Gene of Isis

  I have known since birth that the god of good and the god of evil are equally as strong as one another, and that only human determination will confer power to either of them. Unfair as it is that my first personal confrontation with Rex Mundi should be when I am trapped in his company for weeks on end, yet I shall not falter from my vows. As is my duty, I will endeavour instead to dispel the corrupt thoughts from my cousin, so that he might better serve the higher cause.

  APRIL 29TH 1244

  For the past month there has been little to report. Our voyage has taken us via Sicily and Crete, but I cannot comment on these exotic places because, whilst our ship was in port, I was bound and kept below decks, and forbidden to even think about putting a foot onshore. Needless to say this only added to my animosity toward my abductor.

  I have spent most of my time in prayer and silent contemplation and up until yesterday my troubled spirit was feeling far more at peace. Devere has not talked to me on a personal level and, although I sense his attraction in every glance, I am thankful for his distance and I have prayed for his soul.

  However, yesterday I saw a side to Devere that has thrown me into confusion once more, and I can no longer think poorly of him or of the crew of this vessel. Yesterday, my abductors became my saviours, and although I know Devere is bound to protect me, I feel I now owe him a debt that I cannot imagine I will ever be able to repay.

  Despite the trials and horrors I have witnessed in my thirty years of life, I have never been so terrified for my wellbeing as when a Saracen pirate ship was spotted trailing our vessel when we passed by the islands of Rhodes.

  These islands have long been known as a haven for bandits who seek to plunder passing ships, seize their crew and passengers and sell them into slavery.

  Our captain knew it was impossible to try and outrun the pirate vessel. His ship was weighted down with a cargo of timber, iron, furs, honey, wax, and wine from Europe for the crusading knights in the Holy Land. He was also carrying ivory and gold, acquired from East Africa long before Devere and I had purchased passage. This cargo was prized by pirates and our only means of escape would be to fight off our attackers, which the captain assured me he and his crew had done many times before.

  I was hidden below deck in a crate in the cargo hold. Before nailing down the lid, Devere assured me that he was the finest knight in all of Christendom. At the time I thought he was exaggerating to ease my worry and this must have reflected on my face. ‘How do you think I escaped Molier’s men?’ This gave me food for thought. His claim did seem to support his boast. ‘I shall come and get you out as soon as our adversaries retreat.’

  My crate had small slits down the side, through which I could see and draw air. As I lay there in near darkness, waiting for the sound of a skirmish to erupt up on deck, all sorts of dreadful scenarios ran through my mind. What if the ship was taken and the crew killed or enslaved, and our vessel was diverted to some distant port? I might starve to death before I was ever discovered. Worse still, what if I was discovered? I had a fair idea of the physical abuse and horrors that lay in store for me if I fell into the hands of a shipload of pirates. I was not even carrying a weapon with which to end my own life if such a scenario was to unfold. For the first time since we’d met, my heart, will and soul were with Devere—I had never prayed so hard for the life of any man in my entire existence.

  The sound of men yelling and the clash of swords set the blood pounding in my throat; soon I could barely hear what transpired on deck over the sound of my terrified heartbeat. I had expected that I would end my days tied to a stake by my enemies, and I had prepared myself for such spiritual persecution—I did not fear the torture devices of the Inquisition, or a death by fire—but sexual abuse was quite another matter. Such a violation is too intimate and personal to bear so easily, and the duration of suffering could prove far longer than that which the Inquisition were prepared to set aside to break a soul.

  The hatch to the cargo hold opened and daylight streamed down. Two men lowered themselves onto the highest stack of crates; my heart sank when I realised that they were not members of our crew. ‘She’s loaded all right!’ one yelled up to those on deck and then he jumped down to floor level. Using the tools he wore on his belt, the intruder cracked the lids of a few crates to uncover the contents. He called out his discoveries to his associate, who passed the information to those on deck. The pirate was now only a crate or so away from me, and I was horrified when his attention skipped to my hiding place. He unexpectedly rocked my container, sending me crashing into the far side of it where a nail punctured my skin and, although I tried to smother my reaction, a gasp slipped from my lips.

  ‘What have we here then?’ he muttered enthusiastically as he cracked the wooden lid and peered in at me. The pirate chuckled and tipped the crate, sending me hurtling onto the floor at his feet. ‘Livestock,’ he advised his accomplice, who gave a cry of approval and jumped down into the hold to assist his crewmate in seizing their acquisition. ‘I don’t believe there is a man beneath that warrior guise,’ the discovering pirate commented as he hauled me to my feet and handed me to his shipmate. ‘Shall we check?’ He grabbed for my trousers and I screamed to give myself strength as I kicked him away from me. The pirate did not appreciate the numbing kick in the jaw my boots dealt him, and he drew his large curved sword. ‘I would be more cooperative if I were you,’ he advised.

  ‘Death would come as a welcome relief from your company,’ I spat back at him.

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of killing you, princess. You’ll fetch a high price where we are headed, and provide much entertainment for our crewmates before then. So, perhaps we’ll just maim you a little.’ He raised his sword high and metal suddenly protruded through his round gut, spraying me with blood as he fell dead at my feet.

  Devere withdrew his sword and looked to the pirate now holding me captive. ‘Your friends are all leaving…you’d best be quick if you want to join them.’

  The pirate didn’t know whether or not to believe Devere’s claim, but he was forced to let go of me in order to draw his sword and I dived for cover as soon as I felt his grip loosen.

  I watched the sword fight that ensued, amazed and impressed by Devere’s prowess. He had no sooner finished off his opponent than two more thieves jumped into the hold, and although he fought gallantly, one of the pirates landed my protector a mighty gash to his right side. I feared the battle was lost, but Devere fought on as though I had just imagined the fatal blow. The man who had wounded Devere was finally defeated. A call of retreat sounded out from the pirates above, capturing the attention of the second attacker who made for the hatch. As the intruder jumped up and gripped the entrance to the hold to pull himself up, Devere went after him, but collapsed before he could prevent the pirate from escaping.

  And so it is that I have been keeping a constant vigil at Devere’s bedside. I have been bathing his wound and dressing it to prevent infection, but his blood loss has been great and he is pale and weak. If he would only stir from his delirium long enough to partake of some food and wine, I could be more assured of his recovery, but as it is I fear the loss of my guide. As much as I have complained about Devere and been suspicious of his motives, what shall I do without him once I reach Outremer? I have no contacts there and although I am aware of where I need to go, without having travelled to my destination before I could be led to China and be none the wiser.

  And so I pray and tend and hope to god that the creator will see fit to return my saviour to good health.

  APRIL 30TH 1244

  The answer to saving Sir Devere was right in front of me all along—I must have been severely shaken by the pirate attack not to have thought of it sooner. It was only when I considered taking the Star vial that hung around Devere’s neck that I realised the smallest quantity of the Food of Life would restore my guide to perfect health.

  I placed a small amount on his tongue, and within moments his colour and vitality had returned. When he came around, the
knight seemed both pleased and surprised that I had not let him perish, nor retrieved my property from him.

  ‘There seemed little point, when you would just take it back again,’ I explained, but in truth, Devere and I felt like a team now and I do believe that I trusted him more than any man. ‘And how shall I ever reach my destination without your aid?’ I pointed out.

  ‘So your actions were purely professional?’ he teased me, as he attempted to sit upright, yet the man felt so lightheaded from lack of food that he decided to stay put for the time being.

  ‘Of course,’ I assured him with a smile.

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile,’ he commented, ‘it suits you very well.’

  I suppressed my delight at his recovery, in case he got the wrong impression, and avoided his amorous mood by checking his wound.

  I was startled to find that it had healed completely, without so much as a scar. I, more than anyone, was aware of the great healing power of the Highward Fire-Stone, but I had never used it for such a purpose before.

  ‘Is it bad?’ Devere queried, upon seeing my dumbfounded expression. He raised himself to view his wound and was as astounded as I was. ‘How long have I been convalescing?’

  I swallowed hard and then confessed that he had only been ailing a day.

  ‘A day!’ He was puzzled but a moment, before he realised the truth. ‘You wasted the Food of Life on me?’ Devere asked, lowering his voice.

  ‘You would have died otherwise.’ I defended my course of action and stepped away from him as my emotions unexpectedly overpowered me.

  The look on his face was most disturbing; it was as if he could see straight through me and into my heart. ‘My Lady du Lac, you are not as cold as—’

  His eyes suddenly glazed over and my patient fell back into a horizontal position once more.

  ‘Devere?’ I approached and knelt beside him, confused as to what was happening.

  ‘Shhh!’ he urged me, his eyes fixed straight ahead.

  At this moment I recognised his behaviour; this was the same reaction that the priestess of my order had when she consumed the Food of Life. I had not thought that the sacred nature of his bloodline might enhance the reaction of the cure I had administered.

  He then closed his eyes, disappearing into a euphoric state, and did not move or say a word for several hours.

  During this time I arranged for some food to be brought to the captain’s cabin where Devere was recovering, and I passed my time penning an account of recent events.

  ‘Are you writing about me?’

  Devere startled me from my work and I looked aside to find him coherent. ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘I’ll wager that your account is far more favourable than those you have penned about me over the past few months.’

  I ignored his accusation and fetched the tray of food. ‘How are you feeling now?’ I inquired, placing the tray at his bedside.

  ‘Better than I have in my whole life,’ he said in delight, sliding into an upright position so that he might lean against the carved wooden bedhead to support himself. ‘Or at least I will once I have eaten something substantial.’

  I allowed my patient to tuck into his meal and I went back to penning my account. However, my mind was distracted as I was dying to know what Devere had divined over the past few hours.

  ‘You could just ask me what you wish to know, although I’m not sure that you will like the response,’ he commented, as he finished up the meal and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

  His words were somewhat shocking. Could he read my mind now? I had found that I possessed this ability temporarily after partaking of the Highward Fire-Stone at sacred rites. ‘What have you foreseen?’ I ventured to ask despite his warning, which had only heightened my curiosity.

  ‘I believe there might be another reason why you and I have been thrown together for this quest,’ he began openly, and then seemed undecided about how to proceed. ‘You feel this reason at a soul level, but because of your beliefs you choose to ignore it.’

  I stood, shocked and offended by his implication. ‘Don’t be vile.’

  ‘See, you do feel it.’ He casually drove home his point, and I felt compelled to leave his presence and not be drawn into his seductive argument.

  ‘I thought that we had grown beyond this subject matter.’ I collected my writing materials and made for the cabin door. ‘It is very disappointing to be proven wrong.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Devere added, a little spitefully. ‘Our love shall never be realised. Not so much as a single kiss shall you ever give me. I know that to submit would destroy everything you have worked your whole life to achieve and I will take steps to curtail my feelings and bring them in check. However…you will be the death of me.’

  The claim brought me to a halt, and I did an about-face to assess how serious he was.

  ‘That inevitability has been made heartbreakingly plain, I’m afraid.’

  The emotions that fired up my being made me want to cry, but why? Was it the sheer abandon I heard in his tone, which seemed to indicate he had nothing left to live for and thus death scared him not? Was it because my heart was in sympathy with his claims, and I dared not admit it, even to myself? Was it that I feared Rex Mundi was just playing games with my conscience and I was falling into his trap? ‘If you feel anything at all for me, you shall never speak of such things to me ever again,’ I said. I didn’t want to have to hate Devere, for I did not. But I could not consider his feelings about me either.

  ‘I would not have spoken of them now, but you asked,’ he replied.

  This conversation was just exhausting, for indeed I had. But could I trust him never to broach the subject again?

  ‘I shall be as a brother to you from now on,’ he assured me before I even had the chance to try and phrase my question.

  ‘Very good.’ I took a deep breath to calm myself. ‘I shall hold you to your word.’ I opened the door and stepped into the corridor that led to the galley and deck.

  ‘Yes, you shall,’ he uttered as I closed the door behind me and leant on it for strength. Why was every word he said a drain on me, even when there was no sexual connotation attached?

  Our association during this mission is never going to work, I fear, when it seems that even I cannot keep my focus and faith. Has god abandoned me, or is it that my heart has abandoned my god?

  MAY 23RD 1244

  My spirits are soaring. Off the port bow, as I write, the Principality of Antioch is within sight. I am excited beyond words that today I shall set foot on dry land.

  Despite my previous fears, Devere has kept his vow to me, and has been more amiable, in a brotherly sense, than ever before. Our conversation on the night of his recovery could have been a dream, for he has never referred to it again. It is almost as if he has forgotten it entirely, for there has been nothing implied in his manner or words which would indicate that he is repressing feelings for me. Devere did say that he would take steps to bring his feelings under control, although how he managed this, or quite what he had meant by it, was a mystery to me. I was glad that whatever he was doing seemed to be working.

  I began to believe that my knight’s prediction of ‘a relationship between us never being realised’ was quite true, and so I felt far more at ease in Devere’s company. I had become fond enough of my travelling companion to hope that his second prediction, that I would be the death of him, would not be proven true either. I have to admit that I wondered if one prediction related to the other. And if I bestowed the kiss he had said I would never give him, would that prove all his predictions false?

  I should not be thinking such thoughts; perhaps the excitement of the day is getting to me.

  MAY 28TH 1244

  I have been a fool and I feel I am a disgrace to my order. Thankfully, my god brought me to my senses before I could shame myself and it is only now, days after the event, that I have found the courage to confess my folly.

  On our first night in po
rt, Devere found us very comfortable lodgings in an inn frequented by rich merchants visiting Antioch’s seaport of St Simeon. I cannot express how good it felt to bathe after months at sea, or how wonderful it felt to sleep in a room all by myself.

  As I lay down in bed that night I could still feel the rocking of the boat. Devere had warned that this would be the case and that it would be several days before I would again feel comfortable on solid land. After some time I did manage to fall asleep, but my dreams were most disturbing.

  I have never before dreamed of being intimate with a man and the vision was so vivid that I believed the event was truly taking place. I felt no guilt, doubt or inhibition in the act, only relief and elation beyond any earthly joy I had ever known. Before my expectations could be fully satisfied I awoke in a sweat, and was disappointed to find myself alone and more tormented than I had ever been. To add to my vexation I knew there was but a wall between myself and the man I desired so desperately. I wasn’t myself, for there was no reasoning with the emotions that had been set into play by my dreaming. Nothing seemed to matter beyond making my vision a reality.

  In the corridor beyond my quarters not a soul could be seen; thus, I did not bother covering my clean long-shirt. I just crept silently to Devere’s quarters next door and quietly opened the door.

  A very sobering sight met my eyes. Devere was as naked as the local woman beneath him in whom he was taking deep pleasure.

  I probably would have been wise to slip out of there unannounced, but not only had Devere lied to me, he had betrayed the code of his order as well. ‘How could you?’ I accused, so furious that I ignored my better judgement.

  Devere looked up at me, almost as if he had expected the intrusion. ‘It was easy,’ he said, not bothering to withdraw from his conquest to speak with me. ‘I just closed my eyes and thought of you.’

  That was the last straw. The coolness of his response made me so ashamed of my own intention that I felt ill and quickly returned to my quarters, where I was compelled to empty the contents of my stomach into my bedpan. I praised the Lord, for what I had borne witness to had brought me to my senses and had prevented me from betraying my holy vows. But my heart pained me with such an agony, as I had never felt before, that I wished I had a dagger in order to cut it from the body it had nearly betrayed.