Denver Cereal Denver Cereal

Chapter Six Hundred-twelve: The making of a Grand Master (part five)


(part five)

“Papa?” Nelson whispered to the man standing to the side.

The man’s stern face broke into a broad smile.

“Non,” the man said with a grin. Continuing in ancient Frank, the language of the Templars, the young man said, “I am your grandfather’s great grandfather.”

He put his hand on his chest and instantly withered to a skeleton. He removed his hand and returned to this young age.

“I am also Peddra, my son,” the man said.

“Ancient Frank for Pierre,” Nelson said. “My father’s name is Pierre.”

“He carries my name, my son,” Peddra said. “I am the Weapons Master to the Grand Master.”

Peddra nodded to the sword in his hands.

“This is only an illusion,” Peddra said. “I believe that you have the Grand Master’s sword, son.”

Nelson took out the sword.

“My son, the Grand Master,” Peddra said, his voice filled with pride.

“My mother gave her life for me, grandfather,” Nelson said.

“Why do you think that you are here?” Peddra asked with a nod. “Her sacrifice and love for you are the power that make all things possible.”

Nelson gave a slight nod. He gestured to the man kneeling at the altar.

“Jacques de Molay,” Peddra said. “We have been waiting for you for a long, long time.”

“For me, grandfather?” Neson said. “Why?”

The man at the altar turned to look at Nelson. As Nelson watched, the man’s visage shifted from some kind of marble statue to a living man. The man started to get up, but groaned.

Nelson instinctively went to the elderly man’s side to help the man to standing. The man sneered at Nelson and shook him off. As soon as he was standing on his own, the elderly man weaved until finally finding his balance.

“Jacques de Molay,” the man said. He looked Nelson up and down. “So you are the male heir of Bernard of Clairvaux.”

Nelson blinked. Jacques de Molay was speaking ancient Frank with a thick accent that Nelson couldn’t place.

Nelson realized that the man expected a reply.

“N…” He caught himself in time. “Guy Semaines, sir.”

“Your relative?” Jacques de Molay.

“As prophesized,” Peddra said, with a nod.

“Yes,” Jacques de Molay said. He looked Nelson over. “You are bigger than I would have expected. Softer. Stronger.”

“You are smaller than I expected, older,” Nelson said evenly.

Jacques de Molay laughed, and Peddra smiled.

“Why am I here?” Nelson asked.

“You are questing for the hoard?” Jacques de Molay asked.

“I am looking for an object that will save my father’s life,” Nelson said.

“In the treasury?” Jacques de Molay asked.

“Yes, sir,” Nelson said.

“What have you found so far?” Jacques de Molay asked.

Nelson took the jar filled with dirt from Bardsey Island from the inside pocket of his tunic. He took out the chain mail shirt from his backpack.

“This is mine,” Jacques de Molay said, softly. He looked up at Nelson. “May I?”

“Of course,” Nelson said.

Jacques de Molay pulled the chainmail shirt on. He sighed. As the air expelled from his lungs, he grew younger. In a matter of moments, the last known Grand Master of the Templars became a young man.

Denver Cereal continues tomorrow…

Next: Chapter Six Hundred-twelve: The making of a Grand Master (part six)

Previous: Chapter Six Hundred-twelve: The making of a Grand Master (part four)

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