The Son, The Sudarium Trilogy - Book Two (14 page)

Then the old woman flickered open her eyes and whispered, “Again … again,” pleading ecstatically for the next blow. Maria pulled her hand back, as if it had been burned. She, too, had seen the welts and wondered about their origin. How could she enforce her will on someone who thrived on pain? The slap had actually given a perverse pleasure to the woman, who licked the blood on her lower lip as if it were honey.

“My dear Teresa taught me you can attack the body, the honor and the possessions of a lover of God. You can destroy the earthly shell. But not the soul. The soul is always protected. Suffering only brings me closer to Him. It’s all I have to give - my suffering. That is why suffering is so sweet.”

“Crazy bitch,” muttered Maria, leaving Miz O on the floor and slamming the bedroom door behind her.

Eric’s cell phone rang in his coat pocket.

“Yes?”

He listened intently, as Judith stood by patiently.

“I see.” He switched off the phone and turned to Judith. “It would appear it is time for you to visit Olga.”

2:32

Mano lay on the grassy hillside, overlooking Oviedo. A swell of white clouds hovered over the mountains in the distance, but they offered no threat to the sunshine that blanketed the hill and the city below in the warmth of April. From his vantage point, the medieval center was barely detectable, hidden by the high rises that were rapidly filling up the valley. Then he spotted it: the single tower of the cathedral, gold in the sunshine, and looking surprisingly inconsequential from far away. It was, he thought, like a sapling in the forest, threatened by larger, more powerful trees and fighting for the light and space that would allow it to flourish.

He thought how overwhelming the cathedral had seemed, when he was in it yesterday, arguing with the guide. Now he had to search to even find it. Was it this way with all things? Did they lose their grandeur as you moved away? Time and space were great levelers. Men grew for a while, then shriveled with age. Was it the same with buildings, imposing for a time, for an era, then sustained only by their reputation, then nothing but empty shells?

What troubled him most was that he had felt nothing in the Camara Santa. Nothing at all. It’s not as if he had counted on a bolt of lightening. But he expected at least a quickening of the pulse, a tingle of wonderment or even - ridiculous as it seemed to him now -a realization that in some sense he was connecting with his roots, coming home. Why else had he been compelled to travel all this way? And yet, nothing. Even now, looking down upon the busy town and the snow-capped Picos de Europa, he was filled with feelings of emptiness.

Behind him stood the Palacios de Santa Maria de Naranco, built in the 9
^th
century as a royal hunting lodge and long since coopted by the Catholic Church. The clerk at the front desk of the hotel had told him it was one of the remarkable historical buildings in Oviedo. After breakfast, he’d taken a taxi to see it, but now that he was here, the structure seemed inconsequential to him and he felt no compulsion to join the line of tourists waiting to visit the inside. Instead, he’d chosen a spot on the hillside, apart from the others, where he could contemplate the landscape in peace. Laying his head on the grass, he felt the coolness of the earth invade his body, while at the same time the sun blanketed it with warmth. It was as if his body were the connection – between the earth and the sky, between unfathomable depths and immeasurable heights. Consciously he tried to recall the sensation he’d spent under the mud in the Sierra Gorda, when he had seemed to experience the essence of all things. It was nothing he had been able to put easily into words – this sense that his body was a tiny part of infinity, that he was co-mingling with creation itself. He, Mano, the man had been absorbed into timelessness. What seemed to rescue workers like three agonizingly interminable days had been for him a mere instant, the blink of an eye, the flickering of a hummingbird’s wing.

He made an effort to empty his consciousness of the tourists’ cries and the grinding of the occasional car, as it made its way up the winding road. At first he felt nothing. Slowly the sinking sensation overcame him, as if he were being put under anesthesia and dissolving,
melting
, into the hillside, atoms mingling with atoms, as they had the previous time. He had no fear of loneliness, rather a feeling of plenitude. His life was no longer his life, but part of life itself, indivisible. The distinctions between outside and inside, between root and rock, between leaf and lead were gone, and he felt only a great intermingling.

Was this what death was like, a dropping away, a release, the ultimate freedom from the mind’s pervasive preoccupations? The deeper he sank, the more intense the peace he knew. Yet this was not flight; he was not running from the world, so much as he was running toward a higher realm.

But then the distant planet appeared on the fringes of his vision again. Black, approaching at lightening speed from somewhere in space, getting closer, more ominous until it threatened to annihilate him and everything else. He had forgotten about this part. Not forgotten, but chosen not to remember. The black planet grew bigger and bigger as it hurtled ever closer. Only this time, as he waited for the impact, a new feeling swelled through him: Destroy me! Annihilate all I have ever been and will ever be. Bring it to an end.

The dark wish brought him back to the hillside overlooking Oviedo. He felt the sun’s warmth once again on his hands and body, although his face remained in shadow. He opened his eyes, squinting to readjust to the light. Someone was standing over him. “Too bad!” he thought wryly. “No annihilation today!”

The figure came into focus. A woman. With long blonde hair.

“It’s beautiful up here, isn’t it?” said Claudia, sitting down beside him.

Mano propped himself up on his elbow, blinked a few times and cast his eyes over the valley. “Especially the mountains. They look alive.”

“Have you been in the building yet?” Claudia gestured to the stone edifice behind them. “Those 9
^th
century kings really knew where to put their hunting lodges, didn’t they? What is it they say? ‘Location, location, location.’”

Mano laughed. “It’s good to see you. I don’t know what came over me in the Camara Santa yesterday. It was pretty rude of me interrogating that poor guide like that. And I’m sorry I took off so abruptly. I hope you realize it had nothing to do with you.”

“Oh, I knew that. I’d always heard writers and artists were volatile people. I used to include myself in that category. But after seeing your outburst in the cathedral, I’m not sure I qualify….That’s a joke, Mano! Actually, it was a relief to see someone with passion. Usually, everyone listens dutifully to those guides. No one ever says, ‘Didn’t slaves build these pyramids?’ or ‘How can the church justify all these precious works of art, when half the world is starving?’ I thought it was refreshing that you were asking some real questions. I was just sorry you left. But that’s me being selfish. Believe it or not, you’re the first man I ever invited to breakfast.”

“I enjoyed our breakfast a lot.”

Claudia waited for him to say more, confident what was coming next.

“Can I make it up to you?” Mano asked.

“How?”

“We’ll tour this old hunting lodge together and I promise you I won’t open my mouth once.”

“I have a better idea. I’m tired of old buildings. Why don’t you come to the Costa Verde with me?”

“The ocean?”

“The air is fresh, the water’s green. It’s only an hour away and it’s supposed to be beautiful. You can make it up by going with me.”

“How do we get there?”

“I have a rental.” She point out a silver Citroen parked precariously on the side of the road.

“It’s a pretty big coast. Do you know where to go?”

“Llanes,” announced Claudia, as if her mind had long since been made up, “They say it’s a photographer’s paradise. Mountains that meet the sea. Cliffs that hug the coastline. Giant caves you can explore when the tide is out. It’s where all the elements meet, I’m told, in this great collision. Like the end of the world.”

“Really?” said Mano, standing up. “Well, I’m ready for the end of the world.” He put out a hand to help Claudia up off the ground.

“Good,” she said, brushing the grass off her clothes. “So am I.”

2:33

It
was
like the end of the world. Massive rocks jutted up out of the ocean, like prehistoric monsters rising from the depths. Green pastures suddenly ended in breathtakingly steep cliffs, as if the land had simply been sawed off. There were no comfortable transitions. Cows grazed peacefully on the luxuriant grasses, while hundreds of feet below the ocean seethed like a caldron. The Costa Verde - the Green Coast - was not misnamed. The water changed continually from green to blue to turquoise, the colors swirling together in places as if on an artist’s palette. As Claudia and Mano sped along the coastal highway, the tantalizing glimpses of pounding surf and shimmering foam made them eager for a closer view. So before reaching Llanes, they pulled off the highway onto a winding road that led to one of the dozens of beaches tucked into coves or huddled by the estuary of a river.

The one they picked had an unpromising name - La Playa de Poo - but it could not have been more spectacular. From above, it had the shape of an hourglass. The upper cove, more or less round, led through a narrow channel – to the lower cove, which eventually opened onto the ocean. Low tide emptied out the upper cove, leaving behind puddles and shallow pools, and exposing the caves along the shoreline. At high tide, the water turned aggressive, pounding through the channel, churning up what had been deceptively peaceful hours before. One small hotel stood on a bluff, overlooking the water’s eternal coming and going. It was probably jammed in the summer, but this being late spring, it looked deserted. Mano and Claudia had the tumultuous landscape to themselves.

They walked along a dirt path that led to the cliffs that fronted Playa de Poo. Behind them, pastures rose to mountainous spikes. In front of them, the ocean relentlessly assaulted the rocky shore, looking to domesticate it and turn it into another sandy inlet. Attracted by the noise from below, Mano approached the cliff’s edge and stared straight down.

“Don’t get too close!” warned Claudia.

“Why? Are you scared of heights?”

“It depends. The wind is pretty strong. There’s nothing to hold on to.”

“You can hold on to me. Come on. It’s beautiful, looking down. We didn’t drive all this distance for you not to see!”

“I’m not exactly comfortable with heights.” Claudia reluctantly inched forward.

“There’s no reason to be afraid,” Mano reassured her, reaching out a hand. The balance, she thought to herself, seemed to have shifted. Up to now, she had been the one in control. Now she was putting herself in his hands. She hesitated.

“What’s the matter? Don’t you trust me?”

She saw something in his eyes that she had not seen in all the photographs she had taken of him, some of which she had actually studied with a magnifying glass. It wasn’t recklessness, exactly. Or daring. All she could think of was determination, the determination not to bow before anything or anyone. She could see why people might give their will over to him. Here she was, pretending to be petrified of heights, if the truth be known, pretending to put all her fears aside, in order to satisfy him and respond to the call in his eyes.

But this was her mission. The rules had been agreed upon long ago. This intimacy was making her forget her new role. Or maybe the reality was that she wanted to forget it. She was more comfortable as the detached observer, the chronicler, the supporting player. This sudden elevation to leading lady made her uneasy. And now those eyes were drawing her perilously toward the edge of the cliff. Did he suspect her? Was he turning the tables, coning the con?

A hundred feet below, the waves drummed thunderously and threw up showers of foam.

“Trust me, Claudia,” Mano said, as if coaxing a child. “I won’t let you fall. A few more steps is all. You’re almost there.”

Suddenly, she was no longer pretending. She actually feared for her safety. Pulling herself back from the cliff’s edge, she cried, “No, I can’t do it.”

“Of course, you can.” Mano extended his hand again. “Come to me, Claudia. Come to me, you little fraidy cat.”

“Okay,” she relented. “But only if you let me take your picture first.”

“Oh, striking bargains, are we now? Nothing for nothing in this world. Okay, why not?”

She had to work hard to hold the camera steady. His eyes seemed to bore directly through the camera lens to the back of her skull. What she saw through the viewfinder was a young man suspended in the endless expanse of sea and sky, attached to neither, weightless, floating. Shaken, she snapped the picture and quickly put the camera in her backpack.

“Pay up time,” said Mano. He waited while Claudia made her way slowly to where he was standing. A foot away, the land dropped off at a steep right angle. The cliff looked to be made of pure mineral, free of any vegetation or earthen protuberances that might break a fall. Even the wild flowers had chosen safer ground. He put his arms around her waist and held her tight.

“Now look down there. It’s magnificent!”

She bent her head over the edge and saw, far below, the waves crashing against the boulders, producing a noise akin to distant thunder. Spray shot up into the air, then rained back down, punishing the boulders a second time. There was not a person in sight. Was now the time? she thought. A misstep, a gust of wind, a sudden loss of balance and one of them could go plunging fatally downward.

“Did you know,” said Mano, still gripping her tightly, “that they say people who are afraid of heights are not afraid of falling? They’re really afraid that they might jump.” He adjusted his weight slightly, but it was enough for her to let out a scream that caused even the grazing cows to lift their heads at the interruption. He pulled her back adroitly from the void. Her knees went weak and they both tumbled to the ground. She was panting with fright, but she forced a smile. So he smiled, too. He propped himself up on one side, his face close to hers, and said, “You don’t have to be afraid with me. I am the most trustworthy man on earth, or didn’t you know?”

“Are you?”

“That’s what I’ve been told.”

And with that, he slowly lowered his head to hers. And when their lips touched, she felt a rush of feeling that was inexplicable. It both excited and terrified her.