Solomon's Throne (16 page)

“I’m going to take a quick shower. Let me know what it says when I get out.” Rei just flapped a hand in his direction and kept reading.

When Gideon returned to the bedroom, his wife was sitting back against a pile of pillows leaning against the headboard, eyes closed.

“Well? Did you figure it out?”

“I translated it… I’m not sure I figured it out. I’m going to have to do some internet research, but I am just brain dead. And I have a heck of a headache.” She handed the notebook to him, and slid off the bed. “I’m going to take that bath now, and a whole bunch of Advil. After that, I need to eat. I’m going to let this sit on the back burner for awhile, maybe even til morning. Then we’ll see where we get with a fresh mind.” She slowly walked to the bathroom, shedding her filthy clothes.

Gideon took her place among the pillows and read the translation of her letter.

Dear Son,

I am imagining that this letter is being read by my son, or his son’s son, and I am thankful that I have made it to this, my last planned stop on our journey back to Portugal. When I was in the Cape of Good Hope previously, I did not know that I would ever be anything but a Jesuit priest. I did not know that God would bless me with a treasure, a wife, and now a new life. It is my hope and prayer that this quest will bless you and our progeny in equal measure.

We have traveled far, and have met our enemy many times since leaving Goa. I do not know how they are able to determine where I am going, or if they are, rather, following me. All I know is that my Isabel and I have risked much, and I have despaired of being able to finish the task that I feel my God has put before me. I have been entrusted with both the letter that greatly disturbs my spirit, and with a treasure that I am unable to own. But I have been given all that I could ever require, and, I believe, the ability to grow that blessed seed into a treasure of my own. God alone knows when the Throne will be found, and by whom. I can only pray that it falls into the right hands, the hands of honorable men, and not the hands of those who have hounded me like ambassadors from hell.

My original journey took me from Lisbon, around Africa, and finally to Goa. My country has been great in these areas, and her Empire has spread, although now she faces many difficulties and perhaps her influence wanes. As always, I worry that my choices have not been correct, and that the clues that my Isabel and I have left will not remain for you to find. I can only go forward in hope…

From the Cape of Good Hope, I traveled around the Horn to the Land of the Good People. There my brothers had an outpost, although it was sadly abused by the time I arrived there. However, it was situated very well, beside a large rock, and its rear wall was built into that rock. It is my prayer that these will survive until God should bring you to the place.

May God give you wisdom and peace. In the name of our Almighty Lord, Jesus Christ.

Joao Xavier

X

Written in the year of our Lord 1688.

Gideon was flipping through the channels on the television, unhappy with the choices of football or an incomprehensible game show, when Rei emerged in a fluffy white robe and wet hair.

“The Land of the Good People? What the heck is that?”

She sat on the bed next to him. “No idea. And even though I don’t feel quite so much like road kill, my brain is still not working. You need to feed me. And put me to bed.” She winked at him.

“You’re not afraid of the bad men?” He pulled her close and kissed her.

“Not tonight…” She got up and rummaged through her suitcase. “But I am afraid of starving to death.”

They slept like the dead, putting all their trust in the multiple locks on the hotel door. They were too tired to do much else, anyway, and the wine and an after dinner scotch helped them unwind enough to sleep through the night. When the light began to come through the crack in the curtain, though, Rei’s first thought—after coffee—was the letter. She quietly got out of bed, not wanting to disturb Gideon until she had some information, and pulled on knit pants and a sweatshirt. She grabbed her laptop, the room key, and her notebook, and quietly snuck out of the room.

While she was having coffee and breakfast and surfing the web, she got a text message. “Where are you??” Gideon. She texted back, and finished off her orange juice. Five minutes later Gideon slipped into a chair.

“Sorry, didn’t want to wake you up. I think I’ve found our good people, though.”

Gideon signaled the waiter for coffee. “Oh yeah? Who are they?”

“Where. It’s what Vasco da Gama called Inhambane, Mozambique. The Land of the Good People.”

“Mozambique? Isn’t that…” He waved his hand vaguely northeast. “Up there somewhere. By Kenya or Tanzania or something?”

“Yep. Tanzania. I was worried about visas, but it looks like we can get them at the airport there… There’s not a whole lot of info online, though. They had some kind of uprising or war or something…”

“Of course they did,” Gideon interrupted. “It’s Africa.”

“Whatever. Anyway, tourism hasn’t really taken hold there. There’s not much information on things like historical landmarks and stuff. I think we’re gonna have to go and wing it.”

“Wing it?” Gideon asked.

“Yeah. Like, get there and say, ‘Can you tell me where there used to be a Jesuit outpost?’ Like that.” Rei licked her finger and pressed it onto a tiny piece of bacon.

“Uh huh. Great. I’m sure that’ll go well. Maybe we just need to find the oldest guy there, and see if he’s, you know, four hundred years old.” Gideon looked at her as he blew on his coffee.

“Smart ass.”

Gideon smiled at her. “I’ll call Mr. Xavier, and he can have Callie arrange the tickets. Hopefully we can get out of here today… I feel like I’m being hunted, and I don’t like it.”

Rei agreed. “We could drive…”

Gideon shook his head. “The roads here in Cape Town are good, but I doubt they’re much to speak of when you get to the countryside. Plus I think it’s probably dangerous. And long. And there’s not a Motel 6 anywhere to spend the night.”

“Ha.” Rei stuck her tongue out at him. “Fine, we fly. I think you fly into Maputo and drive to Inhambane… But there aren’t a lot of flights, I don’t think.”

They returned to their room, and Gideon got out his cell phone and dialed. He went over to the window and talked to the office, updating Mr. Xavier on their progress and on the letter.

“Yes sir, we’re very excited, too. I’d be a lot more excited if these monks stopped showing up. No sir, actually, I forgot to call him yesterday, but I don’t have any messages from him. Yes, I’ll try him again before we leave the country. Yes, Mozambique. Next country up, I think. No, east coast… Yep. Can I speak to Callie, so we can get on the tickets and arrangements? I’d like to get out of here as soon as possible… Oh right, it’s only 7:30. Can you have her call me when she gets in then? We’ll see if we can find anything here in the meantime. Thanks. Yep. Bye.”

He hung up. “Forgot about the time difference. He was in early, though. And I totally forgot to call Detective van Rensberg.”

“I’ll go get some sodas from the machine. Be right back.” Rei left the room with the ice bucket and her bag.

Gideon got out the crumpled business card and dialed. “This is Gideon Quinn. Is our friend awake yet? He is? Is he talking?” Gideon listened awhile. “Basically they’re tracking us. So we need to do a better job of laying low, I guess. And what was the group called? I want to write that down… Hang on a sec.” He grabbed Rei’s notebook and pen. “
Congratio a Achalichus?
What does that mean? Really? Weird. Ok, well let me know if you find out anything else. I think we will be leaving the country today. No, I’m not sure where we’re going, but you can always call the London office. Yes, thank you.” He hung up.

Rei came back in the room with 4 cans of Diet Coke and a full ice bucket balanced precariously in her arms, key card between her teeth. Gideon jumped up to help.

“So the guy is talking. His name is Brother Dimas. No last name, of course. And van Rensberg found out the name of the order or whatever it is—the Society of Achalichus. The CA tattoo is from the original Portuguese, which is
Congratio a Achalichus
. Who is Achalichus?”

Rei put the ice bucket down and shoved two of the Diet Coke cans down in it. She replaced the lid.

“I think… wasn’t that the name of the guy who was Paul’s scribe? He was supposed to take the letter to the church in Jerusalem, and then something happened and it didn’t get there. So maybe someone else got the letter later on, after the Temple was destroyed and all that, and they started a society in the early days of the Church to protect it.”

“Makes as much sense as anything else.” He popped a can of Coke and picked up the remote. “I just love waiting…”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Indian Ocean

December 1687

I
sabel had experienced a period
of seasickness after leaving Umm Qasr and the calm Persian Gulf waters, but recovered her strength and enthusiasm within a week. The Santa Antonio de Tanna made port in Mogadishu, the prosperous Muslim city. The couple explored the brightly painted streets, with their narrow three and four story houses, and gardens overflowing with flowers. They made friends with the locals, and Isabel was enchanted by their colorful dress, courtly manners, and hospitality.

The ship stayed in port for a month, repairing sails and rigging, securing provisions, and eating good, fresh food. Joao traded a quantity of spices for ivory and gold, and a quantity of fine wax. The local merchants assembled an abundance of fresh meat, fruits, and grains with which to make bread, and the nau left with its galley full of these fine victuals, more than enough to take them to their next port.

After a couple of weeks of uneventful sailing, for which Isabel, especially, was grateful, they made port in Mombasa. A bustling Portuguese colony, Mombasa offered the couple a return to society. Many of the settlers there knew Isabel’s father or his family, and made them most welcome. Joao transacted to trade more spices for sesamum and millet, and a crate full of intricate carvings made of ivory. It was a most satisfactory stay, and the couple were quite sad to wave goodbye to their new friends.

The next stop, and one that was on Joao’s list of mandatory ports, was
Terra de Boa Gente,
the Land of the Good People.
A Jesuit mission had been built here in the 1500’s, and, as Father Eduardo, he had visited the declining outpost and the priests still living there. The Arabs had been increasing in the area, and most people felt that it was only a matter of time before the area returned to their control. But for now, it was still in Portugal’s hands, and safe for his personal mission.

As they came into the bay, they were met with the site of graceful dhows carrying fishermen coming in with their day’s catch. The white beaches were lined with delicate palm trees. The air was warm, with a slight breeze. The protected bay offered calm blue water. Block and clay buildings were set side by side with wooden structures topped by reed roofs. It was a charming scene.

“Oh, Joao, it is
tao bela!
I did not remember how lovely all these ports were when my parents and I traveled to Goa. I was so young… All I cared about was a place to run and play, and other children to meet. It is
maravilhoso
that God has allowed me to see them again!” She kissed his cheek.