The night air was chilly as the small group of hooded figures made their way along a muddy path and up into the torch-lit cave entrance while the silver light from a full moon shone down upon them. Not a word was spoken as they negotiated the uneven stone surface in single file before moving ever deeper into the gloomy tunnel beyond. The only light came from small metal oil lamps that hung from the rocky ceiling, which all tinkled in the light breeze attempting to snuff out their blue flames.
The pathway itself was no more than twenty metres in length but, the further in the figures penetrated, the thicker the air became and sniffling sounds echoed off the stone walls as they approached a dim glow of light at the passageway’s end before stepping into the considerable void beyond.
The cavern was oblong in shape with curved corners at both ends, and a smooth stone surface due to water erosion over the decades, with a ceiling over fifteen metres high. It proved more than capacious enough to house these latest arrivals now joining the small gathering already inside.
Marco Lombardi pulled back his black flannel hood and took a seat at the long rectangular dining table running almost the entire length of the cavern, before immediately taking a sip from the shiny metal goblet already placed in front of him. The sweet, velvety tasting honey-mead slipped down his throat with ease and then, with a shaky hand, he placed the goblet back on the table.
‘Cold or just nervous?’ Michael Donitz asked with a machiavellian smile as he sat down next to him on the bench.
‘Please. It’s chilly tonight,’ Marco protested but swiftly withdrew his unsteady hand and placed it on his lap and out of sight.’
Donitz only nodded, and took a sip of his own drink as Lombardi gazed down the table at the other men present and was met with smiles from some, while others continued talking amongst themselves. Everyone looked so relaxed that it imbued Lombardi with a sense of calm, but that quickly evaporated as a scraping sound began to echo through the cavern.
The oil lamps suspended from the ceiling began to flicker as a strong draught swept along the table and suddenly, at its far end something began to emerge from the rock floor, eliciting an eerie hush from all those present. Slowly the silhouette of a robed and hooded figure rose upwards until finally a form six foot tall stood before them.
They rapidly got to their feet in unison even as the figure stretched out its arms with its palms raised to the ceiling.
‘Welcome, my sons.’
The voice was male and extremely low and it seemed, impossibly, to come from all directions at once. As those present remained silent, the robed figure took his place at the head of the table, where he slammed a gloved hand down onto its surface three times in succession. On the third stroke they all dutifully sat down, still none of them saying a word.
Only then did he speak. ‘Thank you for meeting me here at such short notice. Your patience is, as always, appreciated.’ It was said with courtesy but in an almost playful tone. ‘You will be glad to hear that we are progressing nicely, and exactly as I foretold.’
His audience remained silent and heads began to bow in grateful acknowledgment – but then they abruptly froze as the hooded individual raised a finger straight in the air.
‘But! There is something I need to address first, something unsettling.’ The last word was spoken with a hiss and all the attendees glanced back and forth at one another uneasily. ‘Our way of life – who we are, our very essence – is grounded on the very earth and rock of this reality. It is a reality we have sought to change and soon we will achieve just that.’ The hooded speaker slowly pushed his chair back and stood up. ‘But our strength and sense of purpose is only as strong as the bonds that link us, because without that, our foundation, our rock, begins to crack and crumble.’
The heads were all now nodding again as he began to slowly move down the left side of the dining table and behind the seated attendees, sliding his hand across each of their backs in turn. ‘And in one of you I sense doubts regarding the path we have chosen to follow.’
Marco Lombardi began looking exceedingly uncomfortable and he shifted in his seat as Donitz glanced at him with a devious smile.
‘But redemption is always possible for anyone as long as he recognises his own shortcomings, and in doing so may be retrieved from the depths of despair and returned to the fold by means of my loving embrace.’
The hooded figure came to a halt behind Lombardi and rested both gloved hands on the man’s shoulders, which were now visibly trembling. ‘Marco, is it true?’
Lombardi turned his head and stared up into the black depths of the hood. Then, with a tear in his eye, he offered a slow nod. ‘It is true that doubts have entered my mind, Father, but I still remain loyal and therefore true to you and our cause.’
The hooded one said nothing and instead he moved back towards his own chair and raised his hand outwards. ‘Your rebirth awaits,’ he finally declared.
Donitz instantly grabbed Lombardi and pulled him to his feet, then dragged the quivering fellow towards one end of the dining table, as the hooded man sat back down and clicked his fingers.
Behind him a section of the cavern wall slid aside, revealing an adjoining room which was empty except for a plain, red stone sarcophagus with two horns sticking out from the top end, resting flat on four wooden plinths. On either side of the bulky casket stood a robed guard. They both had shaven heads and waited with wicker baskets at their feet.
By this point Lombardi was nothing more than a sobbing wreck as Donitz dragged him right up close, still smiling excitedly and the two robed men slid the heavy sarcophagus lid to one side.
‘Please, Father, I have sinned but forgive me. I have always remained true to you and will ever do so.’
Donitz now appeared even more thrilled with his role as he began to shove Lombardi down inside the casket. But then he paused as the hooded one began to speak again, his back still facing them.
‘Doubt is a shameful failing my son, and forgiveness will set you free. But lying can never be tolerated.’
Lombardi’s tears began dry up and he now resisted Donitz, who continued to hold him firmly. ‘But I have never lied to you, Father.’
The hooded man calmly swivelled round in his chair and began to stare in their direction. ‘No, you haven’t… but you have, Michael.’
One of the robed guards suddenly grabbed Donitz tightly around the neck from behind and slipped a cloth gag around his mouth while the other one pulled their new prisoner’s hands behind him and slapped on a pair of handcuffs. Meanwhile Lombardi was released and he dropped to the floor.
Donitz now looked terrified and, although unable to speak due to the tight gag, he began to shake his head in frantic denial of the accusation.
‘When you first had suspicions of Marco’s doubt you never told me, did you?’ The hooded one growled as the two guards restraining Donitz picked him up and thrust him into the sarcophagus, feet first. ‘Instead you kept it to yourself – until I found out through other means, and that, my son, can never be forgiven.’
The two robed guards now pushed the sarcophagus lid back into place so that Donitz’s muffled screams became only just audible. Then they picked up the wicker baskets and awaited their next instruction.
‘Come to me, my son,’ the hooded one ordered, standing up.
Lombardi rushed over and clasped both arms firmly around him. ‘Thank you, Father, for your infinitely wise judgment,’ Lombardi sobbed as fresh tears welled.
He gently pushed Lombardi away and placed both hands on his shoulders. ‘Such flattery is most unbecoming to you, Marco.’ He then clicked his fingers and one of the robed guards reached over and slid back a metal cover so that Donitz’s face became visible. They then raised one of the baskets and directed it towards the narrow opening.
From the gloom inside the basket something small stirred, followed by another and then another until reaching its edge, something poked into the light. Something which caused the imprisoned Donitz to scream in terror.
The pincers of the shiny black emperor scorpion clicked together just before it dropped into the sarcophagus and onto Michael Donitz’s face. There it immediately administered a sting to his left cheek, causing him to convulse in pain within his small prison. Another scorpion now appeared at the basket’s rim but, before it could leap down, both the robed guards tipped their wicker containers forward, simultaneously shedding dozens of these small stinging beasts right on top of the man’s face.
With the screaming getting louder and more frenzied, the slot on the sarcophagus cover was slid shut so his yells of agony and fear became muffled.
The man addressed as ‘Father’ now turned his attention back to Lombardi, wiping away his tears with a gloved hand. ‘Now re-join the others, but know this: your doubts must be addressed. You need no rebirth, but instead a show of faith must be given.’
Lombardi stole a glance at the sarcophagus, which was now rocking back and forth in desperation and he shuddered. ‘I will prove my faith, Father. I now make you that promise.’
‘Good.’ Father gestured Lombardi back to his seat. To his left, another small portion of the cave wall slid away, and a man in a black suit emerged, holding a silver platter with a glazed suckling pig resting on top. ‘Now let us eat, my sons, and discuss our plans further.’