Tess and Craig entered the room, which was lofty and wide, with antique Spanish cabinets, open doors at the window, and an oversized bed. Its tall headboard matched the rich, dark beams of the floor and ceiling.
Craig locked the door.
Tess gripped his arms. 'Thank God, you-!'
Craig forcefully put a finger on her lips. 'I bet the view from this room is magnificent. Those flowers. Did you notice them on the balcony? Why don't we take a look?'
It wasn't as if she had a choice. Craig's hand pressed against her back and urged her toward the balcony.
Past the open doors, leaning against the wrought-iron railing, they had a view of the cobblestone road and the outbuildings, beyond which there were fields – bulls in some, horses in others – then the forest, then the towering mountains. A scented breeze widened Tess's nostrils, but that pleasure was irrelevant.
'I'm sure the room is bugged,' Craig murmured. 'But I don't think the microphones can hear us on the balcony. Did you notice the sentries?'
'Yes.'
The white bull?'
'Especially.'
'We're screwed,' Craig said. 'Father Baldwin's plan is a disaster.'
'Maybe not. He could still-'
'You're dreaming,' Craig said. 'We're on our own. I don't understand why Gerrard and Fulano haven't killed us yet, but from now on, we forget about Father Baldwin and depend on ourselves.'
'Gerrard and Fulano must have a reason for letting us live.'
'So far.'
With a tremble, Tess agreed. 'So far. Something else is going on. Maybe the surprise Fulano mentioned.'
'Whatever it is, it's not in our favor.'
'So what do we do?' Tess asked. Try to run?'
'With those sentries? God damn that Father Baldwin,' Craig said. 'He didn't want to help us. He used us. We'd have been safer if we'd never listened to him.'
'That was yesterday. We have to deal with now.'
'All right,' Craig said. 'For the moment, we have to go with the flow. When it's dark, maybe we'll find a chance to escape. Through the woods. Into the mountains. At night, when everyone's asleep, I think we can climb down from this balcony. If anyone tries to stop us I'll do my best to distract them. In that case, you go on without me.'
'No way,' Tess said. 'It's both of us or none.'
'Tess…' Craig gently gripped her cheeks, lowered his mouth, and kissed her. 'They'll hunt us. There's no point in both of us dying. If it comes to a choice, I'd rather that you escaped instead of me.'
She kissed him gently in return. 'You weren't exaggerating when you told Fulano that we'd reached an arrangement. We've just never really discussed it. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.'
She tugged his arm.
Craig resisted. 'What are you…?'
'Going back inside. And from now on, we talk like lovers, or else the people listening to the microphones will be suspicious. In Washington, you called me "babe". You said that was what your father called your mother. Well, babe, let's complete what we planned to start. If we're going to die, let's…" She suddenly hugged him, sobbing. This is all the time we have. Gerrard and Fulano expect us at eight. Let's use that time. I very much want a bath, and I very much want you to join me.'
She began to unbutton his shirt. She kissed his nipples, her warm tears trickling down his chest.
'You're sure?' Craig asked.
'I don't plan to die without making love to you. Touch my breasts. Oh, Jesus, Craig, I'm so scared.'
'I know. I'm frightened, too.'
'I don't want to die. I… Yes! That feels so good. I'm so scared, Craig! Lower. Touch me lower.'
Tess had mentioned taking a bath together. Now they headed in that direction, pausing frequently to kiss, to remove each other's top, but they never got past the bed. Unsteady, light-headed from passion, Tess tumbled with Craig across it, pressing her body onto him. Their kisses became more urgent, their hands more insistent. Moaning, squirming, they continued to undress each other, Tess pulling down his zipper, Craig undoing her belt.
She reached through the open zipper, finding Craig's swollen penis. As she pulled it free, Craig arched his back, shuddered, and cupped her breasts, their nipples rising, hardening. She kicked off her jeans, Craig licking her breasts, then her stomach, shifting lower, pulling down her underwear, kissing her thighs. She yanked off the last of his own clothes and twisted, turning, Craig now on top of her, both of them pressing against each other, exploring every portion of each other's skin. Their tongues met, thrusting. She tasted him, her vagina tingling, warm and wet with greater arousal. She thrust her tongue deeper into his mouth, wanting to enter him, to be one with him, and when Craig finally entered her, Tess didn't care about the microphones, the strangers listening. She wailed in hot flooding ecstasy. It went on and on, one climax after another, and as Craig's penis lengthened unbelievably, his semen erupting within her, she wailed again, this time in unison with him. They lay back, their bodies filmed with sweat.
She struggled to catch her breath. Her heartbeat thundered, then gradually stopped racing. Neither spoke for several minutes.
They kissed again, this time slowly, tenderly. Craig gently stroked her breasts. Fifteen minutes later, they amazed each other by making love a second time. At last, in exhaustion, their apprehension returning, they did what they'd planned at the start. In a tub that was unexpectedly large, they shared a warm soothing bath.
TEN
The time they'd been given was gone.
'Are you ready?' Craig asked.
'No. But if you can think of an alternative, I'd like to hear it.'
'I'm sorry. I can't.'
Then let's do this with style.'
'I love you.'
'And I love… Kiss me. Yes, that's so much better.'
When Tess and Craig unlocked and opened the door, they found the two Secret Service agents seated across from them, watching, waiting. Without a word, the agents followed them downstairs, to the left along the muffled corridor, and into a spacious dining room. There, Gerrard and Fulano sat at another antique table. When they smiled and stood in greeting, Tess noticed that Fulano had changed from his work clothes into slacks and a sport coat.
She and Craig had received fresh clothes as well, a servant having arrived ten minutes before they were expected to leave their room. Craig's outfit was similar to Fulano's.
Her own, however, had not been to her liking. Granted, the garments were attractive: a blue scarf, a matching silk blouse, a red cotton skirt, and soft leather sandals that fit as comfortably as slippers.
But Tess had never liked wearing skirts, especially this one which came down to her ankles, interfering with her stride, and the sandals meant that she'd been forced to take off her sneakers and more important the homing device in one of the heels. She'd put the sneakers into her ample burlap purse, but she couldn't help suspecting that the outfit Fulano had chosen for her was intended to make it difficult for her to take the opportunity, when night came, of running with Craig toward the forest and attempting to escape across the mountains. Again she felt vulnerable, helpless.
'You look lovely, Tess,' Fulano said.
'Gracias, 'she told him, trying to look modest.
Fulano laughed. 'You're learning Spanish.'
'I'm afraid it's the only word I know. But really, thank you. These clothes fit me perfectly. They're gorgeous.'
'My pleasure.'
The doors to the windows of the dining room had been opened. The lowering sun tinted the room with crimson.
'I'm sure you're curious about the surprise I mentioned,' Fulano said.
'It sounds like a birthday party. I've always been fond of surprises.' As she smoothed her skirt and sat at the table, controlling her fear, Tess noticed that the two Secret Service agents positioned themselves near the door through which she and Craig had entered. She also noticed that outside the windows, armed guards patrolled a stone patio.
Gerrard and Fulano sat when Craig did.
>
A brief explanation,' Gerrard said. 'I get the impression that neither of you has been to Spain before.'
'Regrettably, now that I've seen it,' Craig said.
'One of the first things you have to understand,' Gerrard said, 'is that the Spanish have a daily schedule that's pleasantly different from what we're used to in America. They work from nine till one. Then they take a long break for lunch and what I'm sure you know is called a siesta.' He shrugged. They relax. 'Nap. Make love. Whatever. Then they come back to work at four and stop around seven, after which they greet their neighbors, eat, drink, and discuss the day's activities. What they eat is really a snack, because their main meal occurs very late compared to American customs. Around ten. The snacks they eat earlier are called tapas, and those snacks are one of the many glories of Spanish culture. The surprise we referred to is that you're about to experience tapas.'
Confused because she expected a confrontation, Tess watched Fulano tap his knuckles on the table. At once, three servants appeared, carrying trays from which they set down numerous dishes.
Not having eaten in a while, Tess couldn't help salivating from the aroma of the food on the ornate plates. It wasn't just that she was hungry. She knew she had to eat as much as she could in order to muster her strength in case she and Craig managed to find a chance to escape.
'First,' Gerrard said, 'calamari. Are you familiar with-?'
'They're deep-fried squid. Delicious.'
'Good,' Fulano said. 'And these are olives, and these are sardines. Not what you're used to in America. They're fresh and beyond compare.'
'And these,' Gerrard said, 'are delicate pieces of deep-fried chicken. And these are shrimp, and of course there's bread, and deep-fried potatoes with mayonnaise, and…"
'Enough!' Craig chuckled, although Tess knew that his enthusiasm was forced. 'If this is what you call a snack, I can't imagine what the main meal could possibly be.'
'You'll be amazed,' Fulano said.
'I bet.'
Beyond the windows, Tess continued to notice the sentries patrolling. She quickly pretended to pay attention to the row of various foods. That stack of plates. How do we…?'
'One type of food to each plate,' Gerrard said. 'It's important to separate each taste.'
'Then let's get to it. I'm starved.'
There wasn't any red meat, she noticed, a significant omission given the dietary beliefs of the heretics. With pretended delight, she nooned olives, calamari, and whatever else appealed to her onto various plates, spreading them in a row before her. The tapas indeed were delicious, perfectly prepared, each complementing the other.
'Would you like some vintage wine?' Fulano asked. 'Spanish wine is superb. Or perhaps some excellent cerveza.'
'Excuse me?' Tess looked confused.
'The Spanish word for "beer".'
'Thanks.' Craig swallowed hungrily. 'But I'd prefer water.'
'The same with me,' Tess said. 'Alcohol and I don't get along. It makes me groggy.'
'I have the same reaction. Interesting,' Fulano said. He filled her ceramic cup from a pitcher.
Tess didn't drink until Fulano filled his own cup and drank the same water.
'My God, I think I'm full,' Craig said.
'Exactly when to stop.' Fulano chewed and swallowed an olive, placing its pit at the side of his plate. 'Remember, the main course is later.'
'And now we have another surprise.' Gerrard touched a napkin to his mouth.
Here it comes, Tess thought. The condemned have had their final meal.
'Oh?' Craig lowered his fork. 'Another? This valley. This castle. These tapas. We've been surprised several times already. And now you're telling us there's more?'
'Something truly special. Extremely unusual. It happens only one time each year,' Fulano said. 'But it does require another helicopter ride to see what I mean. I'm sure you're still tired from your trip, but I promise you won't be disappointed. Indeed you'll find it remarkable.'
'In that case, being tired doesn't matter. Let's go.' Craig stood.
Uncertain about Craig's strategy, Tess followed his example.
The Secret Service agents stood as well.
With another rap of his knuckles on the table, Fulano summoned his servants. While they gathered the remnants of the tapas, Fulano Pointed Tess and Craig toward the corridor that led outside.
Five minutes later, as the sun touched the rim of the mountains, its glow more crimson, they reached the helicopter. When Tess climbed inside, carefully watched, she felt troubled that she hadn't seen Gerrard's assistant, Hugh Kelly, since they'd arrived.
Where was he? Why hadn't he joined them?
She had almost no time to analyze the possibilities. A minute later, as if on an urgent schedule, the helicopter lifted off, veered upward, and sped toward the northern mountains. The sun was now behind the peaks, its blood-red glow reflecting off a purple sky.
Her stomach already tense despite the energy-renewing meal, Tess clutched her tight, criss-crossing shoulder belt and expected that at any time the two Secret Service agents would grab her, unbuckle her restraints, and throw her, twisting and turning, into the valley.
Instead everyone stayed in position, the helicopter rising higher, nearing the shadowy mountains.
'Alan tells me that you've been threatened in America,' Fulano said. 'If it helps, I want to encourage you that what you're about to see will help take your mind off your troubles.'
The helicopter crested the northern mountains. Beyond, the sun had almost completely set behind farther ridges. A murky valley lay below them.
'We're approaching the Spanish-French border,' Gerrard said. 'We won't cross it, of course. Without advance diplomatic clearance, even I don't have the authority to violate French air space. But the surprise we want you to see is a custom in southern France that centuries ago drifted down to this area of Spain. It's quite remarkable.'
The helicopter sped over more jagged ridges, crossing another dark valley.
But something was different. As Tess peered down, she realized, puzzled, that this valley wasn't completely dark. Hundreds of isolated lights flickered throughout the murky basin.
'What are those…?' She shook her head. 'They can't be from villages, not with the lights so small and so widely separated. I can't see anything else, but it's almost as if… I'm sure of it. The lights are coming from fields.'
That's correct,' Fulano said. 'What you see are bonfires. The local farmers and villagers are conducting a festival.'
Gerrard pressed against his shoulder harness, leaning toward her. 'Do you know what day this is? I don't mean the day of the week. I mean the date.'
Tess had to think a moment. 'June twenty-second?'
'Very good. And some time between today and yesterday, the summer solstice occurred, the beginning of summer. What you're seing are flames in honor of the new precious season, the growth of the crops, the fulfillment of the fertile promise of spring.'
'The ritual is extremely ancient,' Fulano added. 'It's much older than Christianity, although of course like Easter, the true meaning of which is the resurrection of nature, Christian elements have been layered onto it. Those villagers are praying to Saint John.'
Tess felt an inward jolt. In turmoil, she didn't know if the saint Fulano referred to was John, the Baptist, or John, the Disciple of Christ, but she was betting on the latter, the same John who'd written the final gospel in the Bible, numerous epistles, and the Book of Revelations.
Her mind focused on the photographs in her purse, particularly the photograph of the Bible she'd found in Joseph's bedroom, a Bible from which Joseph had cut out everything except the works of John and the theories that so matched those of the heretics, especially the war between good and evil at the end of the world.
'The farmers and villagers are praying around those flames,' Gerrard said. They're holding crosses made from wild flowers and wheat.'
Yet again Tess felt jolted. Flames. Wheat.
She recalle
d the grotesque statue: the torch bearers, Mithras slicing the throat of the bull, its blood cascading to fertilize the earth, the dog straining to intercept the blood, the serpent lunging to destroy the wheat that the blood caused to sprout from the soil. A war between good and evil, and depending on which side won, nature would live or die.
With shock, she understood that the sacred festival in this valley was a remnant of Mithraism, that the heresy was more deeply rooted, more widely spread than she'd ever anticipated.
Nests. Father Baldwin had said he'd been searching for nests, particularly in Spain, although his attention was directed toward the Picos de Europa to the west, not the Pyrenees to the east. What he didn't know was that the nests existed not just in the Picos but all along southern France and northern Spain, and that the villagers had so absorbed Mithraism into Catholic traditions that they perhaps didn't even know the true origin and meaning of the fertility ritual they now performed
Or perhaps they did know its true origin and meaning, and that made the ritual all the more awesome as well as terrifying. Like the villagers and farmers around the bonfires in the valley, Tess had devoted herself to nature, but Gerrard and Fulano – who'd devoted themselves to Mithras, the god of nature – controlled her, and maybe she and Craig would be the next sacrifices to the god.
The helicopter began to descend, approaching the isolated flames in the valley.
'We're not going back?' Craig asked.
'Not just yet,' Fulano said.
'Why?' Craig's voice deepened.
'We have a further surprise,' Gerrard said.
'This evening is full of them. I'm tired. I don't know if Tess and I can take any more,' Craig said.
'Believe me, this surprise is worth it,' Gerrard said.
The helicopter kept descending into the murky valley, and immediately Tess realized that some of the flickering bonfires had been arranged in a special pattern. They form a landing pad! she thought.
In the darkness, the helicopter's pilot used the squared-off section of flames to guide him toward a level section in the valley. As the bonfires flickered, the pilot eased the helicopter onto the grass, then shut off the engines.
The Covenant Of The Flame Page 41
