Solomon's Throne (22 page)

“Incredible!” Rei breathed.

“Talk about the middle of nowhere. Wow.” Gideon said.

The African woman at the desk was most happy to offer them a double room, with an en suite bath. The hot water would be available from 6:00 to 8:00 in the morning and evening, when the fires were lit to heat a large cistern. Generators ran until 11:00 at night, and resumed at 7:00 in the morning. There was no internet on the property, and when Rei checked her phone, she had no signal. A bellhop helped them retrieve their luggage, and other than raising his eyebrows at the motorbike in the vehicle, said nothing. He led them to a round thatched cottage about halfway down the row. It was named “Eagle.”

He unlocked the door with an old fashioned iron key, which he handed to Gideon. He opened the frowsy curtains and cranked open the windows to let in a fresh breeze.

“They will put down the mosquito net while you are at dinner,
rafiki.
You ring this bell if you need anything, and someone will hear.” Gideon gave him a tip, and the young man bowed. “
Asante!”
He left them alone in the room.

Gideon and Rei just stared after him, shell shocked.

“How did we land here? And where the heck are we, anyway?” Rei finally asked.

They wandered around the resort, relishing the quiet. Small dhows were beached on the sand. The pool was cool and refreshing. The bar served brilliant drinks in whole pineapples. The staff was all smiles, helpful but unobtrusive. There was only one other cottage occupied, by a Dutch family with two small children.

Before dinner, they returned to their room and pulled out the new clue. It didn’t appear that the brothers of the
Congratio a Achalichus
had managed to follow them, and they hadn’t seen anything to cause alarm during their stroll. Rei sat on the edge of the bed and removed the shade from the small bedside lamp. She removed the familiar leather strap, and the top, and handed them to Gideon, who placed them carefully on the floor. He moved to sit beside her as she unrolled the scroll.

The vellum, ink and handwriting were all the same.

“Well?” Gideon asked after they’d both stared at it for a long moment.

“Hand me my notebook. It’ll take me a little while. I should have done it earlier—it’s going to be dark soon, and this handwriting is so scritchy!”

“Scritchy? Is that a technical word in the art preservation world?” Gideon teased. He handed her the notebook and a pen. “I’m going to go sit out by the pool and have another adult beverage. Let me know when you’re done.”

Rei didn’t answer, immersed in the translation. Father Eduardo had what was probably fabulous penmanship for 1688, but not so fabulous from her point of view. The letters were rather tall and elongated, and the script bunched together. The capital letters at the start of the sentences were quite elaborate, and hard to read. Then there were the differences in spellings that four centuries brings. She reached for her purse and pulled out her reading glasses and the flashlight.

After an hour, she wandered out to the pool, notebook in hand. Gideon was lying, in the dusky light, on a large hardwood lounge, looking up at the stars. She sat next to him and looked up. The sky, even while not yet completely dark, was ablaze with lights.

“Did you finish?” he asked.

“Yep. And we’re going to need help. I have no idea what he’s talking about… but if someone can figure it out, we know the next location.” She clicked on her flashlight started to read aloud.

My son,

I pray that this letter finds you in continued good health and spirits. You have come far from Portugal now, and there remain two more letters for you to find before you arrive in Goa, and the Throne. I continually pray that our choices are wise, and that these letters will withstand the test of time. Knowing not when you are making this journey, nor whom God has appointed to the task, I can only do my best. Pray God it is enough.

From the Land of the Good People, I traveled inland, following the great Save River for much of the time. Many Portuguese were exploring the inner reaches of Africa, looking for the lost city of gold. There was gold to be found, to be sure, but perhaps not such a thing as a city made from it. I visited one ruin that was long rumored to have been the site of King Solomon’s mine. I did not realize the significance of such a name until I made my great discovery in Goa, of course, but our Lord does lead us on His divine paths.

The Munhumutapa people near the place of the great Stone Houses. They traded with us for gold, and were a most civilized people, granting us much hospitality. They laughed at our inquiries of a great gold city, but were gracious to show us the home of their lost ancestors. It is a vast place, and upon returning, my task of discovering a safe hiding place has been the most difficult yet. But I pray that God will give you guidance, and that my choice is inspired by His Spirit.

Your mother Isabel and I are well, and have had continued favor against our unknown enemies. We pray for your success each night, in the name of our Almighty Lord and His Son, our Savior, Jesus Christ.

Joao Xavier

X

Written in the year of our Lord 1687

“Wonderful. Stone houses somewhere in Africa. That’s very helpful,” Gideon said disgustedly.

“It can’t be somewhere in
all
of Africa, because neither of his voyages lasted more than a year. If they traveled up the Save River for some of the way, that goes into Zimbabwe. Surely Mr. Xavier can find out some options from that information.”

Gideon pulled out his phone. One dot. “No signal, except one speck of a bar… Let’s go see if the office is still open.”

They walked to the office and found it locked tight. It was time for the dinner service, so they made their way to the open air boma and sat. When the waiter came with the short menu, they asked him about telephone service. He shook his head.

“
Hapana bwana.
No sir. No telephone. You must go to the
kijiji.
The village.” He pointed inland.

They thanked him and gave their order. When he came back, however, he had better news.

“
Bosi,
he says Bwana Wandere have phone. Tomorrow.” He nodded and left.

“Guess we find Mr. Wandere tomorrow morning, then, and wake up Mr. Xavier again,” Gideon said, tucking into the hot chapatti the waiter had left.

At 8:00 the Quinns were at the office, pacing before the still locked door. Finally a young woman opened it, looking surprised to find guests standing outside.

“May I help you please,
bwana
?” she asked Gideon.

“We would like to speak to Mr. Wandere, if he’s available,” Gideon said.

“Bwana Wandere not here yet, please. Will he to find you there?” She pointed to the restaurant.

Gideon sighed and nodded. “Yes, we will have coffee. Thank you.”

She nodded. “Thank you, please.” She smiled.

They had had their coffee, eggs, toast and fruit before Mr. Wandere found them. He bowed and smiled.

“My lady said that you need help,
bwana?
I am Wandere.” The tall African man grinned at them with dazzling white teeth.

“Yes, thank you! We need to place a call to London, and we do not have any service on our phones.” Gideon held up his iPhone. “We were told that you have a phone? May we pay you for a call, sir?”

Mr. Wandere’s face lit up. “Ah yes, indeed! It is very much to call to the London, you know. But I have much air time on my phone, and you are most welcome. Please to come to the office when you have done?”

“Yes, we’ll be right there.” They signaled to the waiter, the same one as the previous night, who came forward, proud to have the one to provide Mr. Wandere to them.

After a couple of “we are unable to connect your call at this time, please try again later” messages, they had finally reached Mr. Xavier and explained the situation to him. He agreed to do the internet research himself, and not assign it to his assistant, although he was skeptical of the need for quite that much secrecy. He was not the most prolific web surfer, so they expected it to take at least an hour, although they had left him with a list of specific search options to use.

Mr. Wandere assured them, happily, as he was making quite a large profit on the entire enterprise, that he would find them wherever they were should Mr. Xavier call back. They determined to be back at the office within an hour, and stole a half hour to walk the beach and take some photos on their respective iPhones. It was a gorgeous location, right on the Indian Ocean. Dhows were sailing far offshore, fishing. There were paths down through coastal forest to the beach, but no other buildings, as far as they could see in either direction. They walked, hand in hand, in the warm water, pants rolled up, stealing some quiet time.

They were sitting at a table, shaded by a thatched umbrella, when Mr. Wandere came running out of the office waving the phone over his head.

“
Bwana! Bwana!
Telephone, sir!” He handed the phone to Gideon with a flourish and a grin. “Thank you, please!”

Gideon took the phone. “Mr. Xavier? You found it? Great! Hang on a sec, let me get Rei’s paper.” Rei passed him the notebook and pen, and she and Mr. Wandere both stood by as he talked, nodded, questioned, took notes, and ended with, “I’m not sure, probably have to fly. Let me discuss it with Rei and see what can come up with. I’ll call you back… If Mr. Wandere doesn’t mind?” He looked at the manager, who nodded eagerly.

After Mr. Wandere took his phone back to the office, promising that they could use it any time at all, Gideon explained what Mr. Xavier had discovered.

“Good news, bad news, I guess. Apparently the “stone houses” are in Zimbabwe. Something called Great Zimbabwe. And as an aside, the word Zimbabwe actually means “stone houses”, if we’d only known. Anyway, it’s 175 kilometers from Harare, where the main airport is. And Zimbabwe’s not exactly stable, so we don’t want to go driving alone through the countryside. There is a small airport at Masvingo, which is only 10 miles away from Great Zimbabwe, though. The bad news is that we’re going to have to go back to Inhambane to fly out. Mr. Xavier has a membership through the AmEx card that gives him jet hours. So he can have a plane get us tomorrow, and take us to Masvingo.”