fire in the mélange of water and dirt on the streets.
Among the corridors of the city were the rushing figures of mothers holding their babies and merchants attempting to save their wares from the movement of the street-rivers. In his family’s journey from Beirut to Belfast, they had stopped by the city of Venice. The gruesome scene he saw below made him wonder if this is what Venice would look like if it sunk into Hell.
Oh no, it wasn’t just the rain storm that had come over the city. Even now he could still see it, people looting from the shops, brigands taking advantage of the distracted local constabulary to rob homes. Already hundreds of the poor of the city were seeking refuge at the local cathedral and here at the castle.
Truly Hellish, he thought. But then again Belfast had been long since a hotbed of unrest. The traditionally Protestant Irish were almost completely displaced by the Catholic Spaniards in that province of Ulster. Even if they tried to move away from the city, the traditionally Catholic English occupied the rest of the Emerald Isle.
It was true, Sebastian recounted as he watched the draining cascade of water against the pane obscuring the view of the city. It was as if the wavy image announced his journey to the thoughts of the past. Ulster had once been a free state much like the rest of that island’s counties. When Lutheran missionaries arrived from southern Germany, most of the population welcomed them unlike their English counterparts across the Irish Sea. The reign of the Lutheran Kings who took control of their local churches was short lived, however. It had not been long until the Spanish Armada arrived off the coast of Munster with their English vassals.
Seeing as how these monarchs who had ruled the cities were given their position Dei Gracia—or by the Grace of God for most of the population who didn’t go to primary school—the invaders had reasoned that their sovereignty in every sense of the word was no longer valid once they fell into heresy. So began the occupation.
Sebastian saw another crack in the fabric of the sky as white hot light touched a metal weathervane from a warehouse nearby. The noise that came next was like the sound of a regiment of cavaliers passing on a dirt road.
Sebastian Royce looked back at the boy playing with wooden caricatures of soldiers on his bed. His younger cousin Harry was one such Lutheran who was now living through the occupation.
No, this young lad was not Lutheran by birth, he had joined that local congregation when his father, Henry Royce converted along with his side of the family. Sebastian, on the other hand, like his father, remained steadfast in his Catholic faith.
“I’m sorry it had to rain,” Sebastian told his young cousin, “I had wanted to take you to the gardens they’ve put up and maybe teach you to fish at the pond.”
The young one just gave him a simple nod and smile. Growing up for most of his life here in Ulster gave young Harry a sort of carefree mentality. Unlike his older cousin Sebastian, Harry did not have to live through most of his life under the watchful eye of the Muslim Persians and the Ottomans that came after them. In actuality, Sebastian was probably more excited to visit the gardens and pond than his younger kinsman.
Walking over to his young cousin and turning his face into a casual smile, he chose to appreciate Harry’s almost spoiled life experience instead of resenting it. Coming from a noble English lineage of hardened warriors that had moved to Antioch during the crusades of the 12th century, the Royce family remained in the Holy Land even after the defeat of the Crusader States. Thanks to the Spaniards who came at the beginning of the decade, they were finally liberated to be as carefree as this youngest of their clan—they could play with toy soldiers instead of be them.
Even the Christian civil war that had erupted remained quite civil within the Royce family. Cutting the clan in half between the two eldest brothers of the family did hurt all of them like a nasty divorce, but at least it did not erupt into the kind of fighting like those on the streets of Belfast.
Sebastian’s father, Edward, had believed that the Society of Jesus missionaries—which had already converted a majority of the Protestants back to the Church—would be enough to convince his brother Henry to return. Sebastian shared his father’s hope.
“Cousin Sebastian,” Harry suddenly said looking up from the edge of the bed to Sebastian and calling him out of his thoughts, “Why does father keep complaining that he’s lost his keys?”
Sebastian’s smile seemed to falter, but he kept it with his best ability as he asked almost nervously, “Keys? What do you mean, Harry?”
“Father keeps saying that Uncle Edward stole his keys. But I don’t get it; he’s still got all the keys on that big ring of his to open all the locks back at home. What kind of keys does he mean?”
Sebastian sat down on the other side of the bed and thought carefully about Harry’s question. The angelic stare of his cousin continued on awaiting an honest answer. At first Sebastian just nodded trying to gain himself some more time. Then he quickly looked up at the door as if half expecting someone to have been watching.
“You know, Harry, why don’t I show you?” Sebastian proposed, getting up and walking towards the doorway.
---
“Hold! Hold!” roared Cardinal DeWitt as his massive armoured hand swept three of the incoming sailors off their feet just as they leaped over the low parapet of the ferry.
The Cardinal and his Lions with weapons drawn clashed defiantly against the waves of incoming sailors from the Chinese merchant-warship. Grubby and his small team of “grunts” and “raiders” as he called them were on their left flank similarly repelling incoming invaders.
As the mounting wave of merchant men reached their side of the small gap between the ships, the Cardinal was more worried about the reloading cannons along the side of that Chinese ship’s hull. The dark iron bulbs now protruded outward from their housing within the ship and were but a few inches from the gunports of his little ferry.
“Now, Isabella, they’re open!” Jakob yelled out.
Like crows darting through the air, twelve wraith-like figures crossed the span between the two ships and mounted themselves upon the edges of those offensive cannons. The coup de grace, the Cardinal thought as he watched Isabella and her covert team begin slicing away at the unfortunate inhabitants along the gun deck.
The alarm of the sudden intrusion was not lost to the invading opponents. Unable to get past the staunch line of the Spaniards, and now being outflanked at the very guns they had sought to sink their enemies with, there was a cry from the bridge of the vessel—it was beginning to move away.
“They’re falling back!” one of the Lions suddenly called out as the grappling hooks began to disengage from the side of the ferry. Despite the lack of melee, the sound of sword against flesh and the occasional explosion began to emanate from the smoking deck that housed the enemy ship’s guns.
They were clever, the Cardinal thought, hiding guns below deck to make them seem like a merchant vessel. But they were not the only ones with a trick or two up their sleeve.
“The ship is banking starboard it’s attempting to go back out to sea!” another Lion called out.
“Not yet they don’t!” growled the Cardinal. Grasping his lance firmly with his hand and turning his body sideways, he once again looked like to have hopped twice before throwing his weapon forward. Penetrating the hull of the ship like a bullet, he grabbed hold of the chain connecting his weapon to his back and then grabbed the main mast of the ferry.
“Get Over Here!” the Cardinal boomed as he pulled on the links. With his torpedo of a lance lodged near the front of the boat, its direction began to correct itself against the will of the rudder and once again come parallel to the ferry.
“Now is the time, gentlemen, forward!” yelled Grubby to his grunts as they grabbed hold of the Cardinal’s chain and began crossing the gap hand over hand. Taking advantage of the chaos of Isabella’s small group fighting their way to the top deck, Grubby and his small force were able to board the enemy ship. The tables had turned.
---
Harry was starry eyed when he looked at those old objects laid bare in front of him. They were about the size of his little forearm but they looked terribly old. It was their antique nature that seemed to shine the most in the dim lamplight of the keep’s inner sanctum.
“What are these for?” Harry asked with his eyes still captivated by the objects in front of him.
“Something rather important, Harry, though I’m not quite sure,” Sebastian responded as he lifted the lamp higher above them allowing him to lean in further to investigate the object for himself. “Father hasn’t told me enough about them…”
Both of them looked at the silvery objects not at all degraded by any rust or stain. Their perfect sheen reflected cylindrical satires of their figures and the closer one got to them the more they seemed to give off a ringing sound. Whereas young Harry was indulging his senses at these forbidden objects, Sebastian saw something else.
On the reflective surface he could still see that face: those light blues framed by strands of golden brown. The face he remembered had the grin of mischief hand in hand with strength and confidence. However, the image he now lost himself in still portrayed a sense of insecurity, a sense of romance.
He thought back fully now, to the day when they had met. She had just delivered these strange keys to his father and it was in passing that they had seen each other. When cast against an open window, Sebastian thought he could see right through that girl’s eyes onto the sky.
His heart moved in the tension between calming remembrance and blushing excitement. He let out a faint breath before whispering “Isabella…”
“What’s this box for, Sebastian?” Harry interrupted.
Blinking his head downwards and immediately putting up a silly smile, Sebastian followed the boy’s pointing finger to the box immediately next to the keys. A bit of a large chest like container with a flat top, the box was a brass gilded metallic affair. It seemed to almost shine just as well as the keys.
“That’s where we’re going to put them in, apparently. It’s a special puzzle box.”
“A puzzle box! Can we play with it?” came the sprite like jubilations of Harry eagerly moving himself closer to the container. Sebastian once again chose to go along with the boy’s alacrity for jovial things.
“Sure, but it’s not much of a puzzle. See these little pegs here?”
Harry nodded.
“Well you have to pull them out and put them on the flat groove on top. If you can fit the right ones into the right places, the springs inside will let the box open.”
“Sounds easy enough, so how do we know which ones go where?”
They both took a second to look at it carefully and Harry began picking out some of the pegs from the side of the box while he waited for a response.
“Well, Dad did tell me there was a trick to this… give me a moment I’ll try and remember it.”
Watching his older cousin move the various numbered blocks in place onto the wide groove at the top, little Harry waited patiently. Over and over again, he followed with his prodigious eyes the placement of all those pegs. By the time Sebastian would have finished figuring it out, that older one might have been surprised to know how well Harry would remember every move.
---
Akanishi washed his hands from the blood. Another patient was now saved to live another day. He was not used to aiding individuals with his medicine except through his pharmaceuticals; the blood stained on his hands seemed to chill him.
“Sorry to make you do this,” Jakob announced said coming in through portal to that rear hold where they had kept the wounded.
“Oh it’s quite alright, Master Jakob,” responded Akanishi as he finished wiping his hands. “I understand you had an important meeting.”
“Yes,” Jakob replied almost in passing as he straightaway made his rounds through the beds checking the various patients injured during the fighting. “We were interrogating one of the captured seamen from the other ship.”
“Good,” Akanishi replied almost too enthusiastically before loitering at the water bowl pretending to rewash his hands, “learn anything interesting?”
“Apparently,” Jakob began as he lifted some of the bandages to inspect some of the more serious wounds, “it was no coincidence that we were found this easily. The sailor said we have a spy on board.”
The splashing of water in Akanishi’s bowl stopped. His body became stiff but he was lucky enough to not be facing the doctor while that one was occupied with checking the bandages.
“A spy?” Akanishi let out. He did not have to try hard to act surprised. “Did he say who it was?”
“No, looks like that’s all he knew,” Jakob sighed. “But I wouldn’t worry about it; we’re setting a trap for him.”
Akanishi merely nodded and dried his hands once more. If he wasn’t so conscious of himself he would have placed his hand into his pocket. The metal spike of a pin he was carrying felt like it was scratching his side.
“I just need to know some information, Professor Cole, nothing more. I didn’t mean to bother you in your home but this is important.”
Father Francis sat on the supple leather seat studded by brass buttons with his hat neatly placed above his knees. His cup of earl gray remained only sipped once before it had been left on the table to waft a prayer of mist towards the heavens.
Professor Joshua Vance Cole was an Australian archeologist who now worked at the University of Cologne. It hadn’t been hard to track him down seeing as how they both once taught in the same general area, but aside from that, the two professors’ acquaintance ended.
“You came all the way to Germany to ask for some information? This better be important, Father Xavier.”
In contrast to the crow’s nest of a humble man that was Father Francis Xavier, Professor Cole was a generously endowed person atop his crown. Aside from sporting half curly brown hair that seemed to ruffle across his top like interlocking tidal waves, Professor Cole spoke through a thick beard and moustache.
As Father Francis Xavier looked at him, he couldn’t help but realize the hefty size of the Professor as his Victorian style suit seemed to be as unsuited for his size as it was for the time in which they lived.
“Yes, my sponsor and I were excavating in Mecca the other day and we came upon several artifacts. Some metal objects… and some clothing. I wanted to ask you to test a certain object’s authenticity.”
In the cozy apartment home of Professor Cole, there was no sound in the house except the crackling heat of the fireplace. Even on this warm night, the Professor insisted on having the heat source on producing a fine film of sweat along his brow. Professor Cole gave a reluctant nod with a grunt.
Reaching to the side of him to a plastic bag, Father Francis carefully placed a tattered uniform like jacket onto the table in front of them.
“This must be a joke!” Professor Cole stormed rising from his seat. Instinctively Father Xavier rose as well but more so in utter surprise of the impassioned cry.
“First of all, Father Xavier, this could never have come from Mecca and second of all you do know it is illegal here in the province of Germany to show… to show this!” Professor Cole yelled out again immediately taking a newspaper nearby to cover the armband insignia on the uniform. “Are you trying to get me arrested?!”
“I’m afraid this is no joke, Professor Cole,” was the response from the figure sitting on the opposite side of the room. Until now, Duke Jimenes had kept himself quiet in the room with these two intellectuals. It was now time to inform the other Professor just how dangerous the situation was and how necessary his skills will be.
---
Tom did not even notice where the two men came from. In his delirium of confusion he had been taken by his two arms upward by these two strangers. Forced towards the crested wall, he was feeling faint when he saw the barrier part and a miniature chamber reveal itself to those standing by.
“Bring him to the box,” he heard Marcus order the other two as his feet dragged on the floor. Perhaps it was the thin atmosphere of that basement chamber that made him feel so strange and it was perhaps that strange feeling that sparked the intense feeling of familiarity to the object in front of him.
From the periphery of his vision he saw Rodrigo walk ahead of him. The box itself was a brass gilded object raised up on a cylindrical stone column underneath a single circular light above. Rodrigo was already carefully taking off the pegs from the sides of the object.
“We’ve tried every conceivable combination of pegs in the grooves,” Rodrigo began to explain dispassionately. That young man did not even look at Tom as he spoke; instead, a shadow was cast by his bangs across the top of his face. Tom could not see his friend’s eyes anymore—he only heard that monotonous voice.
But it was not Rodrigo’s voice that caught his attention. Finding the strength in his feet again while still being restrained by the two other men, Tom stood in front of the box and approached it with easy familiarity. It was like a reflex, his memory took hold of his muscles and he placed the pegs one by one into the sockets.
Rodrigo, as well as the two suited men, stepped back almost surprised by the sudden working of Tom and one could see the dark figure of Marcus approaching Tom from behind. Tom’s hands were nimble and silent, but when he placed one of the pegs atop another, that’s when all eyes widened. That was the secret, they all thought, they had been attempting to find the peg combinations two dimensionally, they had not thought of a three dimensional solution.
With the proper weight above the proper grooves, a momentary pause dominated the thin air until a click which would have normally been as faint as the ticking of a clock was heard to be like the cracking of an iceberg off a glacier. The box opened.
Gazing into the almost glowing interior of the box, Marcus’s pupils focused against the light but then turned immediately towards Rodrigo with contracted brows.
With a grin erupting as fast as a Venus fly trap captures its prey, Rodrigo quietly said, “Captain DeWitt; engage.”
---
Professor Cole looked out of the window of his apartment at the two figures walking away. He had been shaken by the revelations but the preliminary evidence was undeniable. Despite the security that was now placed about his home, he had still agreed to do as he was asked and examine the various pieces of clothing left behind. Still, he could not help but look down at those two who had now completely shifted the very focus of his career—perhaps even his life.
“Do you think we’ll find out where all of this is heading?” Father Francis asked as he walked with the Duke down towards the awaiting limousine.
“From the uniforms? I’m not sure; I think that the evidence here will at least give us a clue to where in the Empire to search specifically for the Wolves.”
As they boarded the limousine, the priest was obviously in deep thought. The engine started and Duke Jimenes sat perpendicular to his friend before giving out a small sigh. “I wonder what your favourite detective would say about this, Father.”
Startled out of his contemplation, Father Francis almost laughed at the ridiculous question, “I’m sure he’d say that ‘zee little gray cells’ could not even solve this one, I’m afraid.”
They both shared a small chuckle. As the skyline of suburban Cologne passed in the cool evening tinted even darker by the windows, those two kept themselves barely warm in the Northern weather which even penetrated the inside of that cabin.
The frozen air between them was suddenly electrocuted by the sound of the car phone. Duke Jimenes picked it up.
“Yes?”
Father Francis looked on anxiously. He watched the facial expressions of his friend seem to thaw the longer he held the phone to his ear.
“I understand,” Duke Jimenes said with a smile before putting down the phone.
“What happened?” Father Francis asked nearly dropping his hat off his lap as he leaned forward to hear any news.
“The Kutch Science Institute just identified a localized Doppler effect in seismic activity: the Timepiece is being moved. It’s moving across Afghanistan towards the county of Islamabad in the province of Pakistan,” and this was where the Duke turned his warm smile into a grin, “where we will have men waiting.”
Chapter XXVII: Counter-Trap (coming soon)
