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Garden of Gethsemane,” Jacob replied, moving forward to place his face in front of the Greek foreman's. “We're going down there, whether you like it or not.”
    The other workers – four of them – stood up, hefting the spades and brushes they'd apparently been using to keep the stairway clear of sand, obviously prepared to use violence to stop these two invaders from entering their tunnel.
    “My sergeant's right,” Sir Richard spoke into the strained silence, the authority in his voice lending an air of much-needed calm to proceedings. “We are going down there. Whether you let us pass now, or whether we have to return with fifty fully armed Hospitaller knights to force our way inside...it's up to you. But if I return with more of my brethren I'll make sure this place is brought down about your ears.” He moved forward to stand beside Jacob, and glared at the furious foreman. “We're the authority on this island now, so you'd better get used to it. Now...what's it to be?”
    He placed his weight on his left leg and calmly drew his sword while Jacob followed his master's lead with a smile.
    “Why do you want to go down? What d'you think's down there?”
    “We were told this place might have something to do with the Hospitallers that disappeared recently,” Sir Richard replied. “I give you my word as a Christian: when we go in we'll treat the place with the respect it deserves.”
    For a short time the foreman stood, apparently mulling over his limited options, the workmen at his back still bristling with the potential for violence.
    “Go,” he finally told them. “But be quick. You'll not find what you're looking for, though, you're wasting your time.”
    “My thanks to you.” The Hospitaller bowed slightly in gratitude and walked past him, sheathing his sword as he went down the stairs and through the heavy wooden door that lay slightly ajar, Jacob following at his back.
    Inside was a simple antechamber lit by torches which led into the gently sloping tunnel they walked along now, senses straining for signs of danger, or any clue as to what this place might be used for. The air in the tunnel was cool, but there was an unnerving smell which the two men couldn't place. It told of ancient decay and unnameable horror, as if from some long-forgotten memory, and it made the hairs on the back of Sir Richard's neck stand up as they moved deeper into the claustrophobic darkness.
    Some of the walls bore crude carvings, showing strange animals or insects which the Englishmen couldn't recognize; indeed, the carvings seemed to show beings that didn't look like they belonged to this world at all, but the guttering torches that hung on the walls were few and far between and it was difficult to make out much detail in the stone depictions.
    “My God, I hope we don't meet that thing down here,” Jacob murmured, eyeing one bas-relief that depicted some great tentacled beast towering over buildings and the people that prostrated themselves beneath it.
    The sergeant turned to look at Sir Richard as he let out a small gasp which echoed along the fetid corridor.
    “Dagon.”
    The knight was gazing at an eye-level carving, shadows from the flickering torchlight making it almost seem to move of its own accord. It depicted a tall, humanoid figure with obscenely long legs, arms and even fingers that appeared to be engaged in the act of stealing a small child from its screaming, yet unresisting family.
    “We're not going to find anything down here,” Sir Richard mumbled, tearing his eyes away from the bas-relief. “Look at these pictures: every one of them has the moon or stars in the background. Whatever this twisted religion is, it prefers night time. Come on,” he pushed past Jacob and headed back along the tunnel towards the big wooden entrance door. “We'll get some rest and come back here later tonight. Perhaps we'll be able to see exactly what these people get up to when the stars wheel overhead and they think