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Chapter 28
The coffin was lowered into the vault which sat under the small chapel. Alex watched as Gabriel, dressed in his black priest's cassock, sprinkled holy water from the aspergillum onto the coffin as it descended, saying, "Benedicat tibi Dominus et custodiat te! Illuminet Dominus faciemsuam super te et misereatur tui! Convertat Dominus vultum suum ad te et det tibi pacem!" He repeated the blessing in English. "May the Lord bless you and keep you. May the Lord make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you. May the Lord turn his countenance to you and grant you peace." The door to the vault was shut and, with it, the life of a young man. May Phinneas rest in peace.
He and Gabriel would come tomorrow and put the coffin into a stone crypt beside the three others that sat keeping respite in the burial space. Four men under his care, now gone. The thought was sobering. He and his men, along with the two women under The Watch's protection, started the silent recession back to the Great Hall in the Tower house. He stayed toward the back, bringing up the rear with Gabriel. A light rain started to fall, the gray clouds low in the sky, paying homage to the somberness of the day.
"You shouldn't make me do this," Gabriel whispered under his breath.
"You're a priest. It was a funeral," Alex said.
"Ex-priest," Gabriel reminded him. "He deserved a proper burial conducted by a real priest."
Alex put his hand on the angel's shoulder, holding him back. "We've had this discussion before. Once a priest, always a priest. I won't accept the renouncing of your vows or your self-pity."
"Self-pity? You know better than anyone why I gave up the priesthood," Gabriel said through his teeth. His blue eyes flashed with anger. He removed Alex's hand. "I'll pretend you never said that to me."
"You're being a martyr." Alex continued to walk next to him.
"Fucking martyr," he swore. "I'll add that to the list along with murderer."
"Regardless, Gabriel, I need you for the remainder of the ceremony." Neither of them spoke for the rest of the way, their silence only deepening the divide between them.
The Great Hall was adorned with hundreds of candles, the flickering lights calling up the original companies of the past and the men who served under them. This was a hallowed space, united by kinship and descent perceived through a code of conduct and organized around personal ethos, they called themselves brothers. He gathered the men to the center of the room. A circle of blue and green tartan kilts, elite in their purpose and duty, they each took a knee. Eight men bound by their honor. There should be twelve, counting himself and Gabriel. Dougal was given a pass considering his circumstance, though he was here in spirit, and as integral as the rest. One was now missing, leaving them with eleven. Gabriel stood at the back with Charlotte and Primrose. They were now as much a part of this as anyone else. Dressed in black gowns, they both wore the Black Watch tartan sash over their right shoulders, symbolizing their loyalty. In the end, they were all his responsibility, as chief. His authority alone would guide them through this tumultuous time.
"Brothers. We come together tonight to pay respect to our brother, Phinneas Maxum Elliot." He felt the tension in the room, bristling below the surface. "Some of you think him a traitor, but in the end, he was our brother. He took the same vow as all of us and we will respect his oath." He circled the room as he spoke, his voice resonating off the stone walls. "Where there is death, we will find life."
"Where there is death, we will find life," the men repeated.
"In signifying the death of self," Alex said, "we find ourselves united in brotherhood."
"In signifying the death of self, we find ourselves united in brotherhood."
"Let us remember our own oaths as we repeat the vows we promised," he said.
The men pulled their dirks from their kilt belts, holding the knife in front of them by the blade, heads lowered. "We swear by Almighty God, that we will be faithful and bear true allegiance to The Watch, offering our obedience and loyalty. We have left the men we were behind, through absolution and redemption, and become the men we are today. We are bound by duty to defend and serve the truth honestly and faithfully. United in brotherhood. The Watchers, Royal Black."
He circled the room, touching each one of them on the head, pausing at the back when he got to Gabriel, where he kissed him on the forehead, along with Charlotte and Primrose. "The Watchers, Royal Black," he repeated.
"Stand and greet each other as brothers once again." He stood away from the crowd with Gabriel as the women joined the men, shaking hands and embracing one another.
"I don't want to fight. We have too much at stake here." He looked over at his trusted friend. "I owe you my life."
"You owe me nothing; you are my chief," Gabriel said gently. "I just don't like playing the priest."
"You are a priest."
"A damned one who is going to Hell," the angel said. "This is about Sokolov."
"Aye, he's reached out." He handed Gabriel the black envelope.
Gabriel opened it and read it. It was another verse from the poem, Scots Wha Hae, written by Robert Burns, in the form of a speech given by Robert the Bruce before the battle of Bannockburn. 'Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha will fill a coward's grave? Wha sae base as be a slave? Let him turn and flee. -V.S.'
"This is personal," Gabriel said. "How would he know this information?"
"Aye. You saw the crest on Charlotte's stomach." He had lied to her the morning they had breakfast. There were other messages hidden in the seal. Private ones. The time on the hands of the saltire, ten-forty, being one of them. It was the exact time of the crash.
The smell of jet-fuel filled Alex's nose, sharp and oily, the sound of bullets hitting the twisted metal of the downed helicopter as the memory of being constrained and helpless resurfaced. He was stuck under one of the seats, his right arm and leg pinned down. He fought to free himself to no avail. The bullets were getting closer. The chaplain assigned to their regiment was checking to see if anyone else was alive, praying over the bodies. He found Thomas Chelton, a lieutenant from Perth and began to administer last rites. "I'm here, Thomas, you're not alone, lad," the priest said. "In the moment of sorrow, the Lord is in our midst and comforts us with his word. Blessed are the sorrowful; they shall be consoled. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen. I commend you, my dear brother, to Almighty God." He made the sign of the cross over the man, closing his eyelids with his palm.
A woman was approaching the wreckage dressed in a long, flowing burka. Alex could see a detonator in her hand.