Ark of Fire (30 page)

“Shall we continue?” Tapping the pencil on the handwritten sheet of paper, he redirected her attention.

Catching him by surprise, Edie snatched the pencil out of his hand. “This is just a guess, mind you, but I think Galen’s puzzle is configured like a square.”

“In early fourteenth-century art, a chest or box of any sort was always depicted as a flat, one-dimensional square.” Making no attempt to hide his condescension, the bespectacled scholar glanced at Boyd Braxton. “Something along the sophomoric lines of what you might draw if you were trying to depict a medieval chest. Once perspective was introduced into the artist’s grab bag during the
quantocento
, all of that changed, of course. The
quantocento
, FYI, would be the Renaissance.”

Arrogant little pissant,
Stan silently fumed as he stared at the archaic verses projected onto the dining room wall.

Had the lank-haired weasel been under his military command, he would have kicked his scrawny ass between his narrow shoulders. At the moment, however, he needed the scholar’s expertise. And cooperation. Although he suspected it would take a full measure and a half of self-control to keep his temper in check.

“To Galen of Godmersham’s mind, a flat two-dimensional square would have been no different than the three-dimensional medieval chest your consortium is hoping to uncover. You guys following?”

Stan thought of how the Ark of the Covenant would have been illustrated in a church or cathedral during the fourteenth century. The weasel was right. More than likely, it would have been depicted as a plain four-sided square.

“Carry on,” he ordered, not about to reply to the other man’s question. Nor did any of his men reply. He’d told them point-blank that he’d ream each and every one of them with a piece of steel rebar if anyone let the words
Ark of the Covenant
slip past his lips.

“Now as far as deciphering this bear, I think the phrase in the first quatrain about ‘Salomon’s cite’ refers to Galen being in Jerusalem on crusade. And in case you guys haven’t figured it out yet, the first quatrain is also the first side of our metaphoric square.”

Again, Stan remained silent. In truth, he didn’t give a rat’s ass about the first quatrain, assuming it referred to the pharaoh Shishak and
not
to Galen of Godmersham. That part of the story he was well acquainted with, because it was written in the Old Testament, 1 Kings 14:25, that Shishak “came up against Jerusalem” and that he then “took away the treasures of the house of the Lord.”

What he was interested in were the cryptic messages contained within the next three quatrains. Hidden somewhere in those archaic verses, Galen of Godmersham revealed where he hid the Ark, the sacred chest that enabled God to dwell among men. And from which God would lead his holy army against the infidels in the last days.

Feeling his excitement rise, Stan glanced at the watch strapped to his left wrist.

Four days, nine hours, and twenty-six minutes until the start of Eid al-Adha, the Muslim religious festival.

Which meant he had four days, nine hours, and twenty-six minutes to find the Ark of the Covenant.

“Ah, yes. A square. A spot-on observation,” Caedmon enthused, smiling. “A quatrain is, after all, a poem with four lines.”

“And Galen composed
four
quatrains,” Edie added, the number four having been the giveaway.

“Not to mention that the Ark of the Covenant was usually depicted in medieval art as a four-sided square.” Still smiling, Caedmon winked at her. “You must excel at sudoku. Now, to what end this metaphoric square?”

Pleased that Caedmon wanted her input, she gave it her best shot. “I think Galen was trying to compose a chain of custody for the Ark of the Covenant. And he begins the chain of custody right here in the first quatrain with the pharaoh Shishak taking the Ark from Solomon’s Temple. From what Sir Kenneth told us earlier today, we know that the pharaoh left an appeasement offering, that is, the Ark, on the Plain of Esdraelon.”

“Where it was happened upon some twenty-two centuries later by a roving band of Hospitaller knights led by Galen of Godmersham.” He pointed to the second quatrain. “It would appear that the knights fought one another to the death over the treasure, and Galen was the lone man left standing on the field after the melee.”

Lips pursed, Edie stared at the last line of the quatrain in question. “What does this mean, ‘And with his show of valor, he kept the holy covenant’?”

“It probably means that Galen of Godmersham became the self-appointed guardian of the Ark.”

“So, we’re definitely on the right track, huh?”

“I believe so.”

In all honesty, Edie didn’t know how she felt about that. Although she was excited that they were working their way through the awkward medieval verses, she was at the same time uneasy about the whole thing. A little needling voice inside her head intoned the words,
Leave it be.
Over and over.

“And it’s clear from the third quatrain that Galen took the Ark to England, specifically to the place of his birth, Godmersham,” Caedmon continued, oblivious to her unease. “Correlating precisely with the information listed in the Feet of Fines property records. Now,
this
I find rather interesting,” he said, pointing to the third quatrain. “‘With open eyes he now saw the black plague that he wrought.’”

“It could be that Galen believed the Ark was responsible for the plague that hit England in 1348.”

“He had ample reason to think so; the pustules that erupted on face and skin during the plague were uncannily similar to the lesions and boils that befell the Philistines. God’s punishment for the theft of the Ark.”

Caedmon’s last remark made Edie wonder at the punishment for
finding
the Ark of the Covenant. Normally, she wasn’t one to believe in curses or hexes,
but . . .

. . . the evidence was damning. Literally. The Old Testament stories and Galen’s quatrains both came stamped with the word
DANGER
. In big, bold, threatening type. Skull and crossbones included.

“Perhaps Galen hid the darned thing in the hopes that it would bring an end to the plague. Too bad he didn’t have the Stones of Fire to protect himself.”

Too bad
they
didn’t have the Stones of Fire,
Edie silently added, her unease now laced with fear. The type of fear that made one double-check all the door latches and sleep with a night-light.

“The last line of the third quatrain was probably composed while Galen was in his death throes,” Caedmon blithely continued, unintentionally splashing gasoline onto the fire.

Knowing that the only way to combat fear was to take decisive action, Edie grabbed a sheet of blank paper.

“Okay, let’s take our square analogy”—pencil in hand, she carefully drew a square—“and fill in the Ark’s chain of custody as detailed by Galen in the quatrains.”

“That’s excellent.” Clearly accustomed to being in a library, Caedmon managed to keep his enthusiasm to a hushed whisper.

“You know, you were absolutely right. Galen
did
use his four quatrains as a poetic cryptogram, with the Ark’s current whereabouts encoded into the lines of the fourth quatrain.”

She stared at the enigmatic fourth quatrain.

“This would be a whole heck of a lot easier if Galen had simply drawn an ‘X Marks the Spot’ treasure map,” she muttered, wondering if they’d finally hit a roadblock.

“Had he done that, the Ark would have been unearthed long centuries ago.”

“While we’re on the topic of finding the Ark, this might be a good time to mention that I’m starting to worry about Colonel MacFarlane having the Stones of Fire in his possession. You said it yourself: Not only was the breastplate a protective shield, but it was also used as a divination tool, enabling the wearer to communicate with God. Not unlike a two-way radio. If MacFarlane finds the Ark of the Covenant, he’d not only have the best intelligence device known to mankind, i.e. the Stones of Fire, but he’d have a very powerful weapon of mass destruction. You can’t deny that it makes for a deadly duo.”

For several long seconds, Caedmon held her gaze. “Then we’ll do all in our power to ensure that doesn’t happen.” Although the words were quietly spoken, he had about him an air of fierce determination. For one brief, blurry second, she envisioned him decked out in chain mail, fighting to the death on the Plain of Esdraelon.

Returning his attention to the “custody box,” Caedmon tapped his finger against the giant question mark on the fourth side of the square. “This is where we begin to tread murky water.”

“Actually, this is where we need to call it quits,” she matter-of-factly announced, unable to keep the jet lag at bay one second longer.

Sensing a run on her energy bank, her partner good-naturedly patted her on the back. “Come now. Time to brain-storm. Group dynamics and all that.”

Needing to break up the party, she dolefully shook her head. “I need to refuel. How about we grab some pub grub? If I remember correctly, they’re serving seafood salad and lentil soup at the Isis Room.”

“Er, right. An excellent suggestion.”

Not for one second was Edie fooled; she could see the disappointment in Caedmon’s blue eyes. He might be able to pull an all-nighter, but there was no way she could tackle the fourth quatrain without some much-needed food. Followed by some much-needed sleep.

While Caedmon returned the leather-bound volumes and cotton gloves to the stern-faced librarian, Edie stuffed the sharpened pencils and notepaper into her tote bag.

A few minutes later, with Caedmon’s protective arm slung around her shoulders, they made their way along a crowded city sidewalk. Harried locals, heads ducked against a cold, wet wind, scurried alongside them. Casting a quick sideways glance down a deserted alleyway, Edie had a sudden, uneasy feeling, afraid that something malevolent, even deadly, lurked in the shadows.