Caballero De Dios

Caballero De Dios


“You expect me to believe this?” I chuckled
“This is crap,” I laughed again
“It’s a comic book story! Or worse.” I said to Fatima. She looked at me she was furious. The veins on her forehead were bulging. She pounced at me. In a millisecond she had her palm resting on my Adams apple, her fingers flexed around my neck, her long nails digging into the pressure points below my ears, I gagged my bodies reflex to the current strain being placed upon it. My feet dangled helplessly off the ground.
“I could kill you, I could feast. God knows I need it” to me it seemed unwise to further anger this woman. With a flick of her wrist I was flung across my office, I hit a wall with extraordinary force.

I have no idea how long I was unconscious, but when I woke I felt I was drowning. There was water everywhere. I reached up and pulled myself up with the table that I had fallen over and behind.
“What’s it to be?” She asked, and I frowned

“Look you little worm.” She was speaking in a quite tone which as I realised was more frightening than the fact that with a flick of her wrist she could throw a grown man across a room.
“I do not care. If you believe me or not. All you have to do is record, what I have told you, and make it public. Very public.” She said, I must have looked confused for she continued,
“You’re a reporter are you not?” I nodded
“Then report.”

“Ok,” I gasped
“let me get my tape recorder.” I got up and went to my library, mostly magazines I’m not a well read man. I brought my mp3 player and placed a microphone on the coffee table. I invited her to join me.
We sat on opposite couches she looked at me and I said
“Right when you’re ready.” She took a deep breath looked down at the electronic device and began

“What I’m about to tell you is information that normal people are not privy to very often. For centuries my people have battled in secret with our enemies.” I interrupted and she looked annoyed
“Hold on a second. Could you just explain to me who you are and who your people are, and really what the hell is going on and why I’m so important to all this?”

“The time has come, for the world to find out my truth, to find out the real story, to discover the true reality. Why many of my friends are dead, their families perished along with them. It’s not as simple as a war, nor is it blood lust it’s so, much, more complicated than that” she got up and walked over to the window.

As she did I did as any male would do faced with the circumstances I was in a situation where I feared for my life, there was a beautiful woman in a cat suit walking from me to a near by window. I gazed at her bottom. She sighed and looked round
“I am not your type.” She whispered while raising her dark left eyebrow
“Sorry” I mumbled in humility. She once more returned to the window pulled the red curtain aside she recoiled only slightly as the sun shone through the gap. It was not an overly pleasant day but the sun was making the effort to break the dullness of another Scottish grey day.
I enquired as to the time
“It must be early.” She turned to me once more and said
“What do you believe?” I frowned I was very puzzled I had no inkling what she was asking
“I’m sorry I don’t understand your question?”
“Are you religious?” once more I frowned I looked at her and said
“No but I was born a catholic. But...”
“That would make you my enemy” she interrupted
“Are you starting to understand?” I chuckled to my self
“I’m from Belfast that would make you a protestant.” I quipped. She didn’t take the joke very well. She once more gazed at me it was a deep and intense gaze I could feel it in the back of my head. My brain was screaming out move away all my endorphins where being released. My body wanted to run. There was no fight only flight. Self preservation it seems was a base instinct. But I stayed. I couldn’t move. My body was numb. She tried to asses who I and what I was. She asked again
“Are, you, religious?” I took a deep breath and said
“No. I can not believe, or put my faith into something that can take so many lives and justify the brutality of it all” she sighed
“Ironic, is it not?”

I started to feel woozy once more. I had been unconscious for several hours it seemed and my head had not had time to recover from the blow it received after being thrown forcefully against a wall only hours earlier.

The world had appeared a nicer place when I had left the bar the previous night, my life was straight forward. But not overly exciting. I was a journalist for a local newspaper. I covered inane stories about humorously shaped vegetables or pets that do amusing things. I turned up at bonny baby contests took names and gave people their paragraph of fame. I can say that this was not why I entered the profession but it pays the rent. And in today’s “fun” job market it was the best of a bad bunch.

When I had left the bar with my girlfriend my thoughts were only on sex, we had been seeing each other for around six months, I can’t say that I was in love with her, and to the same extent I can’t say that I wasn’t. She was good for me and I hoped that I was good for her.
As we got into the taxi I noticed a dark stranger lurking in the shadows. I remember thinking “strange”, but I never thought I would ever knowingly lay eyes upon him again.

When we got to my apartment only fifteen minutes drive away from the bar, he was there, standing in the doorway. He was brandishing a large knife my girlfriend screamed, I most probably screamed too.
Soon after I was flat on my back, my girlfriend had vanished and the knife was pushed into my throat. I can say now, and I can say with absolutely no shame that I had no control over my bodily functions and my bladder filled with beer and whiskey, released.

I may be from Belfast, a city renowned for fighting and civil war, (it’s not really that bad) and I am not a battler. I made a living running from fights, or holding the coats, at football matches. I don’t consider myself a coward, but maybe I am. I came from a rough area where reputations were made and broken with fists and sticks. I went to school and I got out of Belfast as soon as I could.

Back now briefly to the car park where I lay soiled and sodden under the knee of a big man in a long black coat, his silver blade to my throat. It did not take me long before I passed out, for the first time tonight. When I came too the stranger was no longer there. Instead watching me was a dark skinned woman. Dressed entirely in leather or PVC or something black and shinny that clung to every curve and corner of her body, like something out of a really bad Hollywood movie, or if you prefer a really good one.

I looked her up and down assessing whether or not I could escape from her. She was very attractive. She was tall, and dark her hair was short and as dark as her outfit. Her face was weathered but beautiful. Her curves were perfect. She was slim but not skinny. I’m sorry for the voluptuous description, but I was impressed, and wasn’t sure I wanted to escape. She was a schoolboy’s wet dream. I lay there my trousers already soaking wet.

She took me to my office and sat me down and told me a this tale

“In times long ago past the leader of the church, Pope Paul the first sent his knights to the east to put down the insurgence of the infidels. This happened because the once highly Christian state of Spain became for the most part Muslim, the pope saw Islam was seen as a threat to civilisation and the European world.”

“Christians had welcomed my forefathers into their country and as one we survived in harmony for generations, as one people with two religions, Christianity and Islam living as one huge family. It was not long before a royal prince took a Muslim as a bride; he converted to Islam, and was soon crowned king of Spain. The neighbours of our nation heard of this paradise where a queen of the east had become the queen of the largest most powerful state outside of the Vatican. The pope issued orders seen by many as holy prophecies from God himself. That’s when the killing started.”

“The son of the Muslim king of Spain on hearing of the acts of barbarism carried out on the innocents of the Middle East formed an army set to defend the territories of the east, and destroy the western knights and their armies. The army was called knights of god
Or Caballero De Dios.”

“But soon Spain fell and once more in the hands of the Christians and this saw gods name being used for more murdering in the hands of the Spanish inquisition. The Caballeros De Dios were once again protecting the innocent against Christians. But now they were the focus of this very public haunt for non Christians.”

This army at its creation was the pride of the Spain its strength was legendary, and their immense ability to fight and wage war was celebrated and feared at the same time. Their Leaders were rounded up and publicly destroyed like animals with no grace of humanity. When the commander in chief was captured trying to get from Portugal to north Africa a grand battle took place and hundreds of knights and warriors fighting for them were killed and thousands of Christians also lost their lives at the hands of the Caballero De Dios, the war waged all through the night and was only won when the sun rose the Caballero De Dios where defeated at the hands of the Christians and the suns rays. But Milicia Mohammad PuñoDeDios was captured, he was taken to sacred ground a near by church he was stabbed in the heart by a piece of the original crucifix of Christ, and drowned in water blessed by the pope. It is said that his last words were
“yo rezar a alai mi hermano sobrevivir, vivir tu fría” or
“I pray to alai my brothers nuzzle on your blood”



So what I knew now was that this beautifully dangerous woman believed that she was some sort of vampire and that the pope himself had signed her death warrant, simply, for, being. Hard to believe harder to criticise when your trousers are soaking wet, from where you pissed yourself out of fear, moments ago.

It was about then that we had our little altercation which I described before; I was now awake in the same pants I was wearing before slightly soppy. I was talking to a woman who thought that she was a vampire. But after seeing her strength and ability to toss a man across a room. I wasn’t beginning to believe her, I was beginning to patronise her. Telling her what she wanted to hear. To keep me alive. Long enough to phone the police or escape, but where was I going to go.

I looked at her and asked
“What happened to Rachael?”
“She’s safe”
“You’re holding her” I asked
“No she got away” I smiled grateful that she would call the police and soon they would rush to my rescue

I believe this all started last week when I covered a story where a woman claimed that a man had bitten and killed her husband, and that this man resembled some kind of wild animal, a dog. The stories about the ware wolf spread about the city. It seemed that in today’s dark climate it was easier to believe in fantasy figures than the possibility that care in the community was failing us. It was easier to pretend that a make believe animal was loose and not a crazy man had escaped from a mental institution and was now wondering the streets, killing and eating another man. What a society we live in!

It would seem that this story had got a lot of attention and had given me some unwanted fans. There I was face to face with a woman who called herself Fatima.
I had heard the name before, but not often. My family had holidayed in Portugal in a town called Fatima.

She asked me to report this tale that I’m about to tell you. Which up until recently, I had problems believing. Even having seen what I have seen I doubt it.

She sat down next to me and looked at me.

“When I was a young girl the war came to our village.” She looked into the palms of her hands. And sighed
“My family were living as outcasts, papa had taken to Islam, and the village elders forbid us to mingle with the other inhabitants.” She moved about her seat

“As a young woman I was unsure why my father had instructed me not to go into the village, or why he forbade me to play with my friends. Why they no longer acknowledged me as we passed on the road. We lived in a small farm on the out skirts of the village, my grand father had built the farm and my father ran it after my grandfather had passed away.” She again fidgeted with her hands it was as if the thought of death irritated her.

“We grew olives in the summer months and tending to horses in the winter, it was a hard life as I remember but we enjoyed it. The war came to our house hold one winter, my mother, my father, my two sisters and my brother were all huddled around a fire keeping warm with papa telling stories of the wolves which once roamed the area wild and free, until the Christians killed them all. He was pretending to be a wolf chasing the Christians.” As she told me this she giggled, as if she was relieving the moment. But her smile diminished

“That’s when the war came to our farm. We were all laughing at my fathers jokes when the door knocked. It was the Môn senior form the nearest town. He wanted my father to accompany him; we did not want him to go, because of the rumours of what happens when a Muslim left with the holy men. We cried and screamed. Remember this was a time before the police; the laws were made by the rich and only applied to the poor. There was only the church and the churches authority was the law and it was harsh. My papa begged the Christians for some time to say his fair wells to us. I did not know then that it would be the last time I would see him alive.” She paused, as if remembering for the first time how it felt to be in the situation.

“As he left he made us promise that we would never betray our trust in god. He went with them. As he crossed the horizon of the hill tops around our farm we saw arrows flying, of course we did not know what was happening. But the Islamic army the Caballero De Dios had tracked down and attacked the Christians on our farm.” She rested her head in her upturned hands

“My father had already been killed. The knights came to our house and saw the markings of Islam that adjourned our walls, they asked us how a family of Islam came to live so close to the Christians, we told them that up until recently that it was pleasant and now it was getting to be hostile. They invited us to join them. They were many, many knights a small army. We feared for our safety. We where nervous because the locals would blame us, blame us for the death of so many of their males on our farm. So we went with them. To the next town where the same thing was happening, the Christians persecuted the Muslims they where being hanged just for being who they where, and Christians being killed by Muslims for the treatment of their families. It was horrible.” She once more paused. And I took my chance

“How come there was so many of you in such a profoundly catholic country?”
“We lived in the south, near the coast, as colonists destroyed much of north Africa the Muslims fled to new lands away from the French, Spain was only a few days boat away, so they came to Spain, people like my grandfather.”

“I see, carry on please”

“Like I said it was horrible every town we went to was the same. Every little village and hamlet it was an identical story. As a young girl I couldn’t under stand why these people could not live in harmony like both religions demanded. A fundamental principle of both Islam and Christianity is love thy neighbour! This seemed to of been forgotten”

“I was sired after proving my worth in combat they taught me how to defend my self and then how to wage war on my foes. I was made a true warrior of god. I remember my first true battle.” She seemed to go into a daze as she spoke.

She looked about us and said
“I can almost smell the battle field, no guns no cannon only power and might of man, and steel. The battle took place in a small valley our ranks where on a hill looking south, the holy ranks where opposite us, in the valley; we numbered two thousand knights and several hundred Maulers. They had eight thousand British, French and Italians. Their ranks commanded by a priest, ours by General Omar Morientias." she paused and followed his name with
"please my friend find peace” bowing as she did.

"The late evening sun shone the clouds tried desperately to prevent it from touching the scorched earth.
she pulled a piece of wood from her leather bodice she gazed at it for some time then she kneeled down and rubbed the piece of wood in the dry brown ground, she brought her hands full of dirt and the wood up to her face and let the soil drain out from her fist. Once again she was left with a piece of wood in her hands; she focused on it and whispered
"Show me wisdom, grant me strength, and guide my rage to do your work." she bowed and used the piece of wood to wrap her dark hair round it keeping it out of her face. Then she stood up.

“Ha you see these Christians they are weak, they are foolish, we will slaughter them this day.” said a young knight his amour was more extravagant than the others. He was a prince and only joined the war because in his court it was a fashionable thing to do, he had all the best armour the best sword and the best body guard’s constantatly at his side to prevent him from feeling the slightest splash of blood. A knight by birth and was ignorant of the abilities of his foes.
“You under estimate them at your peril, Mohammad, they are every bit the exceptional warrior that you claim to be.” Said Fatima
“Who are you to speak to me like this? I am a knight by origin. They are my enemies by birth, why do you find the need to fight them?”
“They have spent the past years killing my people, my family and because god has commanded it.”
“You have little right to wear that armour, you are a wretch, and you’re nothing but a slave a peasant slave, and you’re family deserved to die.” The two faced each other Mohammad looking flush with anger and Fatima looking as calm as the well trained soldier she was.
“Why Sir Mohammad it would very much appear that you intend to die by my sword. On this day”
"even the thought of such a thing is poprostourous, if you think that you can out slay all those that have perished by my blade, then by all means lets dance." two of Mohammad’s body guards approached swords drawn, one swung his massive sword at Fatima, she side stepped he hit nothing but ground in his swing, before he had a chance to withdraw a small dagger found its way from Fatima’s belt to his temple blood poured from the fatal wound in his head. The other guard charged at her she dropped to the ground and threw another dagger which impacted with a lot of blood on the oncoming mans Adams apple.

Two other guards began to advance from momahamad side only to be stopped by a blade to each of their throats from some of Fatima’s allies.

Mohammad drew out his own sword and approached the steady figure of General Fatima, she said

"You want to dance today, as if there wont be enough blood spilled on this terrain, you want to add your own."
"I guarantee you that no blood will leave my veins today!" he swung at Fatima who simply stepped away momhamads follow through made him pass Fatima and he fell to the floor.

There was a laugh as many of the men turned to see two of their general’s fight in the middle of the ranks.

Fatima stepped over and placed the tip of her sword to her foes neck and said,
"It would appear that your word is not worth the paper it’s scribed on" from a distance they heard

"General Fatima, I would appreciate it if you would stop killing my soldiers before the battle." they turned to she general Omar approach on horse back along the lines of troops.

She turned back to her fallen opponent,
"It would appear that I was a little harsh on you, and that today your oath is sovereign" she stretched out her arm and offered it to Mohamed to assist him to his feet.

He swiped it out of the way, hearing how his men where laughing at him,
"I will drive you from this life and the next!" he got to his feet and walked casually over to General Morientias who had by now had joined them. He bowed his head; the general spoke his voice booming and strong

"It would seem apparent that this little servant wench just out did a prince!" the prince looked abhorrent
"How dare you insult your commander in chef in such a contemptful manor!"
"Indeed but all you command is disgust" General Omar whispered into his ear. The prince turned and stormed off
"Just remember where you and your men should be during the battle, prince Mohammad." who was mounting a horse
"They will be leading the charge, into glory" Mohammad spoke as he settled on his stead.
Fatima stepped forward to the general and laughed
“And where will the mighty prince be during this glory?” asked Fatima the prince turned his horse and rode to his men.
"I am surprised he has courage enough to mount such a beast." general Omar looked humoured he sighed and said
"We do need his men this day, regardless of his own skill they are good men.”
“I am sorry my lord.” Fatima said bowing her head in respect.

A shout rang out from the front of the column of soldiers
“sir there advancing!”
General Omar Morientias stepped forward to his friend Fatima and said
“we must not lose here” she look around and said
“we will not so long as every man does his bidding.”
"Ensure that they do" he said mounting his horse.

Prince Mohammad’s men had already launched into a charge, and six lines of riders raced off to meet the Christian advance. Fatima looked around and could see no signs of the prince himself. She mounted her own horse and watched the battle begin to unfold.

They sat on a valley the knights stood half way up a hill, on the west of the valley, behind them a thick forest, any retreat would be made along the centre to the south of the valley, so that would best be avoided. The north lay a crescent moon shaped cliff face, hundreds of meters of sheer rock straight up. It could be climbed but not in any great hurry. At the base of this cliff structure was yet another forest and a thick perilous marshland. In front of them stood the Christian army. A mass of colour and banners many kingdoms and countries had provided this military wealth. But on the hole they were made up of peasants and farmers. This brought the advantage to the Islamic side. A fully trained army. The Christians too had a forest behind them, although not as dense.

“Hesen!” cried out Fatima
“Yes sir” replied a large man
“Let’s give the remaining forces another cause for concern and keep them where they are fire a volley at the remaining Christian ranks.”
“Sir” he said turning
“ARCHERS” he screamed prolonging the length of the word, it was echoed along the ranks of the army. A line of men stepped forward from behind another line of men with large shields.
“ARROWS AT THE READY!” cried out Hesen as the line of archers loaded their long bows
“TAKE AIM AT THE MAIN RANKS” the call was echoed along the lines of archers
“TAKE THE STRAIN!” the archers pulled back the strings of their bows. A stretching noise could be heard as they did
“RELEACE” hundreds of long slender sticks with sharp ends flew at the Christian ranks, simultaneously unseen catapults on the cliff above them fired a volley of heavy rocks and heavy chunks of wood set alight also bundles of animal skin with broken ceramics and nails wrapped inside. The first volley decimated the Christian ranks many fled many burned more died.

The knights currently engaged in the battle were beginning to come through the once advancing army of the Christians; they ploughed on towards the main support lines. Fatima thought to herself that Mohammad was an idiot but his men where some of the bravest and finest soldiers outside of her own armies.

“General Fatima from the north” came a cry. Fatima looked round and what she saw scared her for the first time that she could remember since her father was taken away.
“I didn’t know that they had raiders” spoke one of Fatima’s aids.
“It would appear that, they do” spoke another
“Are they Celts?” he asked. Fatima looked through a magnifying tube.
“If only, no there Reichens!” she looked at her feet and sighed.
“Get the general out of here, have the archers concentrate their volleys on the oncoming Reichens!” she shouted her orders, while making her way down the hill to her own troops.
“But general the Reichens hide is to thick for archers” Hesen replied
“Follow my orders; we might if god wishes it get lucky.”
“Forgive me general.” Hesen spoke Fatima stopped turned and nodded
“Hesen you are my friend my ally. We need to be brave. But luck is all that will help us now.” She turned and shouted at some of the men in front of her
“Move, get out of my way”

The orders rang out the archers concentrated their fire at the on coming beasts. Fatima arrived at her forces. She had nearly three hundred men and women at her command. They were the cólera del dios

She mounted her horse, and looked around her men where the bravest and the best fighters in the west. But they did not rush easily into a fight.

“We all know our purpose, we are all aware that if the emphasis is lost by the fools we ride with, then we are required to make amends for their mistakes and cowardice.”
A muted grunt signalled that they understood.
“Well our prince has ridden out into a horde, and is in trouble. A friend of ours he is not but an ally of god he is.” She paused and looked about her once more, she raised her voice
“We are sworn to protect our own, and this we must, do, we ride?” a volley of cheers she turned her horse and kicked it the horse reined up into the air on its back legs and had already begun to run before its forelegs had once more made contact with the ground.

Ok here I have a lot of work to do on this, and I’m not happy about the intro but let me know what you think.

many thanks

steven