by L. Todd Wood
The Rock of Gibraltar was formed when the African and Eurasian tectonic plates collided together millions of years ago, which pushed the substrate up into the open air and exposed the underground geological material. Primarily made of limestone from ocean deposits over millions of years, the rock was weathered and had been eroded significantly throughout the ages. Rafe and Cecilia walked towards a natural tunnel whittled into the naturally sculptured stone, which was blocked off by a steel door, as they followed the signs pointing out the location of the Roman ruins. A local security guard was in the process of opening to start the tourist day. There were no other people around at this early time in the morning, which suited Rafe just fine. They were breathing heavily after the almost hour-long climb and sweating profusely.
“How do we get to the Mythraic temple?” Rafe asked the man as the gate was opened. The guard was surprised to see someone at the tourist site this early in the morning. He finished opening the gate then turned to talk to them, pointing inside the cavern.
“Follow the tunnel down about fifty yards, and you will see a lighted room off to the right. That’s the temple. There is a Plexiglas barrier over the opening, but you will get a good view of the temple and its layout. I’ll turn the lights on now.”
“Thanks,” said Rafe. They entered the passageway. Minutes later, Rafe and Cecilia arrived at the opening to the Mythraim. Although as the guard stated, they could not enter. They were able to see most of the inside of the cavern where the temple was located. There was a plaque posted to the right of the doorway, which described the history and lifestyle of the Roman soldiers who were encamped on the rock two thousand years before. The plaque also described the mysteries of Mythraism.
Rafe visibly relaxed, as there were no pictures of his daughter adorning the altar across the space as he had half expected to see. Cecilia scanned the inside of the temple with a more educated, discerning eye. The layout of the Mythraim was the same as they had seen both times before. The cavern was elongated and had a long, stone table on each side mounted into the wall. A stone bench ran lengthwise of each table. At the far end was an altar with an etching above carved into the stone wall of a soldier slaying a bull with a spear while riding atop the beast. Various scenes of battle were etched into the walls above the tables on each side of the arched cavern. Neither Rafe nor Cecilia said anything for a few minutes as they looked for something which was out of the ordinary.
“I don’t get it. What are we supposed to see?” asked Rafe finally.
Cecilia was silent, scanning the interior of the temple. Finally she spoke. “Look over at the rear wall, towards the side of the altar. It’s slightly hidden. What do you see?” Cecilia asked.
“It’s some sort of symbol of a trident.”
“And then to the right of that?”
“I see a double-headed eagle coat of arms. Does that have something to do with Rome? What’s significant about that?” he asked.
“Look closer, tell me again what you see.”
“Well, there is something between the eagle heads. It looks like a cross or something. Why would they have inscribed a Christian symbol?”
“It’s not just a Christian symbol. It’s an Orthodox Cross. See the two cross beams above and the two diagonal cross beams below? To be specific, it’s a Russian Orthodox Patriarchal Cross. It doesn’t belong here. It was added later. Many centuries later.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because it’s the coat of arms of Ivan Grozny.”
“Who the heck is that?” asked Rafe.
“You know him by a different name. He was Ivan IV, the first tsar of all of Russia. He was trying to establish the third Holy Roman Empire after Constantinople fell to the Ottoman Empire. He ruled a thousand years after the fall of Rome.
“I’ve never heard of him. Why did you say I know him by a different name?”
“Ivan Grozny in Russian means Ivan the Terrible.”
“So what the heck is that coat of arms doing there?” Rafe demanded. “And what does it mean? And what about the trident?”
“One thing for sure is I don’t know the answer to those questions,” Cecilia responded. “I do know that the trident can be traced back to the first Slavic Russian Empire of Kievan Rus'. It included modern-day Ukraine, Belarus and some of the European parts of Russia. The Rurik dynasty ruled from Vladimir the Great through Ivan the Terrible and beyond, after the seat of Russian power moved to Moscow.
The two of them were back at the hotel, sitting in the lounge, having been served a small lunch. Rafe hadn’t touched his food. He put his head in his hands in a sign of despair. “Where do we go from here?"
"I’ve been thinking of what the symbols we saw could be trying to tell us. The trident was an early symbol of Slavic rule; it even can be traced back to the Vikings who conquered the Russian territory centuries before the tsars united the eastern Slavic tribes. However, it usually is connected with Vladimir the Great's rule in Kievan Rus', the kingdom that preceded the princes of Moscow, before the nomads from the East destroyed its capital Kiev. Several hundred years later, Ivan the Terrible was the first Russian ruler to unite all of Russia and defeat the Golden Horde of Mongols that had been invading the southern Russian territory. The Russian Orthodox Church was integral to the tsar's rule. Ivan persecuted the nobility that did not fall in line with his wishes. He was famous for frying them in huge iron skillets. Not a nice guy, hence the name.”
“But again how does that tie to a Mythraic temple?”
“As I said before, Ivan and the Russian Church thought they were the natural state to carry on the third Holy Roman Empire after the fall of the Eastern Church to the Muslims. So they copied the Byzantine coat of arms and added the Patriarchal Cross between the eagle heads. They took this very seriously. Later Peter the Great tried to destroy the influence of the church on the Russian state. This caused quite a bit of unrest throughout the country. Peter persecuted the church and the 'Old Believers.' The Soviet Union buried religion altogether, at least officially. Christianity was only reunited with the Russian state apparatus after the fall of the communist government in the 1990s. I wonder if this is somehow trying to tie the old Western Roman Empire to the tsars. But why? I don’t have a clue. And how does it relate to you and Clare? It’s a riddle of some kind.”
“Well, one thing is for sure. Someone wants us to think they are connected.”
Rafe’s phone rang. He stood up as he answered and walked across the lounge so his call would not be overheard.
“Rafe, it’s Neal.”
“Yes, go ahead? What have you found?”
"I’ve checked out the girl. She’s who she says she is. She’s become a quite recent phenom in academic circles in Rome. Really no criminal record of any kind. Actually quite blank if I may say so myself. So, I don’t think she is someone that is out to kill you at least. She’s been traveling around Rome speaking a great deal lately. Beyond that, I can’t speak to her motivation.”
“Great, I feel better about that at least,” Rafe commented. I do really feel better about that. “What else can you tell me?”
“I’ve checked into the woman you saw at the Circus Maximus, the television anchor. So far all I have come up with that sparks any questions is her travel schedule. And this interests me very much on multiple fronts. She’s been traveling a great deal to the same place over and over for the last few years.”
“And where might that be?” Rafe questioned.
“To your old stomping grounds, Rafe. You should also be very interested in this. She’s been traveling to Ukraine. She’s been flying over and over to Kiev.”
Chapter Seven
“Kiev, what the hell is she doing in Kiev?” asked Rafe into the phone.
“We don’t know,” Neal responded. “I was hoping you could shed some light there. You are my spy for the Ukraine you know. That’s why you have that fancy, encrypted phone, remember?”
“Yes, don't worry, I remember. How would I know w
hat she’s doing in Kiev? And what the hell is she doing dressed up in a robe, slaughtering animals at night in the Circus Maximus at some weird, sacrificial ritual? And where the hell is my daughter? Do the U.S. authorities know anything? Have you discussed this with them?” Rafe’s voice was rising steadily.
“Yes, we have made contact. The Yank law enforcement authorities have no leads and especially nothing connecting this woman and her followers to your daughter’s disappearance. I have arranged to be contacted immediately if anything is discovered. You’ll be my first phone call.”
“Thank you,” said Rafe somewhat more calmly. “I really appreciate that Neal.”
Rafe was hit with another wave of despondency. They really had no serious leads and he was sick with worry. He felt like he was letting Clare down and wished he could calm her fears and make everything okay. Hang in there, sweetie, Daddy’s coming. He again felt like he might throw up from anxiety. He paced the floor in the bar; people were starting to stare.
It was good Neal would keep him in the loop. Rafe had no desire to call his ex-wife for information and listen to her rage, so he really was grateful for his friend’s help.
“Let me know if anything else happens on your end okay?” Neal asked.
“Well, there is more to tell.” Rafe filled him in on the events of the evening and the following morning at the temple on the Rock. “What do you suggest we do?”
“Do you still have that brochure you were given?”
“Yes.”
“I want it. I want to analyze it. And tomorrow, the three of us are going back up the Rock to that temple. And as far as this riddle goes, someone wants you to come to them.”
“To go where?” asked Rafe.
“Isn’t it obvious? Someone wants you to come to the old Kingdom of Rus’ and the third Holy Roman Empire. You're going to Kiev." Bewildered by the days events, Rafe hung up the phone.
This time the sun beat down on them as they started up the stone stairs of the Mediterranean Steps. Neal had met them at the hotel and they had driven back to the Jews’ Gate together. The crowd now was much larger, as the Rock always attracted tourists from Spain and elsewhere on a nice day. The hike up the mountain was a popular method of exercise. The sky was clear without a cloud to be seen, and the slight, cool breeze off the Mediterranean was enjoyable. The tourists came in waves as expected, many unaware of the strenuous effort ahead of them. The apes had long since disappeared with the influx of humans, preferring to scatter to the higher elevations where the tourists didn’t tread, only to scamper back down during the evening. Everyone was sweating in the hot air, soaking their clothes, as they negotiated their way higher up the mountain.
Rafe had introduced Cecilia and Neal. Neal did not trust her but agreed her expertise would come in handy for their task. He was not his usual chatty self but rather quiet and reserved. Rafe informed her Neal was just a “friend” yet a powerful one. They left it at that. She didn’t seem to mind.
After climbing for approximately thirty minutes, they began to pass caves carved into the side of the mountain face. Some were naturally created by seawater thousands of years before, when the water had been much higher. It was fascinating to think that the ocean had existed at such elevated levels in the ancient past. Others had been created by the myriad of military excursions and sieges which dotted the Rock’s history. The Moors, the Spanish, and especially the English created a network of tunnels throughout the limestone mountain. “The ancient mariners used to believe the Rock was a gate to the end of the Earth,” Neal stated as they stopped to rest in the shade of one of these caves. “They thought that if you went out into the Atlantic, you would fall off the edge of the planet to the Hell below. Many of these caves were used as altars for offerings to the gods to incur their favor and security as they pass through Hercules’ Gate. There is evidence of prehistoric human habitation in these caves as well. It’s a great place to hike around when you get some time, but that’s for another day.”
Neal led the way as they reached the stone landing halfway up the mountain where Rafe and Cecilia had been that morning. The same security guard was still minding the entrance to the tunnel that led to the temple. They rested in the shade of the Rock towering above them for a brief moment, then continued towards the hidden passageway.
As they approached, a young man dressed in worker’s clothes walked out of the tunnel entrance. He seemed to be of some official capacity and carried himself as such. He spotted Neal and addressed him.
“Are you Neal?”
“Yes, have you accomplished what was requested?”
“I have, the temple is open now. The barrier has been removed.”
“Thank you. We will be an hour then you can replace the Plexiglas.” Neal then turned to the guard. “No one is allowed in here until we return. Is that understood?”
“Yes, very much, sir.”
“Great.” He then motioned to Rafe and Cecilia. “Let’s go.”
The three of them walked down the tunnel and soon were staring again into the temple. The temperature dropped as they walked farther inside the Rock. Their sweat began to evaporate and they were soon more comfortable, even a little cold.
“You know, we don’t even know what this religion was about,” said Cecilia. “This is fascinating. To think soldiers of Rome actually worshipped here. Worshipped some mysterious entity, thousands of years ago. Right here!”
“They say that humans just forgot during the Dark Ages much of the knowledge the Romans had acquired. We don’t even know what we don’t know about them and how they created such a magnificent society,” added Neal.
“That’s why the Renaissance is so fascinating to me,” added Rafe. “I almost forgot I was writing a book before all of this started! I want my life back."
“So let’s see if we can find something that you guys missed. Let’s find what we don’t know about this wild goose chase you’re on,” added Neal. They entered the temple.
He stayed near the door and watched for other people entering the tunnel at the opening. Rafe began inspecting some of the symbols above the table hewn into the left wall. Although, he somewhat felt out of place--this was definitely not his area of expertise. He didn't even know what he was looking for.
Cecilia walked over to the altar and gazed at the coat of arms and the trident etched into the limestone wall behind and to the right. She took out her phone and began snapping pictures. The etchings looked as old as the surrounding symbols that had been placed there centuries before. She bent down and took photos from several angles and then turned to change positions to examine the rest of the space. As she moved to stand, she noticed something out of place near the base of the altar and knelt back down. There was something that had been placed under the base of the stone pedestal. She reached under and pulled it out and gasped.
Rafe heard her reaction, turned, and asked, “What is it?”
Cecilia stared at the object in her hand. “It’s an icon. I’ve seen these before from the Byzantine era, but this one is different. It looks to be in the Old Believer style. It’s definitely Kievan Rus’.”
“Let me see it.” Rafe reached out and took the object. It was a small, eight-inch square piece of thin cypress wood bound by a copper cover. The cover was highly decorated with gold leaf, and elaborately glowing religious figures and symbols jumped off the material. Rafe pulled open the cover and revealed the painting below. The brilliant, complicated painting glowed when exposed to the light.
“Wow,” said Cecilia.
“It’s a copy of a icon. This one is really old but it’s not an original.”
“How do you know?”
“Because the originals usually are in museums or in safekeeping at religious orders. See how the figures are simplistic and don’t seem realistic? You’re right, it’s the Old Believer style. Obviously we were meant to find this. It has nothing to do with Roman Mythraism.”
“Take it with us. Is there anything else out of order?” a
sked Neal, yanking Rafe and Cecilia back to their present task. “We can have a history lesson back at the hotel.” They searched the temple for twenty more minutes, examining every etching and artifact in the underground cavern. Cecilia took more pictures. They found nothing more of significance.
The three left the temple and exited the tunnel. Neal canceled the order with the security guard and motioned for the worker to reinstall the barrier. Then they started the trek back down the stairs towards Jews’ Gate Cemetery. Rafe concealed their find under his shirt. An hour later they had negotiated the mountain and drove back to the hotel. Soon they were back at their hotel room, accompanied by Neal. Once inside, he spoke first.
“I was right. Someone wants you in the Ukraine. Just think, Rafe my friend, someone values your skill and knowledge of Ukrainian culture as much as I do! And I have to say, that worries me very much! How about you start thinking of whom you have been in contact with over the last few years and come up with some ideas of who could be doing this? Are you keeping anything from me? Anything I should know about, mate?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. My daughter is missing for God’s sake. You’re starting to piss me off!” replied Rafe.
“Well someone knows a great deal about you and is leading you there. You need to try and figure out who it could be and why. Think!”
“I have thought about it. I have no idea.”
“Do you have any connection to the woman at the sacrifice? Even from several degrees of separation?” asked Cecilia.
“Not that I can recall.”
