The Banquet
By
Arius of Caesarea
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents in this book are fictional depictions, are a product of the author’s imagination, and are used fictitiously. Many events and locations are barrowed from history to create relevance.
The Banquet by Arius of Caesarea © 2007 by Arius of Caesarea
Cover art copyright © 2007 by Arius of Caesarea
All rights reserved.
Published on the World Wide Web by Arius of Caesarea
http://www.the-banquet-by-arius-of-caesarea.com
ISBN978-1-60585-019-1
This book is for the latest two generations searching for the truth, eighty percent of which belong to no one religion. This is a fictional novel, yet before you discount any of it as false, research what you may doubt as being true. If you prove all things and hold fast to what is good as the Apostle Paul asked, you will be happy with The Banquet by Arius of Caesarea. If you just want your certainty to be right, please stop here for the sake of those who love the truth, otherwise you’ll just want this book burned along with the people who own a copy of it - like the Emperor Constantine did to the original Banquet by Arius of Caesarea and it’s owners nearly 1,700 years ago.
Table of Contents
THE BANQUET BY ARIUS OF CAESAREA
CHAPTER ONE THE MAP
CHAPTER TWO BOUNTIES OF THE VICTORS
CHAPTER THREE INCARNATE SEED
CHAPTER FOUR AS SEEN THROUGH DELUSION
CHAPTER FIVE SUN OF RIGHTEOUSNESS
THE BANQUET BY ARIUS OF CAESAREA AD 321
NO POOR AMONG THEM AD 225
AD 268 SYNOD-OF-GOD’S NATURE
FEBRUARY 27, 272 AD GOD-OF-WAR’S BIRTHDAY!
AD 301 YULETIDE MARRIAGE OF CHAOS
FEBRUARY 23, 303 AD THE ACCEPTABLE SACRIFICE
AD 311 PARTIALITY THROUGH DIVINE RIGHT
AD 313 EDICT OF TOLERATION
AD 314 COUP D'éTAT
AD 321 HIDDEN TRUTH
CHAPTER SIX PATH TO HEAVEN
CHAPTER SEVEN HADES’ PATH
CHAPTER EIGHT THE PROMISED LAND
CHAPTER NINE BAPTISM
Chapter One The Map
A portly man with graying, curly hair and piercing blue eyes watched the train approach Germany’s Wiesbaden train station. He stood on platform 13 fingering the inquisition list in his pocket. Karl Ernst remembered a couple of his friends being crammed into cattle cars with the rebel Jews just months before. He tried thinking of other things to force the memory from his mind, as he pulled his collar up on his jacket to avoid the January chill. The train stopped, facing the opposite direction the cattle cars had taken.
Karl watched as the people began coming off the train, while thinking, “Schradin always works in the shadows, like a schoolboy; he’s probably trying to catch me unaware again!”
A hand, covered in a smooth black leather glove, slapped Karl on the back. If they had both been portly like Karl, they would have looked like each other – tweed jackets with leather patches on the elbows, brown green hats, brown pants, and shiny black patent leather shoes.
Plainclothes SS guards were hiding on both sides of the train station watching through sights as the men greeted. Both men greeted each other with a handshake that had fingers interlocked on the right hands and touching on the wrists, and while holding their right hand in this way, they hugged rather close for men, so much so their knees touched as they whispered something in each other’s ear. The plainclothes SS lowered their sights as the two men stepped back and began to talk.
“I knew that you would sneak up on me like that, why do you always do that?” Karl asked in frustration.
As he stood back, Schradin looked into Karl’s face. His sideburns were large shaggy white things that reminded Schradin of puppy-dog ears; he had become so pudgy that he could barely recognize the college boy he knew when they first met.
Schradin replied, “How can anyone sneak upon one of the masters of the Sidereal Pendulum? You were the one who found, at Hitler’s command, the location of that island where Mussolini would be held prisoner, before he was moved to the island west of Naples. In fact, while Mussolini had no contact with anyone, you pinpointed the whereabouts of the most famous of Italian prisoners within the hour of his arrival on the island. Because of you, Hitler had his troops secretly waiting to free him.”
“Yes. Yes. We all know of our superpowers, you and your men, all of us students of those greedy Tibetan monks, who through some divination of their own think that Hitler is their avatar. I too know that your superpower allows you to stand bodiless in the middle of the table of Britain, Russian and American war councils; to assassinate with a thought and to read anyone’s damn mind, even if they are standing halfway around the world.”
Schradin interrupted before he could continue, “The war is over.”
As they walked to a table at an open café, Karl asked, “Tell me, do you have the new papers and passports, for our knightly ODESSA’s SS members? Please tell me that the Vatican is still helping us escape.”
“They have and are getting us citizenship papers as well as safe passage to Argentina, Brazil, and Egypt, for our members willing to leave. If we give them the original inquisition list of the revolutionary movements fighting against the government, they will comply. Also, they want to ensure that the Swiss accounts we agreed to, from the inquisitions exterminated, are signed over to the men of Hitler’s pope.”
Karl’s nervously reached into his pocket that contained a small book, with thousands of names, as he replied, “Funny how they always get a portion of the spoils, no matter who wins or loses.”
Schradin looked into Karl’s face as he pondered the war and realized that the Vatican might just take the money and run, so he asked, “I have heard that our National Archeologists have found maps that may lead to the original Christian Library and perhaps the Templar archive – is this true?”
“We have found maps, documents, bones, artifacts. I know you keep one of the artifacts in the cross you wear around your neck.”
Schradin pulled the finely polished crucifix out of his white shirt and replied. “A shard of a bone from the Apostle Peter resides within this crucifix. You have no idea what power this amulet grants me! Hitler’s Pope Pius the XII blessed this most powerful and holy crucifix for my and the empire’s purposes!”
Karl laughed and leaned back in his chair to light a Savannah stogie. “Jesus and his followers were not warriors. You know, turn the other cheek, love your enemy, pray for them, forgive them, if you live by the sword you die by the sword, they wanted no earthly things – so on and on.”
Schradin sat silently for a moment and then took off his cross. Holding it in front of him, almost like a sword, he made Karl feel a little uncomfortable, so much so he began looking around at the others eating breakfast, as Schradin preached, “My feelings as a Christian point me to my Lord and Savior as a fighter! They point me to the man once in loneliness, surrounded by a few followers, who recognized those Jews for what they were and summoned men to fight against them and who – God’s truth – was greatest not as a sufferer, but as a fighter!”
“I’m going to play a little game with you Karl.”
Karl rolled his eyes and thought, “He’ll never change. He’s still stuck playing the schoolboy.”
“I’m going to tell you a most holy society’s oath and part of the words of their master’s questions and the initiate’s answers, and you tell me what society it is. I’ll give you a hint – it is not the SS, Thule or our brothers the Skull and Bones, KKK, or Masonic societies.”
Schradin began to whisper the initiate’s oath so only the two of them could hear, “I promise and declare that I will, when opportunity presents itself, make and wage relentless war! Secretly or openly, I will wage relentless war! War against all heretics, Protestants, Jews and liberals, as I am directed so to do. To extirpate and eliminate them from the face of the whole earth! I will spare neither age, sex nor circumstance. I will hang, devastate, boil, thrash, strangle and bury alive these infamous heretics, rip up the stomachs and wombs of their women and crush their child's heads against the walls, in order to obliterate forever their appalling race! When the same cannot be done openly, I will secretly use the poisoned cup, or the strangulating twine, or the steel of the poniard or the leaden bullet. This I will do regardless of the admiration, position, dignity, or authority of the person or persons, whatsoever may be their circumstance in life, either public or private, as I at any time may be directed so to do by any representative of the pope or superior of the Brotherhood of the Holy Faith, of the Society of Jesus.”
Karl almost ate his cigar as he choked out the words, “Society of Jesus? What in hell is that?”
Schradin laughed out loud and the people at the other tables looked up at the interruption; but thinking he had just told a joke, they continued to eat their meager breakfast. Schradin quietly exclaimed, as he leaned forward smiling, “I told you Jesus was a fighter! I will tell you something more. This is part of the initiate’s questioning and it will give everything away to the point that even a mind reader like you can guess the society’s name!
“From whither do you come?”
“The Holy faith.”
“Whom do you serve?”
“The Holy Father at Rome, the Pope, and the Roman Catholic Church Universal throughout the world!”
“Who orders you?”
“The Successor of St. Ignatius Loyola, the creator of the Society of Jesus or the Soldiers of Jesus Christ.”
“Who received you?”
“A respected man in white hair.”
“How?”
“With a naked dagger, I, kneeling upon the cross underneath the banners of the pope and of our sacred order.”
“Did you receive an oath?”
“I did, to obliterate heretics and their governments and rulers, and to spare neither age, sex nor condition. To be as a cadaver without any judgment or determination of my own, but to unconditionally obey my superiors in all things without wavering or murmuring.”
“Will you do that?”
“I will.”
“How do you journey?”
“In the bark of Peter the fisherman.”
“Whither do you journey?”
“To the four quarters of the globe.”
“For what reason?”
“To obey the orders of my general and superiors and to accomplish the will of the pope and faithfully fulfill the conditions of my oaths.”
“Go you, then, into the entire world and take ownership of all lands in the name of the pope. He, who will not acknowledge him as the mouth of god and his vice-regent on earth, let him be accursed and exterminated!”
Karl sat in shock for a moment and then exclaimed, “Jesuit priests make such an oath? I thought they were holy and peaceful monks of God!”
Schradin leaned back in his chair while replying; “You see we really are doing both God and Hitler a favor, by killing the Jews.”
“The maps?” Karl begged, becoming so uncomfortable that he felt he had to wrestle Schradin back to subject.
“Yes, the Templar and the so called library has maps to their locations, which were just recently coded by our National Archeologists in duplicate logs. The Templar found the original map buried under the old site of King Solomon’s temple, buried there by Christians that had been driven out of the city during Constantine’s time. The destroyed temple site is really the old site of the temple rebuilt by Herod. Herod’s rebuilt temple had been torn down a thousand years previous to the formation of the Templar’s society; all the same they thought there had to be treasure there for the poor boys under the old site according to their society’s masters of the Sidereal Pendulum.”
Karl imagined the ancient Sidereal Pendulum looking like himself while Schradin continued; “While they were digging they were introduced to our most ancient and holy sun-god signs, tokens, rites, oaths and rituals from the order of knights of the incarnate Mithra, which we and several other secret societies practice and honor to this day. The SS order of Thule is just another order of the Templar.”
Karl shook his head believing that they would never get to the point and asked, “Did, they find the treasure? Or did you talk them to death?”
A little glint hit the dark-haired sunken-faced Schradin as he replied, “The Templar did find maps buried under the old site of the Jewish temple with a library of scrolls written in Hebrew, Greek and Egyptian. It was Christian histories though, not Jewish original Christian histories, gospels, epistles and commentaries – hundreds upon hundreds of them. The Templar took the entire library to France and built a temple as their brothers of Mithra had instructed them. They hired translators and scribes to translate and copy the Christian Library. They made three copies and then buried the original with sacred bones and holy relics to form a spiritually protected place and altar.”
Karl looked at Schradin as he paused and then remarked, “You little schoolboy. You still think it is funny to make me ask the questions while you suspend me with curiosity don’t you?”
Schradin replied, “You don’t realize how much power is in the truth! Truth is the leash and collar that controls even the emperors who fabricate and use bridges of compromising delusions selling it as God’s truth. They only have power as long as the delusion remains in place, reveal the truth and the fabric of their lies becomes full of holes and the world just won’t buy or support it any longer.”
Karl laughed and replied; “You’re telling me the Templar showed the writings to the papist!”
“They told them that the birth of Christ was April 17, 6 BC, which they seemed to already know. After sufficient lands, money and powers changed hands, the Templar gave the Vatican a copy of the Christian Library to ensure they receive the riches of the world by installments from the pontiffs. You have no idea how many lands, titles, fleets of merchant ships, vineyards, industries, banks, insurance companies, honors, and powers were gained just by holding the wolf’s delusion in check and by containing the truth!”
Karl shook his head, asking as he leaned within whispering distance of Schradin, “So is the library still under the old Templar site and who put the original library under the Jew’s old temple site?”
“There are two theories that I have heard, but no one seems to know for sure since copies of the Christian Library are no longer in circulation.”
Karl raised his eyebrow as if to say continue. Schradin answered, “You really should study history better, it will determine what side of the leash you are on.”
“Can we win the war with this?”
“Not now, it will keep us and our brotherhood hidden and shielded from countries that would seek us out and destroy us running separately one by one! I don’t know.”
“Go ahead.”
“Theory one: Arius of Caesarea buried the library around 325 AD after Constantine ordered copies of his books and the Christian’s illegal library found, burned, and anyone willing to keep his book, burned with it. Theory two: Around 800 AD, four original regions of Christians buried their libraries when the pope commanded an inquisition be made against them to have them wiped out.”
“He ordered a crusade and inquisition against Christians?”
“Remember the oath, the ancient Christian bishops and members were not following the pope or any pope. After the inquisition of 800 AD, part of them found refuge in the Swiss Alps and other areas of the world. Since the Christians would not raise arms to protect themselves, the only group that protected them was the early Muslims in the area. The irony is that most of the surviving group was wiped out when the pope declared war on the Templar.”
“The pope had the Christians killed because of the Templar he was hunting?”
“No, two hundred years after some surviving Christians had escaped the pope’s inquisition and rebuilt, the Templar killed the Christians, to take their homes and lands, to escape the pope and his French king that was hunting them.”
A slight smile crossed Karl’s lips as he took another long drag on his Savannah, then made an observation, “So, does the Vatican know that we have the map, or the logs with the coded location of this original Christian Library?”
Schradin laughed, “I told them they could have the map and the coded logbooks as soon as our brotherhood and their families are secure within the safe havens controlled by us in Argentina, Egypt, and Brazil.”
Karl leaned forward while pulling his cigar out of his mouth and blowing a large smoke ring, then a smaller one, through it. He chuckled while commenting, “Schradin you are a shrewd and wise man in any kind of war. So who is the champion guarding the map?”
“Himmler of course! Heinrich Himmler! He had the National Archeologist group make copies of encoded logs containing the directions to the locations of the libraries and then hid the original logs in Hitler’s underground mountain fortress with many of the brotherhood treasures, to rebuild the empire, if need be, from its ashes!”
Schradin stood up, placing a large suitcase on the table while opening it slightly. Stacks of personal ID papers and passport and visa bundles filled the suitcase to the brim, forcing it to pop open. Schradin spoke in a tone that meant our business complete, “I will need the inquisition list of the rebellious factions now.”
Karl dropped his cigar and listened as the personnel watching him from a distance started his car and proceeded to drive toward him. Karl crushed his cigar with his foot, as he stood and asked, “Was the war worth it, master Schradin? It all seems like a damn waste of life and time to me.”
Karl was glad to drop the filthy hit list on top of the suitcase, seeing it as a cursing agent to anyone possessing it and was glad to be rid of it.
Schradin began to reply as he picked up the list and thumbed through it, and then stopped as he looked at Karl’s face shutting off the conversation. Schradin began flipping through the list again with noticeable shock filling his face, as many of the names were too familiar and German for his liking, “As the saying goes, Karl, ‘The end justifies the means’.”
Karl replied, as he walked to the curb to get into his car that had just pulled up, “What if there is no end and we are only justified by the means in which we live?”
Schradin did not answer because it incriminated himself as he thought about it, but instead stated, “I will bring the next set of papers in a week to the location that you request. We’ll need the Swiss bank accounts of the executed, for payments.”
As he got into the car, Karl waved to Schradin, and thought, “At times he acts so much like a schoolboy.”
Schradin continued thinking to himself, “The world is turning upside down! As of January, our troops have withdrawn from the Ardennes. 1945 will be the end of our hope. By this time next year, my family will be living on a new continent, ruling an inferior race – learning Spanish. Our cause will become a hiss, a stink, with no victorious outcome to justify the means, just skirted condemnation on a new world.”
Chapter Two Bounties of the Victors
An American military jeep painstakingly crawled through ruts and water-filled potholes on a rain-washed rutted road to a German salt mine. The jeep had its top cover up and the defrost blowing like sixty to keep the fog off the windshield. Major Frank Donahue was seated in the passenger seat. His troops secretly called him Major Gable and it wasn’t because of his blue eyes, dark hair and good looks, or his “I don’t give a damn” attitude; it was the beautiful Lieutenant Isabel Dwight driving the jeep, sitting next to him. She did everything with and for him. Her hourglass shape and the beautiful brown hair under her cap had made the major the envy of the troops, but didn’t get him the respect he was gunning for.
The major and his beautiful lieutenant spotted the salt mine through the rain on the windshield. American and Allied troops were setting up tents in every available spot around the mine, creating a makeshift city. The lieutenant stopped the jeep in front of the old salt mine entrance. Isabel winked at Major Donahue, thinking, “The troops are right, he does remind me of Clark.”
As Major Donahue was retrieving his briefcase, he reached across the seat in a manner so as not to be seen by the guards approaching the jeep and pinched Isabel’s butt. Isabel wanted to yell at him, but instead politely smiled as she got out of the jeep, and straightened her dress. They walked toward the massive cement walls and columns of the German salt caverns.
A young lieutenant approached the major and Isabel. “At ease Lieutenant Jones,” the major stated, “We came as fast as we could when you said the allies found a valuable Nazi cache in this salt mine. We want to inspect the findings before we take any further action.”
“Sir, I took the liberty of setting up a perimeter around the salt mine, just in case some stray SS or allies might decide they don’t want to give up their loot so soon, Sir.”
The major put his arm on Lieutenant Jones’ back, “You are right Jones. Possession is nine-tenths of the law!”
“Yes Sir!”
“You have always looked out for me and the troops – and now we’re going to look out for each other; aren’t we Lieutenant Jones?”
“Yes Sir, and as always we will do so with great pleasure and diligence Sir!”
The two lieutenants and the major walked into the first of many caverns of the salt mines. It was the length of three football fields. The cavern was filled three levels high with priceless paintings from regions around the world. After being in the first cavern about an hour, the major exclaimed, “This will take a task force, a very organized and large task force. Lieutenant Isabel, find some historians and archeologists from our battalions that can quickly categorize all of this. Lieutenant Jones, after this is categorized, I want it packed and shipped to a secured warehouse for quality inspection and verification before going to the States. I will arrange secured shipment of the goods to Washington DC.”
Pulling on his sleeve with a come-hither look, Lieutenant Isabel Dwight smile at the major, “I have heard talk of some very experienced and educated men from the First and Third Army that were archeologists and historians before the war. We can also pull the education records of each soldier and put out a request for a specialized historian and archeologist group, after you show me the diamonds!”
In her excitement, Isabel began skipping backwards down the great hall that connected the caverns. When she turned back around, she imagined with a chuckle, the three of them skipping, arm in arm, down the vast hallway, singing a loud rendition of “Follow the Golden Brick Road” as if they were characters in a new Nazi version of the Wizard of Oz movie.
The next day Isabel sat at her desk, packing a purple felt-covered box containing necklaces, rings, earrings, perfectly cut one karat and larger diamonds, rubies, sapphires and pearls. She stuffed several old letters on the bottom, sides and top of the purple felt box, and then taped the outside of the cardboard box and addressed it. A note was put on the outside that said, “Personal letters, do not open, please place in my cedar chest.” Lieutenant Isabel walked out of her office and dropped the box in the outgoing canvas carrier for U.S. mail. Major Donahue watched her from his office. Her shapely figure in her dress uniform made him quiver with anticipation; his eyes followed her curves and the flow of her hair as it moved around her shoulders and down the sides of her perfect triangle-shaped cheekbones.
He thought to himself, “I have found the most beautiful gem and it’s not the ball and chain I’m tied to! Why couldn’t God make them all like her? No problem, that is why they invented the magic pill called divorce! After the papers are signed, I’ll suddenly become rich and married to the true bounties of this war!”
After she had dropped the box in the mail carrier, Donahue walked over to Isabel and asked, “Satisfied?”
“Are you, Major?”
As Isabel looked at the major, she melted his heart with her well-practiced, magical, all-encompassing smile. Touching Isabel’s arm, he stood up in a back-to-business manner and asked, “Have you found the historians and archeologists for categorization of our Nazi treasure trove?”
“I just got off the phone with a couple of professors from Berkley, verifying a camp rumor. Come to find out, we have two of the best archeologists and historians from America and Germany. We also have a few promising students that will do well as their aids.”
Donahue looked stunned for a second and exclaimed, “A German!”
“A Jewish-German turned American. He speaks and reads German, Hebrew, Ancient Egyptian and of course English, and was working on archeological digs in the Mid-East with the Germans when we drafted him.”
“Sounds perfect!”
“Not quite. You won’t like this part; he is a conscientious objector, and will not pick up a rifle in fear that he might kill a relative or anyone for that matter, so the army let him become a medic.”
“Too bad, he would have been perfect. Who’s next?”
“Major, the Jew is one of the few that can do this, and one of the few that can be trusted not to stab anyone in the back.”
“Ok, ok, give his commander a call and I’ll interview him. Who’s next?”
“Believe me you don’t want to ignore the first candidate. His name is David Artez; he’ll be fighting for the First and Third Army championship belt tonight.”
“You’re kidding! That can’t happen; a damn coward cannot be allowed to have the belt!”
“Your coward already has the First Army’s belt. He has also saved several platoons worth of men, been shot, and took shrapnel to save his comrades; if he wasn’t a Jew he’d have the purple hearts to prove it.”
Donahue shot her a look of scorn and she ditched and blurted out, “Will you please take me to the fight tonight?”
“Sure kid! Just tell me who’s next on the list?” The major replied, and his demeanor quickly changed to one of securing a more promising nightly adventure with the beautiful lieutenant.
“A Marty McCollum, who is also an archeologist and was working in Egypt with the German National Archeologist group when the war called him to service.”
“Can we trust this guy? I mean he obviously speaks German. At least he’s not a coward; I mean a ‘Mick’ couldn’t possibly be a conscientious objector!” The major was fidgeting so much he was almost was doing a dance to his frustration.
Isabel began to laugh at his responses, while commenting, “Your Mick is also a medic and a conscientious objector. He converted from Catholicism to Mennonite Christianity when he was a young kid in Kansas. His Mennonite parents adopted him when his original parents were killed in a traffic accident. Also, several of the Third Army, whose belt he wears, owes their lives to your Mick as well.”
“Isn’t there anyone else?”
“Not really, the rest have no field experience or haven’t finished their studies yet.”
“We’ll use the schoolboys; they can do the job just fine.”
“I don’t think we’ll even get off the ground with any of them.”
“I see. So you’re suggesting that we put the Jew and the Mick in charge of the characterization and identification of the bounty in the salt mine, with the students under them?”
“That might be the quickest and most acceptable way possible.”
“So where is this Mick?”
“You’ll see him tonight, he’s fighting David.”
“You’re kidding! Therefore, no matter what, a coward will win the belt! So, who do think will win, David or Goliath?”
“No, it’s more like, Goliath and Goliath. They had this match once before when they were in college at Berkley, with McCollum winning by a few points.”
“So you’re saying that we should put our money on the Mick.”
“I’m not sure. The rumor is that David has improved his style over what he had four years ago and the First Army says that it will be a quick knockout with the Third losing all bragging rights.”
“How’s this Isabel? The winner of tonight’s fight runs the characterization and accounting of the salt mine’s bounty!”
“Oh my! Major Donahue! You are the best and the most smartest!” Isabel commented while bending her knees and putting a finger to her pouting lips, in her best effort to imitate Mae West. Perhaps there’ll be more than one winner tonight!”
A bell began ringing no more than ten minutes after chow had finished. Soldiers in a rain swept stampede flew from the chow tents. Grabbing their raingear on the way, they ran toward the First and Third Army’s makeshift outside ring and arena. Lines began to form around bookies and temporary concession stands, selling a horrible form of formaldehyde-like beer and over-salted pretzels with cigarettes. Portable generators turned on as floodlights and spotlights filled the sky creating a simulated sunrise during the sunset. The First Army sat on one side of the arena and the Third Army sat on the other. Men were whistling and cheering and a spirit of levity began to disperse the spirit of death and grief that had gripped both armies for the past few years.
Marty stood inside his tent, jumping slightly from side to side, listening for the bell. David stood inside his tent dipping and blocking, while listening for the bell. Soldiers made two large paths from the tents of the fighters to the ring. Each army had created capes for their champion; each cape contained emblems from each battalion and the battles they had fought. A horn blew and David said, “Let me know when Marty leaves his tent.”
Marty exclaimed, “Don’t open that door until David leaves his tent!” The doors on both tents remained closed, the horn blew again as the cheers, and jeers grew in intensity. Marty and David each shook their head, knowing the game the other was playing.
David pounded his gloves and said “Open the – door!” at the same time Marty said, “Damn it Dave!” and bounded out the door, just in time to see David walk through his door. Marty stood straight and both men chuckled as they pointed with their gloves at each other. The spotlights followed them while they made their way to the ring.
Isabel’s breathing stopped for a moment as the two fighters stepped into the ring. The announcer grabbed the microphone and being First Army, he introduced David first, “In the First Army’s corner! Standing 6 feet 3 inches tall and weighing in at 233 pounds, a king of the ring – David Artez!”
David’s robe fell down his side, exposing a cascade of rippling stomach, arm and chest muscles, with his chest muscles involuntarily moving in his dark chest hairs as he bounced up and down on the mat while doing a challenging roar, with his arms shaking in the air toward all of the Third Army.
The First Army’s cheers exploded smothering the Third Army’s jeers. David’s dark curly hair and nearly black eyes glistened in sheer joy at the response of the audience.
The announcer continued, “In the Third Army’s corner standing at 6 feet 3 inches tall and weighing in at 228 pounds, Marty McCollum!” Like a redheaded lion, Marty jumped up and down on the mat; the muscles on his chest, legs, and abdomen flexing in long tight rows of sinew as his hands flew in a blur of simulated jabs to the cheers of the Third Army and the jeers of the First.
The rules and the rest of the words speaking from the ring were drowned out until Marty and David met in the middle to shake hands. David and Marty shook hands, and then slowly and unexpectedly, to everyone’s surprise, they put their foreheads together. David exclaimed, “I missed you kid.”
“You have fourteen and one-half rounds to make up for missed time!” Marty explained.
“You mean three!” David answered back.
The whole of the armies were taken aback and silence filled the evening for a moment, as something more than words exchanged between the two armies. Both armies, instead of being separated for the moment, saw the two fighters as ambassadors representing both camps and they were all celebrating their new life free of Hitler’s machine.
A victory cheer went up as the men went to their corners. Marty and David stood in their corners until the bell rang.
David had truly changed his style, which became apparent to Marty the minute he tried raining an instant victory for himself at David’s head. Instead of bracing himself for the blows from Marty’s barrage of fists like most fighters, David stepped back slightly with each blow and gave an additional block that pulled across himself as he turned slightly, allowing Marty’s momentum to direct himself toward the mat, causing Marty to scramble for his balance.
Marty was falling before he was even hit; then David’s fist smacked Marty on the side of the jaw, smashing him to the mat. Marty rolled and was on his feet instantly, in stunned shame. The First Army erupted with whistles and cries of victory. Marty knew he was in trouble and danced around the ring, trying to understand what had just happened as he worked on imitating and besting David’s new strategy, to combat this most unorthodox opponent.
Marty went to the middle of the ring with David and threw two fakes toward his stomach and head and then when David threw a blow, Marty blocked and punched to the head with the same hand. Marty used everything he could to put his gloves on David. The match became an intense game of shuffle, block and smash, which kept the entire audience from generals to privates standing, twisting and air fighting as they watched. Both fighters opportunely and effectively redirected the opponents fighting force in their own favor, causing the other to fall. Both men were giving a great, almost exaggerated, show as both were being thrown off balance and smashed. It looked like a brawling wrestling match.
Isabel pointed at the fighters and exclaimed slightly above the din of the roar, “I count six wounds on each of them, of course I can’t see through their boxers to know if one has more than the other.”
Major Donahue looked at each man as they fought in the ring and realized he had not even been hit once during the war and both of these men had been in several battles. Still he could not pinpoint why he detested them so. Then it dawned on him, “It isn’t that they aren’t willing to die, it’s that they’re not willing to kill!”
He felt guilty for a moment when he realized he had more respect for the captured German soldiers and their leaders than the two men in the ring, because the Germans were willing to kill.
Marty and David were hanging onto each other by the end of the fourteenth round. They had quit the step back, twist dodge, and attack strategies, as they gave into the fatigue and wear-down tactics. Sweat and blood sprayed the ring as they hung and dug at each other from underneath with their fists. David, in a last ditch effort put his arms straight into the air and Marty took the bait and wrapped his arms around David while pushing him into the ropes. Marty started punching David in the abdomen. The Third Army went wild with cheers and David waited while the last of Marty’s reserves perished against his arms and trunk. The moment Marty began to lean against David, David pushed him forward slightly making Marty keep his balance by pushing forward. David then stepped a little to the left, as Marty continued to push forward. Marty lost his balance and David assisted him toward the ropes with a punch to the head. Marty fell face first into the top rope as he tried grabbing it to push back up; David punched him back down. The ref had to stop David from continuing when the bell rang to end the round.
Major Donahue watched Isabel laughing at David’s antics and he smiled when she felt his gaze and returned it. “They’ll give you the support of both armies if you recruit these two!” Isabel exclaimed over the din of noise as the bell rang for the last round.
Donahue smiled and nodded in agreement instead of answering over the noise, while he thought, “They’ll make a wonderful diversion and a perfect set of scapegoats.”
This time, with great enthusiasm, the judges picked David as the champion of the Third and First Armies. David raised Marty’s hand into the air with his and they both gave a victory cheer as the crowd of soldiers showered them with hot stinky beer. A belt made from a silver platter and leather straps from a horse’s harness was presented and braggingly worn by David to the victory cries of the First Army.
Lieutenant Isabel and Major Donahue jumped into their jeep with a couple of beers each in their hands, as Donahue exclaimed, “It’s time for round sixteen!”
“It’s been more than round sixteen for a long time and you’ve beaten me every time!”
“I’ll let you beat me this time!”
Isabel smiled all the while as they drove to Donahue’s private quarters. Donahue was talking in anticipation of the big event, but Isabel’s responses were mechanical as she thought about the two fighters and how she might get to know them better, maybe even keep one for home life when the war was over.
Marty always got up before the rest of his company, ten minutes or so to ensure a little hot water and a shave before someone came to pull him away from the morning routine. This morning though, he halfway expected that someone was coming to reassign him and he needed to be ready. Marty stood in front of the mirror looking at the rope burns, glove burns and bruises on his face and torso. He carefully shaved and applied alcohol to various parts of his body to kill the germs in his abrasions. Marty could hear a jeep approaching so he hurriedly fixed his uniform and finished straightening his shirt before the brass entered to enact the plans for his day.
Major Donahue entered the barracks. Marty saluted as the rest of the medics scrambled to their feet to salute. Major Donahue asked, with a surprised look on his face, “I half expected you to drag out of the bunk hung over when I showed up. Were you expecting me?”
“Yes Sir!” Marty blurted before he realized what he had just said.
“Did Lieutenant Isabel send a courier to tell you that I was coming?”
Marty wonder why he referred to the lieutenant by her first name and then replied, “No sir, I’m not sure why I knew someone was coming. I just felt that someone like you Sir, was going to come.”
Marty stood erect and at attention. His composition and the ungrudging glow about him in his lowly medic uniform gave him the look of a great leader, a great unassuming and unpretentious leader of men. The major saw the Mick as naive and ripe to be bent over by the world and taught his lessons and he wanted to be his schoolmaster. Major Donahue stood for a moment looking at Marty and Marty almost asked him something not related to anything worldly, but then the major stated what he came for, “Corporal Marty McCollum, you are being transferred to a reconnaissance unit under the lead of Lieutenant Isabel Dwight to categorize and account for Nazi treasures found at a German salt mine. Please grab your gear and I’ll take you to breakfast; then we’ll go to the mine to meet Lieutenant Dwight and the rest of your new company.”
“May I say something Sir?”
“Please speak your mind - medic.”
“I found out the Russians liberated Auschwitz and that thousands of Jews, Gypsies and other Nazi rejects are in desperate need of a medic like me. I have requested a transfer to a special medical and relief unit just formed to help the Russians in the recovery and relocation of the surviving Jews.”
“Yes, yes, we have floods of military and civilian help in that effort and you’ll find that you’ll be more in the way than not. The project that you will be partially heading will need your education, your expertise, and is an opportunity that few will ever have in a lifetime. I tell you, you will be thanking me after you see the collections of original art, crafted original statues, writings, and hoarded riches from around the world. I have never seen so much wealth and history in one collection. We need someone like you who can read German and Greek, and has worked so intimately with German archeologists and historians like you did before the war. We also need you to appraise the value of the bounty and to determine where the treasure originated.”
Marty’s face began to transform as the major spoke, the major knew that he had him hooked. The major put an arm around the speechless Marty’s shoulder, even though he had to reach up to do it, and walked him to his jeep as he exclaimed, “This will be one of the pinnacles of your life! The world will envy you, for when you explain how you evaluated and categorized the treasures and histories of the world they will wish they could have seen and witnessed what you will witness and perform.”
A makeshift barracks and trucking shop, along with double-spaced razor-wire fences, was going up, making the salt mine look like a military outpost. Marty McCollum and the major pulled up to a security gate just before the salt mine, where security guards verified that the major and Marty needed entrance. Salutes exchanged as they entered the massive entrance of the salt mine. Several men stood in formation in front of the world’s greatest stash of stolen bounty. Marty and the major walked to the start of the caverns, where Lieutenant Isabel and David already stood. David gave a thumb up to Marty, out of the sight of everyone but Marty, as a sign of victory and Marty rolled his eyes at their being together again. Major Donahue inspected the troops and noticed some of them were sergeants and lieutenants and that David and Marty would be outranked. The major stood in front of the men and began to speak, “I hope that you don’t mind me calling you all the ‘Booty-Brigade’!” Laughs came from all of the Booty-Brigade.
“Lieutenant Dwight chose each of you because of your integrity, training as archeologists, historians, or as accountants and your ability to get the job done. The two men standing here which all of you should recognize by their bruises from the First and Third Army boxing ring last night, are newly promoted lieutenants. They will organize to lead this Booty-Brigade. We have one month – yes one month, to get this all moved out of here and on its way to DC. You will work sixteen-hour days. You will eat and work until you plead to see the light of May 1945. Where is the cinematographer? We need a picture.”
The major motioned for the photographer as David pointed to his own and Marty’s shoulders with a questioning look as he mouthed the word, “Lieutenants?”
The major put on a pair of sunglasses and handed Isabel a pair that they both sported with the Booty-Brigade as the photographer took pictures.
After the fanfare, the major took Marty and David aside, while holding both of their forearms he explained, “You couldn’t command unless you were ranking officers so I said you were lieutenants.”
David looked the major in the eye stating with quiet conviction, “I am a Jew and have taken the vow of a Nazarene, and my vow to God will not allow me to touch a dead person let alone kill someone. So for the love of God and his law, I am a conscientious observer, a medic.”
Marty chimed in, “I will go to jail or die before I will wear a sidearm. I am a Mennonite and because of my love for God and my fellow man, I cannot expect to have these men kill to protect this vast treasure trove!”
Lieutenant Dwight, halfway expecting this confrontation, chimed in, “Major may I speak?”
The major was about to explode and throw the men in the brig, but thought he might spoil things with the lieutenant, instead he said, “Yes, please Lieutenant, please talk some sense into these men!”
“Let’s give these men an honorable discharge and since you said they were lieutenants to this little unit, lets discharge them as lieutenants with full back pay from the beginning of their service.”
The major interrupted, “I can get someone else that is willing to kill for God and country. I don’t need these two.”
David stepped up to the plate and exclaimed, “I know that both of us will be appreciated at the Auschwitz death camp.”
Isabel raised her hand and softly said, “Please let me finish – we will then hire Marty and David as contractors, furnish them with money and supplies as well as these men to help them complete the project.”
The major suddenly saw the political people at Washington not wanting the military in charge of this type of operation and realized the advantage of running civilian contractors with the military assisting the project, “Aren’t you the brainy one Lieutenant, now we’ll get the job done!”
David leveraged for money, “It takes a lot of money and resources for civilian contractors to do what you are asking!”
Isabel motioned for two soldiers, carrying a heavy metal ammo box, to come over to her. They strained to hold the box in the air while the lieutenant opened it. Showing the contents of the box, she asked, “Is this enough to get the project off of the ground?”
“Four gold bricks!” Marty exclaimed as David started to nod in favor of the deal and then he replied, “Throw in another brick and a couple of Swiss bank accounts for each of us with our back pay in them, a contract notarized and officially signed, and we can start today!”
The major took a big breath while staring at the gold bricks, knowing they were taking a huge risk giving the stolen German gold to them in some guise of being legal.
David seemed to read the major’s mind and recommended, “We’ll need the gold changed to American currency and deposited into our accounts as well.”
Nodding his head in agreement, the major commanded, “Just get to work! The lieutenant will work out the details. Sounds like you two are the luckiest damn bastards in this whole damn war.”
The major brushed salt dust from his clothes. It seemed to cling to him no matter what he did to keep it off. He looked at Isabel and remarked, “I’ll set things up at the warehouse in town, to start the shipping and receiving of these goods to DC.”
Isabel replied, “Thank you Sir,” and gave him a blatant wink as he left, letting everyone know who really wore the major’s pants.
The major, turned back silhouetted against the entrance of the mine, “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you one of the main reasons we picked you two. Several documents are written in different languages, not just German. There are logs of the excavations and strange medieval maps of who knows what. The documents are a massive pile that will need to be examined by both of you. Anyway, please inform me personally the moment you find anything that may lead to more stashes such as this or anything of value that needs dug up.”
The major raised his arms and turned in a circle while looking at the great treasure, then laughed as he walked away.
As soon as the major left, Isabel turned to Marty and David and placed a hand on each of their shoulders as she stood between them, saying with a slightly aggressive tone, “If you need anything and I mean anything at all, I’ll get it and give it to you.” Their mouths dropped open while they stood stunned as the lieutenant sashayed toward her jeep. They were both staring as she waved and drove away.
Marty could not help but comment, “I believe that King Solomon warned us against such women.”
David replied, “Yet King Solomon had a thousand such women at his beckoning and we have none.”
“Good point, except technically we have one-half each if you count the dear lieutenant.”
David looked at Marty while replying, “I’d rather have a 100-percent woman that can be trusted than ten percent of a gold-digger woman, that can’t be trusted and Marty, my friend of a thousand ‘Dear Johns’, I know you need a 100 percent woman that you can trust.”
As they started toward the caverns to their next month’s employment Marty asked, “So what you’re telling me then is Lieutenant Isabel is not a 100 percent woman?”
David laughed, “No I’m telling you she cannot be trusted because she is a gold-digger and obviously married in a non-covenant way to the major. Hey, what do you mean Lieutenant Isabel? You mean Lieutenant Dwight, don’t you?”
Marty was surprised that David didn’t see him playing him before and replied, “That’s not what Major Donahue called her this morning.” They both laughed and then exclaimed, “Lieutenant Isabel!”
Marty’s comical side got to him while he said, “We’ll give her the code name GD, for Gold Digger, so if any of our co-workers hear us talking about her, no one will realize that it is her!”
David shook his head and looked Marty straight in the face while asking, “Look at me. No, no, look at me – do I look as square as you do? I’m in great fear that your complete lunacy is contagious!”
Marty placed his thumb and finger on his chin and examined David from all sides, “My friend, you are definitely way too serious, and a serious mastermind of huge proportions – they played into your hands like putty in Master De Vinci’s hands!”
David laughed and explained, “I didn’t know the Nazis had such stashes. I just knew that the Nazis would have stashes and I went fishing with you my friend. We threw out so many lines, it was impossible that we didn’t get a fish, at least some small fish.”
“Well Lieutenant David sir, we are set for life with this whale you landed. Let’s say those brick weigh 64 pounds each and retail at 36,000 each and we each get two and a half bars each, that is….”
David finished as Marty calculates, “about 90,000 each.”
Marty continued, “Hard-working guys like you and me might make that much cash in maybe 50 years.”
“Or,” David continued, “If we play our cards right, we can have much more, and not just for us, but for our friends and families as well.”
“What kind of play do you have in mind Lieutenant D sir?”
“We can set up the largest archeological and historical research company in the world!”
Marty waved his arms at the stashes in the caves in front of them and continued where David left off, “And with all of this nostalgia and notoriety, we will have the attention and resume that every nation will request for this type of work. We will have contracts and grants from governments, religions and universities the world over.”
“We’ll need to have everything photographed and every account and transaction with our dear major carbon copied in triplicate. I’m afraid that our dear major will remove items from this treasure, in the security of his warehouse by the river, for himself and perhaps others, by repackaging and then making a new packing list and inventory, to cover for the missing items, and then shipping them to DC where someone else might do the same thing.”
Marty folded his arms and gave David a quizzical look, “How do you come up with these things? Granted, from your assessment, a precaution such as a mark and seal of authenticity from the McCollum and Artez Archeological and Historical Research Group on every package, to ensure that the other groups will have to at least do a little more work before repackaging, is necessary.”
“I like the sound of most of the ideas that just spontaneously grew out of your mouth, with just a slight exception. Let’s call the partnership, Artez and McCollum Archeological and Historical Research Group.”
“I would agree, but Artez just before Archeological has such an aesthetically pleasing ring to it. Don’t you think?”
