I mean… Parsifal ? The opera about the legendary Grail Knight? Am I being put in charge of the Holy Grail?” He was unable to keep the amusement at the very notion out of his voice.
To his amazement, Bormann stopped, turned, looked him straight in the eye, and said, “Something like that.”
Directly in front of them was a huge vault door. Nothing short of a Howitzer could have penetrated, and perhaps not even that. Bormann stepped in front of it and worked the series of combination locks upon it. There were three, and despite the continued sounds of explosions overhead, Bormann never once appeared hurried or concerned.
The last tumbler clicking into place, Bormann stepped back and pulled the door wide open. There was nothing but darkness within, at least insofar as Wagner could see. But Bormann reached in with confidence and withdrew a large black canister. It was buckled in several places along the side.
“You should at least see what it is you are being entrusted with,” said Bormann.
He knelt next to the canister and undid the fastenings. Then he carefully opened it, and Wagner found himself staring down at what appeared to be some sort of spear.
“I do not—?” He looked questioningly at Bormann.
“This,” said Bormann, “is the Spear of Destiny.” He looked up at Wagner, waiting for some sort of reaction. Wagner just stared at him and shrugged slightly. “The Spear of Destiny,” repeated Bormann. “The Holy Lance. The Spear of Longinus. Spear Luin, as the Irish call it. Does any of that mean anything to you?”
“Should it, Herr Bormann?” he asked politely.
Bormann chuckled slightly. It was an odd sound, coming from this man. “I suppose not necessarily. When one is with the Fuhrer as much as I, and hears about such relics as often as I have, one just tends to assume that everyone knows about them. The Spear of Destiny, Captain Wagner, is the Spear wielded by the Roman soldier Gaius Cassius Longinus…that was used to pierce the side of the body of Christ.”
“You mean…Christ on the cross?”
“Where else would he be?” Bormann asked sarcastically.
Wagner looked at the Spear with shocked reverence. The concept that he was beholding, with his own eyes, an artifact traceable to the savior himself…it was almost too much for him to contemplate.
“The Fuhrer,” Bormann continued, “has intense fascination with such objects. He has gathered as many as he can. He considers this Longinus Spear to be the crowning glory of his collection.”
“Does it…” Wagner wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Does it…possess any particular…you know…properties?”
“Properties?”
“It is said…” Self-consciously Wagner lowered his voice, even though there was no one around to hear it. “It is said that the Fuhrer seeks power through these…these items. And I was wondering…if I am not overstepping myself…?”
“What sort of power this Spear has?” He shrugged. “Frankly, Captain, the only power I know of that this Spear possesses is the power to convince others that it has true power. Other than that, aside from its value as an antique, it has nothing to recommend it other than the power generated by one’s belief in it. Since I have no such beliefs, it has no power over me. You are, naturally, invited to draw your own conclusions.”
“Am I correct in assuming, Herr Bormann, that you are not showing me this artifact simply because you thought I would be interested in its historic value.”
“A safe assumption, Captain.” Bormann proceeded to put the Spear back into its case. “You know of the Russians’ progress. There is every likelihood that they will make it down to here, the heart of the bunker. Should that occur, they would doubtless take whatever is in it…and that would include the Spear. The Fuhrer absolutely does not want possession of the Spear to leave the hands of the Reich.”
“I am sure he does not…”
“You don’t understand, Captain,”
To his amazement, Bormann stopped, turned, looked him straight in the eye, and said, “Something like that.”
Directly in front of them was a huge vault door. Nothing short of a Howitzer could have penetrated, and perhaps not even that. Bormann stepped in front of it and worked the series of combination locks upon it. There were three, and despite the continued sounds of explosions overhead, Bormann never once appeared hurried or concerned.
The last tumbler clicking into place, Bormann stepped back and pulled the door wide open. There was nothing but darkness within, at least insofar as Wagner could see. But Bormann reached in with confidence and withdrew a large black canister. It was buckled in several places along the side.
“You should at least see what it is you are being entrusted with,” said Bormann.
He knelt next to the canister and undid the fastenings. Then he carefully opened it, and Wagner found himself staring down at what appeared to be some sort of spear.
“I do not—?” He looked questioningly at Bormann.
“This,” said Bormann, “is the Spear of Destiny.” He looked up at Wagner, waiting for some sort of reaction. Wagner just stared at him and shrugged slightly. “The Spear of Destiny,” repeated Bormann. “The Holy Lance. The Spear of Longinus. Spear Luin, as the Irish call it. Does any of that mean anything to you?”
“Should it, Herr Bormann?” he asked politely.
Bormann chuckled slightly. It was an odd sound, coming from this man. “I suppose not necessarily. When one is with the Fuhrer as much as I, and hears about such relics as often as I have, one just tends to assume that everyone knows about them. The Spear of Destiny, Captain Wagner, is the Spear wielded by the Roman soldier Gaius Cassius Longinus…that was used to pierce the side of the body of Christ.”
“You mean…Christ on the cross?”
“Where else would he be?” Bormann asked sarcastically.
Wagner looked at the Spear with shocked reverence. The concept that he was beholding, with his own eyes, an artifact traceable to the savior himself…it was almost too much for him to contemplate.
“The Fuhrer,” Bormann continued, “has intense fascination with such objects. He has gathered as many as he can. He considers this Longinus Spear to be the crowning glory of his collection.”
“Does it…” Wagner wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Does it…possess any particular…you know…properties?”
“Properties?”
“It is said…” Self-consciously Wagner lowered his voice, even though there was no one around to hear it. “It is said that the Fuhrer seeks power through these…these items. And I was wondering…if I am not overstepping myself…?”
“What sort of power this Spear has?” He shrugged. “Frankly, Captain, the only power I know of that this Spear possesses is the power to convince others that it has true power. Other than that, aside from its value as an antique, it has nothing to recommend it other than the power generated by one’s belief in it. Since I have no such beliefs, it has no power over me. You are, naturally, invited to draw your own conclusions.”
“Am I correct in assuming, Herr Bormann, that you are not showing me this artifact simply because you thought I would be interested in its historic value.”
“A safe assumption, Captain.” Bormann proceeded to put the Spear back into its case. “You know of the Russians’ progress. There is every likelihood that they will make it down to here, the heart of the bunker. Should that occur, they would doubtless take whatever is in it…and that would include the Spear. The Fuhrer absolutely does not want possession of the Spear to leave the hands of the Reich.”
“I am sure he does not…”
“You don’t understand, Captain,”
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