My master was convinced of his templar heritage, although not many even remember them. He had proof, a map of buried treasure hidden away somewhere in Jerusalem. Such things swallow men whole, as it did my master. In his youth and savvy, he fancied himself an adventurer up to the task of restoring his family's fortune. Finding me worthy and dutiful, he brought me along.

When first we came to Jerusalem, we arrived restless. Having suffered through the long mind numbing sea voyage from the British Isles, puking and bedsore and sick throughout, the young master resolved to trace the map's clues at once. We had not yet even found a place to stay, or relatives of the young master with whom letters of introduction should be lodged. We had his father, the guildsman Sinclair, to recommend us–but all for naught due the master's haste.

Not long after kissing holy soil, we found our portal to supposed cellar of riches. I rued this day.

By means of a secret passage, we found a flight of stone steps leading down to a dark, but thankfully cooling corridor. I was pushed to the fore, lantern in hand, to lead the way.

I pressed straight on, head bowed to miss any low vaulted ceilings. My master followed, his sword and shield out at the ready. After about twenty or so steps, we had passed a path to our right, but it was the corridor to our left near the very end of the way that caught my master's interest. There, we found a door. The smell of mold hit me not long after we approached.

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Locked.

We forced it open, finding the rotten wood an easy challenge.

My master had hoped to find a treasure room here, the first of many, but instead the door led away further into the crypt. He had to study his map again to make sure. In the light of my lantern, we knew the map was wrong.

But, my master wasn't one to be discouraged. We pushed on.

The passage turned sharply to the left after a few steps, greeting us with more darkness and more walking. Thankfully, at the end of it, we found a chamber of interest.

Oil lamps hung from the ceiling. And they were alight. A statue of a woman rising from the depths of a clam dominated the room with radiance borrowed from the dim, flickering lights of the burning oil. Colored bits of chipped pottery plastered the stone walls of the room, painting it a rather festive mood of men jumping off bulls and wrestling. The men were naked, as was the woman.

I had never seen a woman naked before, and this one took my breath away. I was caught in a trance for I wasn't sure how long, before my master prodded me forward, reminding me of why we were here.

I entered. Not knowing if from the dim of the lights or the beauty of the woman, I did not see my way. My foot found air instead of flagstone. My gut wrenched hard from the sudden onrush of gravity.

I had fallen, into a pit, warning my master of the danger by way of my misfortune. I felt my arm twist when I landed hard on it; the wind knocked out of me.

From the pain, I vanished into darkness.