The Alexandria Link

FORTY-NINE

VIENNA

6:40 PM

THORVALDSEN DONNED THE CRIMSON VESTMENT. ALL MEMBERS were required to wear their robe during Assembly. The first session would begin at seven, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. Too much talk, usually, and little action. He’d never needed a cooperative to accomplish his goals. But he enjoyed the fellowship that came after the gatherings.

Gary was sitting in one of the upholstered chairs.

“How do I look?” he asked in a jovial tone.

“Like a king.”

The regal robes were ankle-length, made of velvet and richly embroidered in gold thread with the Order’s motto, JE L‘ AY EMPRINS. I have dared. The ensemble dated from the fifteenth century and the original Order of the Golden Fleece.

He reached for the neck chain. Solid gold with a black enameled flint forming fire steels. An ornate golden fleece hung from its center.

“This is presented to each member when inducted. Our symbol.”

“Looks expensive.”

“It is.”

“This really important to you?”

He shrugged. “It’s something I enjoy. But it’s not like a religion.”

“Dad told me you’re Jewish.”

He nodded.

“I don’t know much about Jews. Only that millions were killed in World War II. It’s not something I really understand.”

“You’re not alone. Gentiles have wrestled with our existence for centuries.”

“Why do people hate Jews?”

He’d many times pondered that question-along with the philosophers, theologians, and politicians who’d debated it for centuries. “It started for us with Abraham. Ninety-nine years old when God visited him and made a covenant, creating a Chosen People, the ones to inherit the land of Canaan. But unfortunately, that honor came with responsibility.”

He could see the boy was interested.

“Have you ever read the Bible?”

Gary shook his head.

“You should. A great book. On the one hand, God granted to the Israelites a blessing. To become the Chosen People. But it was their response to that blessing that ultimately determined their fate.”

“What happened?”

“The Old Testament says they rebelled, burned incense, credited idols for their good fortune, walked according to the dictates of their own hearts. So God scattered them among the Gentiles as punishment.”

“That why people hate them?”

He finished fastening his mantle. “Hard to say. But Jews have faced persecution ever since that time.”

“God sounds like He has a temper.”

“The God of the Old Testament is far different from the one in the New.”

“I’m not sure I like that one.”

“You’re not alone.” He paused. “Jews were the first to insist that man is responsible for his own acts. Not the gods’ fault life went bad. Your fault. And that made us different. Christians took it farther. Man brought his exile from Eden on himself, but because God loved man He redeemed us with the blood of His son. The Jewish God is angry. Justice is His aim. The Christian God is one of mercy. Huge difference.”

“God should be kind, shouldn’t He?”

He smiled, then looked around the elegant room. Time to bring things to a head. “Tell me what you think about what happened in the pavilion?”

“I’m not sure Mr. Hermann will appreciate you taking his daughter.”

“Just as your parents didn’t appreciate what happened to you. The difference is, she’s a grown woman and you’re a teenager.”

“Why is all this happening?”

“I imagine we’ll know that soon.”

The bedchamber door suddenly swung open and Alfred Hermann stormed inside. He, too, sported a regal robe with a gold medallion, his mantle adorned with a blue silk.

“You have my daughter?” Hermann said, face full of fury.

Thorvaldsen stood rigid. “I do.”

“And you obviously know this room is wired for sound.”

“That didn’t require much intelligence.”

He could see the tension building. Hermann was in uncharted territory.

“Henrik, I will not tolerate this.”

“What do you plan to do? Recall the Talons of the Eagle to deal with me?”

Hermann hesitated. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Thorvaldsen stepped close. “You crossed the line when you kidnapped this young man.” He pointed at Gary.

“Where is Margarete?”

“Safe.”

“You don’t have the stomach to hurt her.”

“I have the stomach to do whatever is needed. You should know that about me.”

Hermann’s intense gaze gripped him like a hook. He’d always thought the Austrian’s bony face more fitting for a farmer than an aristocrat. “I thought we were friends.”

“I did, too. But apparently that meant nothing when you took this young man from his mother and destroyed his father’s bookshop.”

The Assembly’s first session was about to begin, which was why he’d timed his revelation with care. Hermann, as Blue Chair, must at all times exhibit discipline and confidence. Never could he allow the members to know of his personal predicaments.

Nor could he be late.

“We must go,” Hermann finally said. “This is not over, Henrik.”

“I agree. For you, it’s only beginning.”