Imam Demir floated on the currents and delighted in the sensation of flight in the grey and black body of the hooded raven. The moment The Maid of Orleans had begun praising Jesus the demons had fled and Demir understood the necessity of flight…literally. Looking up into the trees he saw the hooded raven picking at a walnut with a twig and projected himself into the bird and commanded it to fly.
Demir sang songs of Allah and the blood of the infidels he would spill as he wove through the clouds towards the village of Great Rollright. The sun had set and the wind from the Atlantic on Demir’s left wing picked up as a storm front began to roll over the English countryside. The Raven seemed not to mind the wind and pressed on with only a few emphatic nudges from his passenger. Eventually, Demir could see the barn and buildings of the farm where the Ebbinghous Battalion and Sturmbannfuhrer Benjamin MacBeth were preparing for their eventual mission. He knew he would have to answer questions about his own role in the reconnaissance of the doings of the Fellowship. But, Macbeth’s anger would be dealt with quickly as the information of the interesting people assembled by the Fellowship was revealed. “Who was that Bronze man and that giant black man?” Demir thought. “I know of the others. Legend speaks of the King Arthur and the small child that fought like a man in France. These I have heard of. So the Christian God continues to resurrect people from the past to fight us. So be it. Amen as the infidels say. But, they have no clue that we are here on their very doorstep. And, soon the head of the crusader beast will be severed. This man should no more have been a king than his brother who he had replaced. No matter! He will die just as the other would have died.”
As the last thought left his consciousness, the raven settled before the doorstep of the farmhouse. And, instantly he stepped out of the Raven and dismissed it. And, as he stepped to the door the Raven staggered away dazed and exhausted as if it were a drunken sailor.
Demir opened the door and stepped into the living room of the farmhouse. The Kommando was gathered around the building and the kitchen. Dinner was finished and Macbeth and Delbart Tesch and the different squad leaders were seated around a large table with a map as a trio of privates efficiently worked on cleaning the leftovers of dinner in the kitchen. Everything stopped as every eye in the room turned towards the small man with the cane standing inside the door.
The Imam walked over to where Macbeth sat, “Food immediately!” He called towards the kitchen and then sat in a chair quickly abandoned by one of the squad leaders. “We may have to adjust our plans. The Fellowship has brought in unknowns. This will require more information.” A private brought a plate of bratwurst and sauerkraut to the Imam who looked at the food with disgust. “Is this food Halal?”
Receiving a blank stare from the private he repeated himself, “I need purity. Pure food!” His anger beginning to rise up into an uncontrollable rage, the door to the kitchen opened and Hilel Cady walked through the door with a covered tray of chicken and rice cooked by the two Bosniaks.
Cady walked up to the Imam and bowed low and whispered, “As-salāmu ʿalaykum, Imam your food.”
The Imam grabbed the plate and began to eat with the appetite of a starving man. The supernatural efforts expended during the fight at the Eagle and Child and the flight back to Great Rollright against the wind created a voracious appetite. He scooped the food with his fingers and crammed the food in as fast as he could swallow. The private brought him a large stein of water and watched as the Imam drank two steins one right after the other. No one in the room said a word as he stuffed himself. The sounds made as the Imam ate were angry and primordial. In only a few minutes the food disappeared and he held out the plate to Cady as if to say dispose of this.
Immediately, the Imam stood and moved around the table to look at the maps arranged in the center. “Where are you planning on ambushing the king? Has there been any contact with our men in London? Any chance to catch the King with the new Prime Minister. That genetically deficient gnome of a man? What a coup that would be if we could catch the two together and eliminate the complete leadership of the beast.”
“Yes, we have a communique from him. Their new intelligence contact – their spy – with the Americans is assembling teams of covert operatives for the coming war. That genetically deficient gnome you talk about has a name and his name is Winston Churchill. He not well liked, but from what our man has told us, he is aggressive and warlike and not likely to stand down from the Reich. The American Spy is a businessman from Canada. He has extensive contacts around the world and understands the Islamic mindset. So he will not be an easy target. The American President trusts this man and he has the same energy and determination as you do. But, our man says that there are rumors that the King, Churchill and the American President will be meeting soon to discuss America’s assistance to England. We were in the process of attempting to determine where such a meeting might take place. So far our only idea is to perhaps capture this American Spy and force him to reveal the plans America has for England.”
“Excellent!” The Imam straightened and looked around the room at the magnificent specimens of warriors assembled. They may not be Muslim warriors, but they were impressive none the less. And, their fanatical loyalty to Macbeth was a testament to the training they had gone through. Demir thought that if he had ten thousand of these men he could conquer the world. No wonder the maniac Hitler was so confident and arrogant. Perhaps his arrogance was more the sign of a true believer walking in his divine destiny. A man worthy of his efforts to destroy the Crusaders. “I will need a squad of your best most innovative men. You and I will make a trip into London to perform reconnaissance of the most likely places for that meeting. And, I want to meet with our contact to look him in the eyes. I want to make sure that he is a true believer and not someone feeding us the kind of information that will bring us to our doom.”
Sturmbannfuhrer Macbeth stood –as did every man in the room – and said, “I will have the men ready in the morning, Imam Demir! Heil Hitler!” His right arm shot out in the Nazi Salute and he waited for the Imam’s response. Which was completely nothing. The Imam merely smiled and then spun on his heel and walked out the door of the farmhouse followed by Hilel Cady.