The Celtic Serpent

by S. Robertson

  Then it was Bryce’s turn. “I’m sure you’re also familiar with the Ark of the Covenant of the Hebrews which was thought to be a powerful electrical device. There are passages in the Old Testament which describe what appears to be an electrocution of those who mistakenly touched the Ark.”

  “That’s right,” said Angi, “I remember having an argument in Sunday school on that point only to have it dismissed by my teacher. And speaking of artificial light, I read that the Hopi in Arizona were supposed to have a generator for creating light out of some form of luminescent quartz. Apparently, friction produced by rapid rubbing made it glow in the dark. That was how they lit their sacred kivas.”

  “You see, if unknown artificial light existed, why not other technologies?” replied Andrew.

  Now, Dylan, more relaxed, entered the fray, “Didn’t I read about the discovery in an old Roman vessel in the Mediterranean which had a machine-like device that provided planetary information?”

  “Yes, I read the same article,” said Bryce. “That one got buried quickly after all we don’t want our present achievements being undermined. And what about the scientific skills of the Arabs and Chinese, they even produced working robots. Or the many clocks found in museums which are mechanical devices.”

  Dylan added, “The arrival of engineers reviewing archeological sites has definitely introduced a different perspective. For instance, one engineer is arguing that a building near the Great Pyramid is a water-pumping station not a religious temple and another insists that the Great Pyramid is a power generator not a Pharaoh’s tomb.”

  “You see,” replied Andrew, “just sitting around this table we can identify unexplained ancient technologies. Imagine if we really studied the topic. Maybe its time professionals other than archeologists reassess the ancient materials. We might make some fascinating discoveries. The sad truth is that with disasters, wars, epidemics, the fanatical actions of a few individuals plus the rigidity of academia, many scientific and technological facts have either been poorly labeled or lost. Just think of the loss to mankind in the burning of the Alexandrian library in Egypt, the destruction of Druidic books, and the burning of the South American Indian books and records. In summary, mankind has been its own worst enemy.”

  Angi, thinking of the medallion, asked, “So, if a piece of ancient technology survived would we not be endangering ourselves or society if we tried to activate it?” the ramification of her own question startled her.

  Sensing her concern Andrew intervened, “I’m certain, Angi, that if such technology reappeared, it will be for a reason but will also come with guidance or let’s hope so.”

  “That’s comforting,” thought Angi. “Let’s hope it arrives soon, because we’re just about to enter the final stage of this mission.”

  “Just one more question,” asked Wolfram, “Brigit said the Tuantha De Danann went underground or across the sea. What does that mean to you?”

  “Ah,” said Bryce, “I wondered when that would surface. Well let me take a stab at it. There are a number of possibilities. Today, eminent scientists have not only confirmed the existence of parallel dimensions to our own but throughout history certain people may have known how to utilize gateways to access such dimensions. It was said that the Druids hid their magical treasures in another dimension, and the Knights Templar were supposed to have placed the Art of the Covenant in a similar place.

  Underground is another possibility. Do you know there are people who believe that the earth is hollow, particularly at the poles, and that a more advanced civilization resides there? ” Bryce stopped to see their reaction.

  “That’s a bit far fetched don’t you think?” replied Wolfram. “If there’s some giant hole in the North Pole how come orbiting satellites haven’t found it?”

  “Good question. I’m not saying I believe it, as personally I prefer the parallel dimension theory,” replied Bryce. “But let’s not rule it out.”

  “What about across the ocean?” asked Angi, anxious now to hear the full list of possibilities.

  “When we’re talking about the Tuantha De Danann we are in the time period of several hundred years before our first century. Since these people arrived by boat, they could just as easily leave the same way. But where would they go? I expect you are familiar with Hy-Brasil or the Fortunate Isle that exists off Ireland near Galway Bay?” said Bryce.

  “No, Brigit didn’t have time to get into that,” replied Angi.

  “Well, this island is cloaked in mist except for one day every seven years. Remember the Druids were experts at manipulating nature particularly fog and mist. Rumor has it that on this island there is a civilization a thousand years ahead of our own, where sonic and vibrational technology exists, and where all the citizens have great wealth. It was once thought to be Avalon where King Arthur sleeps.” Bryce stopped again to let the information sink in. Then he continued.

  “But perhaps the Tuantha De Danann sailed beyond this point. If so, a lost civilization may reappear with the melting of the Arctic ice shield. I’m sure there are many mysteries in North America that have yet to be discovered. So, there you have it, four possibilities. The Tuantha De Danann went somewhere. The question is whether we are prepared to believe in any of these rather outlandish options.”

  “Wow,” thought Angi, “Here I sit with my comfortable old world being torn to shreds. What surprises me is that I’m not wanting to attack such wild theories.” Instead, she craved more, “I sincerely hope that we can do this again. Obviously, there is much for me to learn.”

  “It will be our pleasure, Angi,” replied Andrew. “But before we call it a night let’s get back to two more practical matters. Did Brigit give you the name of a Scottish Guardian? If you have a name, perhaps we should get on to this first thing in the morning.”

  “I have the phone number of a lady in Scone who is in her nineties, so, you are right, we need to get to her as soon as possible,” replied Angi.

  “Fine, Wolfram and Angi, I’ve set up the computer in my office for you to use whenever you want. I have one in my bedroom and Bryce and Dylan can use the two in the library. If you need any assistance Dylan is our computer whiz. The phone in my office is at your disposal. Let’s do some planning before we start phoning so we’re all on the same song sheet.”

  “Agreed,” said Angi and Wolfram in unison.

  “Now, our next and more lethal matter, Antonino,” said Andrew. “We know he’s in Scotland from both government sources and street contacts. He’s been trying to entice a couple of my university faculty into his viscous web but to no avail.”

  “So, you know his disguise and alias here in Scotland?” asked Wolfram.

  “Partially, he’s masquerading as an elderly professor and has, so far, cleverly escaped our nets. He may become more desperate when he gets wind of the medallion, which I’m sure is only a matter of time. For this reason we must move quickly.”

  Wolfram felt pressured to respond. “Like all predators, Antonino’s clever at finding the weakest link in the chain, so, I hate to be blunt, but how can we be certain he hasn’t infiltrated your staff? With the current economic climate he’ll find someone as he flashes lots of cash incentive.”

  While Andrew should have been more incensed with this insinuation he calmly reacted, “I understand your concern, Wolfram. While the majority of my staff has been with the family for decades, nevertheless, I’ll have Dylan recheck the lot especially new arrivals. Gus e-mailed me Antonino’s latest photo so I’ll have this circulated. Bryce and I will also work on extra security.” What he did not divulge was that he had already contacted his secret society and expected results.

  Reassured, Wolfram and Angi said their good-nights and, with their trusted maps, found their rooms.

  Angi opted for a relaxing bath. After a half hour soak, she laid out her clothes, set her clock for the morning, and selected a book from the bookcase. While reading, an invisible presence arrived and proceeded to use an unseen vibrating light ove
r Angi’s entire body.

  Angi sensed something. “I swear there’s someone in the room. Oh help, not a ghost…….I don’t need, nor do I want this.” ……………….. Hesitating, she thought, “Maybe the medallion is attracting unwanted forces. I wonder what would happen if I removed it. Who’d know, let’s give it a try.”

  As she reached for the clasp at the back of her neck, her hands froze in mid air. Suddenly, within a bright light a vague image took the form of a tall female with flowing garments. Her voice, almost a whisper, said, “Angi, removing the medallion could kill you. This finely balanced instrument is unstable. You need all the gemstones before you can remove it.”

  Mesmerized, Angi asked. “Who in blazes are you?” Angi was amazed at her calmness.

  “I‘m Sirona,” came the hushed reply. “I’m a hologram sent to guide you through the next phase of your journey. My image will improve with the next gemstones.” Unable to hold the pattern, before disappearing, she repeated her warning, now in a hollow tone, “Don’t….. remove….. medallion!”

  Trying to rationalize the vision, Angi said to herself,” OK, perhaps I’m hallucinating or daydreaming, or have disrupted my subconscious. Whatever, I’d best heed the warning unless I’m suicidal.”

  Exhausted from travel and ongoing challenges to her reality, she placed the book on the side table, turned out the light and burrowed down between the sheets. Before dozing off a thought crossed her mind, “Imagine trying to explain any of this to my nursing colleagues. They’d escort me to the nearest psych ward” ………..followed by a touch of melancholy ……….. “I wonder if I’ll ever see my dear island again.”

  Wolfram’s last act was to glance out of one of his bedroom windows which had a view of the entrance driveway. At that moment he witnessed two vans arriving, the front iron gates being locked, and eight individuals entering the castle. As he watched, two reappeared to take up position at the front gates. As he settled into bed he assessed the situation, “That was quick. It’s clear, Andrew, and I expect Bryce, regard the medallion as an item of immense importance. Tomorrow I have to contact Josh.”

  * * *

  Scotland: Antonino’s Edinburgh Hideout

  The pounding rain echoed his despondency. Irritated, Antonino sat looking out a second-rate hotel window drumming his fingers on the chipped window-sill. He chose an inferior lifestyle to maintain his new disguise. He cringed at his reflection in the mirror, the streaked gray hair, dark rimmed glasses and rumpled shirt and pants. “What a comedown,” he said out loud. “Driving a second hand car is the ultimate insult. This better be worth it.”

  After days of effort, he had accomplished little. For the first time in his life he felt trapped with no one to manipulate. Negatives were popping up everywhere. His venture into Edinburgh University had accomplished nothing. “I’ve likely compromised my identity in trying to recruit one of those pompous university asses. Not only have four out of five turned me down, I’ve a feeling that miserable research assistant with the red hair and poppy eyes, was so spooked that he’s already bleating to someone. On the other hand, he’s a weakling and so terrified of life that’s he’s likely cowering in some library alcove unable to move. I left him with sufficient reason. If my mother’s relatives had been more cooperative I’d have used a more permanent solution. I detest whimpering loose ends.”

  Antonino stiffened as he watched a police van drive into the hotel entrance. He chose his third floor, front room for that precise reason. As his eyes followed the van he calculated his escape. “Out the door and two steps to the stairs….…..perfect. I’d be off in a flash.” As the van careened back onto the busy street, he took a deep breath. He was unaccustomed to such jitteriness, he preferred being in charge.

  For days, in contacting his mother’s relatives he sensed a palpable uneasiness, and was keenly aware of their shallow excuses and deliberate attempts at ignoring him. He thought it might be due to the long reach of Cosmo Scarpoli in Boston, as he was notorious for carrying out his threats. “By now he’ll have word of my dismissal from the priesthood, that’ll be enough to antagonize him. Considering the current economic climate in the USA, he’ll have any number of takers for a contract. These days’ contract killers come in all flavors; males and females, young and old. I’d be a fool to dismiss the possibility.” But that wasn’t entirely the reason. Earlier in the day a street addict presented another possibility.

  Parking his car near the hotel, Antonino had to run to get out of the pouring rain. A few feet from the hotel entrance a young man stepped out in front of him, one he recognized as a panhandler at a nearby coffee shop. Antonino was surprised at his forwardness. The boy’s guttural Scottish accent was difficult to follow.

  “I’ve heard something about you that might be worth something ……… interested?” asked Jimmy, a thin, drenched teenager with gray sunken eyes and visible needle marks on both arms.

  “What would you have of value to me?” replied Antonino, disgusted at the boy’s lifestyle and fearing contamination even by being close to him.

  “Well, I know the police are looking for you. I saw a photo they were flashing around near the coffee shop,” replied Jimmy with a sly grin. “Now….. are you interested?”

  “That might explain a lot,” thought Antonino. “Perhaps the Boston police are faster then I thought. “OK, what price, how about ten pounds?”

  “How about twenty, came the rapid response,” Jimmy was gambling on quick financial gain to get out of the rain.

  “You’re pushing your luck, kid. I’ll give you ten and another ten if your information’s worth it,” replied Antonino, and to himself “I can’t afford to alienate anyone right now; this kid could sell me to the highest bidder.”

  “Agreed,” replied Jimmy, holding out his right hand.

  Antonino peeled off a ten pound note and dropped it into the boy’s outstretched wet hand.

  “Well, it’s all over the street. The police have you on what they call a Watch List as some kind of terrorist or being friendly with such undesirables. It’s a younger photo but it’s you. That won’t make you popular in this place. I’d be looking for other digs if I were you.”

  For a moment Antonino wasn’t sure whether to believe the boy or not. But the news could explain the uneasiness of his relatives. Its one thing to be a crook or even a killer, its quite another to be running with terrorists. Thinking, “I should be flattered, if I wasn’t so damned fed up with this water-soaked city. Who would be powerful enough to set this up………..Andrew Sinclair……….my God, he’s no ordinary professor, he belongs to that posh Scottish family, the ones with castles and bags of money and power. The bastard has set me up. Even my relatives don’t want any connection with a God-damn terrorist. I’m a sitting duck in this country with all those street cameras and the wonderful World Wide Web. This technology age is a real hazard to people like me. I’ll have to keep a low profile.”

  “Where’s the second ten?” demanded Jimmy, growing restless and chilly. “I earned it.”

  “Sure,” replied Antonino pealing off another note and turning abruptly he dashed towards the front door of the hotel. Inside, he aimed straight for the elevator suspecting every glance as a potential police informer.

  Still contemplating this latest news, he followed the rain drops as they streaked down the windowpane. “So, here I sit with a number of hounds on my tail. I must be mad. I’ve a good chance of being arrested for any number of reasons, or killed by my own relatives, and never seeing this damnable relic…………yet, it’s like searching for a lost gold mine, with every step you’re sure your getting closer.” As if fate was eaves dropping, at that moment the phone rang.

  He cautiously picked up the receiver knowing few knew his new alias, Dante La Villa, or had his phone number. Relieved, he recognized the odd accent and post-smoking rattle of a middle-aged relative.

  “Dante, this is your cousin Madge, I got that information you asked for. It’s from a gossipy friend, so i
t’s about 50% reliable. Take whatever fits. Apparently that American, Stark, is at the Sinclair castle in Inveresk, just a few miles from Edinburgh. He’s there with, I think, another American, a female. The third person is a Lord or something. The older man has been in hospital and is recovering at the castle. But, something’s afoot because they’ve suddenly increased their security, about six to ten well-trained security officers, maybe military. Getting near that place will be impossible. It’s a huge building so even with a map you’d be lost. The Internet’s no help, this isn’t a tourist spot, it’s a family home. Anyway, that’s it. Put a good word in with your mother for me. Your family name carries weight even here in Scotland. I’ll be in touch if I hear more.”

  A smile creased Antonino’s narrow face as he hung up. “That’s it! I’m a bloody genius……….a clever, intuitive genius………I’m right on target. More security with Stark’s arrival means someone in that damn castle has the relic. My Vatican source says it’s likely a medallion with, what did she say, magical powers. I can already taste the sweetness of success. I’ll take whatever comes ………gold, jewels, wealth and power……..yes, all the stinking power I can get. I’ll get even with those sons of bitches who crossed me over the years. Revenge will be delicious.”

  Nature had joined in his jubilation, the rain eased and he could see a speck of blue in the distance. “No time to waste. I’ve got two possible pawns; one at the university and another who used to work at the castle. Now that my goal’s in sight I’ll get generous. I’ll offer 15,000 pounds up front, and 20,000 upon delivery of the relic. That should entice a greedy candidate.” He whistled a familiar Italian ditty as he went about planning his next moves and contemplating his triumphant future.