The Cortés Trilogy: Enigma Revenge Revelation

by John Paul Davis

  “Yeah. Good job Juliet kept everything she took.” He shook his head. “You know, for a second there, I was actually thinking you were gonna tell on me.”

  Colts grinned. “You think I didn’t keep a little sample too?”

  “You did?”

  “I’m an archaeologist, dammit. Not some goddamned Yes Minister government agent. You find anything interesting?”

  “Of course not. You really think Juliet would share anything with me?”

  He looked at Colts, his grin widening. His wounds had healed well in recent times, his skin showing the positive effects of peaceful rest. His smile had widened, if that was possible. In the early sunlight, he cut an impressive figure. He reminded Ben of a comic book hero.

  Or at least a pastel drawing.

  “So what happens now? Got any other treasures to find?”

  “Nope, that’s it. I’m gonna head me back to the States. Get me a nice retirement. As far as I’m concerned, Project Estelle is officially over.”

  “You don’t fancy returning to Tollan?”

  Now at the car, Colts paused on opening the door. “Nah. I’ll just paint myself another picture.”

  “Don’t forget to include me in this one.”

  Again Colts laughed. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride back to St Mary’s.”

  *

  It was still early morning by the time Ben arrived at the cemetery. It was slippery underfoot, the early covering of dew still on the grass.

  He was standing before a large headstone surrounded by new soil and flowers. Though the stone was new, the style was old, as though it had existed for a hundred years or more. The name had been written out in full, including the man’s nickname, along with the names of his descendants. Several images had been etched into the stonework, ranging from anchors and boats to religious icons. One stood out above all others, a strange serpent-like character that nestled snugly around the design at the foot. Its design would mean nothing to those who didn’t know the full story.

  Everything to those who did.

  The memorial service had been emotional, strangely so. All his life, the man had been a great role model, a beacon of hope in an otherwise barren wilderness. He had always felt a strong bond with the man, a bond which had been strengthened by recent events. His death saddened him.

  Despite having occurred over one hundred years ago.

  Standing alongside Ben, Chris too had his eyes on the headstone.

  “Maybe one day, we’ll get Nana to come out and pay a visit,” Ben said, smiling. “I can just imagine the look on her face.”

  “Me too.” Chris grinned. “Then, and when she’s standing in line at the duty-frees.”

  They headed back to the Gibbous Moon, room seven. Ben had stayed there twice recently, though the experience felt more pleasant somehow. There was a recent addition to the things hanging on the wall, a framed newspaper trimming about the discovery of the Dunster. He smiled again as he read it a final time.

  From now on, visitors would always know whose bed they slept in.

  He found Chris in the bar, talking to Danny. Unlike his first impression of the man, the new suited and shoed image was every bit in keeping with a new owner.

  “I’ve left the key on the desk. I really like what you’ve done with the room.”

  Danny smiled, the perfect whites of his teeth seemingly glowing. “Thanks. I’m glad you approve. Which reminds me. I have something for you.”

  Danny walked from the bar to the locked cabinet that had once contained the Devil’s Cup. He opened it with a key and removed two objects.

  Ben remembered Nicholl had shown them to him the day of his arrival.

  “Property of your ancestor, I understand.” Danny smiled. “I’m happy to entrust them to their rightful owner.”

  Ben was momentarily speechless. “Gee, thank you. I don’t know what to say. Are you sure?”

  “Quite sure. As the new owner, I guess it’s my call.”

  Ben studied him quietly. He was not the same man he had been a few weeks earlier. The shy yet charming night manager had come of age, risen to the pinnacle. Without question the boy had become a man.

  “Then again, maybe I should keep them. That way you’ll always have an excuse to come back and visit.”

  Ben shook his hand and hugged him. “I always will, friend.”

  Kernow was sitting at the bar, sipping a beer.

  “I hope you haven’t had too many of those,” Ben said.

  The local smiled wryly. “Just my second. Why? Don’t tell me you’re looking to go out on the water?”

  “Yes. There’s one final thing I’d like to do.”

  *

  The water was choppy around Hell’s Bay; fortunately there was no need for them to be there.

  It was cold in the churchyard, colder than anywhere else on the island. A strong breeze blew consistently throughout, causing a tuneless whistling sound as it reverberated through the frames of the glassless windows.

  The grass was long underfoot, slippery despite the summer sun. Ben moved slowly, recalling his previous experience of falling over and cutting himself.

  This time, he was prepared.

  He walked towards the heavy area of undergrowth where TF had once found the original grave markers. He found the others lying scattered, their weathered façades devoid of features.

  He looked at Chris. “May I have them, please?”

  Chris handed over the slab Ben had taken three weeks earlier, followed by the one found on TF’s boat. One by one, he replaced them in their rightful places. Though the face of the one Kernow had worked on was now bare, he knew he was looking at what once included the name Pizarro.

  Taking a step backwards, he looked around. A strange quiet had descended on the island. As he remembered Juan’s story about finding the site of the mass murders, he sensed that, perhaps, the spirits of the restless still wandered.

  “Hey, check this out!”

  Chris was standing close by, between the Spanish graves and the south wall of the church, looking down at one of the other graves. Ben joined him and saw a typical flat slab, suffering badly from years of weathering.

  Peering in close he made out a name engraved into the stone.

  “Stephen Wilcox.” He laughed. Over the coming minutes he found two others, located exactly where the diary said they would be.

  He looked at Chris and smiled sombrely. “Come on. I think it’s about time Dr Phillips got her book back.”

  Hanover, New Hampshire, one week later

  A sharply dressed woman quickened her stride as she made her way towards the main library. It was colder than it had been, a light drizzle falling. Her hair was far too perfect for it to be ruined by rain or by putting up the hood of her jacket.

  She hurried inside and up towards her office. A door was open down the hallway, the blinds clearly up.

  Ben was sitting at his desk, typing quickly into his iMac computer. He looked up to see Juliet enter.

  “I thought I might find you here.”

  Ben smiled at her. “Only way I can get some peace and quiet. Every time I visit Nana, she’s always trying to cook me food. Every time I’m in my apartment, she keeps ringing me, trying to send me food. At least here, she doesn’t know my number.”

  Juliet laughed. “How is she?”

  “Better than Chris.”

  “How’s Chris?”

  “Better than Colts. He started his new job yesterday. Said it went great.”

  “I’m so happy for him.”

  “Met a girl too. A journalist. He’s already smitten.”

  “I best not tell Emily. She might get upset.” She circled his desk, her eyes fixed on the monitor. “I didn’t know you were writing a book.” She leaned in closer. “Walter Raleigh.”

  “I think it’s about time he had a new one out.” Ben picked up the antique hardback on his desk. “I was also thinking about maybe doing one on Hernán Cortés. Seems to me there’s more to his life t
han met the eye.” He tailed off slightly, his mind once again thinking about the events that had preceded their escape. Many people had died, good and bad. Juan had once said the greatest people in civilisation often defy generalisation.

  He guessed that was true of others, too.

  She smiled at him. “Well, in that case, maybe we could help each other. I actually have a little project of my own I’m working on. You see, I recently found out there is good evidence to suggest a civilisation once existed that predates the Olmecs. It’s possible it might even shed some light on the origin of many great myths.”

  Ben smiled, shaking his head. “You think you can prove it?”

  “Well, I have visited it first-hand. And I did manage to bring back a couple of lovely souvenirs. I’m sure a lot of people would be interested in hearing the truth about all this.”

  Ben raised an eyebrow. “Between you and me, I can think of a lot of people who would want to stand in your way.”

  “It seems to me the island is bound to be discovered anyway. At least this way, it’ll be a proper academic who reveals everything.”

  “Sounds like a sure path to fame and fortune. You think you can pull it off?”

  “Well, I could always do with some help.”

  “You mean like a co-author?”

  “I was thinking more of a PA.”

  Ben grinned, the dynamic of his face changing. “Sadly, I’ve never been great at returning calls.”

  “How about editing and research?”

  “I guess. Why, you think you can afford me?”

  Juliet opened the flap of her handbag, dropped a handful of gold coins on the desk, kissed him on the lips and smiled.

  “Why don’t we discuss it over dinner?”

  The Facts Behind My Fiction

  As those of you who have read my novels before will know by now, this is usually the point when I spend some time explaining what areas of the story were made up and what was inspired by fact. In the case of this trilogy, the task is probably more complicated than usual, as the lines were blurred not only by fact and fiction, but also history and mythology, especially the parts inspired by elements of Mesoamerican lore.

  As a small added bonus, for those of you who are interested, here is where I separate the real stuff from the make-believe. For further reading on the subject, I fully recommend you check out the list of recommended reading, included at the end of this section.

  The Isles of Scilly

  There are indeed over 140 islands/islets that make up the Isles of Scilly. St Lide’s, however, is not one of them. The island does not exist. Its creation is a composite of a few of the real islands and my own imagination. The island of St Helen’s, that does exist among the north-west part of the Isles, was once named St Lide’s and it is from this I decided on the name. A Hell Bay exists on the island of Bryher, close to Tresco. Its appearance, however, is different from my fictitious Hell’s Bay on St Lide’s.

  St Mary’s, on the other hand, is real, and much of what is mentioned is accurate. The Gibbous Moon is, of course, fictitious, as is the nearby North Atlantic Inn. The museum in Hugh Town exists, though my description of it is mostly made up. The same is true of the library. Old Town Church is based on the real St Mary’s, located in Old Town. Descriptions of the graveyard are based mostly on fact, except for the Godolphin Mausoleum, which does not exist. Similarly, the Star Castle does exist; however, suggestion of manipulation of its shape or a tunnel beneath it is conjecture. St Agnes is also a real island. There is a redundant lighthouse there, but the Old Man’s Foot does not exist.

  Tresco, as mentioned, is a real island and my descriptions of it are largely accurate. The remains of the old abbey are still present, and open to visitors. The Great Pool also exists. As far as I’m aware, no emeralds are buried there!

  The Godolphin Family

  The Godolphin family really existed, along with the Osbornes. The family were indeed the governors of the Isles of Scilly. Every person of that name mentioned in the novel did exist; however, most of the family were not buried on St Mary’s. For those of you who believe in ghosts, it might amuse you to know Sidney Godolphin is, in fact, rumoured to haunt the Three Crowns Hotel in Chagford.

  Godolphin Cross is a real location. The pub (closed at the time of writing) is actually called The Godolphin Arms and is in no way the inspiration for The Godolphin Cross in this novel. The estate exists, and descriptions in this novel are based on both my first-hand and second-hand research. The three mines did exist, including the Great Work Mine. The remains are open to members of the National Trust and day visitors alike. The story of the treasure is, of course, fictitious. John Leland was an historical figure – an antiquarian of high renown. His important writings made during his extensive travels of England in the 1500s included mention of the Godolphin mines. Connection with the treasure and the Star Castle, though, are my own invention.

  Real Places

  The Isles of Scilly aside, many places mentioned in this trilogy really do exist.

  The city of Valladolid, of course, is a real city located in the north of Spain. It was briefly the capital of Spain in the reign of Philip III, and many of the references to it in this novel are accurate. The Teatro Zorrilla is a real location, and can be found in the place mentioned in the novel. Descriptions of it are relatively accurate; however, I have not visited the cellar, nor do I believe there to be a trapdoor that leads to Columbus’s original gravesite down there. Proof that the location was once a Franciscan friary that housed the bones of Christopher Columbus is easily found; the original monastery was destroyed in around 1836, along with many other buildings as mentioned in the novel. Its destruction is still viewed with mixed emotions by Valladolid’s citizens, some of whom rue the ‘lost heritage’ of its earlier days. The chapels mentioned in the novel did once exist, though pinpointing their exact location is difficult due to the lack of records that have survived. The Chapel of St Anthony of Padua is believed to have once been located in the north part of the original church.

  Located approximately an hour’s drive from Valladolid, Salamanca is also a real city. References to the location in this novel are largely factual. The various streets and plazas mentioned, notably those near the university and the cathedral, are real. The Convento de San Esteban really exists, and is believed to have once been frequented by Christopher Columbus in either 1486 or 1487 as he sought permission to launch his soon-to-be legendary trip to the land of the Americas. There are conflicting sources regarding whether Columbus’s meeting with the learned men took place at the monastery or at the university itself. At the very least, it seems likely Columbus stayed at the Dominican convent whilst he stayed in the city. My descriptions of the interior and exterior I have attempted to pass on authentically; the one exception is the library, which is made up. The location is open for visitors.

  Seville, or Sevilla, is also a real city, and quite possibly the highlight of all of my research trips. The cathedral is simply unmissable, and is steeped in history. Descriptions of the cathedral and the general area are based both on first- and second-hand research. The exquisite tomb of Christopher Columbus is located in the area described. Also present is the tomb of Fernando Columbus. The bookcase in the Chapel of the Maidens really exists, as does the chapel. The idea that it contains a book that may shed light on the lost Aztec treasure is my own invention. As with Valladolid and Salamanca, the bars and street names are all real.

  Mérida is a real city, and much smaller than Seville and Valladolid. Descriptions of the city are largely true, as are descriptions of Medellín. Medellín does have a real castle, located in roughly the same area as Castillo Cortés; however, my descriptions here are largely made up, as is the family connection. The castle is open for visitors.

  Cabañas del Castillo really exists and descriptions of it are largely accurate. A ruined castle still stands in the location given; the hidden monastery within the mountain does not. References regarding the general history of the
hamlet and wider area, as mentioned in the novel, I believe to be accurate. The deserted mine of La Serena does exist, though descriptions of it here are fictitious.

  Hanover, New Hampshire is a real location, as is Dartmouth College. Descriptions of the campus are largely accurate, though Ben and Juliet’s offices et cetera are not based on any current members of staff aside from the general descriptions.

  The unnamed hamlet that Colts lives in near St Ives is simply an invention.

  Christopher Columbus

  Long famed as the discoverer of the New World, Christopher Columbus is most certainly an historical character. Though much of his early life is unknown, all of which has helped contribute to the Templar-style aura that surrounds him, it is generally accepted that he was born in Genoa in modern day Italy sometime between October 1450 and 1451, and first went to sea at the age of ten. During his teenage years he conducted his apprenticeship for many important Genoese families that captivated his interest in both seafaring and trade. Inspired by the possibility of opening up trade relations with the East Indies via an alternative route, Columbus petitioned the rulers of Portugal, Genoa, Venice and Spain for backing to conduct a return voyage to Asia by sailing across the Atlantic. After seven years of ongoing frustrations, Columbus finally got the backing of the Spanish Crown in January 1492, who backed his voyage to the Indies. Though history now accepts that he was not the first European to discover the Americas, he can certainly be credited as having been the man who opened up lasting contact with them. During his four voyages to the New World, Columbus discovered San Salvador Island in the Bahamas, the Greater and Lesser Antilles, as well as parts of Venezuela and Central America.