The Bargain

The Bargain

July 2^nd, 1989

Güstrow

'Why couldn't he just disappear from my life?' Konrad asked to himself for the hundredth time as the contemplated the five remaining men, bounded and huddled one against the other, their clothes torn to shreds and stained with blood.

'I would have forgiven him. I really would have.

'I loved him regardless of what his brothers did against me.'

Fear ran like an electric jolt over the prisoners when they saw the tall figure approaching them with the stealth of a panther. Around him, there were six other men, shorter than he, but equally ferocious.

“Have you made your peace with the Lord, gentlemen?” Konrad asked in a low voice.

One of the youngest amongst them, a pale youth not older than twenty-five, screamed, “I have a family!”

“You should have thought about them before rising against your Griffin,” one of the men accompanying Konrad answered.

“Die like a man, de Mouchelles,” Konrad said with deep disgust. “Not even professionals,” he mumbled infuriated. 'Underestimating me as usual.'

He only had to move his head and two of his Serb bodyguards, Executioners the both of them, took the young man by the arms and dragged him to the centre of the large, partly in ruins, cellar of what had been the original residence of the Lintorff family. A third Executioner emerged from the shadows carrying a long sword especially brought that morning from Zurich, and the prisoners threw all their remaining pride to the wind and began to pray or cry.

The newcomer watched how his fellow Executioners held the youth and one of them brutally kicked him on the back to force him into a kneeling position, exposing the back of his neck.




Ignoring the pleas around him, Konrad approached the man holding his sword and took it from his hand. Once more, he admired its simple design: the silver dying Christ applied on the handle, and the large blade.

“My Duke, please, allow me to do my duty,” the Executioner protested and freed his superior from the spell cast by the shinning weapon.

“This is my sword. No one but me uses it,” Konrad said sternly, and the Serb bowed his head and took three steps backwards.

He turned towards the huddled men and the bound young man, and spoke with a loud and clear voice: “God chose me for this position. I didn't ask for it, yet, I was born into it. Your duty as His servants was to accept His Rule—my rule—over you, but you chose to be misled by His enemies and rose against me. You turned against your own oaths and spat on our Lord's face. You have murdered your brothers and tried to kill me in my own house. Treason is punishable by death.”

“You're crazy, Lintorff!” the oldest prisoner yelled, but Konrad ignored him as he rose his sword, making it shine against the electric light coming from the solitary lamp hanging from the cellar’s ceiling.

The Serbs looked at each other in concern. Beheading required a lot of stamina and long practice with the sword, and the prospect of a clumsy decapitation felt too much for their exhausted spirits. Their leader laid dead on the living room upstairs along with two of their brothers, and the Duke had a wound on his left shoulder, making it almost impossible to get a clean cut.

“Sir, we are trained for this,” Mihanovic, the one to bring the sword, interfered once more, but the steel regard in Konrad's eyes made him lose his bravado, and the man swallowed the rest of his words with a nervous gulp.

“They are my peers. I should do it,” Konrad stated.

The thirty-one-year-old Duke held the sword by the handle and raised it over his head as he placed himself behind the struggling, doomed young man.

A swift and brutal slash separated the head, which rolled half a metre away from the falling torso, and the Serbs jumped startled as they hadn’t expected their Hochmeister to really do it on the first try. For the longest ten seconds of their lives, they watched how the head blinked its eyes several times till they became glassy and dead, the lifeless face partly stained by the blood still freely flowing out of the body.

“Bring Welsingham over here,” Konrad said with infinite coldness.

* * *

Night had fallen over the remains of the destroyed castle, bombed at the end of the war, and then looted by the Red Army. Only a few rooms and the cellar still were recognisable as such. Konrad had visited the estate with a special permission from the government; a favour that had nearly cost his life. Pavicevic and two of his men were dead, and he still had no idea about how he was going to get the bodies out of the GDR and take them back to Switzerland.

'Coming here was a mistake. There's nothing left. Nothing at all. Volvodianov should have not called me. It really makes no sense to lay any claims on the land once the Soviets leave.'

Konrad closed his eyes and felt once more the stinging pain on his left shoulder. He tried to rotate it to alleviate the pain, but he had to bit his lip to prevent a cry when his discomfort turned into searing pain. He took two deep breaths, but he couldn't ignore it any longer as his mind replayed the assault on his house the previous night.

'My own brothers tried to kill me,' he thought darkly. 'The father of the man I loved the most in the world ordered my death.

'I had really forgiven the de Lisles. They had more than enough to leave and start again.

'They forced me to act. All of them. I only wanted to do my best for the greater Glory of our Lord, and they betrayed me and His cause.'

Unable to stand any longer the oppressive castle, he began to walk briskly away from it without any destiny in mind, simply following the narrow path that led to the forest behind the ruined building. He walked alone in the darkness, the deep shadows broken only by the moonlight rays shyly filtering through the canopy of leaves. Guessing the path with his feet, more than really seeing it, he reached a clearing among the gigantic trees and immediately his shoes treaded into water.

He took several steps backwards and waited for his eyes to get used to the new dim light. The full moon showed him a small natural pond, circled by reeds, and he wondered how it had come to be there. 'Was it here were my father used to play with his brothers? I don't know.'

Once more he felt the burden of his life fell upon him and he sat on the side of the now muddied path, watching the waters catch some of the moonlight rays.

'It's surreal,' he thought as he admired the landscape, feeling a strange attachment to it. 'So much beauty and so much blood separated only by a few metres.

'What will I do?

'I have to finish what I have started tonight. These five traitors are only the beginning.

'It's they or us.'

A splash in the water made him jump to his feet and draw the automatic weapon out, ready to kill whoever was there. Taking cover next to a willow tree, he watched again the waters to see if he could discover the enemy, but the pond seemed to be still.

'Konrad, you are loosing it. Do you really think that after sending ten men without any real training to kill you, they will send the professionals now?' he chastised himself. 'They don't even respect you enough as to hire a professional team, just young hotheaded associates and petty thieves who confessed everything once we defeated them.'

Another splash, this time nearer to him, alerted him, and he quickly found the origin of the sound, exactly as he had been taught to do by the Serbs during their night hunting trainings.

“Hello, you,” he smirked at the amphibian that had emerged from the water only to freeze on his stance in hopes to go unnoticed by the stranger. 'I am really loosing it. Afraid of a simple toad.'

Konrad moved away, not willing to frighten the animal, and watched how carefully the toad jumped twice to hide among some reeds. He slid his back down the trunk of the tree where he had been hiding and crouched once more. Oddly, the toad reminded him of the ones living at his pond in Zurich, and he felt desolated.

“When I was a little child, and my brother died, I used to speak with other toads like you,” he said out loud, and wondered why he had done it.

He sighed and closed his eyes, not caring any longer about the animal.

“You have it easy,” he said again without opening his eyes. “Year after year, you return to mate to the same pond where you were born. There’s no search for the perfect candidate, no problems, no cries, no accusations. You only follow your instincts and hope that a car doesn't run over you.

“I, on the other hand, am supposed to find ‘a suitable wife’ and breed several children while I die on the inside because I love a man who only wants my money and power.

“It's really unfair being the superior species.

“The price to be on top of the food chain is simply not worth it, toad,” he mumbled, and hit his head against the tree. 'I executed five men tonight. How many more will follow?

'The only thing I wanted was to love and be loved back. Nothing else.

'But I was just his puppet, and when they realised I was not bending to their demands, de Lisle decided to put me to sleep like a stray dog.

'Where did I fail? Why nobody ever takes me seriously? Not even a professional killer! It is as if I didn't deserve a clean and honourable passing. Nothing at all. Even after ten years, the associates still regard me as the same boy who took over his father's position. Nothing I do is ever enough for them. Nothing I say is fine. Nothing I think is accurate. This time, I will show them all what I am capable of.'

His head rose very fast as he heard the cracking of a twig at the distance, and he soundlessly rose to his feet, getting his weapon ready once more.

“My Griffin!” he heard one of his bodyguards shout. “We have to return now!”

Sighing, he walked toward the direction of the voice. 'I have to kill my Roger before he kills me.'

* * *

“Is it true what they say?” Gustav zu Löwenstein asked the man lying in the hospital bed in Zurich.

“What do they say?” Konrad replicated briskly.

“That you executed the traitors with your own hands.”

“Two of them were my equals,” Konrad answered curtly, and the old man looked at him. “I had to set an example, and I followed the Code. With their deaths, their families are clean.”

“So it is true. The Serbs have been speaking, and Volvodianov phoned Hermann. He's furious that you were… so medieval in your punishments, sire.”

“The men did it. After young Pavicevic's death, they went mad. I couldn't hold them, so I let them do as they wanted with the local workforce,” Konrad explained to the Prince with a shrug, who only nodded in return.

“How is your shoulder?”

“Fine, it’s merely dislocated and infected because of the bullet. Removing it with a knife was not such a good idea, but I needed my arm to punish the traitors. I should be out of here in five days.”

“Therefore, the Council should replace you for the time being.”

Konrad looked at the man, gauging his intentions.

“De Lisle, du Mouchelles, Gunterson and Bedlam are the heads of this uprising, my Griffin. We must proceed according to our codes.”

“No, banishing them should be sufficient.”

“They will conspire, or ally with our enemies, if they only go into exile. We need a swift—and terminal—solution in this case. You have proved your value and zeal to our cause, my Griffin. Let the Council decide their fates.”

Konrad examined the man for a long time, knowing that if he were to step back, the Council would execute their enemies and their families, exactly as it was demanded by their code.

“Maria Augusta is married to a de Lisle,” he whispered.

“She can choose to follow her husband or go into exile. I don't believe that de Lisle would have spared my own family, sire,” zu Löwenstein said, deep regret lacing his raspy voice. “My wife will understand.”

“Our financial loses are staggering, my friend,” Konrad admitted. “I've been reviewing our past four exercises with von Kleist and some other people, and this is where we should focus. The associates will not be happy at all.”

“Two or three years of bad results are nothing compared to the many ways you have devised for the Komturen to channel their help to the cause. They are your strength. Remember how they deal with traitors, my friend. If you only banish them, it will be seen as a display of weakness from your part. I've been informed that many of them admire the way you dealt with the murderers.”

Konrad watched the glistening waters through the bullet-proof window of his room at the private clinic, and sighed. “Fever due to an infection may hinder my ability to rule in wartime. I will take a leave of absence for a week, Magnus Commendator. I trust yours and the Council's good judgement, sir.”

* * *

July 26^th, 1989

“Does it still hurt?” Konrad's longtime friend, Ferdinand von Kleist, asked as he watched the young Duke stand up from his desk and grimace in pain when he picked a heavy folder.

“The shoulder? No, not much,” lied Konrad, wondering if it was time to take his antibiotics. “It's much better.”

Ferdinand suppressed a sigh at his friend's stubbornness and returned his attention to the reports scattered in front of him. 'It is worse than we ever imagined. I don't know how we are going to solve this. How could all this be going on right under our noses, and we never realised a single thing?'

“Don't you have to go home, Ferdinand? Gertrud may be concerned,” Konrad asked softly as the clock over the library's chimney struck eleven.

“She's fine,” Ferdinand grunted as he shuffled his papers to shake his own frustration away. “The boys are with my mother.”

Konrad watched the wade of documents in his friend's hands and once more got lost in the memory of Roger saying that he had had nothing to do with it, that his father and brothers had been the ones behind the failed takeover. “Do you really think I can concoct something like this?” he had shouted outraged. “You are the first one to tell everybody that I'm a dork!”

‘Did he do it or not? This looks so much like Pascal or Jerôme's work.’

“I never loved you! You forced me to be with you!”

‘Little whore, that's what he was,’ Konrad thought for the umpteenth time as he regained his seat to bury himself in his papers. 'Regrets will solve nothing. I have to fix this mess before it consumes us all.'

“I still wonder who tipped me off,” Ferdinand said softly. “It has been virtually impossible to find out who did it.”

“Someone who prefers me on my position over the others,” Konrad answered darkly. “I believe it's someone who double-crossed our enemies.”

“An insider?” Ferdinand asked in disbelief. “Makes sense.”

“There is no other explanation. I'm waiting for him to beg for our mercy.”

“And then?”

“We’ll see. I'm partly indebted to him.”

The noise of a car parking in the exterior garden, followed by a series of men’s shouts made both friends jump to their feet, and Konrad quickly took a weapon out of the top drawer of his desk.

* * *

Konrad watched through the window how three of his men half dragged, half pushed a man in his mid-forties without any kind of ceremonies. He forced his eyes in order to distinguish his features, but the group of men had already turned the corner to go inside the courtyard.

“It seems we have company tonight,” Ferdinand smirked. “Saves us the trouble.”

“What do you mean?” Konrad asked puzzled.

“That's Jerôme de Lisle. I know him well. Nice of him to drop by.”

“Get him here before the men take justice into their own hands,” Konrad said laconically, and his friend gaped at him. “Perhaps he can say something useful to us,” he clarified.

“Leave that to the Serbs.”

“No, they're too emotional still. Go now, Ferdinand. Dead he is useless.”

Still mumbling his opposition to his friend's idea, Ferdinand left the library to catch up with the guards before they could do what they wanted with the middle son of the old de Lisle. 'As creepy as the father was. Glad they're all ashes now,' he thought as he walked along the corridor, ignoring Friederich coming to his encounter ready to stop any new “savagery” his pupils had decided now.

Ferdinand had to raise his voice, glad for his six years spent in the army, to be heard or even be obeyed by the two Serbs who were already hitting the lawyer. “Enough! The Duke wants to speak with this man,” he said, and gulped when the guards looked at him with hatred-injected eyes.

“What are you waiting for?” he repeated. “Take him to the library,” Ferdinand added, feeling a bit more secure in his position.

“He's a de Lisle,” one of the men growled, and punched Jerôme on the stomach once more.

“Enough I said! The Duke will not be pleased with this, Antonovic,” Ferdinand shouted, and the men stopped.

* * *

With one more brutal push, Antonovic shoved Jerôme inside the library, where Konrad sat at his desk. Unimpressed, the middle-aged man held his head with arrogance in front of the much younger man. “As usual, manners were never the Lintorffs’ forte,” he said with a smirk, walking towards the centre of the room.

“Not really,” answered Konrad and watched how Ferdinand circled the room to place himself near him, standing guard, his body in tension, ready to jump over the French and strangle him right there.

“I was expecting a bit more of sophistication from your part, like asking questions before you strangle your enemy. It's a bit hard to reply with a rope tied around your neck.”

“My men are only fulfilling the Council's orders.”

“Yes, my deceased nieces and nephew understand your position,” Jerôme retorted coldly. “Did you at least kill them before burning them?”

Konrad felt ashamed but managed to hide it. 'It was necessary,' he reminded himself. “I was told the children were painlessly executed. They did not even wake,” he admitted, and Jerôme closed his eyes slowly. “I will not show the same mercy for the adults,” he quickly added, embarrassed of this moment of weakness in front of his enemy.

“I am here to speak on my brother's behalf,” Jerôme said, and Ferdinand gaped, shocked at the man's audacity.

“All of you are sentenced.”

“We played, we lost. I do not discuss this fact,” Jerôme said with arrogance. “But you must hear me before you kill me.”

“I listen to you.”

“I am here to offer you my life and my fortune in exchange of my son and brother's lives. They had nothing to do with all what transpired. My father, my brother Pascal and I are the ones who devised and carried out this conspiracy.”

“There is nothing new in your words and I intend to fully apply the Code to you and your line.”

“My Duke, you are perfectly aware that you will not find anybody like my brother again. Your soul is destroyed, and you will never get it back. I can give you what you want the most in exchange for my son's life and my brother's, and my own death.”

“You have nothing left. Get out de Lisle. Your line is dead. The Council has spoken,” Konrad said with infinite contempt.

“You still love Roger, but he despises you. You were dragged into this because of your love for him. Am I wrong?” Jerôme taunted Konrad in order to get his attention. “What if I offer you the chance to have someone like him, but sweet and kind natured? Someone with my brother's face, but none of his faults.”

“Who?” Konrad asked before Ferdinand, sensing the danger, could react and be done with the Frenchman.

“My own son. Guntram. He physically looks exactly as my brother. See the pictures yourself, my Duke,” Jerôme said, taking an envelope from his pocket and giving it to Konrad.

The Duke slowly opened it and took several photos out. Some were in black and white, while others were in colour. Laying them in a perfectly symmetric line, he studied them with great intensity. On one of them, a blond boy, holding an old, battered teddy bear and sitting in what seemed to be a public park, earnestly smiled to the camera, and Konrad remembered the baby he had held in his arms so many years ago. 'Funny, the smile is still the same.'

“The resemblance is remarkable de Lisle, but what makes you think that the boy will accept me? Or are you giving me your own son so I can rape him in exchange for your life? Your family has no limits, really,” Konrad said out loud as he pushed himself away from the desk with his hands, truly disgusted at the trade the lawyer was suggesting.

“You would never harm him. You are an honourable man despite you being the Griffin. I can't guarantee that Guntram will like you at all. That is a risk you will have to take.”

“Get out of my sight. How my men kill you, it's their problem. I hope they take their time with you.”

“If you don't take my offer, the associates will kill my child. I accept my fate, and offer my life in penance, but my son has always lived away from us, ever since he was born. He never had any contact with my family. He's not corrupted like us. His mother was a good woman, half German. Do you want another child's death on your conscience?”

A flash of doubt crossed through Konrad's eyes as the image of the baby once more assaulted him. 'No, this is insane, but I can't kill a child, no matter if his relatives deserve it.'

“You should have thought about him before rising against your Griffin,” Konrad answered, willing to send Jerôme away, but unable to dismiss him yet.

“Guntram is a very sweet boy,” the lawyer said, sensing the doubts grow inside the other man. “He never fights with his friends in school and spends his days drawing. He could be a good artist. He's clever, sensitive and affectionate to anyone who dedicates him some attention. Perhaps he's a little stubborn when he decides that something is the right thing to do, but that would be good for you, my Duke. You need someone to gently counterbalance your dominating personality. He's very shy also, unlike my brother. I practically raised Roger, and I can assure you that their resemblance is only physical.”

“Get out de Lisle, or I'll put a bullet in your head and another in your bastard's!” Ferdinand roared, afraid of the effect the lawyer's words could have in his friend's altered psyche.

“Silence Ferdinand!” shouted Konrad as he motioned with his hand to Jerôme inviting him to take a seat. “Tell me more about your boy, de Lisle.”

Obeying the Duke, Jerôme sat in front of Konrad and chose one of the photos, the one with his son dressed in his school uniform, to place it right in front of Konrad's eyes. “He's like his mother. Cécile was a very sweet woman, with a lot of patience, and completely innocent. Unable to hurt anybody. I fear that his sweet nature will cause him a lot of pain in the future. In a way, he reminds me of my cousin, Gerhard Guttenberg Sachsen.

“In ten years, you could have what you lost today, but this time without my family's interference. Guntram knows nothing about the Order or our lineage. He was only once in Europe, for his baptism, when you met him, and that day I took him to my wife's aunts, and from there back to New York. Nobody but us knows of your relationship with Roger. My son is twenty-five years younger than you. He should be easier to manage than my brother.”

“I would see the boy before I make any decision,” Konrad said, and Jerôme had to suppress a sigh of relief, sure that his deal had been accepted.

“No. I will not tell where he is until you swear you will not touch a single hair on his head.”

“I could find out it in no time, de Lisle.”

“Perhaps, my Duke. I want your oath that you will protect him from the others and will respect his decision if he doesn't accept you. His Excellency already knows how is to be in the middle of a forced relationship, and I am sure would prefer that Guntram loves him of his own will. You will also swear not to touch him till he turns eighteen.”

“Konrad!” Ferdinand shouted enraged.

“Leave us, my friend,” Konrad said coldly, and Ferdinand stared at him. “Now, please,” Konrad added in a tone that didn't leave much room for arguments.

Enraged beyond himself, Ferdinand rose from his chair and only grunted, “Fine, I'll be outside if you need me,” sending one more outraged look at the impassive lawyer.

Waiting until his friend had closed the door behind him, Konrad fixed his gaze upon his enemy to read the truth of his intentions. “Do I have your oath that you will leave this world?” he asked, choosing a vague formulation. “This world” could mean ‘this life’, ‘the Order’ or ‘our entourage’. In a way, he was tired of so many useless deaths. He only wanted to focus on rebuilding everything that had been ruined and increasing his power.

“You can have my life as a proof of my good will.”

“If I take it, I will be forced to look after your son as it is stated in the Code.”

“I only want a month to put my affairs in order and make the necessary arrangements for his care. He lives far away; in a boarding school. With my death you will set a much larger example: that I bow to your rule and accept my fate. This should stop all internal fighting.”

“Your father and your elder brother's deaths are enough to stop this rebellion against our beliefs. You are perfectly aware of the feud between our bloodlines, and it has nothing to do with my ruling.”

“My son's name is Guntram; I named him after the Merovingian king we descend from. We are the ones who were supposed to rule, not you. We are the true heirs of Christ.”

“It is a legend,” Konrad huffed.

“Not according to the Acts of Philip.”

“That is an apocryphal text. Not recognized by our Church,” Konrad answered with a snort.

“Is it?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Why did our people follow my father? Because of the money? You have made more money for us than your father ever did. People sided with my bloodline because of who we are.”

“Yes, and all Roman Emperors descended from Aeneas, but it is just a wonderful poem by Virgil,” Konrad retorted dryly. “The Lintorffs created the Order out from the ashes of the Thirty Years War, and I don't remember any of your ancestors in our earliest documents. You cannot prove any of your claims.”

“We were among the first members of the Order of the Temple and the Priory of Zion,” Jerôme said. “Compared to us, you are only newcomers in our fight against Evil.”

“Only the Lord can decide it, and He has passed his judgement upon you. You are damned because of your arrogance, de Lisle. You betrayed me, but He protected me and guided the person who denounced all of your treacherous brethren.”

“Perhaps that person considered that the conspirators' rule would have been a hundred times worse than yours,” Jerôme said softly, and Konrad looked at him, the pieces finally falling into place. “Time will tell you the truth.”

“A time you don't have any longer,” Konrad rebuked softly, overwhelmed by the suspicion taking form in his mind. 'So he really told Ferdinand of the conspiracy. Everything makes sense now. He is the one who devised most of the traps, and none of our own people realised they were there till it was too late. Why did he betray his own blood?'

“True.”

“What is it that you really want?”

“My brother's life. Spare it.”

“No. I can let your son live, even if that represents a future danger to me. Out of gratitude to the person who put us on the track of the traitors, I could spare your child’s life and even take him in as my ward, but Roger is part of the conspiracy against me. I will not lift the punishment imposed upon him.”

“You are perfectly aware that my brother never had the guts, nor the patience, to plan all this. He was just a tool in our hands.”

“A very efficient one. No, his pardon is non negotiable.”

“My Guntram for his life.”

“You are selling smoke to me. Is not that what the Americans say?” Konrad smirked. “A seven-year-old child in exchange of letting go a certain threat to my rule? Once again, no.”

“Guntram is the last of us. With him, our bloodline ends. Roger's daughter is unimportant as we still follow the Salic Law. Educate him as you want. He knows nothing of all this. I will give you all the documents that prove our lineage, and the Lintorffs will not be ever challenged again by any other family. Take Guntram and settle the succession to your entire satisfaction. Our claims will end here in a way that will satisfy you and all our brothers.”

“Those documents don't belong to you; they belong to your children. Isn't that what we all were taught?”

“I am certain you will not destroy them. Despite all, you are literate man.”

“They will sleep in a vault for eternity.”

“Until the Lord decides it is time for them to resurface. I accept this as my fate.”

“Where are they?”

“In the portfolio your men took away from me, and here,” Jerôme took a small wooden box from inside his interior pocket, and opened it to reveal a small piece of clay written in Aramaic.

“I'm not versed in this language,” Konrad said, taking the box from the man's hands with reverence, utterly impressed to see it.

“Your Tutor is. I am not lying. You know what it says.”

“Josebah, son of Mariamne,” Konrad mumbled, bewitched by the artefact's simplicity. “And the other item?”

“That is a secret I will take to my grave. Only our blood can touch it, unless Christ chooses somebody else to custody His vessel.”

“He left it to mankind,” Konrad protested with energy. “It doesn't belong to your family or your descendants, but to its entire people.”

“Therefore, He will reveal its location to the person He chooses. It is back in its original hiding place. There are many clues left leading to it, but only those who can really see will find it.”

After a long pause, Konrad said very slowly, “In a way, I agree with you, de Lisle. Such a relic is too powerful and sacred for any human being to custody. I don't believe that any of us is ready for the honour of keeping it safe. Is it well protected?”

“Yes, it is. No heretic will ever touch it,” Jerôme assured him. “My line was not up to the circumstances, and perhaps this is why we were punished,” he admitted finally. “New blood will come; one that is not tainted like ours, my Griffin.”

“These are desperate times, and I was forced to take desperate measures to mass all the resources I could in order to defend our Church. I never wanted to enlarge so much the power of the Komturen, but we are practically cornered by the enemies of the Catholic Church.”

“The people who use the Komturen services have already strayed from our path, and they should save themselves. We can only show them the way, but if they don't want to hear or follow, there is nothing we can do,” Jerôme said carefully. 'He's in a worse mental condition than we ever thought. Does he really believe in all this? Does he really think that Jesus saved his life? We? Direct descendants from Mary Magdalene? He is utterly crazy, and nobody has ever realised it.' “I've always believed in creating a fairer system, but nobody really cares or wants it,” the lawyer said out loud. “There is no sense of brotherhood among us any longer. Nothing of what Jesus taught us has been really learned.” Jerôme chose the words with great care, hoping to adapt his discourse to Konrad's way of thinking. 'He's in a delusional phase, but if this saves Guntram's life, so be it.'

Without answering, and just watching Jerôme, Konrad meditated for a long time on his decision. Finally he said, “Is it back in Montsegur?”

“Montsegur, my Griffin,” the lawyer answered with certainty.

“Ferdinand!” Konrad shouted. “We need a witness.”

Ferdinand burst into the room, pale yet still enraged with his friend. Konrad only rose from his chair and extended his right hand to Jerôme who took it.

“I accept your offer. Therefore, I release your bloodline of all the grievances they have caused against our Order. Your son for Roger's life. I give you my word with the Lord as my witness that I will protect your son from any harm, and if in ten years time he becomes my lover, I will honour him as my Consort,” Konrad said deciding to inform Ferdinand only of a fraction of their deal.

“I take your word, my Duke. May the Lord give you the strength and clarity of thought to abide it,” Jerôme replied and bowed his head. “You are our Griffin, truly invested by God.”

“Where does the boy live?”

“In neutral grounds. Argentina. I have a letter for Guntram. Could you give it to him only in the case he finds out about Roger and you? It's unsealed and with the other documents your people have.”

“I will give it to him if I deem it is suitable. You have a month to fulfil your part of the deal. Otherwise, I will give Roger to my men in compensation for our personal loses.”

“Good-bye, my Duke. We will see each other in Hell as none of us could fulfil our duties to our Lord,” Jerôme said.

“I am still confident in human nature,” Konrad answered. “We both are doomed, but the Lord will show the way to others. Go in peace.”

Ferdinand watched incredulous how Jerôme knelt in front of Konrad and kissed his hand, to immediately rise and whisper something in Konrad's ear who just nodded. The Frenchman passed beside Ferdinand without looking at him.

“We are still at war, my Griffin,” Jerôme said, standing at the door. “This is only a truce between us. My family's blood still remains to be avenged. This is merely a way to save my son from your people.”

“God will decide which one of us wins,” Konrad answered solemnly, considering his enemy's words to be just a simple tantrum, like the many he had endured under Roger, similar to one of the late Viscount's rants. “Go in peace. You have a month to fulfil your oath or I will forget my duties towards your child.”

As Jerôme crossed the door, one of the Serb guards grabbed him by the elbow, but a single stare from Konrad made him release the lawyer's arm.

“See that he leaves the property unscathed,” the Duke said nonchalantly and sat once more at his desk, lost in his own thoughts.

Ferdinand snorted, unable to believe that the lawyer had duped his friend with such an obvious display of mock servitude, but Konrad didn't react. “I hope you did it just to find out where the little slug is so Mladic can take care of the business,” Ferdinand said in a stern voice, fighting against the desire to kill his friend, who was too busy contemplating a piece of old clay.

“No. I did it to protect the boy. Killing a seven-year-old will not solve our problems. The Old Guard is too outdated and wasting resources. Nobody will touch the boy. As for Roger, Mladic can go ahead when he finds him. I want to see if this one fulfils his oath. If he does, perhaps the boy could be suitable in the future.”

“You are crazy!”

“Why? If he looks like his uncle, but has none of his characteristics, he could be a good companion for me. You told me many times that Jerôme was nothing like his brothers. I believe it now. No one but you, Friederich and Löwenstein knows about Roger and I.”

“So?” Ferdinand blurted out, not believing his ears.

“If I like him, I could keep him.”

“Konrad, you seriously should consider getting some professional help.”

Unexpectedly, Konrad's laughter flooded the room. “Ferdinand, you're so serious that it's impossible not to pull a joke on you!” he guffawed, releasing all the tension accumulated over the weeks. “Really, my friend, do you think I will sit and wait for ten years to get a new lover that looks exactly the same as the snake I want to crush? I have learned my lesson. No lover will ever come between me and my duties towards my position.”

“For a minute I thought you were serious,” Ferdinand said utterly relieved, laughing a bit at his own foolishness.

“I don't even care about the boy. I have had enough of the de Lisles' and their delusions of grandeur. Roger was a great fuck and I loved him, but it's over. I have to take care of the Order now. Love can only bring havoc and misery.”

“What did he tell you?”

“Where Montsegur is,” Konrad replied as he closed the small box and walked towards the safe, hidden behind some books. 'I have to put all these papers inside the vault tomorrow.'

“Montsegur?” Ferdinand asked perplexed. “That's a legend!” he chuckled.

“Perhaps it is, my friend. Perhaps.”

“You are not serious.”

“Do you know what this age’s problem is? Disbelief. It's everywhere; even inside our Church.”

* * *

The documents lay scattered all over the table as Friederich continued to look at them, his eyes unable to hide his scepticism.

“It's a nice story, Konrad,” he said, deliberately choosing to use his pupil's first name.

“Do you think it is a hoax?”

“I'm not a historian or a scholar. All what is written here goes against everything we know and believe.”

“What if...?” Konrad started to say but he was abruptly cut off.

“If what?” Friederich barked in a tone the young man had never heard before. “Do you dare to deny the divine nature of Christ, boy?”

“No! Of course not! Probably everything is an hoax devised to support the de Lisles' claims. They wouldn't be the first House to say their origins are nobler than what they were in reality,” Konrad said with a tone that masked his own doubts, fears and insecurities. 'I swore to defend the Church and all this goes against everything we believe in,' he told himself for the hundredth time since he had seen the simple piece of clay. 'The relic should be authenticated but even if it were authentic, there were hundreds of men named Josebah at that time. God will show me the right path as He has always done.'

“Then, there is nothing else to say. All these documents, once—and if—their authenticity is proved, will be stored and we will forget this story. As de Lisle says, it's your opportunity to fix the succession to your entire satisfaction. For the past two hundred years, the French have always had someone willing to claim they are the true heirs to our Lord, disputing our own rule.”

“What if this is true and we are going against His will?”

“Konrad, really. In the remote case these claims were to be true, do you think Jesus Christ would abandon his own children for you? I never saw a single trait worthy of His name in any of the de Lisles. They are greedy and selfish to an incredible point. This would not be the first house who claims to be more than what they are. Merovingians!” he spat the last word with utter contempt.

“I can't stop thinking that God protected me throughout this hell,” Konrad mumbled, hating the confusion that gripped his heart.

“Praise Him and put all these things away. The Vicomte de Marignac was a stone in your father's shoe for a long time. It is finally over. They are gone for good.”

“What about the child?”

“I can't tell you what to do. It must be your decision.”

“Should I adopt him? His father has named me his legal tutor.”

“Are you ready to do it?” Friederich asked softly, and his pupil cast his eyes down.

Konrad thought for a long time as the baby's face once more appeared before his mind’s eyes. He remembered his own sterile childhood and felt the sorrow once more engulf him whole.

“No, I am not. I'm not ready at all to be responsible for another person. I can't even be responsible for myself. What kind of life would I offer to a child? I thought I loved someone but I was horribly mistaken. His life under my guidance would not be better than mine was. I don't know what love really is. More and more, I'm getting convinced that I will never know.”

“To love is to sacrifice yourself, Konrad,” Friederich said, looking at him with great compassion, desolated that the idealistic youth he had known was finally dead.

“I've sacrificed so much that I have no joy left to give,” Konrad admitted before he fell into a dark silence.

Unable to cope with the tension any more, Friederich resorted to practical matters. “The boy is a Guttenberg Sachsen too. Perhaps you should offer your financial support to his biological family once they decide to take care of him,” he said in an effort to distract his charge from the pit of depression that kept creeping closer and closer to him.

'He is just like his father: he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, but he doesn't know how to share his burden. Both of them convinced their sorrows to be a well-deserved punishment for their weaknesses in their rule.

‘In truth, they only wanted to feel loved.'

“Yes, that's what I’ll do and nothing else,” mumbled Konrad as he rose from his chair. “Excuse me, please. There are other matters that require my attention now,” he said before he walked out of the room, his head held high, exactly as he had been taught to do.