the story starts here: http://knights-honor.com/component/option,com_fireboard/Itemid,181/func,view/id,36463/catid,9/


Only bread and olives, thank you! the host of the guesthouse bowed exiting the door of the small room, only to return shortly with a small plate he left on the table.

The man watched as the door was closing discretely behind the keeper and bit the bread piece distracted. It was early in the morning and the sunshine was already painting in red the waves of the sea. Noisy seagulls were circling around a small fishing boat leaving the harbor, in a futile attempt of an effortless breakfast. Fishermen were preparing their nets, as they sailed into the sunshine, before the torrid light of midday chase their prey away. It was particularly hot this year on the shores of Italy, even for this month and during mornings too, and the whole nature looked like it was liquefying under the burning sun - from stone to wood and living beings alike. Only the birds seemed undisturbed by the pouring from the sky inferno and professed their love for light in loud voices. And we are not birds.smiled to himself the man, sinking his head again in the bucket next to him.

Through the drops drawing circles on its mirror, a face wreathed in wrinkles of a man well beyond his thirties was watching him through a pair of tired eyes. Eyes tired of a life filled with worries and countless nights spent awoke at the light of the candle in studying parchments. Eyes tired of too much suffering they have witnessed, and too much death they have contemplated. Sad eyes, troubled eyes, but well knowing of the world's matters. Shiny eyes, and filled with hope and happiness, for they have witnessed such splendors no other man on this part of the world has.

With a quick move of his hand, the man severed the reflection in the water and walked his hand through the hair already showing its stains of gray.No one will believe me. But, maybe it's for the best.the man sighed and took his few belongings, tucking them in a small bag.

Four years have passed since he left, without a word, on a fool's mission he can't even bothered to think at. People would have forgot his name by now, or his deeds, he was thinking, and the times he decided to return were not fortunate, if he was to follow the gossips of the inns and guesthouses his path took him. But even if others would, he could not forget who he was and what his driving force was. Many have changed since that day he slipped secretly from the Sistine Chapel, leaving duty, family, and friends behind. The world itself has changed, as new forces were risen on the shoulders of the ones doing down. But the treasure he was carrying need not to be concealed, and its ineffable presence would exceed any petty interest or border skirmish.

Eyes closed, he pressed his palms hard on his temples, as if to preserve something inside as much as possible. With a sigh, he exited the door of the guesthouse and hurried to the harbor, for the small vessel ready to set sail.

I suppose I can be happy if, after they find out who I am, to make even to the gates of the citadel. he snickered.I wonder if the catacombs of the citadels are as foul as I was told, as I may be very well spending a lifetime there.

He was returning home.

Tossed by the waves of a less-friendly sea, the merchant ship was slowly making its way towards South. The shores of Italy were now well behind, and only the troubled length of the sea, spread far as the eye could see, filled the look the sailors. Leaned against the breastwork of the forecastle, the passenger was murmuring to himself words, which must have seem meaningless to the bowman sitting next to him and watching ahead, if he could heard them. But the wind was bringing only indistinct murmured sounds to his ears, and the man clicked his tongue in displease - the passenger was no fun to be with, keeping to himself at all times and definitely didn't worth taking the morning watch in his presence. If asked, little could he have said about his passenger, and his poor gray cloak he also used as blanket during the chill nights, and the small pack he was carrying witnessed of no big value, or worth. If it not was for the grip of the short sword poorly concealed by the cloak, the traveler must have been a run-down merchant in seeking new opportunities, or a pilgrim of some sort. But the strange accent of his speech, and the harsh voice he used to communicate his few intentions, told about something else, of which the bowman decided not to investigate further, with a suzerain shrug.

For in fact, only to the waves and the sky, the man recited. In slow voice and filled with emotion as it seemed, the man kept repeating the same words, over and over again, keeping them alive to his memory, as if he was to pass them further: 'John, priest by the almighty power of God and the might of our Lord Jesus Christ, King of Kings and Lord of Lords, to his friend ...'

A whistle from the top of the mast, followed by a loud voice carried the news to the decks: Nave ahead! Nave ahead! Coming this way! As the sailors flustered all around, lifting the second lateen sail, the captain hastened at the helm. As the nave approached fast against the wind, carried forth by vigorous arms, the watchman cried again: A dromon, capt! Under Templar flag! Coming port side fast. The captain took a short sigh in relief, and left the helm: The Templar patrol, they pass these waters every two days. Nothing to worry. Come on, lads, hide those two small barrels behind the salt bags in the caboose. They won't notice them.

The traveler kept his breath when the dromon, with a last thrust of its two rows of rowers, sailed close to the vessel, and a strong voice filled the air between the two ships: Ahoy, Italian vessel. Prepare to be boarded. Cargo inspection! He wrapped his cloak tightly, and drew the hood. Snuggling on a pack of rope, as if asleep, he grumbled. This was not the best meeting with the brothers he has hoped for.

Hyrkan would not usually be bothered with the patrols of the order's dromons in templar waters. But tired of just sitting idly, waiting for the moment they would reach their destination shore, he volunteered to lead the dromon on this day's patrol route. A few hours after the break of dawn, the dromon encountered a merchant vessel. "At last, something to do other than watch the seagulls" he thought to himself. "And an italian one too, i would bet my head that they are smuggling goods into Asia Minor" then shouted:
Ahoy, Italian vessel. Prepare to be boarded. Cargo inspection!
Followed by Scipion and Antares, he went down to the vessel's deck
Antares, search the lower deck and the caboose, Scipion get to the cargo hold and see what our italian friends have in cargo.
Aye sir!
Now captain, would you so kind to take me to your quarters, i'd like to overview your charter.
Right this way sir. said the captain, pointing to the far end of the deck
Where did you say you set sail from? Hyrkan said, discreetly inspecting the deck
Passing by the deck to the captain's quarters, chatting with the captain, Hyrkan noticed a suspiciously immobile individual. Wrapped up in his cloak, pretending to be asleep and clearly holding onto something."Gotcha.."
Well then dear traveller, do you have something there that shouldn't be seen by a Templar patrol?
then drawing the mysterious man's hood back, he reached for the package. As the hood was falling back, Hyrkan almost fell down, astonished.
Con-... no this couldn't be, Conrad?!?

Conrad, exposed through such brutal manner, recognised the voice of his old brother and stood, smiling somehow uneasy:

That would be me... brother!

He adjusted his position, and held the rope of the sail firmly, to resist the movements of the ship, before continuing:

Long I have travelled, and many I have seen. And this ship was going to bring me back among the brothers I have found impossible to be parted from, too long. That is...

He stopped, both uncertain and embarrassed. His fleeing, and his sudden reappearance on a trade vessel must have been annoying beyond repair to the brothers. He leaned his head and watched inquisitively Hyrkan's face. He looked rather good, although some hardships he knew not about left recognisable marks. A strange sadness could be noticed upon his look, together with a strong determination on his stance. This man was no longer the young and merry lad, almost shy in his sensitive approach of others, but a fortified knight, both in resolve and power. His voice was harsh, and the way he rested his palm on the grip of the sword told of how easy it would have been for him to make good use of it. Conrad only could thank the powers above his brother's eyes were quicker than the hand.

Conrad reluctantly extended a hand towards the Templar: The Lord has been merciful, to see you in good health. Be blessed!, anxious to see how his gesture will be received.

Hyrkan could still not believe his eyes. Still, the figure before him could not be mistaken for anyone else but his former grandmaster and mentor. He tended his hand towards Conrad's extended hand, then thinking loudly "No, this is not right" then rushing forward, almost with tearful eyes, he grasped for his brother. This would not be the right way to greet a lost brother now, would it? Hyrkan said, unable to hide the strong emotions, he so well learned to hide the past years. My heart is full of questions brother, i hope you could answer them, if you will to sail among your brothers. Then, shouted at his lieutenants: Scipion, Antares, we are leaving! turning again to Conrad, he stood awaiting eagerly, of his former Grandmaster's decision.

The excitement and joy of his brother was so genuine and reconforting, Conrad felt it pouring under his skin warmth and affection. He vigorously clapped the mail-clad shoulders of the Commander, while a smile lit all his face. It is always good not to be forgotten or chastised for your failures, it is always a mercy to have where to return to.

Conrad produced few silver coins and placed them to the hand of the Italian captain, with a smile and a muttered 'Gratie, signore', before easily passing on to the Templar ship, followed closely by the Commander and his two lieutenants. He took a long look over the deck, smiling. New faces, young faces, unfamiliar faces were staring in amazement at a man poorly clothed coming aboard. They were young sailors handling the rows and the sails, and the Templar troops, not more than fifty steady men at this type of vessel, looked rather young. Definitely the flower of the Europe's nobility was still choosing the Templars for their best training and life to be found for their offspring. And this was an encouraging look-out.

***

The sun set slowly behind them, throwing red and orange and yellow trails over the sea, and seagulls soon reappeared circling above, when the ship made its final stage of her voyage. Far ahead, a glimpse of white shores told of men about the comforts of land, and the wind slowed but to a mere breeze. Rows were tardily disturbing the waters, as the rowers were singing a sailor's song in low voice, when Conrad, sitting at the quarterdeck accompanied by the Commander and his lieutenants, began his story, slowly sipping his drink:

'I'm not going to tell you about my leave, or the reasons I have done things this way. It was not easy for you, as sure, nor for me. And little can be said now to ease whatever may be in the hearts and minds of the brothers 'bout that. Or of the people attending that last Conclave.' Conrad took his time, chewing his lips in remorse, drawn to his thoughts. 'But I'm gonna tell you where I was, to the extent I can, and for what.' he emptied his rummer and asked for more.

'There has been too long since word came about the fate of my brother, and Emperor, Julian. Few knew the way he left his throne and people with little reasons and his doings were unknown. Was he alive, or has his mortal body suffered a Christian burial if death has taken him, none knew. And myself was too long caught in the turmoils you, brother, do probably remember, to take a proper grasp of things.

So, pretty soon I found myself in the glorious city of Jerusalem, where apparently Julian was last spotted. After praying at the Holy Sepulcher, as every Christian should, I met His Beatitude the Patriarch himself and asked about. Indeed, a long time ago he has been received the former Emperor, but nothing conclusive for my search was to be found. His Beatitude could not speak of his intentions, or prospects, nor he was inquisitive about. And there he left me in a middle of doubt and disorientation. And long I wandered in the city and visited every inn and garrison quarters before I finally have caught a trail. It seems that Julian had travelled South, to a not known destination.' Conrad took a deep breath

'And there I was, finally, joining a caravan traveling to Mekka, hoping for a next hint to my journey. I left the Conrad name, and the Templar charge behind, and kept the Christian thoughts to myself. Skills of fighting have proven handy in the far East, with the desert raiders constantly threatening our very beings. But I also discovered the genuine kindness of the people living those lands. Indeed, the hardships of one's life teaches about mercy, and kindness, and fate. Brothers, so little I've met people from the same faith as ours so eager to lend a hand to strangers, when in need. And their customs, so different from ours, seeming barbaric to some of us, still show humanity, under duress. If one lives the life they do, and need presses on, little room remains for false care or fancy words of comfort. Do not think short of those people, trust me... Conrad smiled, in remembrance of some events or doings, and continued:

'I will not tell more now of what I've seen, and people I have met in the lands of the Alla' worshipers. I will only say I passed, after many days and adventures, the lands under the Seljouks and entered into the regions of the Abbasides. Their country is spread far off, and my eyes welcomed the change of the landscape. The tranquil dunes were replaced with green lands and the slow slopes of hills, generously crossed by big rivers, whose waters run smoothly to untold places. From inn to inn, and from simple peasants to guard soldiers, as my ear slowly started to depict their spoken words, path has taken me to the old Babylon itself. Or at least that's how the Ancients use to call it. No, wait! Conrad smiled and raised his hand to the two young frightened lieutenants, signing themselves with the sign of the cross and shuddering, like hearing the name gave them chills. Too little has been left there from the pagan days, young brothers, and the shine of their former glory has passed. Alla' believers rule those lands, until, with God's promise sounds, Christians will roam freely all over the Earth. But the magnificent things they have built over ages still stand and much could be told of those. The glory of old remained in the land, even after the false gods perished into oblivion.'

'There I have spent a long while, the caliph taking me to serve as guard and man of confidence, out of amusement maybe, rather because might or skill. It must have been of great amazement and respect for his subjects to see at their landlord's right a stranger, from far West, dumb to their knowledge and language. But I tried to serve him well, while trying to find out as much as I could for the fate of the brother I have been looking for. For it seems he lived in that city for a while, seeking knowledge about old religions and whereabouts of a beautiful land, far ahead, where is told of a Mighty Christian Prince rules, of magnificent power, and shining wisdom. Prester John, his name was, and my inquiries soon began to annoy the people who only believed the ultimate knowledge is about the Prophet. All but the poets.'

Conrad stopped and smiled, and finished his drink once more. He noticed the shores drawing nearer, under the dark cloth of the sky. Glittering stars spread above them heads, and Conrad, as to himself, started to speak:

I saw my Lord with the Eye of my heart,
And I said: Truly there is no doubt that it is You.
It is You that I see in everything;
And I do not see You through anything (but You).
You are the One Who owns all places.
And yet no place is You.

'They killed him, you know?!' he suddenly spoke again, as if recovering from day dreaming. 'Those cursed by God bastards killed the one who once said these magnificent words. Al-Hallaj, that was his name'he ended thoughtfully, in whisper

'But, here, shore comes swiftly to greet us, and the night grows darker. Enough for tonight, for world does not stand still on our accounts, brethren.' Conrad stood and smiled.

Hyrkan could not sleep tonight. The tales he heard just a few hours ago kept him awake... Sitting on the bow mast, he was watching the waves gently engulfing the dromon in a silk belt. The sun would rise soon. Almost every soul on board had departed for the land of dreams, with Orpheus guiding it. "Conrad would almost certainly make it for Constantinople hadn't we identically stumbled upon him the Emperor needs to know of what became of Julian. He has the right to know. And i cannot let Conrad find him by himself, he wouldn't ever be able to reach him through merchant vessels, for Smelgar was not in Constantinople." He himself had spotted the imperial trireme sailing the aegean waters just a week ago, guarded by the Byzantine navy's elite. Hyrkan knew he had to do this, for Conrad, and for the Byzantines. He walked across the deck, not bothering to be discreet, it was almost morning anyway, and called to the helmsman:

Helmsman, rudder hard to starboard, come to course 180!
Rudder hard to starboard, coming to course 180, aye, sir! and after a few moments Sir, steady on course 180, checking course 184, sir!
Very well! Morning sentry, keep an eye out for Byzantine flags, and pass the order onto the next guard. We should be nearing the Byzantine fleet by nightfall.

After putting everything in motion, he returned to his seat at the bow mast, waiting for his brother to wake up.

Accompanied by the ships of the Strategoi SirHiumpalot, Megakiller and Seraphinos Paiologos, the Imperial Trireme bearing Protosebastos Smelgar and Seíghin Cumhaill made its way off the coast of Crete.

A Templar ship appeared on the horizon. Standing on the poop deck together with his Merarches Kutuzov, Smelgar spotted the White sail with a Red Cross.



"Let us see what our Brothers the Templars have been up to, shall we" said Smelgar. "Bring her about, ship's Master, if you please."

The two ships came close together, side by side, the remainder of the Roman fleet remaining at a distance. "Well, well, well", thought Smelgar, espying those abroad, "It's the ship of Hyrkan the Macedonian, unless I'm very much mistaken, but who is that rough and swarthy fellow? he looks somehow familiar, but I can't quite place a name to the face..."

Grapnels were thrown from both sides, tied off, and a rope bridge erected, enabling easy transit between the ships. Smelgar crossed to the Templar ship.

It was before dusk that they encountered the Roman fleet. Hyrkan wouldn't expect to see the before the sun would set. "The faster the better" he thought to himself. He never was widely known for his patience. Conrad! Get ready for more storytelling!

The grapples were hooked, and a bridge was brought on. A byzantine bodyguard announced: His imperial majesty, Protosebastos Smelgar!

Hyrkan bowed before the emperor, then spoke: I hope your highness, and your majesty's queen is in good health Protosebaste. Hyrkan grasped through a rapid blink a questioning look on Smelgar's face. The reason my dromon has broke off formation to find you is that I bring to you somebody of whose presence we were abandoned years ago. Someone i know very close to you, that will shed light on facts yet in the dark. And he pointed his finger towards the mysterious figure.

The splendor of the Imperial fleet, splitting the waters at full speed, into the plunging sun, was indeed a sight fro the eye. When the flagship broke off and came to port, the adornments to the board side shone like veiled in gold, making the men aboard blink often. The whole of the Roman Empire in their plain sight, and the might of the great heritage it was holding. For the grandeur of old has kept passing from one generation to another, since today

Even asleep, during the morning watch, Conrad had noticed the sudden change of course and understood from the few words from his brother the reason for it and the new heading. He waited for the whole day in a corner of the quarterdeck, muttering the same strange words to himself, and only speaking when he was asked. And now, when the impressive elite guard came on board, making room for the Emperor himself, Conrad gathered himself and moved forward. At the call of his brother, he took a step forward and faced the person looking pry at him.

Time has indeed left its mark over the face of the Emperor. Conrad hadn't met him but once or twice, at the times were he was only a chancellor, but they exchanged many letters and ad. Of odd origin he was in the eyes of the so-called heirs of the Roman Empire, and his family as well. From the North Conrad was told they came, long time ago, and they made their way up to the imperial hierarchy rather through hard work and loyalty, than birth rights. And his appearance would tell all - with his dark blue eyes and the pale skin of the face - of his peculiar origins, for this part of the world at least. Was he one of the Varangians who moved in the Empire long time ago, or an unknown new family, few could have told. And, for years now, he was leading the destinies of many, and he was the worthy follower of the great Constantine. And this burden could now be seen of the deep lines around his mouth, and the wrinkles of his forehead. That man was no youth in the man's eyes, but only in the vigor of his arms and the easiness with which he passed over the rope bridge.

With slow moves, Conrad placed his hand over his chest and bowed his head:

God be with you at all times, Your Majesty! Many tellings the world is filled with, about the great deeds of the heir of Constantine, and the fame of the Romans has traveled beyond the rim of the known world. We have met some time ago, in the fine capital of the Empire, but dust has covered these memories. With God's grace and the thrive of the Templars, from far away, I bring word to you from a most powerful and wise leader of this world, and news about a long lost brother to us, the Emperor Julian.