Aleppo, 1204
“It is here?” Henry asked, trembling.
Horst Mueller, the young Teuton nodded sombrely as he opened the door to the catacombs under Aleppo.
Henry stepped cautiously into the dark and dusty vault. By the light of the torches on the walls, he could make out a large chalice on the central table. In the shadows, he could see the tall dark figure of Dusan Kolar.
“I told you it was here.” Dusan purred. “That is why it had to be you that came, not Otto or Ulrich. This prize is for you alone.”
Horst closed the large door behind them.
“Who else knows about this?” Henry asked.
“Just the three of us.” murmured Dusan. “Let us keep it that way. The chalice can only be found by true bastions of chivalry.”
“Are you sure it is genuine?” Henry asked quietly.
“One only has to touch it to know. It has special divine powers. They say it can bring back the dead.”
“And these powers, you know them to work?”
“Horst, leave us now.” said Dusan authoritatively. The Teuton looked at Henry for confirmation. Henry nodded.
Once the young knight had left, Dusan continued: “Oh yes, the powers work. Let me provide you with a demonstration.”
*****
Henry sat on the other side of the round table, facing Dusan Kolar. The chalice was between them.
“The chalice can bring back the dead, but only their souls.” said Dusan. “Their bodies are long decayed and gone. The chalice forms a holy passage between this world and the next. The deceased may return, but they should not stay. They have found their final resting place, for better or for worse, and are best left there. To trap one of the saved on this earth would be sacrilegious. For the fallen, well - there are enough of such men on earth already, we do not need to add to their number.”
“Who will you bring back?” asked Henry, his voice dry and breathless. His mind was spinning. Maximillan, who had just departed? Dietrich, his old war horse? Henry hoped it would be Sigismund - his brother and adopted son, who had been dragged from this world by French devilry.
Dusan shrugged: “Do you think I can command the heavens?”
Gingerly, Dusan wrapped his fingers around the cup. Henry gasped as Dusan’s body seemed to shake violently on contact with the golden chalice. Dusan’s head flicked back violently, and fell down with a lifeless shudder. Slowly, silently, Dusan lifted his head up - opening his eyelids to reveal white, pupil-less balls. Henry shuddered.
Dusan then opened his mouth to speak, but the voice was not his own. Henry gasped. This was not the voice he had expected, not the voice he had hoped for. As a matter of fact, it was a voice that Henry believed himself rid of, one that he had never wanted to hear again.
It was the voice of his deceased father, Heinrich.
"Ahh, Prinz Henry, we meet again." The voice, while sounding fairly like Heinrich's, had taken on a slight ethereal, echoing quality. However, there was no mistaking the tone. Not even Kolar dared call Henry anything but Kaiser.
Henry stammered: “Who? … What trickery is this?” Kolar was motionless and unresponsive, his blind eyes staring forward at Henry. Henry continued: “Damn it, I don’t know who you are pretending to be but there is no Prinz Henry here. I am your Kaiser and you will address me as such!”
"Are you really, Henry? Do you deem yourself worthy of the title of Kaiser? It is something to be earned, boy, not inherited. So far, the only notable thing you have done in your entire career is beat those Egyptians at Antioch. Commendable, but not nearly enough to redeem yourself for all those years of nothingness, for all those years of not seizing opportunity."
Henry sat back, as if slapped in the face, and struggled to think of any thing to rebut the terrible accusing voice. “I, err, I have reformed the Reich. As Prinz, I devised our current system of Household Armies; as Kaiser, I drafted a constitution for Outremer, as Kaiser I have modernised our forces…”
A bitter laugh cut him off. The laugh emanating from Kolar was shrill and unnatural, but most definitely Heinrichian. "Really? HAH! If that is so then why do continue to take counsel from this man that I speak to you through? Do you just miss someone pointing out your many flaws? Why is it that there is always great conflict in yourself? Why is it that you always shy away from the greatest of glories and responsibilities? Why do you think that *I* was chosen to speak to you and not someone you wished for, such as Sigismund, Dietrich, or Mandorf? You still have extra baggage to carry, my son, and you are most definitely not free of anything or anyone."
Kolar's eyes now appeared to start flickering, as if the apparition was wearing off. However, the voice of Heinrich took no notice, and continued to speak.
"As much as you wish that this wasn't true, you're not so different from me. The only time that either of us were Chancellor was when we exercised our rights as Kaiser. Both of us have (or had) obstacles in their path to greatness. Unfortunately for you, your obstacles are internal, and those are the more difficult to overcome.
"However, the path is now set for you to become the greatest leader of people since Caesar Augustus himself. Jerusalem is no longer Papal; the Pope is overseeing all of Christianity from a boat. As Kaiser and Chancellor, there is nothing to stop you from retaking the city and claiming it is your own. The edicts on the Crusade have all expired. You have a lapdog in Prinz Ulrich; he will do anything you ask. Take Jerusalem for yourself. Take Outremer and make it your own personal land. The people who would cry out in the Diet are now few. Mandorf and Dietrich have now joined me. Salier is in Rome and cannot possibly hold up against your influence. No one can."
“Duke Otto governs Acre, he commands the wealthiest House in the Reich…”
"Von Kassel? HAH! Von Kassel is weak. At heart, all he desires is acceptance and friendship with those in power. If you assert yourself, he will follow you like he never followed me."
By now Kolar's pupils were flickering on and off. Heinrich finally seemed to realize that his time was growing short.
"Take Jerusalem, my son. Keep Jerusalem. To hell with the Pope. He is in your pocket already. Once you have Outremer, you will have a free land to exercise absolute power over. No outside influence from the Pope; he cares not for how many Muslims you kill. Use that power. Expand. You will have Rome and the Holy Land under your direct control with the Pope little more than a figurehead. And then, my son, you will finally fulfil your destiny. You will become Henry V, Master of all Christianity."
Henry looked appalled as Heinrich’s laugh echoed around the room. Kolar’s pupils came down and the man collapsed onto the roundtable.
*****
Henry kicked back his own chair and raced round to grab Dusan. He lifted the dark figure back and shook him violently.
“You bastard!” he screamed. “You said I would be free of him! You said this was my time! But you’ve brought him back! Back to govern me!”
Dusan’s eyes were closed and his body was inert. Henry held Dusan for a moment, then calmed and gently put him back in his seat. Take back Jerusalem? And keep it for the Reich? The Diet would hang him. But he was Chancellor and this was his hour. He knew what must be done. He marched out of the crypt, past Horst.
“Guard the chalice with your life.” Henry hissed at the young Rhinelander. The knight nodded meekly.
Henry continued on until he found an apprehensive Kurt Altman, walking with the Kaiser's bear-like bodyguard Dirk Freihafen.
“Thank God, your Majesty. I feared for you.” said Kurt with relief: “I heard you went down to the crypt with that… man, Kolar.”
Henry smiled at his veteran warrior, then the expression on his faced hardened. “Jerusalem has fallen. Leave the infantry here - we make haste for Acre via the sea.”
Kurt looked stunned. Abandon the army that had triumphed at Antioch?
“But Kaiser, Duke Otto is tasked with defending Acre and protecting Jerusalem, surely he…”
“This is something I must attend to personally.” Henry said, “It is my destiny.”
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