by C. M. Palov
Arms crossed over his chest, Caedmon, again, circled the pile. Smiling, he said, “Yes, a pyramid. Brilliant.”
“And that’s brilliant because . . . ?”
“Because a pyramid symbolizes the ascent of the sun into the heavenly sphere.” Raising his arm, he pointed to the top of the four-story granite slope. The parent who gave birth to all of the strewn rocks. He next gestured to the pile of stones in front of them. “This cairn would have served as a signpost to the initiated, instructing them to look skyward. Specifically to the top of the granite tower in whose shadow we now stand.”
Edie looked upward, not liking what she saw. “But we don’t have any climbing gear,” she argued, pointing out the obvious.
Undeterred, Caedmon strode toward the tower. “And neither did the fourteenth-century Templars,” he said over his shoulder, “leading me to conclude that there’s a way to ascend this granite tower without breaking our bloody arses.”
Rooted in place, she watched as he disappeared behind the massive granite outcropping. She’d seen enough documentaries on the Discovery channel to know that it probably came into being a gazillion years ago when colliding land masses caused a giant geologic burp.
“Just as I thought, there’s a back staircase,” Caedmon announced upon his return. “If we take care, we should be able to make the ascent.”
“Great,” she deadpanned, not completely sold. And not completely certain that if one of them slipped, they’d survive the fall.
“As you can plainly see, there are enough fissures, cracks, and protruding ledges to enable us to safely scale to the top,” Caedmon pointed out, the man a real sword in the stone when it came to the Templars.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got this climb covered,” she assured him with a big, fake chipper smile. “Last year I did the rock wall at a sporting goods store.”
What she failed to mention was that she had an instructor guide her through every step, she wore a safety harness, and there was an inflatable mattress in case of a harness malfunction. Bouldering in a vacuum.
“To lighten the load, I suggest we leave behind the knapsacks and digging equipment.”
Refusing to go anywhere without her digital camera, Edie removed it from the knapsack. She then slid the strap over her head, carrying the camera bandolier-style across her chest.
Despite the fact that they had only their hands and feet to use for purchase on the granite slope, the climb proved easier than she had imagined. Reaching the top, she was relieved to find herself standing on a relatively flat ledge some thirty feet in length and twenty feet in width. A gusty blast of air lifted the hair off her shoulders.
Standing above the tree line, she could see across a vast expanse of wilderness. “Wow, what a view!”
“Indeed, it’s quite inspiring,” Caedmon murmured, his gaze fixed on a lone boulder positioned at the far edge of the granite shelf. “Unless I’m greatly mistaken, we have discovered our divining rod. Shall we?”
Edie eagerly fell into step beside him. “Hopefully, there’s a map and a big Jolly Roger carved on it.”
“Curious you should mention the Jolly Roger given that the famous pirate logo originated with the Knights Templar and was frequently used to mark their grave sites.”
Walking around the boulder, they came to a standstill in front of a crudely incised carving.
“Well, it isn’t a Jolly Roger.” She squinted to better make out the weathered image. “Do you recognize it?”
“Most assuredly.” Going down on bent knee, Caedmon fingered the carving, the image incised in hollow relief. “It’s the Templar battle standard. Better known as the Beauséant.”
“Beauséant . . .” She accessed her memory banks, going all the way back to Madame Girard’s high school French class. “That comes from the word beau, which means beautiful, right?”
Caedmon nodded. “However, in medieval French, it translated more closely to ‘glorious.’ The Templars were known to shout ‘Beauséant!’ as they charged into battle.”
“The medieval version of the Rebel yell, huh? I think we should get a photo. For the family album,” she added with a playful wink. A few moments later, photo taken, she showed him the image on the review screen.
“Okay, what am I looking at?”
Still on bent knee, Caedmon rose to his feet. “Bear in mind that this Beauséant, or battle standard, is carved in stone. That said, a battle standard was a large cloth banner held aloft on a wooden staff that served as a rallying point for one’s army during battle. When it came to the Beauséant, the Templars had a simple code of conduct—as long as it flew, they must fight.”
“I’m guessing that the actual banner would have been brightly colored so it could easily be seen from a distance.”
“Indeed, the Beauséant comprised three armorial colors: red, white, and black.”
“A simple but bold fashion statement.”
Caedmon placed his hand on top of the boulder. “This is a clue, I’m certain of it. No man would go to the trouble of climbing a granite tower to carve this image without a reason.”
“True, but this is what I don’t get: If the Knights Templar hid their treasure trove in Arcadia, why leave secret clues as to its whereabouts? They did, after all, know where they hid it.”
“But not everyone in the Templar colony would be privy to the treasure’s whereabouts. Only a select few.” He glanced at the silver signet ring on his right hand. “The grand master and his inner circle. There’s also the possibility that the clues were left for their Scottish brethren. In the event that calamity struck.”
“Which is exactly what happened. A tragic calamity befell the colony at Arcadia.” While she hated to play the devil’s advocate, Edie knew that Caedmon sometimes suffered from myopic vision when it came to the Knights Templar. “That being the case, there’s a very real possibility that someone, say the Scottish branch of the Templar family, found out about the massacre, sailed to the New World, deciphered the clues, and collected the treasure.”
“We will cross that bridge when we come to it. Speaking of which, the Beauséant faces due west.” He removed the GPS device from his cargo pants. “According to the GPS receiver, that also happens to be the direction of Yawgoog’s stone bridge. There may well be a connection between the Beauséant and the stone bridge.”
Resigned to the fact that Caedmon would not surrender while the Beauséant still figuratively flew, Edie led the way back to the other side of the granite ledge. It was a little past one o’clock; they still had plenty of time to find Yawgoog’s bridge and hightail it out of the Arcadia Wilderness Area before sunset.
A few minutes later, having safely navigated their descent, they headed due west.
CHAPTER 29
Lifting his head heavenward, Saviour inhaled, savoring the invigorating aroma of cedar and pine.
Head cleared, he readjusted his earphones. He’d been tracking Aisquith and the Miller woman since they left the Hope Valley Inn. An easy enough feat. He simply aimed the parabolic dish on his listening device and he could hear the couple’s every utterance. Stalking prey had never been easier.
And the fun part?
The couple were oblivious to the fact that he followed in their wake—although he’d learned his lesson and would be more careful this time.
Last night, he’d misjudged Edie Miller, thinking her little more than a silly bitch. She’d proved him wrong. Not only was she tenacious, she possessed an admirable cunning. Would she fight back? He hoped so. Without question, the Brit would prove a worthy contender.
Saviour smiled, anxiously anticipating the bout.
Such fun and games.
Hearing the sound of rent fabric, Saviour glanced down, his jacket snagged on a branch. Shrugging, he yanked the lightweight nylon free. It was the sort of careless mishap that would normally enrage him; he took such care with his wardrobe. But not today. Today, his thoughts, his emotions, were all attuned to the thrill of the hunt.
In
truth, a manhunt.
So much better than stalking furry mammals. A deer could not scream. A fox could not beg for mercy. A rabbit could not plead to be put out of its misery. Only one kind of prey could scream and beg and plead.
But the predator had to exercise patience when stalking human prey.
On Thessaloniki, he used to spend an inordinate amount of time studying each and every prospective john, carefully scrutinizing the man’s facial expressions, his eye movements. The way he dressed. The aperitif he ordered as he pretended to read the newspaper. Sometimes he would spend hours in the pursuit of one man, waiting and watching instinctive to him.
So, too, killing.
His smile broadened. Let the games begin.
CHAPTER 30
Edie estimated that they’d gone approximately a quarter mile when they reached the edge of the swift-moving river.
Worried they’d come to the proverbial dead end, she stared at the stone bridge comprising gigantic rectangular granite slabs that extended from one side of the riverbank to the other.
Frowning, Caedmon’s gaze was glued to the gushing white-capped water that flowed across the middle of the bridge.
“The Indians forgot to mention that a fifteen-foot waterfall flows right down the middle of Yawgoog’s stone bridge. Which makes crossing the river next to impossible,” Edie glumly remarked. “Some bridge.”
“Interesting that Dr. Lovett made no mention of the waterfall in his field book. Evidently, he didn’t consider it pertinent.”
“Dr. Lovett didn’t mention a lot of things in his little notebook. Too paranoid that someone would steal his notes and beat him to the treasure. Okay, scoutmaster, now what? As near as I can tell, this is a bridge to nowhere.”
“Quarried and built by man . . . but to what end? As you said, it’s impossible to cross to the other side.”
“Are you sure this is even man-made?”
“There’s no doubt in my mind. See these rough-hewn marks?” He pointed to the edge of the nearest block. “These slabs were obviously cut from the local granite, of which there is an abundance.”
“Using the same tools employed by fourteenth-century stonemasons.”
Caedmon nodded. “The Indian tales mention that Yawgoog wore a leather apron as he constructed his fabled bridge. European stonemasons similarly garbed themselves in leather aprons.”
“Okay, we’ve got the how of it figured out. Any ideas as to why it was built?”
“My gut instinct is that this is related to the carved Beauséant, but . . .” He shrugged, clearly at a loss.
“Let’s backtrack,” she said, hoping to kick-start a brainstorming session. “What do we know about the Beauséant? We know it means ‘glorious’ and that the actual banner was red, white, and black. We also know that the Templars—”
“Red, white, and black . . . of course.” He rubbed his hand over his mouth as he contemplated Yawgoog’s bridge. A few moments later, he said, “Since the Beauséant was carved onto the boulder, the colors were implied.”
Even though she had no idea why that was relevant, Edie encouragingly nodded her head. “I’m with you. Keep rolling.” She made a rolling motion with her hand.
“Mind you, I’m thinking aloud, but it could well be that the oak trees that bracket either side of the bridge are a clue. You may not have noticed but the grove of trees on one side of the river bank is white oak and the grove on the opposite bank is red.”
She glanced at the massive old-growth oak trees. “How do you know? They look identical to me.”
He made no reply. Instead, he picked up a dried oak leaf near his boot tip. Then, bending at the waist, his eyes glued to the ground, he walked several feet before picking up yet another brown, sun-dried leaf. “The proof is in the foliage,” he said, showing her the two similar but uniquely different oak leaves. “The lobes on the white oak are round.”
“And the lobes on the red oak are pointed. It was probably blown across the river last autumn. But how do you know that these two oak groves were intentionally planted?”
“Had God’s hand been involved in the design, one would expect mixed groves on either side of the bank. But, instead, there’s one species on each bank. Red and white. Clearly, the oaks relate to the Beauséant.”
“All right, then riddle me this: Where does the black come into play? Lest you forgot, the Beauséant is made up of three colors, not two.”
“Indeed.” For several long seconds he stared at the two oak leaves he still held in his hand. “Medieval battle standards can be thought of as a type of shorthand. Then, as now, each armorial color had a specific meaning. In heraldry, black symbolizes the virtue of wisdom.”
“Which is another name for knowledge. And the Latin phrase ‘I am a witness to knowledge’ is engraved on the Templar signet.” She pointedly glanced at his ring finger.
“Moreover, the color black is represented by the numeral eight.” He turned to her, smiling. “And as anyone familiar with the Knights Templar knows, there are eight points on a Templar cross.”
“So the color black has a strong connection to the Knights Templar.”
“And the color black is symbolic of the grave, underground caves, and the primordial void.” He flung the two oak leaves to the ground. “Riddle solved.”
Without any explanation as to what he was doing, Caedmon stepped out onto Yawgoog’s bridge, purposely striding to where stone met water. Turning his back, he slid his knapsack off his shoulders and deposited it on the granite slab. He then removed the GPS receiver from his pocket, placing it on top of the knapsack.
“Caedmon! What are you doing?”
“Preparing to leap into the primordial void.”
With those parting words, he jumped off the granite bridge into the river. Disappearing from sight.
CHAPTER 31
“Nail on the head!” Caedmon triumphantly exclaimed as his booted feet made contact with a granite ledge.
Barely able to contain his excitement, he stared at the entrance to the hidden cave, the opening of which was located behind the waterfall.
The combination of fast-moving water and strategically placed granite slabs had completely obscured the cave below. Standing above, it was impossible for one to see through the sparkling water to the entrance. He’d taken the plunge because, if his theory proved false, the worst-case scenario would be a wet trek back to the rental car. As it’d turned out, he was only slightly damp.
His suspicion about an underground vault having been right on target, he wanted to whoop with joy.
“Caedmon!”
Craning his neck, he peered upward. Edie’s voice sounded as though it was coming from some faraway place, muffled by the gush of water falling over the granite slab above him. He squinted as he tried to bring her blurry image into focus.
He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Edie, I’m perfectly safe!” he shouted through his makeshift megaphone. “There’s a hidden cave behind the waterfall!”
“What? Get out of town! There’s a cave down there?”
Really and truly.
He glanced behind him at the entryway, one that perpetually glistened with a wet sheen.
He suddenly felt lightheaded. Apprehensive. The strangeness of the place, the refreshing water spray, the dappled play of light passing through the fast-moving water. All of his senses were fully engaged. He’d had a similar sensation years ago when he sat for his university exams, the years of study reduced to a group of undisclosed questions contained within an official examination booklet. A mystery to be solved. To be conquered.
Testis sum agnitio. I am a witness to knowledge.
“I want you to remove the coil of nylon rope and the pickax from my field kit,” he shouted up at Edie, anxious to explore the cave.
“What do you want me to do with ’em?” she called down a few moments later.
“If you would be so kind as to toss them to me.”
The two requested items landed on the granite ledg
e with a loud clang and a dull thud.
“Excellent.” Caedmon quickly went to work securing one end of the rope around the metal head of the pickax. Satisfied that the knot would hold, he shouted up at Edie, “Be on your guard, I’m going to toss the pickax back to the surface.”
Warning issued, he hurled upward.
“Got it! Now what?”
“Secure the chiseled end of the head onto the nearest granite slab. And do make sure it’s a snug fit.”
He had no idea how the Templars had exited their secret lair, but he intended to use the rope to climb to the surface.
“Okay, that ought to hold me,” Edie yelled, having incorrectly guessed at his intention.
“For God’s sake, stay put!”
“Hey, time to run with the bulls.”
Bloody hell!
Unable to stop her, Caedmon positioned himself at the edge of the granite ledge, ready to catch Edie should she fall.
To his relief, she very ably rappelled down the stacked granite slabs.
Landing in the bent-knee position, Edie straightened. She then graced him with a toothy grin, the woman clearly pleased with her stunt.
“’ello, luv,” she cooed in an exaggerated cockney accent.
Caedmon stared at her, watching the strange play of light that flickered across her face, filtered by the nearby gush of water. He was conflicted, wanting to hold her tight and to shake her roughly.
“Always thought the proverbial ‘leap of faith’ was just a figure of speech,” she said, oblivious to his tumult. “But I stand corrected. What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I should throttle you,” he hissed between clenched teeth. “This isn’t a summer jolly. It could well prove a dangerous expedition.”
“Said the voice of doom and gloom.” She removed a knotted plastic shopping bag that was looped around her wrist. “Play nice or you don’t get the goody bag. And in case you’re wondering, I packed two flashlights and my digital camera.” Displaying a complete lack of remorse, Edie handed him the bag. “So, how did you do it, oh great one? How did you figure out that there was a cave behind the waterfall?”
