The Mask of Destiny

by Richard Newsome

  The pain piercing deep into his leg was intense, but it was forgotten as the concrete around his lungs crumbled and sweet air flooded into his body. Gerald fell back against the wall, a sharp sigh of relief shooting the robber stopper from his teeth straight between Sam’s eyes.

  ‘Hey!’ Sam said, ducking too late. ‘Watch it.’

  ‘Gerald?’ Ruby was hovering above him. ‘Are you all right?’

  Gerald sucked in more air and his vision started to clear. He nodded.

  ‘How did you know to do that?’ Sam said. He lifted the yellow stick from where it had tumbled from Gerald’s hand. A three-centimetre-long needle extended from one end.

  ‘First aid at school.’ Gerald concentrated on filling his lungs. ‘Allergies. People can go into shock. And those things set them right.’

  He shunted himself upright. It was amazing how quickly the antidote was working. He could feel it filtering through his body, loosening his joints.

  ‘Can you believe she killed her own uncle?’ Ruby said. ‘That’s so vile.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Sam said. ‘Killing your relatives. What a thought.’ Ruby glanced sideways at him then lashed out with a flick to the back of his head.

  ‘What was that for?’ he protested.

  ‘Just keeping you in your place,’ Ruby said.

  Gerald wiggled his fingers. Every movement reminded him just how good it was to be alive. ‘You know what I think?’ he said. ‘I bet Green told her all about the golden rods and whatever treasure they lead to so she could track it down even if he went to jail. But she got greedy and, when it looked like Green might get off, she killed him to keep the treasure for herself.’

  ‘Sounds possible,’ Sam said. ‘Interesting family.’

  ‘Are you okay to move, Gerald?’ Ruby asked.

  ‘I think so,’ he said. Sam and Ruby helped him to his feet and he steadied himself against the wall for a second. He looked down at the open casket on the floor and limped across to scoop up the ruby from the lid.

  ‘Did you notice what that woman had around her neck?’ Gerald asked, staring at the gem in his palm.

  ‘No,’ Ruby said. ‘I was too worried about you.’

  Gerald stuffed the gem into his pocket. ‘A necklace,’ he said. ‘A plain leather necklace.’

  ‘So?’ Sam said.

  ‘There was a gold ring looped through it,’ Gerald said. ‘I saw it when she was lifting the rod out of the casket. I think it had my family seal on it.’

  Gerald, Ruby and Sam emerged through a crawlspace at the back of a small chapel. Light streamed through stained-glass windows in the stone walls and a shelf in front of the altar held dozens of flickering candles. They went through the main doors and found themselves on a narrow terrace above the cobbled street they had wandered along earlier.

  ‘I’m starving,’ Sam said. ‘I could go some lunch.’

  Gerald sat on the wall overlooking the street. He was still a little shaky. ‘Okay, how’s this for a plan?’ he said. ‘Let’s go back to the hotel and get something to eat. Mr Fry should be there by now. Then we might as well call Inspector Parrott and let him know what’s happened. If Charlotte is trying to find some Tower of the Winds that information might help him track her down.’

  ‘What about Inspector Jarvis?’ Ruby said. ‘He’s not going to believe Charlotte planted the blowgun in your bedroom.’

  ‘Then we’d better avoid Inspector Jarvis,’ Gerald said. ‘Come on. I’m with Sam. I’m starving.’

  They wound down a set of stairs carved from the ubiquitous grey granite of the island and squeezed onto the main walkway. The street was packed with tourists, jostling their way up the steep hill towards the abbey. Gerald put his head down and pushed against the flow. After struggling for fifty metres he stepped into a shop doorway. Ruby and Sam followed him.

  A little further down the roadway, there was a commotion. Shouts rang out above the crowd. Then came three sharp blasts on a whistle.

  Gerald moved onto the step of the shop entrance, trying to see what was going on.

  ‘Uh oh,’ he said. ‘It’s Mr Fry.’

  Ruby craned her neck to see over the crowd. She pulled down on Gerald’s shoulder, trying to inch taller. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘There are two French policemen down there. I think they’re arresting Mr Fry.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘They’re outside the hotel. Mr Fry’s not looking too happy about it. He’s arguing up a storm.’

  ‘The man from the hotel,’ Ruby said. ‘He must have reported us.’ She turned to Sam. ‘You and your talk about helicopters.’

  ‘Oh sure, blame me,’ Sam said. ‘You’re really going to help Mr Fry by doing that. Nice work, Ruby.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Can you two quit it?’ Gerald said. ‘There’s someone else down there, arguing with Fry.’

  ‘Who is it?’ Sam asked.

  ‘It’s Inspector Jarvis,’ Gerald said.

  A clearing had formed around the butler and the police. Gerald could see Jarvis prodding his finger into Mr Fry’s chest. They were having a heated argument.

  ‘Fry’s not backing down,’ Gerald said. ‘He’s giving it right back to Jarvis.’ Gerald smiled to himself. ‘Good for you, Mr Fry.’

  Ruby finally managed to step up beside Gerald and she poked her head above the crowd. ‘Look, Constable Lethbridge is down there, too.’

  ‘That’s one thing in our favour, then,’ Sam said. ‘What do we do? Go tell them about Charlotte?’

  ‘Jarvis doesn’t look like he’s in the mood to listen to stories about cat woman and poison darts,’ Gerald said. ‘And we’ve just lost our transport out of here.’

  ‘So what now?’ Ruby said. ‘Lie low for—’

  A piercing whistle blast cut her off.

  Gerald’s eyes shot down the roadway. Inspector Jarvis was looking right at him, pointing a finger like a sniper’s rifle. A burly French policeman was shoving through the tourists towards them.

  ‘He’s seen us,’ Gerald said. He grabbed Ruby by the shoulders and pushed her into the stream of people moving up the hill. ‘Quick!’

  Sam fell in behind as they dashed in and out of tour groups, all the time moving higher and higher towards the abbey on the summit. The crowd started to slow and swell like water behind a dam.

  ‘There’s a ticket office up here,’ Gerald called back to the others. ‘If we can get in front of this group, the police will be jammed in tight.’

  Sam edged ahead of Gerald, elbowing his way through the crush. ‘Too easy,’ he said. ‘Follow me.’ He put his head down and shoved between the people in front of him. ‘Pardon me!’ he yelled. ‘Lady with a baby! Coming through.’

  The crowd parted far enough for them to weave through to the front of the ticket queue. ‘One day someone’s going to notice there’s no baby,’ Ruby said. ‘Three tickets please, uh—trois billets, s’il vous plaît.’

  Gerald paid for the tickets and they dived through the lower entry to the abbey compound. Inside, the crowd was thinner. Gerald, Ruby and Sam were in an outer courtyard, at the bottom of a complex of grey stone walls and pathways leading up to the spired peak of the medieval abbey far above.

  ‘Which way?’ Ruby asked.

  Gerald scanned their surroundings. There wasn’t much option.

  ‘The only way is up,’ he said.

  They dashed up a steep flight of stairs hemmed between stone walls. High above, a wooden walkway spanned the narrow gap to link the two buildings.

  ‘This place is awesome,’ Sam puffed as he climbed the stairs. ‘All we need now is the Three Musketeers and a sword fight.’

  Gerald paused to catch his breath. Up ahead he saw two monks, deep in conversation as they descended the stairs towards them. They wore long blue cloaks that brushed the tops of their sandalled feet and were held at the waist by a knotted cord, from which swung a large metal key. The shorter of the two monks stopped his descent and fumbled for the key a
t his side. Still chatting to his companion, he unlocked a wooden door set into one of the walls. He pushed the door ajar, then continued with his companion down the steps.

  The shrill police whistle sounded from the entrance hall below. Gerald shot a glance down the stairs.

  ‘We better hurry,’ he said.

  As they passed the monks, the shorter one gave Gerald a smile and, with a tilt of his head, indicated the open door. Gerald stumbled to a halt. Had the monk just tipped them off to a possible hiding place?

  A wink from the other monk gave Gerald his answer.

  ‘Quick,’ he said to Sam and Ruby. ‘In here.’

  Gerald shouldered the heavy oak door and bundled through the opening, straight over the edge of a narrow landing. It was a two-metre drop to the wooden floor. He hit it and rolled onto his back just in time to see Ruby, spread-eagled in mid-air, plummeting down to land square on top of him.

  The impact squeezed Gerald’s ribs like a piano accordion. He just managed to re-inflate his chest when Sam arrived, plunging down to sandwich Ruby between them.

  Under the combined weight of the Valentine twins, Gerald let out a moan and his head flopped back onto the floorboards. ‘They really need a railing on that top step,’ he said.

  They had fallen into a cellar. A dozen stairs ran down the wall from the doorway. Sam scrambled up the stairs to push the door closed.

  Through a squat window at street level, they could see the feet of passersby outside. Within a minute, several sets of police boots clattered past.

  ‘The police are going to be crawling all over this place,’ Sam said. ‘I guess we’re stuck in here for a while.’

  Ruby was still lying on top of Gerald. Their noses were centimetres apart, and for a second they just looked at each other.

  ‘You want to get off now?’ Gerald asked.

  ‘Oh, of course,’ Ruby said, rolling away. ‘Sorry.’

  Gerald raised himself to his elbows. ‘I’m not sure I can take any more adventure today,’ he said. ‘It hurts too much.’

  He crawled over to a table in the centre of the cellar and hauled himself onto a stool. He peeled the backpack from his shoulders and dumped it by his feet.

  ‘That monk on the stairs,’ Ruby said. ‘Do you think he opened the door to help us?’

  ‘He couldn’t have been more obvious,’ Gerald said. ‘He invited us in.’

  Sam dropped into a spare stool at the table next to Gerald. ‘Unless he turns up in the next two minutes with a hot meal, who cares? I need food.’

  ‘Can’t you think of anything but your stomach?’ Ruby said. Then she bit her bottom lip. ‘Actually, now that you mention it, I am pretty hungry.’

  Sam suddenly sat upright. ‘The parcel from Mrs Rutherford! All those pies and sausage rolls.’ He grabbed his pack and shoved his hand deep inside. Sam’s expression morphed from delighted anticipation to complete disgust. He pulled out a collapsed mound of paper, pastry and meat, and slopped it on the table. ‘I guess I shouldn’t have taken it swimming,’ he said, looking utterly miserable. Then he sneezed. ‘I guess I shouldn’t have taken me swimming either. Don’t suppose you’ve got chocolate in your pack, Gerald?’

  Gerald upended his backpack onto the table. The head torch tumbled out, as did the flint on its leather cord and a water bottle. There was a small first-aid kit, a pen, a pocketknife and…

  ‘A pack of gum!’ Sam said. He had two sticks in his mouth before anyone could move. After chewing hungrily for a few seconds he noticed the stares from Gerald and Ruby.

  ‘Oh,’ he mumbled. ‘Um, anyone else want some?’

  Ruby snatched the pack from her brother’s hand. ‘Just appalling,’ she said.

  She held out a piece for Gerald. ‘Would you like some of your gum, Gerald?’

  But Gerald didn’t notice the offer. He was staring at the book that had fallen from his pack. It was bound in red leather with the imprint of his family seal clear on the cover.

  ‘I’d forgotten about this,’ he said as he flicked through the gold-edged pages.

  ‘It’s all in French,’ he said. ‘There’s a surprise.’

  Ruby looked over Gerald’s shoulder as he thumbed through the pages. ‘I can’t understand a word of this,’ she said. ‘It must be hundreds of years old.’

  Gerald rested his forehead in his hands. He felt as if his brain had changed into a kilogram of fairy floss.

  Ruby closed the book and drummed her fingers on the cover. ‘So what do we know? Lucius died flat on his back and his dying thought was to point to a bunch of symbols he’d scratched into the rock—the same symbols that Geraldine wrote for Gerald.’

  ‘And Charlotte wanted to know about some place called the Tower of the Winds,’ Gerald said. ‘She was happy enough to gamble my life on finding out about it.’

  ‘And what about this book?’ Sam said. ‘Books weren’t even invented when Lucius was wandering around here. It would have been all scrolls and quills back then. How do you explain Gerald’s family seal being on the cover of a book? And the book being locked away with a thousand-year-old casket?’

  ‘It’s got to be the monks,’ Gerald said. He looked at Ruby. ‘That travel guide you were reading at breakfast. Did it say anything about the monks?’

  ‘Yes, there’s been a religious order here for over a thousand years,’ Ruby said. ‘But that still doesn’t explain—’

  Gerald held up his hand. ‘How’s this for an idea? Lucius arrives here from Rome with the ruby casket. Back then the place is basically a bare chunk of rock in the middle of the bay. Maybe he’s sick. Or injured. Who knows? Maybe Mason Green’s assassin ancestor—what was his name?’

  ‘Octavius Viridian,’ Ruby said.

  ‘Right, Octavius Viridian is on his tail. For whatever reason, Lucius can’t go on. So he crawls into a cave to hide the chest. The order of monks who have set up shop here find him and hear his story: he’s on the run from the Roman emperor with a treasure that needs to be protected. You can imagine the Romans weren’t too popular around here. So the monks decide to help him.’

  Ruby cocked her head. ‘So, like the cult in India, they dedicate themselves to keeping the casket hidden. And then, centuries later, when they build the town and the abbey, they move the casket out of the grotto and hide it behind all those,’ Ruby shuddered at the memory, ‘bones.’

  ‘Bones arranged in the shape of my family seal,’ Gerald said. ‘And they stick this book in with the casket.’ He took the volume back from Ruby and ran his fingers over the cover. ‘It must be important. If we find out what this book’s about, I’d say we’re one step closer to the secret and one step closer to catching Charlotte.’

  ‘So who do we ask about the book?’ Sam said.

  ‘Those monks who opened the door for us,’ Gerald said. He pushed back on the chair and crossed to the narrow window by the door. The pathway was cast in late afternoon shadow. Only a few pairs of feet climbed the stairs past them.

  ‘They’re all old people’s walking shoes,’ he said. ‘No police boots. But let’s give it a few more minutes.’

  Gerald gathered up the camping gear and the book and arranged everything in his pack, then he draped the flint on its leather cord around his neck.

  Ruby broke the last stick of gum into three and handed around the pieces. ‘Dinner,’ she said.

  They chewed in silence, apart from the occasional sneeze from Sam. Once the last of the flavour had been extracted from his gum, Gerald checked his watch. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Let’s go find us some monks.’

  He climbed the stairs and opened the door a few centimetres. ‘No use going back down to the entry,’ he said. ‘There’s bound to be police there.’

  ‘So we head up to the abbey?’ Ruby said.

  ‘When hunting for monks,’ Gerald said, ‘go where the monks go.’

  The door creaked open and they squeezed through the gap onto the path outside. The stairs were deserted. The sky had turned a mottled blue as the afternoon
melded into the late summer twilight.

  Gerald was aware of the clomp of their shoes on the worn stone stairs as they climbed towards the lower sections of the abbey. They came to an arched doorway at the top and poked their heads through.

  A sparsely furnished reception room. There was no sign of anyone.

  No tourists.

  No police.

  No monks.

  A door stood ajar in the far wall and they crossed the room to the opening. Beyond it was a broad terrace that looked out over the bay. Set back to one side were the imposing walls of the abbey. The gothic spire that crowned the roof soared high over them.

  There was no one about. Even the seagulls that had swooped and cawed while Gerald, Sam and Ruby had slogged across the sand flats were nowhere to be seen.

  The wind had dropped. The sun was just a memory. The brow of a full moon was rising out of the bay.

  It was as if they were the last people on earth.

  ‘Where is everyone?’ Ruby said. Gerald sensed the concern in her voice. ‘It’s so quiet.’

  ‘Let’s look inside,’ Gerald said.

  They crossed the terrace and climbed the steps to the church doors. Gerald pushed on one and they peered inside. Together, they let out a whispered chorus of ‘Wow!’

  They stepped into the nave of the church and stood in gape-mouthed wonder. The stone walls on either side were lined by slender arches and soared twenty metres in the air to a huge vaulted ceiling. Moonlight filtered through the high windows, catching remnants of incense and bathing the interior in an eerie half glow.

  ‘I feel very small in here,’ Ruby said. Her voice bounced off the stone floor.

  ‘Shh!’ Sam hissed. Then he sneezed.

  Ruby narrowed her eyes to a death stare, but for once she kept her mouth shut.

  They crept along the centre aisle past rows of pews towards the chancel at the far end of the church. Gerald and Ruby were halfway along when the peace of the church was shattered by a splintering crash. Then another. And another.