The forest was vast and overgrown. The sun’s rays had to fight their way through the treetops to provide enough energy for the smallest plants whose existence was endangered by the lack of sunlight. He remembered how he had gone to the mountains with his stepfather for a couple of nights when he was a boy - a vain attempt on his part to strengthen the father-son bond - nevertheless, the only things he had learned from that trip had been how not to set up a camping tent (it had fallen down in the night) and that only dry wood burned (after spending two hours trying to light a fire with damp logs).
Well, I think that should be enough. In his arms he carried about a dozen branches of varying thicknesses and a good handful of tinder.
When he got to the living room, he dropped everything on the floor with no qualms about ruining it. It was clear that the walk had calmed him down. He crouched down beside the chimney, placing the tinder in the middle since he knew it would burn easily. On top he put the dry branches and lastly the timber, shaping it into a kind of pyramid which covered everything else. He took out a lighter and set fire to the tinder. The flames quickly engulfed the thinnest branches, which then spread to the logs of wood, creating a splendid fire.
Perfect. Let’s see if this warms the house up a little, because this sure is some hole I’ve rented.
Although the fire looked impressive, it wasn’t enough and soon afterwards he had to throw the rest of the wood on top to get it going again. The logical thing would be for there to be bellows at the side of the chimney, but this wasn’t the case. The only thing he found was an old dustpan, probably used to remove the ash when the embers died out. He took it and moved it like a fan, sweeping it from one side to the other. It was rather uncomfortable, but with a lot of effort he managed to revive the fire.
As he fanned the dustpan to and fro, he saw that it glimmered strangely as he brought it closer to the fire. How could this be possible if it was completely covered in soot? He carefully inspected the dustpan, cleaning it with the old cloth he had used to tie up the wood. His body suddenly froze when he made out a golden inscription on one of its faces.
My God! It can’t be! But the engraving left no room for doubt. It was a triangle with a small circle in the middle and a jagged line which split it in half, running from top to bottom. Completely taken aback, he remembered the story the young man had related to the group of tourists in the museum that very morning: All the pieces were said to be marked with a seal, a strange symbol, perhaps the coat of arms of a powerful family. At that moment, his eyes were drawn to the chimney. He couldn’t possibly believe that such a ridiculous story could be true.
He gently touched the chimney, running his fingertips over the mantelpiece, examining it carefully. He was looking for something unusual, some kind of engraving, and at last he was able to make it out. In the middle of the marble, almost completely covered by dust and impossible to see at first, was carved the same symbol as on the dustpan.
He stepped back a few feet until he bumped into one of the sofas. He was completely shaken. His body trembled at the thought that Michelangelo could have been the expert hand behind those engravings.
For a few seconds all his college years flashed before his eyes, making him realize that he had never felt as satisfied as he did at that precise moment.
If the story was true, he would find a secret compartment hidden behind the symbol. But… what about the chest in the story? He glanced around, looking for something unusual. He found a kind of ottoman below the only painting which hung in that room, and which had until then escaped his attention. It seemed old and although it had lost a lot of its color, it had been kept in good condition. It could have been the chest in the story, but it didn’t have any lock. For a moment he thought about what could be inside it, but it was extremely heavy and he couldn’t lift it even a fraction of an inch. Before giving in and leaving it alone, he dragged it a couple of inches away from the wall, just enough to see the rear side. When he realized that there was a small lock which lay hidden on the back side, he was completely overcome with excitement.
Everything else fell away - his problems at work, his divorce - and an inner energy sprang to life. He stood just in front of the painting, his eyes flitting blankly between the chimney and his latest discovery. There’s a secret compartment inside, he reminded himself over and over again. The idea of destroying the chimney breast did not fill him with joy. How could he explain to the owner why he had smashed it to smithereens? They would think he was crazy, and have to have a new one fitted. But on the other hand… what if the story was true? Would it be worth the risk?
He tried not to think about it and searched for something sharp with which he could easily break it. There was a glint of determination in his eyes. When he couldn’t find anything, he ran down to the cellar and opened the toolbox he had seen the night before when he was checking out the house. He grabbed the first steel-tipped hammer he found and resolutely moved towards the chimney.
Three violent but well-aimed blows were enough to crack and break the marble which, on first inspection, seemed to be made from one singular piece. However, when the mantelpiece fell to the ground it revealed a small secret compartment which lay about five inches inside the chimney. As it was too dark to make anything out, he inserted his hand until he felt something and pulled it out.
It was an old wooden box with a symbol etched on the front. James couldn’t help but smile when he found a golden key inside. It was untouched by dust, and they key glimmered in the firelight. James carefully studied his treasure, and it reminded him of the kind of keys used in the ancient past.
Upon closer inspection, he could make out some letters engraved on the handle. The word was in Latin and read: “ECLIPSIS”. He wasn’t a Latin expert, but he knew it meant “eclipse”, although he didn’t have a clue as to what it could be referring to.
He calmly yet quickly made his way over to the ottoman. In his head, he tried to guess what could be lying inside: a painting, a statue… he had no idea. Upon inserting the key into the lock it turned perfectly. There was a click and the uppermost part, about an inch thick, opened like a box.
James could never have imagined the surprise that lay in store for him inside this chest.
There were eight solid steel balls of different sizes, each connected to a wire cable running through their centers. These eight globes in turn formed concentric circles around a larger copper ball. It seemed to be a clear model of our solar system, with the eight planets which had been discovered at that time orbiting the sun. It was a sublime, excellent piece - there were even some smaller balls which represented the different moons of various planets, the existence of which has been known about for hundreds of years. They were all there, except for one. After a second, James realized that the ball which represented the Earth’s moon was missing, and in its place was a small fissure.
The key bears the inscription “eclipse”, he remembered as he stroked the five-day stubble on his chin. “Eclipse” is the magic word but… I don’t see how it fits. Think James, think.
After half an hour trying to decipher the mystery, he gave in. He thought it was more feasible to smash the chest into a thousand pieces and see what was inside, but he soon abandoned the idea. That chest was obviously a relic and an ill-judged blow could ruin what had been kept inside for so many years.
He lowered the lid of the chest and was just about to lock it with the key when his eyes widened more than ever before. The key had a round ball at one end, which at first glance appeared to be a small grip with which to turn it. He quickly picked it up and noticed that the sphere was not part of the key, but was instead screwed on to the top. He unscrewed it very carefully. His hands began to shake, even more so when he saw that it screwed perfectly into the empty hole in the chest where the Earth’s moon should have been. As he was doing this, a couple of beads of sweat rolled down his forehead and dripped onto Saturn. With the last turn of his wrist, the ball moved into place and a smooth click echoed i
n James’ head.
“That’s it! I’ve done it!” he murmured in a low voice as his face betrayed a hint of satisfaction.
Despite his sense of accomplishment, though, nothing extraordinary happened and everything was just the same as before. Furious, he began to shake the chest angrily. He was frustrated and did not understand how this could get the better of him.
Think James, he said to himself over and over. The key, the old chest, the inscription, eclipse…, ECLIPSE… Got it!
He slowly studied the model of the solar system, and a cunning smile tugged at his lips. The Moon wasn’t in the right place to form an eclipse with the Earth and the Sun, so he slowly moved it, turning it towards the Earth and placing it in between the two. The hinges creaked - an encouraging sign that movement was indeed possible. At last it clicked into place and, just at that moment, a secret compartment opened in one of the sides of the chest, dropping onto the floor an object wrapped in a dusty, dark cloth. James’ astonishment was growing by the second, especially when he unwrapped it and saw that it was an old book.
Chapter 4
In an isolated area of the forest, crouching on the ground amongst the dense vegetation, two men in military attire were observing every movement inside the house. They were well-equipped; they wore the typical green and brown military camouflage gear, helmets with the fastening strap around their necks and two low frequency radios to speak to each other. They were lying on the ground in different places, so that between the two of them they could monitor the entire house.
“Alpha 1, do you read me?”
One of the men quickly picked up the walkie-talkie that he had stored in pouch tied to his waist. His body was extremely muscular and he was very tall, about six and a half feet. His facial features made him seem German, with fair skin and blue eyes. A deep scar near his right eye, a souvenir from a disagreement on a job that had seemed easy, had made him a much more careful man.
At last he replied. “This is Alpha 1. What’s going on?”
“The sparrow has pecked at the worm,” he answered without taking his binoculars off the mantelpiece. Although a few stray branches obstructed his field of vision, he could easily make out the pieces of stone which lay strewn on the living room floor. “Inform the boss and confirm that we are going ahead with the plan.”
Alpha 2 cut off contact. Feeling ill, he managed to take the bulky green camouflage helmet off his head to take a few minutes rest. He was more toned than his superior, but that did not make him any stronger. With brown eyes and dark hair, he was also German although he didn’t look it. His jaw was out of joint to the right and it affected his physical appearance a little, making his face seem slightly contorted. This small problem had unleashed a tic, which reappeared constantly and made him look like a very anxious man; he repeatedly moved his jaw from left to right, causing an audible clicking sound.
Meanwhile, inside the house, James had sat down on the floor and was staring in disbelief at the book he had just found. His fingers softly stroked the cover, tracing the three lines which made up the triangular crest. Never in this world could he have imagined what lay ahead of him.
On the other side of the globe in Washington DC, about a dozen people were having a heated debate around a gigantic oval table which had a pile of confidential reports heaped on top. Each had a monitor in front of them, listing suggestions for how the company could emerge from its current economic crisis. Presiding over the table was a man of about fifty, with white hair, a strong build and a prominent nose. He was wearing an impeccable suit and a silk tie which matched his shirt. He felt a vibration in one of the pockets of his pants, somebody was calling him. He had given precise orders that nobody, absolutely nobody, should disturb him in the meeting, even if it was the President of the United States himself; the only exception was if the call was from Florence. Something important must have been happening.
Standing up, he gestured for his secretary to continue the meeting in his absence. “If you will excuse me,” he declared loudly. “I must attend to this call urgently.”
Some of the attendees couldn’t hide their indignation at the idea of being jilted by the company president, who by that time was already leaving the room via the main door. Of course, he didn’t take the call until he could be sure that the conversation would take place in the strictest privacy.
“Hello. Who is it?”
Alpha 1 detected uneasiness in his boss’ voice. “Sir, it’s us. Don’t worry - we are calling you on a safe line. Nobody can listen to us.” The man seemed to calm down and continued to listen. “We have been monitoring the American since he arrived, as you asked. He has already found the book. He’s more intelligent than we thought.”
The company president was unable to contain himself. He broke into a warm smile and tightly squeezed his fists in a sign of triumph. He felt a great wave of excitement. “Excellent! Continue with the plan exactly how we agreed and call me immediately.” Then he hung up and walked to the elevator. He would go up to his office and await the results there. Lois is perfectly qualified to round off the meeting on my behalf, he thought as he pressed the button for the eighth floor.
Meanwhile in Florence, a Citroen C4 had just parked up on the sidewalk, just opposite the entrance to the estate. A young woman got out of the car. She was wearing a pair of worn jeans, a white strappy top and shoes with a slight heel. Her hair was tied back and she was scarcely wearing any makeup thanks to the fantastic suntan her skin had developed from countless sunbed sessions. She slowly yet very gracefully climbed the steps to the front door, taking to those mini-platforms like a duck to water. She walked to the door and rang the bell.
Chapter 5
The young president was still sitting on the living room floor, meticulously poring over the book he had found. The pages were written in a language unknown to him, and he had hardly looked over it when the doorbell rang. Surprised, he tucked the book inside his pants, securing it against his stomach with his belt. He went to the door and slowly drew back the curtain on one of the side windows.
On the other side was waiting a young woman, about thirty-two years of age, with beautiful sky-blue eyes and light brown hair. She was quite tall for a woman, around five foot nine, with an enviable figure, the product of tough swim meets when she was a girl. It was a sport she still practiced, although much less often than she liked. She seemed to be in a rush as she was constantly glancing at her watch.
After coming back down to earth, he took the key from his pocket and opened the door as he surreptitiously looked at himself in one of the hallway mirrors, checking if he was in a fit state to receive a visit. “Hello. My name is James Oldrich. How can I help you?” James extended his hand politely.
The girl looked him up and down before answering. “Good afternoon, Mr. Oldrich. I’m Mary, the owner of the house. Pleased to meet you.”
At that moment, James remembered how well the boiler was working. If only we’d met half an hour ago! However, after having rained blows on the chimney, he didn’t think it wise to voice any complaint. We’re even. “Please, come in. What can I do for you?”
James led Mary to the kitchen, trying to avoid the living room.
“I had arranged to meet some friends for coffee, but I left the house early and decided to pay you a visit to see if everything was to your liking. It is the first time we’ve rented out this house since we inherited it and it still needs to be done up.”
James smiled. He had the impression he was stood before an outgoing woman who was very self-confident. “Yes, everything is fine,” he replied quickly, changing the subject. “Would you like a coffee? It’s fresh. It isn’t Italian cappuccino but you’ll like it, I promise.”
“Yes, thank you very much. To be honest, I’m addicted to coffee. I love it,” she responded, staring into his eyes. “And what brings you to Florence?” Don’t tell me it’s work related.”
James set down before her a cup of coffee with a couple of white chocolates. They wer
e his daughter’s favorites. “The truth is I needed a holiday. It’s been a long month and I wanted to disconnect for a few days. I work as a university professor and you have no idea how exhausting eighteen-year-old students can be.”
“I understand perfectly,” she ventured. “I’ve also been working as an archaeology professor for the last four years, because I always thought that was my calling since I was a little girl. But about a year and a half ago, one of my friends begged me to collaborate on an excavation in Cairo because one of the archaeologists he trusted was very ill.” The girl exhaled deeply and beamed with pride. “Let me tell you, never before had I felt such gratification from unearthing something new, something which has been hidden for thousands of years. Showing it to the world, knowing all the work you put in just to contribute your drop in the ocean… it is wonderful. Of course, I gave up the calling I had as a girl and now I travel the world in search of the truth.”
James was amazed, he knew exactly what she was talking about because he himself had felt the same way. How many times had he thought about leaving his career and traveling the globe, from one side to another, exploring it until he found the oldest secrets jealously guarded by the Earth! He was reminded for a moment of what he had discovered and patted his stomach to see if it was still there.
Outside, the two men stealthily crossed the garden of the house and approached the front door. One of them had a submachine gun hanging from his right shoulder ready to fire. The other brandished a 10-inch serrated knife and around his waist he carried a 7mm caliber gun with two magazines. They both wore military camouflage gear and reinforced boots.
“To be honest, I have often thought about leaving teaching and devoting myself to exploring the world. I would love to be part of some archaeological expedition and feel as if my knowledge was of use to the group! I understand you perfectly. Only today I visited Michelangelo’s David and I felt something special when I stood before him. I’ve explained the work thousands of times to my students but what you feel as you contemplate it is… inexplicable.”
Trifariam, The Lost Codex (2012) Page 3