‘It’s fascinating!’ Re agreed, as he gazed up at the immense milk-white dome.
The entire church emanated a feel of polished charm, with the high basilica reminiscent of the Romanesque era and the dome of the Baroque era. The pictures of scenes from St Rupert’s life, the wall paintings, the ceiling frescoes, the magnificent altar and the curve and slopes of the arches and domes—all were in perfect visual harmony. Re couldn’t resist clicking a few pictures.
‘And that is the high altar with the four main saints: Virgil, Rupert, Vitalis and Amandus,’ Isabel said, walking towards the magnificent structure.
The four saints stood in a stately manner just below a grand painting and another smaller one above it. A beautiful light threw the images into a surreal domain.
‘The small painting is of God and the Holy Ghost and the big one below it depicts the saints kneeling before the Virgin Mary with the infant Jesus in her arms. But what is really unique about the altar is the way natural light passes vertically from the brighter smaller painting at the top, to the infant Jesus in the second painting.’
Re understood what she meant. A beam of light seemed to connect the two images, creating a unique brilliance almost as if baby Jesus illuminated the kneeling saints with his glow. Isabel stared at the high altar, a look of reverence on her heart-shaped face.
‘For our purpose what is important about this church, is that Mozart’s Mass in C Minor was premiered here on the 25th of October 1783,’ Isabel added, turning to the journalist.
Re nodded and referred to the clue in his hand. ‘
Where everything begins…’ he quoted. ‘But we have to find “where everything ends”, as well.’
‘The church and the graveyard,’ Isabel suggested. ‘They’re almost side-by-side. Let’s go to the cemetery, which could probably be our first location.’
They stepped out of the cool interiors into the sun. His camera still active, Re followed Isabel. Within minutes they entered a triangular open space and a world of solemn wonder opened before his eyes. Beautiful gravestones bordered two paths, as they rose uphill on either side of a chapel which stood in the centre of the cemetery. Dense flowers bobbed amid the stones, which were a riot of colours. Vaults with grilles queued all through the edge of the cemetery. Dense trees dotted the outskirts of the graveyard like a boundary.
‘You see these room-like vaults on the left with the grilled doors? They are family vaults. Only the original Salzburgers have vaults here.’
Re peered into the vaults where the gravestones were aligned vertically. Each family name was engraved in the centre. Flowers filled the vault, resembling a patch of land from a flowery hillside.
‘This path rises and meets the other path and the cemetery is surrounded by vaults. Straight ahead, you see that door? Well, water from the Almkanal is flowing behind it.’
‘I’m sorry—but what is the Almkanal?’
‘It is a network of tunnels that connects much of the Altstadt of Salzburg underground. The Almkanal is supposed to be the oldest canal system of Central Europe and is said to date back to the eighth century, and we believe it was also used as an escape route in times of trouble. It is Salzburg’s lifeline and the water travels throughout the city. When you step out of the Schloss premises, you see this canal of water running alongside the road. That’s the Almkanal. And you can even see a water mill on the other side of these vaults, which is part of the bakery of the monastery. At the Universitätsplatz, a fountain was built by Boris Podrecca. It looks like a well, but actually it is the biggest open surface of the Almkanal before it enters the Salzach river.’
‘Impressive!’
‘It is. And this chapel, right in the centre, is dedicated to St Margaret. So here we are. Where do you think the first clue could be hidden?’
Re lowered his camera and stared out at the cemetery. The late morning sunlight lay in patches on the gravestones with their flowers surrounding the chapel, the vaults with their arches and big grille doors between pillars, and the Fortress which appeared to be staunchly stationed in the sky between the vaults and the chapel. Re’s mind suddenly seemed to match with the peace of the surroundings.
‘Here’s what I am thinking,’ he began, thoughtfully. ‘If I were Max Reinhardt, I would begin the trail with something symbolic, something very important to me. Was Mozart of particular importance to Reinhardt?’
Isabel shook her head slowly, pursing her lips, a reflective expression on her face. ‘Not in the sense the world is obsessed with him—at least not that I know of. He was heavily into music, of course, and theatre. He founded the Salzburg Festival along with two other friends and the festival was very close to his heart. In fact, he directed the Jedermann for the first festival and—’ she stopped short.
‘What is it?’ Re asked, intrigued by her sudden silence.
‘You are right. Jedermann was first performed at the cathedral and ever since 1920, the Salzburg Festival begins with a performance of the play. Where everything begins and ends…The festival begins at the cathedral!’ she completed, her voice vibrant with excitement.
‘Sounds right. “Angels”, “demon” and “human wisdom” also sound like sections of a Church.’
Isabel’s light-eyed gaze rested on him for a long moment, as if struck by something.
‘Mein Gott! Of course! Now I remember—the plaque at the cathedral…and the crown of life! Mary’s statue at the cathedral!’
‘But what about Mozart?’
She turned shining eyes on him. ‘Mozart was baptized at the cathedral.’
***
Ten minutes later, they were standing in the Domplatz, facing the imposing cathedral. In the centre stood a statue of the Virgin Mary on a mountain of clouds over a globe.
‘We are in the Domplatz which has three open arcade arches in the north, south and west. These unite the Cathedral with the Residenzplatz and St Peter’s Abbey, thus forming a self-contained square,’ Isabel explained.
Re glanced around him at the huge square. They had walked briskly out of the cemetery, past Kapitelplatz and into this magnificent setting.
‘Right before you is the Salzburg Cathedral, one of the most important monuments of Salzburg, originally built in 767, very baroque and impressive. It is 466 feet long and 109 feet high at the dome. It went through three fires and the dome as you see it now was built in 1959. These three doorways with the dates on top indicate the three important consecrations: in 774, 1628 and 1959. The Salzburg Festival opens with the play Jedermann which takes place in the square.
‘And this is the Maria Immaculata made of marble from the Untersberg and cast iron, in 1766. A masterpiece by the Hagenauer brothers. Take a look.’
She led him to the statue, elevated high and imposing. The Virgin Mary stood tall and elegant with the multiple folds of her garment expertly sculpted. The morning sun draped her regal looks, as she stood on a globe and a mountain of clouds. On four sides of the statue, four figures gazed up at her. One look at the structure, and Re sucked in his breath.
‘I got it!’ he exclaimed. ‘These are the allegoric figures representing the angel, the devil, wisdom and the Church.’
‘Precisely! And here is the plaque which Reinhardt has mentioned in his note: “…the angels are delighted, the envious demon growls, the human wisdom vanishes and the triumphant church rejoices”.’
‘Fantastic! And what about: “…then she wears the crown of life?”’
Isabel smiled, her bluish eyes lighting up from within. ‘That’s the most interesting part. I don’t know why it didn’t strike me right away. I’ve seen it all my life, enjoyed it immensely as I grew up in this town. Please follow me.’ She led him to the far end of the Platz, to the arch from where they could see the Virgin Mary rise against the backdrop of the cathedral.
‘Stand right here. Can you see the figure of Mary? Now, look at the angels on the cathedral. When you place them together, with Mary and the cathedral backdrop, Mary seems to be surrounded by
angels. And specifically, those two angels who are holding a crown between them. From this angle, they seem to be placing the crown exactly on her head.’
In the morning rays and at that particular angle, it did seem as if the angels, high on the cathedral wall, were gently placing the striking golden crown on the Virgin Mary’s head.
Re whistled in frank appreciation. ‘Magnifique!’
‘Exactly!’ Isabel grinned.
They stared at each other for soundless seconds, as the significance of the moment struck them. Then, with unspoken mutual understanding, both of them made a run for the statue. Isabel waited with bated breath as Re leapt up and expertly ran his hands round the base of the statue and on the top of the globe, looking for crevices and gaps. He had to stretch up on his toes to match the height, as he circled the sculpture. Just as he returned to the front of the statue, his fingers brushed a sharp edge and right underneath, his hand slipped into a recess. Re sucked his breath in sharply, as his fingers touched something smooth. His heart began a tattoo of anticipation. This had to be it! The thought sent a thrill down his spine. He whipped around and glanced at Isabel, his dark eyes gleaming from behind his spectacles. She was watching him, unblinking and motionless.
‘I think we’ve just unlocked the Trail!’ he announced. His voice was low but resonant with excitement.
Chapter 5
Isabel’s hand flew to her mouth as Re extracted a tiny role of oilskin and jumped down to the ground. She stared at the roll, her eyes wide with astonishment.
‘So the Trail does exist,’ she whispered, stunned.
‘It sure does.’ Re grinned. ‘It was so deeply embedded inside the wedge that it clearly was the best hiding place for it, evading probably many probing hands. Come on, let’s sit down here.’
He dragged her by the hand and they settled down at the foot of the statue. Very carefully, he unrolled the oilskin fold which disclosed a piece of paper. For a moment, he almost feared that the paper would crumble in his hands. But it didn’t. It was yellowed and badly creased but still in one piece.
‘Be careful. This really is Max Reinhardt speaking to us,’ Isabel continued to whisper in awe. ‘How amazing can it get?’
Re unfolded the single sheet and read the note aloud.
‘Congratulations. Clue No. 1 solved successfully.
But now:
Right across from my heart and soul,
On the curve of the mirror, lies the goal.
As the postcard of beauty, lies on the ancient tree
The rocking path leads to where the four touch the sky free.’
‘Oh, Mein Gott!’ Isabel burst out. The shock and incredulity on her face was almost palpable.
‘It’s a great find, isn’t it?’ Re smiled.
‘Great find? That is an understatement. This is a piece of history which was lying there under that statue, all these years, I’ve passed by this statue umpteen times, unsuspecting that…I can’t just imagine…I am speechless—’ she broke off, unable to contain her awe.
‘I know what you mean,’ Re empathized.
‘This is like Max Reinhardt actually talking to us. Like he’s telling us directly to do something.’
‘He is, in a way.’
They were silent for a few moments, as Re allowed Isabel time to gather her composure.
‘One thing is for sure; under no condition can we unearth the Trail before noon today. We don’t even know how many clues there are in this trail. They could be two—or there could be ten!’
‘Right, and it’s already 11. Just an hour left. I wonder if Stefan is as lucky with the Pillars.’
***
Stefan glanced at the clock on the wall. The report from three areas had already come in. The Festung, Mozart’s birthplace and residence were all declared clear. Stefan experienced an iota of relief. The problem was that he had no clue which monuments represented the Pillars of Salzburg according to the criminal. Which were the ones which would be targeted? He couldn’t afford to take a risk and decide on an individual Pillar. All had to be covered, including the Archbishop’s residence. But there was too little time. In less than an hour, the first Pillar would be targetted. What exactly would happen? If it was a bomb—which he was almost certain of—it would be detected and defused at once. He had full faith in his team. They would sniff it out, even if it was hidden in the most secret of places.
Stefan felt a twinge of anger. He had put out their entire force to work on the whim of a note. He didn’t like the fact that someone had threatened Salzburg. Stefan was an original Salzburger and he loved his town. He wouldn’t take it lying down that someone, anyone, would get away with creating this ruckus, especially something as dangerous as this. He would get to the bottom of this matter.
He glanced at the list Dan had shared with him: Mr and Mrs Hollander, Richard, Joanna, Perth, Martina, the artist-in-residence, some staff, and the long list of Seminar delegates who would begin arriving early the next morning. He had to also deploy some plainclothes men to the Schloss. The Seminar guests were people of considerable eminence and would come with their own security, but it was the prime duty of the Austrian police to protect them. As soon as the clock struck noon and he received an all-clear report, he would head to the Schloss again.
A knock on his cabin door preceded the entrance of a man. He was tall, with a shaggy beard, and an ill-fitting shirt hung loosely on him. But it was the expression on his face that made Stefan take instant notice. The man seemed vaguely familiar and Stefan quickly racked his brain for recognition.
‘Officer, I need to show you something.’
‘You are…’
‘I’m Keller. Isabel and Justin’s neighbour. I live right next door to the B&B.’
‘Oh, yes. Take a seat.’ Stefan was at once interested, but at the back of his mind a sudden hand of worry fastened over his thoughts.
‘I found this in one of my flowerbeds. I was extracting the weeds today and—’ Keller fell silent. It was obvious that he was moved by a great emotion.
Stefan accepted the torn piece of paper. Even as he read the single word on the paper, dirtied with wet soil, he knew that matters had worsened by leaps and bounds for Isabel. ‘Help’ was scrawled in a weak and hasty manner on the paper.
‘Is it…is it from Justin?’ Keller managed to ask.
‘We don’t know yet,’ Stefan was cautious.
‘He’d been telling me that he was having problems at home. That she has a temper which she cannot control at times. That he felt unwell after he spoke to her. Could he—could she—’ he stopped himself. ‘I’ve known Isabel for long. I like her and I don’t mean…I mean I hope that my coming here is not going to create problems—’
‘Relax. There’s nothing to worry about. You’ve done the right thing. You can leave this bit of paper with me,’ Stefan cut in smoothly.
But he felt far more worried than he cared to reveal. Keller had the freedom to expose his anxiety. Stefan didn’t. He would have to accept whatever his investigation turned up. Even the fact that Isabel may be guiltier than he thought.
***
‘Well?’ Re asked.
They were still seated at the foot of the sculpture. Tourists walked past, clicking photographs, chattering in French, German and Italian. A bit of Spanish too, Re observed. They dropped amused glances at the two of them. We must make an odd couple, he thought. Isabel, with her waiflike looks and in her black polo-neck T-shirt, looked like a heroine from the black-and-white era. And he, with his ponytail, spectacles and casual get-up, could pass off as her bohemian friend. The image of themselves brought a smile to his lips and he turned to look at her.
Isabel was staring at the clue in her hand. ‘You know, this would’ve been such a perfect moment, holding a piece of history in my hand. Just imagine the enormity of it all, the absolute joy and thrill, if only Justin was safely back home.’
‘Isabel—’ Re began, a little cautiously.
‘We would come and sit here,
quite often, in the evenings,’ she continued as if she hadn’t heard him. ‘Sit for hours. Chatting, or just in companionable silence. I have always loved the cathedral—somehow, it has always brought me contentment. I’ve found peace here. And for some reason, I had felt that I had instilled a little bit of that peace in him too, with our ritual. But…’ She glanced up at Re and her light eyes held his dark gaze for a brief second. ‘You will help me find him, won’t you?’
It could’ve been uttered in a beseeching tone, but it wasn’t. It was a sort of rhetorical plea, almost authoritative, and yet it carried a certain anxiety and a craving for assurance. He knew he had to give it.
‘I will do my best,’ he replied in a grave voice.
‘It is your promise which has given me new hope. Thank you, Re!’
‘You loved him a lot.’
Isabel nodded, her bleached blonde head bent, as she considered the clue in her hand unseeingly. ‘Dearly. In fact, I surprised myself with my love. It was so intense and—and real.’
‘And he felt the same about you?’
‘Yes, he did,’ she replied promptly.
A little too promptly, Re noticed.
‘Yes, he did…at least in the beginning, I think—’ she faltered and cast an awkward glance at him.
‘Isabel, for now, can you—’
‘I know, I need to stop thinking of him and focus on the trail.’
‘Oui, just until we solve this puzzle,’ Re agreed.
Isabel nodded, the hint of a frown on her face. ‘You are right. So stupid of me. How can I forget that my dear beloved Salzburg is caught in a dangerous situation! I am sorry.’
The Trail of Four Page 8
