The Templar’s Bowl
by
Peter “Lou” D’Alessio
Copyright © 2011
Chapter 19: Who Are These Men?
Hitler had told Karl Donitz, his Admiral of the U-Boat wolf pack, to look but not touch American shipping. There would be plenty of chances later, when the United States had joined the war. Through the Nazi High Priest Himmler, an array of what Donitz considered a parcel of disjointed attacks on Canada and Canadian shipping were ordered. Whether or not the Admiral knew he was merely a diversion to allow the exploration of the coast is not known. But, loyal man that Donitz was, he did as ordered. He never suspected that many of the wolves in the pack (especially those of the SS, who were aboard the subs in a persona non grata way) that were sailing silently for the North American coastline knew more of what was going on than he did!
The Battle of the Saint Lawrence River had begun in May 1942 when U-553 (who, just for the record, had sailed up the east coast of the United States) stopped for “engine repairs” in a hidden cove a short way from the mouth of the Saint Lawrence. As it was the dead of night and pitch black, it was assumed that two of their crew had wandered off and either gotten lost or were perhaps killed by a bear or wolves. For whatever reason, they did not return before U-553 had to launch. In truth, it had been Von Salza’s scouts that had caused the two sailors to disappear, and “persuaded” them to reveal the present chain of events. U-533, less two SS men, sailed upriver where they would torpedo the British sip Nicoya and the Dutch ship Leto. Québécois awoke to find the war had arrived in Canadian waters. U-533 found something unexpected!
With the coming of dawn, I had expected to return to my normal station in life, chair-bound. But it seemed that eternity did not have the time to wait, and I found myself with de Flor walking out of the cave with the intention of going to the waiting ships and launching with the dawn. But the salted pork Roger had been picking at had made him thirsty, so we wandered first to the old Templar well. Roger being Roger drew the bucket and stuck his whole face inside in the best pirate fashion, while I was satisfied with the old cup. When he had quenched whatever strange desire required him to near-drown himself, my sailing Master pulled his face out of the bucket. The cool air about us made his face mist, making it appear like he was smoking.
He squinted his eyes on me. “I see you took my advice and took good care of the cup.”
I looked down at the cup; sure enough, it was the same old goblet I had tied there a few centuries ago. “My God, Roger! I remember the day I tied it, and a bucket, to the roof of the well... different bucket, though.”
De Flor grinned. “You see, you’re part of the history of the Templar treasure now, and this is your monument! You sailed the great ocean, found a place to set the treasure to rest, and helped build the trap to defend it!” I nodded, smiling, and turned towards the beach.
As we walked towards the harbor, I expressed my concern that there were so few Templars, but de Flor cut me off. “The only Templars to defend the treasure by the curse of Philip the Fair are the three blessed souls we leave in the cave—and YOU.” He turned me towards him and drove his finger into my chest. “And you have another job! These godless pagans threaten the world and dishonor the great Knights that I will sail with to do combat against an army of invaders with unimaginable weapons. I have not yet learned how we are to defeat this wizardry, but I... YOU... must. You, Richard, are the bridge between today and infinity! You must send as many of these strange ships to the ocean floor forever, and God help us if you can’t! The void may collapse around us, taking all into the great darkness.” The thought of Infinity collapsing about me was, like so much of the spiritual world, still far beyond my comprehension—and, I imagined, beyond the knowing of most mortal men. But what I did know was that it couldn’t be a good thing.
Most men, no matter how high or lowborn, never learn of their value or worth in one lifetime, let alone the four I had lived, and I certainly hadn’t. When Roger and I stood on a small rise overlooking the bay, even in the dim light of early dawn, we became visible to the entirety of my fleet. From the Dragonship on the beach to the ships anchored in the harbor, the cry “Captain! Captain!” rose as men I had served with over three centuries yelled at the height of their voices and waved their hats or swords in the air. I froze and waved to silence them, stunned by the response.
De Flor just laughed. Slapping me on the back, he ran to a small rowing boat that would carry him out to a grand cog that would lead other such vessels to deliver an army to a deserted coast. “Hey, Captain Paisan, you and that one ship are hunting alone now,” he called back over his shoulder. “I’ll see you in Hell! Haha! Bring me back a wolf’s hide!” I stood there and watched until Roger was well out towards his boat.
I felt Egil’s hand on my shoulder. For a man of more than fair size, he could be so silent that often I would forget he was there. Yet, like a silent guardian angel, he would stand by me no matter what. Given the present situation, there was something very consoling about that. We joined the men on the beach waiting to push our mighty ship out. We shoved our dolphin back into the sea, hoisting ourselves over the side as she began to swim free. Two strong hands reached over the side and, as he had centuries ago, Askold Guthrumsson lifted me from the sea. I would have thought he’d be captaining his own craft, and my face must have shown it.
“What would I do with my own ship?” he said in that gruff, Viking tone. “Besides, who’s gonna be looking after you, Saxon! Gardar Helgi? Ha! My daughters be protecting better!” Back at the tiller, I could see Gardar shaking his head and laughing. When the last boot was upon the deck, Helgi leaned hard on the rudder and the craft, a magnificent ship I had never seen before, swung about and smoothly rotated out to the fleet. Quick at the helm, I thought to myself. Helgi’s eyes locked onto mine and he nodded as if to say, as quick as a rabbit!
As we began to move, a huge triangular sail appeared off the port side. I tensed, as that had always meant trouble—and this dhow was larger and better made than any I had seen! But drawing near, I could see a well-dressed young Arab, perhaps a Prince, holding on to a bowline and waving a very large scimitar. The muscular young man was dressed in the armor of his tribe, and when he passed from the shadow of the sail into the bright Atlantic sunlight, he fairly shone as a candle in the dark. His armor was covered in gold and silver, and while his young face was familiar, I could not recall from where. And then he called out.
“Allah is with you, Saxon. I am here. Now where is my bastard Christian Monk friend, McCorvy!”
“Halameeeeeen!” I shouted back. “What by the devil’s beard are you doing here?”
He was now fairly running back and forth across the deck, as frantically as he had when I had first met him. “Did you think I would let my Christian brothers fight this fight without the sons of Allah, blessed be His name, to guide them?”
I was fairly laughing now, much to the amazement of nearly all my Viking crew, who were quite prepared to defend Christianity from the Muslim all over again. When I mastered my breath again, I shouted back, “Then stay starboard! You will be as my shadow, and later we will talk!” He waved, and his ship began to circle around me.
As I turned, I turned right into Egil who had been pressing in his shield arm to protect me if these sons of Islam were full of deceit. I lowered his shield and pointed to the ship now sitting only yards out from starboard and said, “Good friends!” It was enough, for my shield man could see on my face that another warrior had entered the fray beside us.
Before enough of the sun rose to fully light the shoreline, we were out of sight of land. I led the fleet out of the normal shipping lane. Once safely away, as the ocean was of a mild nature, we lashed our ships together side-to-side and counseled. Of the eight ships in my command, I sent a pair—a Dragon and a Karve—north as far as the edge of the arctic circle, and another pair south to Boston. The other four were to trail them by a day, being close by if assistance was needed. If a team was confronted, the Karves were to turn and return for aid. They were faster and, while formidable, less beset for battle.
As near as I could tell, these U-boats would be almost impossible to defeat in deep, open waters. We knew they had to come to the surface to gather air, though a few were fashioned with some sort of breathing tube that enabled them to stay underwater while gathering air. Outside of the confines of the Saint Lawrence, all my ships could do is follow the U-boats in. I, on the other hand, would sail into the river to confront these hunters... though what I would do then was still unknown to me. By the seventh hour our forces were separated and patrolling their waters. Halamin and I lashed our vessels together and conversed as old friends and warriors.
“Who are these men? I have heard terrible things. Things so terrible Allah Himself, His name be praised, has to wake Halamin from his heavenly sleep to help his Christian friends destroy this abomination!”
I lowered my eyes and shook my head. “There have been stories, stories that have been made most believable because they have taken the Spear.”
The young Prince put his hand beneath my chin and lifted my face until our eyes locked. “The Spear? This dirt... has the Spear?”
I answered nothing.
“Allah save us!” Halamin’s face was dropping. “What, by every God I know or have heard of, are they doing here?”
This raised a new issue. I could see Halamin siding with Hamet and the Templars in the cave... but here at sea? “They have maps giving them cause to believe that our treasure, ripe with holy relics, is here!”
Halamin looked up and chortled a grunt. “No. They want the wealth, but the only relics they want is the Grail. The rest they have no understanding of, so they don’t care about them.” He paused and looked off into space as if gathering facts for his next response. “Tell me, Richard. Does Hamet still carry that ugly red bowl on his person?”
It was twilight as we approached the mouth of the Saint Lawrence. As it had been in a life long past, the water was turned brackish black where the fresh river mixed with the salty sea. As the temperature changed, a heavy and frightening fog formed over the water. So deep and thick it was that Halamin’s great dhow, though only a few yards away, rode only as a shadow or vague outline alongside. It was the first of many such nights, and we would learn that while the brackish water made the U-boats below us invisible, the thick fog concealed us from them.
I have always loved the sea. The smell of salt filling your lungs and a spray across your face lifts your spirits and affirms the goodness of the life God had lent you. Even raging seas filled you with a sense of life—or life slipping away—that no other experience given to man could duplicate. Yes, the sea gave and took life at its desire. The sailor who understood that she was indeed a cruel mistress had a better chance of dying in a warm bed—on land.
But truth be told, what I am as a sailor began on the lakes and rivers that watered Hambor. It was a great treat for me as a boy to row with Theobor through the dark and watch the sun climb from the edge of a lake and rise high in the sky. Often, any wind or breeze would be pushed out with the darkness, and stillness unlike any other would becalm the water. It would flatten the lake or river’s surface as clear and smooth as a pane of glass. It was an assurance that things were good in the world.
But on this day, in the darkness of the fog that assaulted us from all sides, we could hear the water itself crying out that there was nothing to be called “good” left in the world. The Vikings who had sailed with me were fearless men who were most natural in battle. Yet I could feel their fear. Askold had taken to hanging off the bow, clinging onto a rope he had placed around the Dragon’s head. From my vantage point by the tiller I could see nothing but his boots dangling ’neath the torch at the bow. Then I saw him pull himself up. He turned back towards me and pointed into the black water.
We had found our first U-boat.
