Templar Night – 1990
The Seers Home, Philotas, New England, USA
The approaching howl of the wind could be heard seconds before the snow-laden Noreaster hit the walls of the cabin. The impact was solid, heavy, a blow seemed to come from something much more tangible than frozen water and air but for all that, it was insignificant. What, from the outside, looked like a conventional if very large log cabin, was really anything but. The walls had a double thickness of logs, the gap between them filled with the most modern insulating material available. Beneath the building was a deep shelter that would have done most military bases proud. The cabin had been designed and built by people who knew what they were doing and had the money to ensure they got what they wanted.
The guests inside the cabin heard the walls creak slightly as they shifted with the changing pressure but nobody who knew the building was concerned. There was a log fire burning in the emperor-sized fireplace, casting a warm orange glow over the room that complemented the companionable atmosphere. Beside the fire, a woman wearing a Roman chiton, her tightly-curled black hair dressed in an elaborate style, was playing an instrument that looked like a harp. Its music, soft and gentle seemed to fill the room. There was a good reason for the contented and familiar atmosphere, the people sharing the room had, with few exceptions, known each other a very long time. The music and firelight inside, the wind outside, indicating the arrival of the Noreaster, just served to reinforce that shared sense of community. It reminded them all that the world outside these walls wasn't necessarily friendly. That was, after all, why the meeting was being held tonight. A reminder that the world was not friendly while also honoring the memory of all those who had stood by their trust.
"Lillith isnt here?" Nancy Reagan asked the question tentatively, as if she was afraid her question would trespass on private areas where she was unwelcome. As she did so she instinctively checked on her husband, sitting in the great chair facing the fire. Each month, as his Alzheimers slowly advanced, she grew that little bit more protective. The signs weren't great yet, problems with names, a habit of drifting off and leaving a sentence or a thought unfinished. But the effects were all there and she knew his time was coming. For a moment she felt a wave of resentment bordering on hate for the people around her. Why should this happen to her Ronnie, who had done so much for so many when these people could look forward to centuries? Then guilt swept over her, these people could no more control their fate, their destiny, than Ronnie had been able to control his.
"She and Paul will be arriving soon. They're driving up and probably got caught in the leading edge of the storm. Pauls driving in his four-by-four and he's Russian remember. He was born in weather far worse than this. They'll be here soon."
"Is everything going to be all right? I mean, her being here? With her and Paul? After all, everybody always assumed she and the Seer were an item. It surprised everybody in Washington when she..." Nancy Reagan found herself floundering. Beside her Naamah smiled gently.
"Lillith and the Seer have been an item as you call it, many times, on and off, over the years." Naamah looked at the former First Lady out of the corner of her eyes. Nancy Reagan took her religion seriously and the standards of morality in Demon society were very different from those of Christians. They had to be, this particular circle had existed for many years before Christianity had even been born. In any case 'til death us do part' wasn't a workable philosophy for people whose lifespans were measured in centuries. "In fact, they were together from when we came to America until just before the First World War. Long time even for us. Before that he and I were together, then he settled with Inanna for a while. Now Raven, Sacawagea, is his current partner. We're always shifting around relationships forming, being enjoyed then splitting again. Its like one of those formal dances where people shift from one pairing to the next. Weve learned, you see, to move on before a relationship goes sour on us. There are many things we can have, living as long as we do, but jealousy isn't one of them. So we treasure each affair while we enjoy it and end it when it palls."
Nancy Reagan looked at the redhead sitting beside her. Part of her was appalled at what sounded like institutionalized group adultery, another part was fascinated by the concept. Then she felt her husband put his hand on her arm. "Every group has its customs, my dear, and their own way of life. Our friends here have problems we cannot imagine and they carry burdens we can only guess at. But we do know that our friends are good people, so we can be sure their ways are good ways for them."
"Why thank you Mister President." The voice came from his left. He turned slightly to see a woman standing just behind him. He recognized her from some of his meetings in his last term in office.
"Good evening.......... Igrat? Yes Igrat. I'm happy to see you again. I was dismayed at the thought I would miss you all when I left office. I didnt expect to be able to keep in touch like this."
"It's our pleasure, and our privilege. Mister President, could you please help me? I long for a slice off the standing rib but I cant carve without leaving a dreadful mess. Would you assist me please? "
"It would be an honor my dear." Reagan took her arm as he rose and they went over to the buffet table that lined one whole wall of the room. As they passed, Naamah smiled to herself. If anybody could slip a knife deftly between a set of ribs it was Igrat. But, Naamah had nursed enough sick people to know that making them feel needed and useful was as effective a treatment as most medicines.
"Rare or well-done Igrat? On the bone or off?" Reagan picked up the carving knife and touched the blade. Hed expected it to be very old and would need sharpening but it was brand new and its edge was like a razor.
"Well done please Sir. Off if that's possible." Reagan looked a little sadly at her, the standing rib looked like a perfect piece of beef and to eat it well done was almost a crime. Igrat smiled a little guiltily. "You'll find most of us eat our meat cooked through Sir. When I was young, to eat raw or underdone meat was foolish to the point of being suicidal. Parasites and the problems of preservation and storage saw to that. The Seer's unusual amongst us in that he does eat meat very rare. He says he spent the first 2,400 years of his life without knowing what a properly-cooked steak tasted like and now he's going to make up for lost time."
Reagan laughed then looked at the joint. He placed the knife carefully and sliced in one smooth flowing action, without reversing or hesitating. The cutlet of beef peeled off, perfectly even in thickness and without a carving mark to be seen. He lifted it onto Igrats plate. She smiled with glee. "Mister President, thats beautiful. If you would like to see how we used to eat, long ago, Naamah and Lillith prepared some Caananite dishes and Messalina made some Roman ones. They're down the end of the table here. They've worked hard to recreate some of the meals they used to eat back then. Next year, I'll have to make some Babylonian ones."
Igrat lead Reagan down to the end of the buffet. "I suggest you try that one Sir. Goat roasted Moabite style over lentils. Naamah made it and she knows herbs and seasonings like nobody else on earth. She managed to find modern equivalents of the old ones."
Reagan took the knife and carved off a pair of rib chops from the goat. "Mister President, that's beautiful. Could you carve one for me like that?" The voice was rich and gentle, Reagan would recognize it anywhere. Nefertiti. He transferred the double chop to a plate then sliced another for himself. When he looked at his guest, he caught his breath. Many, many years earlier, he had auditioned for a lead role in the Taylor-Burton production of Cleopatra. He'd seen Elizabeth Taylor's costumes and thought they were the epitome of Royalty. Now he knew he was wrong. The dress Nefertiti was wearing was simpler by far than those Hollywood had created but there could be no doubt, it was the real thing, the others were just pale imitations.
"Excuse me asking, Nefertiti, but your dress. It's so beautiful, it looks like youd stepped straight out of a Pharaoh's palace, but it can't be real, can it?"
Nefertitis voice took on an element of pride. "It's not real in the sense that I had it made not long ago. The materials and the way its sewn are modern but the style is just the way I remember wearing clothes back then. And the colors are as I remember them. On Templar Night, a lot of us like to wear clothes like we had when we were young. Igrat's dress is Babylonian, Messalina's is Roman. That flowing, patterned dress with the intense yellows and greens that Naamahs wearing is Caananite. It's very unusual for its era but her people were famous for their production of dyes and their women wore styles that advertised the fact. Lillith will be wearing something similar. But, very often, our jewelry is really does come from those days." Reagan had notices the jewelry worn by the women as soon as he and his wife had joined the party. It was hard not to, there was a lot of it on display. All the women were wearing golden earrings of many sizes and shapes, their arms were loaded with bracelets, and they all had an incredible array of necklaces, torcs or chains with amulets of silver, gold, or engraved gemstones. "You see, back then, a woman showed off her status, and that of her family, by her hairstyle and her jewelry. And jewelry makes portable wealth, something we have found useful many times in our lives."
There was a bang on the door as a couple entered. "Oh my God, look at THAT." Igrat was gasping. Paul Lazaruski and Lillith had arrived. He'd ushered her through the door first and her appearance had stopped the room in its tracks. She was wearing an ankle length fur coat of shimmering blue wolf and a Russian-style hat to match. It was breathtaking and Lazaruski was grinning with the pride of a man whose woman has just brought a party to an awed standstill. "Excuse me, Mister President, I have to see Lillith and I've got to find where that coat came from." Reagan grinned at her and continued talking to Nefertiti. By the time Igrat reached Lillith, Paul was helping take her coat off. Nefertiti had been right, under it, Lilliths dress was also richly patterned and textured but it featured reds, blues and purples, complementing her black hair.
"Lillith! It's beautiful, where did you get it?"
"Paul gave it to me, three month anniversary present. One thing and another has meant that Siberia is overrun with wolves now so he's setting up a business farming them for their fur. Harvest a white wolf and the fur gets this gorgeous pale blue shimmer when its been treated. The Seer organized some financing for him and we're pushing the furs out in the Rome winter fashion shows. Isn't it incredible?" Lillith was preening herself and luxuriating in being the center of attention. "The styles are basically Russian but Paul got an Italian designer, guy called Versace, to modernize the originals and make them suit todays market. And the amount were charging for them is criminal. I haven't seen a rip-off like it since we started the South Sea Bubble couple of centuries back. Paul likes being rich."
Igrat dropped her voice a notch. Lazaruski was away, speaking with the Seer on something or other but this was still something to be discreet about. "How's Paul doing? He getting used to our thing yet?"
"He's settling in. He's stopped getting nightmares now but he still has a hard job reconciling all he's heard about dark forces and so on with the knowledge hes one of us. He's still not entirely convinced that were not all agents of the devil luring the faithful to destruction. After all, his Bible does prophesy that in the End Times, demons will walk the earth. I keep pointing out that weve been walking the Earth for four thousand years and the world is still here."
"Four thousand." Igrat dropped her voice lower, this time there was need to be really discrete. "You havent told him about Eldest yet? "
Lillith shook her head. "That would be too much for now. Let him get comfortable with what weve told him to date. He's at the stage where he keeps asking what really happened when then getting all bothered when he finds out that the reality behind the stories is usually so different from what people think happened. I think that's what lies at the root of his trouble; everything he believed isn't exactly wrong, its just so different and he can't accept that his beliefs and his reality don't have to link up. He'll get it in the end, just accept that beliefs are beliefs and reality is reality and treat the two as being separate."
"Lillith, will you being doing those coats in black fur as well?"
"Oh, hi Branwen. Glad you could make it over. Sure, wolves come in all colors, were harvesting black ones as well as white, gray and brown. Uhh, you'd better be careful though, Loki doesn't approve of our little venture. He claims its environmentally unsound and exploiting scarce natural resources. Hasn't been to Siberia recently of course. Honestly, I think he heard the Seer was putting money into Paul's business so Loki opposed it as a matter of principle. Still, he might get upset if you turned up in a wolf fur. Unless you were wearing nothing else of course. Where did you get that meat? Usually the joints round here end up looking like they've been the loser in a sword fight."
"President Reagan's doing the carving. He's having the time of his life over there. Even Achillea is impressed by the way he handles his carving irons. Come on over, get something to eat before it all vanishes." There was faint chance of that, Branwen knew. The buffet table was crammed with food, even after Naamah had sent out massive amounts for the Presidents Secret Service bodyguards. "Don't be too hard on Loki, looking after the environment is a big thing in Northern Europe now. Theyve had all that trouble in the North Sea and the Baltic, theres still a lot of them off limits. We have to share the concern just to fit in. And....."
Their voices drifted away as Branwen and Lillith headed for the food. Igrat finished her slice of rib and went over to see Lazaruski. "...couple had rolled over on the way up here. Trouble is they've made the inside too comfortable and people think they are driving cars. For all the nice seats and stylish insides, they're still trucks and have to be driven like one. The center of gravity's too high so try to take corners too fast and he'll tip over. Then there are the ones who think because they've got four wheel drive, they can do anything and go anywhere. Four wheel drive doesnt help if none of the wheels grip anything. You didn't drive up in this did you?"
"No way. My Camaro's undriveable in this kind of weather. All the weight is at the front and the drive is at the back. Great for good weather and fun driving but forget it when the snow starts. I'll be staying up here until the snow-dozers have cleared the roads, then coming down."
"I've been wondering, why did you get the Camaro anyway? I'd have thought you'd have gone for the 'Vette."
"The Camaro's small block V-12s a much nicer engine than the V-8 in the 'Vette. Puts out a lot more power and the transmission is more efficient. Gee-Em made a policy decision, the Chevvy's Cammie is the brute engine power part of the line-up while Cadillac's 'Vette is the sophisticated technology bit. They've even put a head-up display in the latest ones."
"Incredible isnt it? Put two men together for five minutes and they're either talking cars or guns. Back when, it was the same in Sukothai. Leave them alone and theyd wander off and start to discuss different breeds of elephants and whether the wavy-edged Kris was better than the straight-edged Chinese Dragon sword."
The quiet contralto voice was instantly familiar. Igrat looked at the lady on her left. Oriental, wearing a dress with a long tubular skirt and a top that was a halter-like silk band wrapped around the back, crossed over the breasts and tied behind the neck. "Suriyothai, I didn't know you would be over. It's been too long. And, yes, you are right only in Babylon it was always who made the best chariots and which type of bow was most accurate."
"Igrat, I would like you to meet Lillee Nakchatree, she is one of us. I brought her over to Washington to meet with the group here and this was an excellent opportunity. The Seer and Inanna were kind enough to allow us to stay here for a few days. Lillee, this is Igrat."
Lillee made a wai, Igrat carefully returning it. "Igrat, is it true you come from Babylon? Thats in The Caliphate now, it must be so sad seeing what has happened there."
Igrat shook her head. "No, the people there are not mine, nearly all of mine are gone, there are just us few left now. And the people who replaced mine have gone also and the ones who replaced them. The ruins of Babylon are indeed in Iraq Province of the Caliphate but they are just stones and rubble. If they still exist, the people who run that place have no desire to know of anything that pre-dated Islam. I have no more connection with it than with a piece of road I once drove over many years ago and have never visited since."
"We are fortunate Lillee, we still have our country and our society and a place we know is our home. Our friends here do not. Their homes, their societies have vanished into the mists of history and they must wander the world looking for a place to live and things to believe in. Always remember that, it is why we must protect our home and what we are. Muang Thai must come first." Suriyothais voice was harder and the determination strengthened her soft syllables.
"That has to be Snake." The Seer had noted her appearance even though she had been behind him. Beside him Lazaruski smiled to himself. If ever he needed a recognition pattern for demons, that would do it. Hed noticed they always approached people, even friends, from behind. It was, he supposed, only reasonable. A few hundred years of life would breed a reasonable level of caution into anybody. "Snake, Id like you to meet Paul Lazaruski; well need your help in relocating him in a few years time. Paul, I dont think youve met Princess Suriyothai yet?"
"It's an honor, Your Highness. I've read the story of how you did a combat search-and-rescue for your husband on elephant back but I never thought I'd meet you."
"You mean because the story says I got killed and was survived by my daughter? You've probably guessed now, it was my daughter who died and I just switched identities with her. Many years earlier than the legend states of course but it started a long tradition. By the way, Paul, here, amongst us, I'm just Suriyothai. We try not to use titles, we all have collected so many its hard to remember which is appropriate."
The door to the living room banged open. "Dammit, it's colder than a miserable DEMOCRATs heart out there." The voice boomed around the room, causing everybody to look at the two people joining the party, one a Navy Senior Chief, the other a Marine Corps Gunny. Suriyothai raised an eyebrow and the corner of her mouth twitched slightly. "Of course, Paul, in some cases a title is always appropriate. Our beloved Senior Chief never changes. And I see Sergeant Dick is now changing a different group of boys into young men." She watched as the two men made a direct course for the buffet table. When the Senior Chief saw who was carving, he flew to attention, hand raised in a perfect salute.
"Sir, Mister President Sir!"
"Thank you Senior, Rare or well done?"
"Rare please Sir, and on the bone if possible. It's good to see you again Sir."
"It's an honor to be here. Seer, do the Senior Chiefs run the Demons as well as they run our Navy?"
The Seer never got a chance to answer. A bell rang and the room dropped silent. At one end, Nefertiti spoke quietly but her voice carried across the room and, once again, she was very much Pharaohs Queen.
"Jacques de Molay. Geoffrey de Charney. Two names who represent the 183 brave men who died protecting us from the forces of hatred and greed and in whose honor we have gathered here tonight. All over the world, wherever those of our kind live, we are gathering, in large groups or in small, to honor the sacrifice made by Jacques de Molay, Geoffrey de Charney and the rest of the Knights Templar. For those who have not been to Templar Night before and for our honored guests, let me explain."
"In the year 1119, eight knights under the leadership of Hugo de Payens assumed the task of forming themselves into guards for the safe-conduct of pilgrims from Europe traveling between the Eastern Mediterranean sea coast and Jerusalem. The associates of De Payens were Godfrey de St. Omar, Roval, Godfrey Bisol, Payens de Montidiel, Archembald de St. Amand, Andrew de Montbarry, and Gundemar who took the regular monastic vows of obedience, chastity, and poverty, and lived together according to the rules of the Augustianian friars. One of the men they escorted was one of us, of Assyrian descent and named Baphomet. He was so impressed by the honesty, integrity and courage of the Knights that he saw in them a way that Europe might be lifted out of the Dark Ages and brought into a new flowering of civilization.
"Baphomet and his fellows, some of whom are with us tonight, used their assistance to guide the Knights Templar, to help them gain wealth and power and to position them as a guardian of learning and integrity. Baphomet saw the Knights Templar as becoming a super-national leadership, a higher authority if you will, one that would lead by example. One that would establish the needed standards of honesty, integrity, decency and love of learning.
"Baphomet made a mistake, he underestimated the reaction from the existing princes and Kings. Philippe IV of France struck first. On October 10th, 1310, he arrested more than 200 of the Knights Templar and imprisoned them on charges that were ridiculed even then. Those brave knights were held for seven years and tortured for evidence that could be used against them. Every one of them knew our secret, knew of where many of us were and who we were. Had they saved themselves by parting with that information, few of us would have survived. But they did not. One hundred and thirty three of the Knights died under torture, without revealing our secret. Fifty more, including Jacques de Molay and Geoffrey de Charney were burned at the stake, keeping their lips firmly sealed. Not only did they keep our secret, in their agony, they invented confessions so absurd that Philippe IV was humiliated by the ridicule they brought on him.
"I ask you now to join me in quiet contemplation of our great debt to each and every one of those brave Knights. To honor their memory as we also remember all those we have lost over the long years of our lives.
The room was dead silent, even the log fire seemed to be burning silently and the howl of the wind outside seemed to have dropped. Nancy Reagan looked at Lillith standing in one corner, tears trickling silently out of her eyes and down her cheeks. Weeping still for her murdered children, even after all those years. The sense of loss saturated the room and she, at last, began to understand the price that their long life brought with it. Eventually, they lost everybody they cared about. Sooner or later, they would always lose everybody they loved. Quietly, unobtrusively, she wept for them.