by C. M. Palov
Despite the bustling town nestled on the other side of the curtain wall, el castillo Templario de Ponferrada was a place steeped in mystery, the heavy weight of history embedded in each arched entryway, each soaring tower. Set on a hillock overlooking the River Sil, it was the perfect medieval construct. Magnificent and forbidding in the same breath. Not even the honey-toned Spanish sun could temper its stern visage.
Had this massive stone edifice been designed to protect a secret? One that the order feared the Church might not approve of?
‘Hey, English! How much longer are you going to stare at these rocks? You think they’re gonna tell you something?’ Calzada taunted with uncanny accuracy.
Having shadowed him and Edie into the castle – ordered to do so by their master G-Dog – the two Latino cutthroats were now loafing on a bench, their backs propped against a stone foundation wall. Diaz, eyes closed, mouth wide open, appeared to be fast asleep, exhausted from his day’s labor. Calzada lounged beside him, awake, but heavy-lidded. Evidently even monsters suffered from jet lag.
Ignoring them, Caedmon focused his attention on the curtain wall that bordered the castle.
The bloody gospel could be hidden anywhere in these towering battlements, the complex boasting numerous chambers and a total of twelve towers.
A thought that induced a fearful dread, the knot tightening in his lower belly.
Caedmon glanced at his watch; the castle would be closing in an hour. Damn. Most of the tourists had already quit the premises and he worried that a zealous guide would soon be shooing them on their way.
‘I suspect that the opening fragment of the riddle – “To see the house where Lucas dwelled” – may be some sort of a signpost,’ he said, determined to make the most of the time allotted them.
Edie peered up at the circular tower that soared above them. ‘It makes sense since that’s the only piece of the riddle that we haven’t solved.’
Hit with a stray thought, Caedmon contemplatively tapped his chin. ‘Since Lucas is the Latinized name for Luke, the signpost might well pertain to the Evangelist Luke, the author of one of the four canonical gospels.’
Edie shoved her sunglasses to the top of her head. ‘We’re looking at nearly sixteen thousand square meters of stone. Even if we make the connection between Luke and Ponferrada, I put our odds at one in a thousand.’
‘Like you, I’m not wildly optimistic,’ he muttered in a dispirited tone of voice. ‘Nevertheless, we must soldier on.’
‘I’m too frazzled to charge into battle. Every time I blink, I wipe out the memory of what I just said.’ Shoulders slumping, his usually plucky partner sat down on the grassy lawn. Her cheeks pale and her eyes rimmed with dark circles, Edie appeared to be on the verge of total collapse. ‘Sorry, but my brain stopped working about an hour ago.’
‘Why don’t you walk into town and get us a hotel room?’ he suggested. ‘You can take a quick nap while I –’
‘I’ll sleep when you sleep.’ Gracing him with a weary smile, Edie unfolded the tourist pamphlet that they’d been issued at the ticket counter. The supply having been picked over, the only available brochure had been the French-language version.
‘While I appreciate your steadfast commitment to –’
‘Oh . . . my . . . God!’ Edie suddenly exclaimed. ‘I think Ponferrada’s twelve towers have something to do with the zodiac.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Caedmon wondered if he’d heard correctly. ‘Did you say “the zodiac”?’
‘Here. See for yourself –’ Edie handed him the tourist brochure. ‘Your French is a whole lot better than mine. Read the sentence beneath the aerial shot of the castle complex.’
Caedmon quickly scanned the line of text. ‘Les douze tours de la forteresse imitent schématiquement les douze constellations ou signes du zodiaque.’
‘The twelve towers of the fortress schematically mimic the twelve constellations or signs of the zodiac,’ he translated aloud. Elated, he glanced at his partner, his lips curving in an appreciative smile. ‘Brilliant and beautiful.’ He extended a hand in Edie’s direction. ‘Come. Let’s investigate whether the audacious claim is true or not.’
‘Where the hell are you two going?’ Calzada abruptly demanded to know, eyeing them suspiciously.
‘No need to sound the alarm,’ Caedmon assured him. ‘We’re simply going up to the parapets so we can better scan the compound.’
The explanation sufficed, Calzada waving them on their way. His lack of concern undoubtedly stemmed from the fact that there was only one exit from the castle interior via the gatehouse. In order to escape, he and Edie would have to first steal past the gun-toting Bête Noire who would not hesitate to draw his weapon.
Green light given, Caedmon set off for the nearest set of stairs, Edie in tow.
Both of them breathless, they reached the top of the staircase and rushed down the walkway adjacent to the curtain wall. Finding a good vantage point to view the castle complex, Caedmon stopped at a crenellated parapet.
Perfect. Bird’s eye.
In the near distance, the slow-moving River Sil snaked past the adjacent town where tourists traipsed along cobbled lanes in groups and pairs, roving from hotels to tapas bars in a boisterous meander. In the far distance, the Aquilianos Mountains rose up out of the shadowed landscape in a sober montage of beige, brown and amber. More Rembrandt than Renoir.
He took a deep breath, the late-day sun coaxing from the landscape a heady mixture of scents: citron, thyme and a hint of saffron.
Gazing at the stone-laden compound, Caedmon could see that the castle conformed to a rectangular plan, the focal point being the drawbridge and gatehouse flanked by twinned towers. There was one other set of identically matched circular towers to the rear of the gatehouse; the other eight towers, positioned around the twenty-foot-high curtain wall, were irregular in design, six of them being square-shaped, the remaining two spherical. A dry moat bounded two sides of the castle.
Caedmon carefully scrutinized each of the towers, able to detect where, over the centuries, repairs had been made, mismatched mortar the giveaway. While medieval towers inevitably delighted modern observers, during the Middle Ages they served a strictly military purpose. But the towers of Ponferrada also contained a hidden esoteric meaning.
If only these stones could speak.
Moving her index finger in the air, Edie silently counted. ‘Okay, I’ve verified that there are indeed twelve towers.’
‘A numeral that harkens to a surfeit of associations: months of the year, the apostles of Christ, fruits of the Cosmic Tree. The list is endless.’
‘And let’s not forget, signs of the zodiac. Incidentally, didn’t our tour guide mention that Ponferrada is the only Templar fortress constructed with twelve towers?’ When he nodded, Edie continued and said, ‘Okay, so we’ve established that twelve is a number chock full of significance. But it’s a mystery to me how these twelve towers relate to the known constellations. I thought the word “zodiac” meant “circle of animals”.’
Again, Caedmon nodded. ‘The word is taken from the Greek zodiakos, from which is derived the abbreviated “zoo”.’
Edie fingered a line of dry mortar on the parapet, the work of a skilled craftsman long since dead and buried in his grave. ‘But all of these towers are set around a square design.’
‘They are at that.’
She raised a quizzical brow. ‘So, then, there’s no zodiakos.’
‘Ah, but there is.’ Caedmon unsnapped his rucksack and removed pen and paper. Using the top of the parapet as a makeshift desk, he quickly drew what he believed to be the Ponferrada zodiac.
‘As you just mentioned, the signs of the zodiac are based on twelve constellations or star groups, each designated by a different animal; an ancient mnemonic device originated by the Babylonian astrologers.’ Finished with the drawing, he handed Edie the sheet of paper.
‘While the circular zodiac is the more familiar design, during the Middle Ages a squ
are zodiac containing the twelve houses was occasionally used. The triangular shape is symbolic of the fact that each house of the zodiac governs mind, body and spirit and does so throughout the course of one’s life from birth through adulthood until death.’
Smiling, Edie lightly slapped her forehead with the base of her palm. ‘Of course! Lucas’s “house” refers to one of the twelve houses of the zodiac. Begging the question: which house? Other than the Star of Bethlehem, there’s no mention of a celestial event in Luke’s gospel.’
Caedmon gestured to her shoulder bag. ‘Would you mind booting up the iPad and accessing the Gospel of Luke so that – Belay that!’ he blurted in the next instant. Having just figured out the clue, he excitedly pointed to the square zodiac and said, ‘The Apostle Luke is the bloody key to the cipher!’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Because in the Middle Ages, the four evangelists – Matthew, Mark, Luke and John – were each symbolized by a different animal. Luke was always depicted as a winged oxen.’ Caedmon tapped his finger against one of the triangles on the zodiac. ‘And that, in turn, corresponds to the second house of our square zodiac, Taurus, which, as you undoubtedly know –’
‘Is symbolized by the ox,’ Edie interjected. Snatching the pen, she quickly scrawled the symbol for Taurus.
‘And I might add that Taurus also symbolizes hidden treasure.’
‘Brilliant and beautiful!’ Edie exclaimed, leaning over and kissing him soundly on his unshaven cheek.
‘I couldn’t have figured it out without your attentive eye.’ Indeed, he’d been too quick to discount the tourist pamphlet when they first arrived.
‘So all we need to do is figure out which of the twelve towers represents Taurus.’
‘Since Taurus is the second house of the zodiac –’ Caedmon again tapped the triangle inscribed with the symbol for Taurus before pointing to the two twinned towers at the entry – ‘I believe the correct tower is one of the matched set that flanks the gatehouse.’
‘Because those are the first two towers that a person encounters when they enter the castle,’ Edie correctly deduced.
‘And I would further posit that, as one stands on the drawbridge and faces the castle, the tower on the left-hand side is Aries, the first house of the zodiac, the constellations traditionally configured counterclockwise.’
‘Making its twin on the right, Taurus. Second tower, second house. Makes perfect sense,’ Edie concurred.
For several long moments Caedmon stared at the second tower, contemplating his next move. ‘Fortes de Pinós could have very easily cached the three copper plates that comprised the Evangelium Gaspar in an arrow slit or recessed window. The opening would then have been sealed over with stone and mortar. A simple but effective means to hide something of great value from prying Church eyes.’
Edie hitched a hip on to the edge of the parapet. ‘And I’m guessing that our brother knight would have then marked the new stones in some way to distinguish them from the thousands upon thousands of stones at Ponferrada.’
‘Our thoughts run a similar course.’ Folding the sheet of paper, Caedmon placed it inside his rucksack. ‘Fortes de Pinós lived in dangerous times and clearly did not intend to take the secret of the Evangelium Gaspar to the grave. That’s why he devised the Chinon Riddle. Even at the end, when he knew that he wouldn’t survive his ordeal, he still clung to the hope that a brother knight, perhaps Jacques de Molay or another high-ranking Templar, would be acquitted and released from custody.’
‘Little did Fortes know that Jacques de Molay would be burned at the stake in front of Notre-Dame cathedral.’
Caedmon hefted the rucksack on to his shoulder. ‘In the time remaining we need to search the circular stairwell inside the second tower for a signum, a mark or sign, to indicate where Fortes may have hidden the gospel. And we mustn’t rule out the possibility that the signum was placed on the tower’s exterior.’
Hearing that, Edie’s eyes opened wide. ‘But that would mean you’d have to scale the outside of the tower. Surely, you wouldn’t attempt that without climbing gear?’
‘I’m not as reckless as all that,’ he assured her. ‘If we hurry, we should be able to locate a shop in town where I can purchase the necessary equipment. At the very least, I’ll need a flashlight, chisel and hammer, and a length of rope.’
She shot him a skeptical glance. ‘And then what?’
‘We’ll then return to the castle and burrow inside a shadowy passageway until everyone has cleared the premises. Luckily, there aren’t any security cameras on site. Once the castle closes for the night, we’ll have the run of the place.’
While he didn’t relish the idea of scaling the tower’s exterior, he accepted that it might come to that.
‘Caedmon, it would dangerous enough to climb that tower in broad daylight and downright foolhardy to attempt to do so at night,’ Edie said, brows drawn together in a worried frown. ‘The darned thing is at least four stories high. If you fall, you could break your neck.’
‘I daresay you’re right.’
But needs must.
38
Enough foot dragging. Just do it!
Worried that she might not get another chance, Anala slowly swung her right leg over the edge of the cot, her foot dangling a few inches above the floor. Holding her breath, she glanced at the guard, verifying that he was still asleep in his chair.
He was, his hands limply grasping a video game console.
Moving at an agonizingly slow speed – to prevent the bed frame from creaking in her wake – she adjusted her hips, next moving her left leg off the mattress.
For almost two days now she’d been staring at the overlooked piece of glass glittering benignly on the floor, obsessively fixating on how she might retrieve it. More importantly, she’d been scheming about what she would do once she had it in her possession. After yesterday’s little Q & A session, she had a very real fear that if she didn’t escape, she’d suffer a calamitous fate. As in ‘worse than’.
She had a valid reason for her fear: during her interrogation, the oddly-named G-Dog had informed her that she was being held for ransom. Not a monetary pay-off, mind you. No, instead, the ransom was an ancient gospel that had once been in the possession of a fourteenth-century Knights Templar. The likelihood of her mother meeting the kidnapper’s demand was bugger-all. Even if her biological father was a Templar scholar. It was a thought that generated an ambivalent surge of emotion, Anala still grappling with the disturbing bombshell.
Why the big secret? Why hadn’t her mother revealed the truth about her father? Didn’t she care that her dark secret might –
Don’t go there! Anala mentally chastised herself as she eased her hips off the cot. Stay focused on the task at hand.
Double-checking, she shot another glance at the guard, relieved to see that his blubbery mouth now hung wide open. God only knew what would happen if he suddenly awakened from his slack-jawed reveries. Her jaw still ached from the roundhouse punch he’d given her four days ago when he’d discovered her trying to escape through the window.
Refusing to contemplate the worst-case scenario – why dwell on the negative? – Anala placed a bare foot on the linoleum floor.
So far, so good.
Ever so carefully, she lifted her bum off the bed and stood upright.
Swaying slightly, she drew breath, pulling musty air through her nostrils to her lungs. Unfortunately, she wasn’t functioning at a hundred per cent physically. Given the lack of exercise and dreadful fare – a nauseating rotation of SpaghettiOs and cheese sandwiches – she was operating at about sixty per cent.
Hopefully, that would provide enough steam to get the job done.
Again, she longingly eyed the thick piece of glass. It was only eight feet away. Eight paltry steps. Sixteen in total from start to finish.
I can do this.
Determined to retrieve the object of her obsession, Anala took the first step – toe to heel – gently e
asing her weight as she shifted her hips. In that same instant, she heard the wooden chair squeak. Pulse racing, she immediately tensed up. Bracing for disaster, she peered at the guard.
Still sleeping like a baby.
She relaxed a bit and took the next step. And another. Then, just wanting to get the nerve-wracking escapade over and done with, she took the last five steps in quick succession.
Bending at the waist, she plucked the thimble-sized piece of glass off the floor and carefully palmed it. She wasted no time making the return journey back to her lumpy cot.
Three steps from the finish line, she heard a loud crash.
Whipping her head round, Anala was horrified to see the fully roused guard jumping to his feet, awakened by the sound of his game console falling to the floor.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ he rasped.
Blindsided with fear, she immediately crouched over, grasping her lower belly. ‘I think . . . I’m going to . . . be sick . . . I – I didn’t want to – to vomit on the mattress.’
Moving surprisingly fast for a man who’d been sound asleep a few seconds ago, the guard snatched a plastic bag and held it under her chin. ‘Puke into this!’ he ordered. ‘I don’t want to have to mop the floor.’
‘Thank you for –’ Heaving violently, Anala retched on cue, the SpaghettiOs finally getting the better of her.
39
‘Three bloody well better be the charm,’ Caedmon muttered as he released the rope on the rappel device and slowly slid down the side of the tower.
Literally on the brink, this was his third descent down the exterior wall of the four-story tower. Unable to find a signum, or mark, inside the Taurus tower, he was now in the process of examining the exterior; a laborious undertaking made all the more difficult by virtue of the fact that night had fallen and the only illumination was the golden fan of light from his headlamp.
Luckily, he and Edie had found a sporting goods shop in town with a mountaineering section where he’d purchased fifty meters of rope, a rappelling harness, headlamp and leather gloves. Two doors down, at the hardware store, he’d bought some basic tools. Purchases made, they’d hurried back to Ponferrada Castle, managing to find a secluded garderobe where they’d hidden until the staff had departed the premises. Calzada and Diaz had stationed themselves outside the castle, taking up a position near the public entryway. Neither of them wanted to be caught inside the castle lest the alarm was sounded.