The Twelfth Ring

by Sam Clarke

  ‘Did he kill Brother Felipe?’

  The words had left my mouth before I could stop myself. The monks shuffled on their bench as if it was on fire. None of them ridiculed my suggestion, which was kind of worrying. To make things worse, Brother Ignacio broke down in tears.

  ‘Yuri showed up yesterday with our intermediary,’ said Brother Cristobal, handing a white handkerchief to Brother Ignacio. ‘He held us at gunpoint and demanded the book where the map came from. Brother Felipe, may his soul rest in peace, put up a fight and Yuri…’

  ‘Shot him before our very eyes,’ cried Brother Ignacio. ‘If we didn’t surrender the book, we would suffer the same fate. We had no choice. We handed over the volume and made up the robbery story to avoid any issues with the police. We’re not proud of our actions, but we didn’t know what to do.’

  ‘What was the book called?’ asked my father.

  ‘We can’t remember,’ said Brother Ignacio, a little too soon and avoiding eye-contact.

  ‘You mentioned pages in Arabic,’ persisted my father. ‘What did they say?’

  Palpatine emerged from his hood. ‘Señor Larsson, you lucky we speak un poquito de English, we no speak Arabic too. Book with no name, gone, Arabic pages, gone. Maybe time for you and your friends to be gone too.’

  I often caught him staring at the TV set and suspected he wanted to get rid of us to view the next episode of Amor Prohibido.

  Brother Ignacio stood up. ‘We have told you all we know. If Yuri crosses your path again, do not underestimate him. That man is Lucifer personified.’

  CHAPTER 15

  Viggo had just turned the key in the ignition when Brother Cristobal rushed out of the church waving his arms in the air, as if he was drowning in the troposphere. Palpatine was right behind him, but his old age slowed him down and he struggled to keep up. Viggo lowered the driver’s window and stuck his elbow out.

  ‘Mr Larsson, you forgot your cardigan,’ screamed the drowning monk.

  Isabelle had never appreciated my father’s fashion sense and he had just disappointed her further. ‘You wear cardigans?’

  ‘I did during the Grunge years. Even your father owned a couple back then. How he switched from Pearl Jam to Placido Domingo remains a mystery…’

  Miguel chuckled. ‘Get over it, Magnus, I like Placido.’

  Brother Cristobal approached the minivan. Without warning, he pushed his head inside the driver’s window. Viggo leaned back and barely escaped a kiss. ‘The book was called Domina Nostra Hierosolymitana,’ whispered the monk. ‘Brother Ignacio has ordered us to forget about it and move on, but I don’t want Brother Felipe’s death to be in vain. I have a good feeling about you and I think you should know. Perhaps some good will come out of all this.’

  Palpatine caught up and Cristobal quickly changed the subject. ‘I’m glad you enjoy the Gospel of Matthew, I also like the Sermon on the Mount.’

  Before taking his leave, he handed Viggo a woolly, pink garment, complete with a colony of moths. Isabelle shuddered at the sight and the moths eagerly joined us in the van. The cardigan was clearly an excuse to come and talk to us, but Brother Cristobal couldn’t have picked an uglier garment if he had tried. Viggo studied the dreadful bundle with a critical eye. ‘Do you think Hope will like it?’

  ‘She’ll love it,’ replied Isabelle, chasing a moth from her face.

  He turned to my father with an expectant smile. ‘Can I keep it?’

  His question went ignored. Dad and Miguel were locked in a staring competition. ‘Was the book called…?’ began Miguel.

  ‘It was,’ said my father, glumly.

  His reaction threw me. ‘Have you heard of it before?’

  ‘No,’ he grumbled, shoving Miguel’s CD in the car stereo.

  His grumpiness mystified me. All in all, our trip had been pretty successful: the mysterious Nuestra Señora ship depicted on our scroll may not have been the Nuestra Señora de Begoña, but she was undeniably important – Yuri wouldn’t have gone through such trouble to get hold of a useless map. All we had to do was find out why. Placido Domingo’s operatic singing suddenly filled the van. The tenor made it impossible to have a proper conversation and I suspected he was being played for that very reason. Isabelle was immersed in a word search puzzle. I borrowed her pen and scribbled “What was the book called?” at the edge of her magazine. She jotted down “Domina Nostra Hierosolymitana.” Crikey, her Latin was pretty good, she had no hesitation in spelling the extremely long word. I frowned, she gave me a superior smile and wrote “Our Lady of Jerusalem.” She then pointed to the chewing-gums sticking out of my pocket and turned her palm up.

  #

  We landed in Nassau late in the evening and headed for Magic Sunset, a beach front restaurant which offered a cheap and cheerful, eat-as-much-as-you-like buffet. Isabelle would have preferred something more upmarket, but she was too hungry to protest. The buffet was Viggo’s idea of heaven, he had so much mango chicken that I thought he would grow feathers. The manager eventually asked him to restrain himself or pay an extra charge. My father and Miguel entertained us with some of their treasure hunting adventures and even managed to make Ariel smile. Once. One blink and you missed it. The restaurant manager found out that I was a huge pirate fan and took me to his office to give me directions to the Pirate Museum. When I returned, my father and Miguel were no longer at the table. Isabelle and Viggo were bickering wildly, she was still allowed in the vicinity of the buffet and he was trying to convince her to get him more chicken.

  I was super keen to visit the Pirate Museum and pictured how different the beachfront must have looked four hundred years before. I was dotting the horizon with galleons and sloops when I noticed two figures in the midst of an animated discussion. There were no fists flying, but my father and Miguel were clearly in disagreement about something. The Spaniard eventually threw his arms in the air and stomped back, my father remained on the beach – completely alone. It was the perfect opportunity to ask him about Knut. I took a deep breath and stood up to join him, but a flying bread roll hit me square in the face. ‘My next shot will be harder,’ said Ariel, throwing a pineapple from one hand to the other, as if he wanted to determine its weight.

  I hesitated. Being knocked-down by an organic weapon wasn’t on my bucket list. ‘I want to talk to my father.’

  ‘Give him ten minutes. He’s sitting in the Lotus position, he’s… meditating.’

  He spat the word as if it was a crime against humanity. I hated being told when I could see my own father, but defying Ariel, with or without a pineapple, was suicidal.

  Ten minutes later my bare feet were sinking in the soft white sand, the fine grains trickling between my toes – the pleasant, relaxing feeling did nothing to curb my anxiety. My father was still sitting in the same spot, hypnotised by the ocean. I sat next to him and crossed my legs. He acknowledged me with a terse smile. ‘Are you scouting for the sea serpent?’ I asked, to break the ice.

  He chuckled and messed my hair in an affectionate gesture, as if I was a dog he really liked. His bracelets chimed. ‘I’m enjoying the view. I love the sea, that’s why I chose to live on it.’

  ‘I love it too. Mum took me every year.’

  ‘She did?’

  I detected a veil of sadness, as if he was sorry not to have been there. ‘Salty air is highly beneficial to the respiratory system,’ I replied, mimicking mum’s austere voice. We burst out laughing.

  ‘How’s your mother, really?’ he asked, switching to a more serious tone.

  I wasn’t sure what he meant, physically? Psychologically? As a doctor? As a parent? I opted for a non-committal British answer. ‘She’s fine, thank you for asking.’

  ‘Yeah? Is she? What’s the deal with this Lebanon thing then? Is she having some mid-life crisis or something?’

  He didn’t sound judgemental, just curious and, maybe, a bit… worried? I didn’t want him to waste time on the Cobra, so I decided to come clean. ‘She’s absolutely fine. In f
act, I’m not even supposed to know, but…’

  He looked at me sideways, his lips stretched into a mischievous smile, the twinkle in his eyes alive and kicking. ‘But?’

  ‘She has a boyfriend.’

  The smile was gone. ‘Since when?’

  ‘Not sure.’

  ‘Is it serious?’

  I was actually hoping to find out why Knut hated me, rather than discussing my mother’s secret love life with her estranged ex-husband. ‘I think so, they’re in Lebanon together. He’s a doctor too, French.’

  ‘Good-looking?’

  ‘Don’t know, I’ve never met him.’

  He feigned suspicion. ‘Are you sure he exists? Has he got a name?’

  ‘Jean-Claude Olivier.’

  ‘Wow, two names! She picked well!’ He moved his gaze back to the ocean, deep in thought. ‘That’s good,’ he finally said more to himself than to me, without sounding terribly pleased. ‘I’m glad. Katie deserves to be happy.’

  I was confused. Why was he wasting time worrying about her? Did he know what she had put me through all these years?

  ‘She deserves to be happy? Have you got any idea who mum really is? I’ll tell you, because while you were doing whatever it is that you do, I was the one who had to live with her for fifteen years! She’s the most insensitive person you’ll ever meet, totally incapable of feelings or emotions. She is first and foremost a doctor. To her, tears are watery fluid secreted by the lacrimal glands and laughter is a psycho-physiological reflex! I can count the number of times she hugged me on one hand! Sometimes I wonder if she’s even human! I honestly have no idea what possessed you to marry her, did you lose a bet? Were you high or something?’

  He was taken aback by my explosive reaction. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He turned his palms upwards, as if he was trying to explain something, and then lowered them again. He then wet his lips, played with his beard and, finally, produced a sentence. ‘Noah, your mum, she…’ he hesitated, looking for the right words. ‘She wasn’t always… like she is now. She used to be different.’

  ‘Different?’

  ‘She always was first and foremost a doctor,’ he added, as if to reassure me, ‘but the divorce changed her. A lot.’

  I raised two sceptical eyebrows. ‘You mean she used to be nice?’

  He sniffed nervously. ‘Yes, she was warm, enthusiastic…’

  ‘OK, so what happened? Did she bump her head? Had a personality transplant?’

  He stroked his chin, he was incredibly uncomfortable. ‘Of course not. I… well, I…’

  ‘You what?’ I pushed.

  ‘I guess you’re old enough to know.’

  ‘Old enough to know what?’

  ‘I broke her heart,’ he said wistfully. ‘And then she changed.’

  I stared at him, dumbfounded. The only way I could picture my mother with a broken heart was in an operating theatre fixing someone else’s. She had never properly explained the reasons behind their separation. The court documents cited irreconcilable differences and (his) erratic behaviour. When his foolishness had started to damage her public profile, she had called it a day.

  ‘You broke her heart?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Was there another woman?’

  He looked genuinely offended. ‘No, I was never unfaithful. Is that what you think of me?’

  ‘I don’t know what to think! Nobody ever tells me anything! I only recently found out that you becoming a cryptozoologist played a major part in your divorce!’

  He sighed at the memory. ‘Destroying my career was something she never approved of…’

  ‘Look,’ I said, ‘for argument’s sake, let’s say that you broke her heart by embarking on a debatable career, couldn’t she just deal with it? Why did she have to file for divorce? Why did she have to split us up? Why did she have to destroy our family?’

  Being able to voice the resentment I had harboured towards her for my whole life felt exceptionally liberating. My father tilted his head back and exhaled. ‘She didn’t destroy anything, Noah,’ he said, looking me in the eyes. His voice was mellow, nearly soothing. ‘It was me. I was the one who asked for a divorce. I was the one who… who…’

  He stopped, the coward couldn’t even say it! He was the one who broke our family up! My world came crashing down around me, his voice like static noise in the background. He wet his lips. ‘When I left her, she was hurt, humiliated. Her friends had warned her against marrying me, they thought I was too unreliable, but she followed her heart and did it anyway. Less than three years later, I proved everyone right. She’s a proud woman, she wanted to come out of the marriage with her dignity intact, so we agreed that she would file for divorce and show the world that she had come to her senses. It was the least I could do. Since then, as you know, we haven’t been the best of friends.’

  I struggled to control the maelstrom of feelings that was rising within me. All these years I had blamed mum for the break-up of our family and all along it was down to him. I should have known, all the signs were there, but I had chosen to ignore them. What sort of father wouldn’t try to be in his son’s life? What sort of father would give up every right to his child without a fight? What sort of father would be happy with visiting his son once a year under supervision? He sensed my internal struggle and put his hand on my arm, but I angrily pushed him away. I walked back to our table in a zombie-like state. Viggo was mumbling something about parking in a restricted area and urging us to make a move unless we wanted to walk back to Valhalla. If I had known the way, I would have.

  CHAPTER 16

  Sitting at the bottom of the pool was exactly what I needed. With the regulator in my mouth, I didn’t have to talk to anyone, and with my diving companion in the same position, I didn’t have to listen to her either. Through my diving mask, I could see Hope and Viggo sitting by the edge of the pool, legs dangling in the water. He had taken the trouble to wear a new shirt and she was sipping the double shot soya latte with extra caramel that he had just bought her.

  Isabelle and I were supposed to keep an eye on our SPGs to check the level of air in our tanks. Later we would learn how to empty water out of our masks without resurfacing (I wasn’t convinced it was possible) and how to share air in an emergency. The latter would involve using a single regulator and she had demanded a written statement confirming that I would gargle extensively before the lesson. Hope had given us whiteboards and markers to chat underwater. I totally ignored mine, but it wasn’t long before Isabelle’s sweet message appeared in my field of vision. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  I shrugged, hoping she would leave me alone, but she pushed her whiteboard closer and gave me a questioning stare from behind her mask. She must have huffed, because the amount of bubbles around her suddenly increased. In spite of my aloofness, she wiped her board clear and composed another message. “What an idiot! I hope he catches a verruca.”

  I presumed she was referring to Viggo, whose submerged foot was casually brushing against Hope’s. I was still shaken by my conversation with my father. I desperately needed a friend to talk to. I wished I could open up to Viggo, but he was too close to dad. Isabelle would have to do. I grabbed my board. “Bad day, talk later?”

  She gave me the OK sign.

  By the time we inflated our BCDs and resurfaced, Viggo and Hope were checking calendars to schedule our next dive. ‘No, that doesn’t work either.’ Hope’s face was pretty even when she was frowning. ‘We’ll have to do another date.’

  ‘I’d love to do another date,’ replied Viggo, cheekily implying something of a more romantic nature. Hope smiled alluringly and I briefly wished I was him.

  ‘She was talking about a dive, Viggo.’ Isabelle’s untimely intervention annihilated their flirty exchange. Hope excused herself and Isabelle headed for the changing rooms.

  Viggo was fuming. ‘What’s wrong with her? I practically had a date in my pocket!’

  I shrugged. His love life w
asn’t at the top of my priority list. He took a step closer. ‘Dude, I know it’s none of my business, but you seemed pretty down last night. Anything I can do?’

  It felt good to be asked. ‘Not exactly, you’re too loyal to my father.’

  He didn’t contradict me. ‘I have sworn loyalty to Magnus, but you’re my friend. If you need me, I’m here.’

  He slapped me on the shoulder, threw me off balance in the process, and ran after Hope. His peculiar choice of words kept ringing in my head. I wasn’t an expert in naval employment laws, but I had never heard of deckhands swearing loyalty to their employers.

  #

  As soon as we returned to Valhalla, we joined Ariel at the study table. ‘Today we’ll talk about Galileo Galilei,’ he boomed, ‘the father of modern science and observational astronomy. Galileo had a personal instrument maker…’

  With the corner of my eye, I noticed my father on deck. He briefly conferred with Viggo, who was taking care of our diving equipment, and made a beeline for us. His mere presence infuriated me, I pretended not to see him. ‘Noah, do you have a minute?’ he said.

  I cursed inwardly, couldn’t he take a hint? ‘Not really, this lesson on Galileo is very interesting.’

  Ariel got a quarter of an inch straighter, either out of pride or suspicion.

  My father pushed his lips together. ‘Fine, have it your way.’

  He sauntered off.

  ‘Since you appreciate him so much,’ said Ariel, ‘you will be working on a special assignment on Galileo. It must include discoveries, historical setting and hand-drawn portrait.’

  ‘Can we work on it together?’ chirped Isabelle, whose idea of hell was spending time alone with Ariel. ‘Galileo is my favourite scientist.’

  My tutor squinted his eyes. ‘Your enthusiasm is disturbing, but I would be a fool to pass on an opportunity to get rid of you for a few hours. Don’t make me regret my decision.’

  Isabelle and I headed for my cabin. I fired up my laptop and opened up a search page. She straightened her shorts and sat on my desk. I tried hard not to stare at her naked legs and wondered if they felt as smooth as they looked. And then I thought of Cressida’s legs and my mind started to wander.