Solomon's Throne

by Jennings Wright

  “Uh huh. Great. I’m sure that’ll go well. Maybe we just need to find the oldest guy there, and see if he’s, you know, four hundred years old.” Gideon looked at her as he blew on his coffee.

  “Smart ass.”

  Gideon smiled at her. “I’ll call Mr. Xavier, and he can have Callie arrange the tickets. Hopefully we can get out of here today… I feel like I’m being hunted, and I don’t like it.”

  Rei agreed. “We could drive…”

  Gideon shook his head. “The roads here in Cape Town are good, but I doubt they’re much to speak of when you get to the countryside. Plus I think it’s probably dangerous. And long. And there’s not a Motel 6 anywhere to spend the night.”

  “Ha.” Rei stuck her tongue out at him. “Fine, we fly. I think you fly into Maputo and drive to Inhambane… But there aren’t a lot of flights, I don’t think.”

  They returned to their room, and Gideon got out his cell phone and dialed. He went over to the window and talked to the office, updating Mr. Xavier on their progress and on the letter.

  “Yes sir, we’re very excited, too. I’d be a lot more excited if these monks stopped showing up. No sir, actually, I forgot to call him yesterday, but I don’t have any messages from him. Yes, I’ll try him again before we leave the country. Yes, Mozambique. Next country up, I think. No, east coast… Yep. Can I speak to Callie, so we can get on the tickets and arrangements? I’d like to get out of here as soon as possible… Oh right, it’s only 7:30. Can you have her call me when she gets in then? We’ll see if we can find anything here in the meantime. Thanks. Yep. Bye.”

  He hung up. “Forgot about the time difference. He was in early, though. And I totally forgot to call Detective van Rensberg.”

  “I’ll go get some sodas from the machine. Be right back.” Rei left the room with the ice bucket and her bag.

  Gideon got out the crumpled business card and dialed. “This is Gideon Quinn. Is our friend awake yet? He is? Is he talking?” Gideon listened awhile. “Basically they’re tracking us. So we need to do a better job of laying low, I guess. And what was the group called? I want to write that down… Hang on a sec.” He grabbed Rei’s notebook and pen. “Congratio a Achalichus? What does that mean? Really? Weird. Ok, well let me know if you find out anything else. I think we will be leaving the country today. No, I’m not sure where we’re going, but you can always call the London office. Yes, thank you.” He hung up.

  Rei came back in the room with 4 cans of Diet Coke and a full ice bucket balanced precariously in her arms, key card between her teeth. Gideon jumped up to help.

  “So the guy is talking. His name is Brother Dimas. No last name, of course. And van Rensberg found out the name of the order or whatever it is—the Society of Achalichus. The CA tattoo is from the original Portuguese, which is Congratio a Achalichus. Who is Achalichus?”

  Rei put the ice bucket down and shoved two of the Diet Coke cans down in it. She replaced the lid.

  “I think… wasn’t that the name of the guy who was Paul’s scribe? He was supposed to take the letter to the church in Jerusalem, and then something happened and it didn’t get there. So maybe someone else got the letter later on, after the Temple was destroyed and all that, and they started a society in the early days of the Church to protect it.”

  “Makes as much sense as anything else.” He popped a can of Coke and picked up the remote. “I just love waiting…”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Indian Ocean

  December 1687

  Isabel had experienced a period of seasickness after leaving Umm Qasr and the calm Persian Gulf waters, but recovered her strength and enthusiasm within a week. The Santa Antonio de Tanna made port in Mogadishu, the prosperous Muslim city. The couple explored the brightly painted streets, with their narrow three and four story houses, and gardens overflowing with flowers. They made friends with the locals, and Isabel was enchanted by their colorful dress, courtly manners, and hospitality.

  The ship stayed in port for a month, repairing sails and rigging, securing provisions, and eating good, fresh food. Joao traded a quantity of spices for ivory and gold, and a quantity of fine wax. The local merchants assembled an abundance of fresh meat, fruits, and grains with which to make bread, and the nau left with its galley full of these fine victuals, more than enough to take them to their next port.

  After a couple of weeks of uneventful sailing, for which Isabel, especially, was grateful, they made port in Mombasa. A bustling Portuguese colony, Mombasa offered the couple a return to society. Many of the settlers there knew Isabel’s father or his family, and made them most welcome. Joao transacted to trade more spices for sesamum and millet, and a crate full of intricate carvings made of ivory. It was a most satisfactory stay, and the couple were quite sad to wave goodbye to their new friends.

  The next stop, and one that was on Joao’s list of mandatory ports, was Terra de Boa Gente, the Land of the Good People. A Jesuit mission had been built here in the 1500’s, and, as Father Eduardo, he had visited the declining outpost and the priests still living there. The Arabs had been increasing in the area, and most people felt that it was only a matter of time before the area returned to their control. But for now, it was still in Portugal’s hands, and safe for his personal mission.

  As they came into the bay, they were met with the site of graceful dhows carrying fishermen coming in with their day’s catch. The white beaches were lined with delicate palm trees. The air was warm, with a slight breeze. The protected bay offered calm blue water. Block and clay buildings were set side by side with wooden structures topped by reed roofs. It was a charming scene.

  “Oh, Joao, it is tao bela! I did not remember how lovely all these ports were when my parents and I traveled to Goa. I was so young… All I cared about was a place to run and play, and other children to meet. It is maravilhoso that God has allowed me to see them again!” She kissed his cheek.

  “We will spend time in town, but we are also going to go far inland. I am going to show you something very old… You will be amazed!” He laughed at her apprehensive expression. “I do not think we shall have to ride camels again, my dear, do not fear!”

  She squeezed his arm. “I did not love those camels at the first. But I did love our trip to Ctesiphon, and that made the camels worth all the pain in my nadegas!”

  “I have talked with the captain, and he knows that we shall be here for several months. He will arrange for a smaller vessel to take us south to the mouth of the River, which we will follow for some time to the northwest. Then there shall be some trekking across the land, I’m afraid. But you will find the result to be quite satisfactory, I feel sure. And that is all I shall say—it is to be a surprise.”

  Because they would be leaving again on a small sailing ship, Joao and Isabel decided to stay aboard the Santa Antonio de Tanna rather than take rooms in town. They spent several days exploring, getting their feel for land again, and enjoying all of the fresh local and Portuguese cooking, teas, and coffees they could find. Joao was constantly on the watch for anyone who might be following them, but it seemed that they had, at least so far, kept ahead of their pursuers. It wouldn’t be difficult to ascertain where he was going, as the possible ports along the east coast of Africa were not so numerous, but he was in a good fast ship, with an excellent captain and crew, and they had made good time while under way.

  After a week in Terra de Boa Gente, Joao and Isabel were enjoying a walk along the quay. He told Isabel they would visit the Jesuits on the following day. She could accompany him to the chapel, but the living quarters would be off limits to her, as a woman.

  “But I do not understand why you wish to see these men, my love. Did you know some of them in Portugal? Surely there are more interesting things to do than visit Jesuits?”

  An honest man at heart, Joao had been struggling with his lies to Isabel. He did not feel that this journey, as arduous as it surely would be, was the right time to confess his past life to her. And yet people did fall ill,
or become injured, or even shipwrecked, and he would not wish to face God with this lie on his conscience. He did not know how to start, and so he hadn’t, and had left it too late to avoid hurting her.

  “Isabel…” He faltered, and stood looking out over the calm water. He could feel the breeze in his hair, the warm air around him. God, please forgive me for these lies, and give me strength to confess them to her. She was looking at him expectantly. He sat her down on a flat rock, and knelt in front of her.

  “You know that I was here before. I was, in fact, in most of the places that we are staying on our journey back to Portugal.” She nodded. “Well… When I was here before, I… Well, I looked different.” He stopped. This was not going very well. Isabel laughed.

  “You looked different? What kind of problem is that, silly man!”

  Joao shook his head and blew out a sigh. “I was different. I was a different man. I was not Joao Pastorhino Xavier.” He took a deep breath. “I was Father Eduardo Borges Santos. I was a Jesuit.” There. He’d said it. He had no illusions that he was done talking, but the worst was out in the open now, and he would have to take whatever came.

  Isabel just sat, staring at him, mouth open. She started to laugh, as if he had been telling her a joke, but then saw, from the look on his face, that it was true.

  “I… I do not understand.”

  Now that it was out in the open, Joao felt the words tumbling out. “I was a Jesuit priest, in Lisbon. A man, a stranger, came into my chapel one day, and he died while giving confession. He gave me a letter before he died, and told me that something was in Goa. After he died, we discovered that he had been stabbed. I didn’t really understand all that had happened, but I took the letter to an old friend of my father’s, who was able to read Greek, and he translated it. That letter… that letter is very dangerous. To the Church. It was written by the Apostle Paul, and it would have been seen as heresy by the Inquisitors. I hid this letter, and tried not to think of it. But the men who had killed the man who died—I found out his name was Sebastian de Gois—found me. They suspected that de Gois had given me the letter before he died. They followed me. They ransacked my rooms. Finally they chased me away from Lisbon, and I left as a missionary on the Sao Miguel, heading for Goa. I was in fear for my life, Isabel… I had no choice.”

  She was still sitting, shocked and still, but listening. Joao took that as a good sign and continued, pulling out de Gois’ small journal from his pocket.

  “I had this, too, and on the long journey from Portugal to India I began to study it. The man, de Gois, was a Templar knight, Isabel. Maybe the last. And he knew of a treasure that the Templars had hidden long before, near Goa. He left clues in here, and during those long days and nights, I tried to figure them out. I… I found it, Isabel. I found the treasure when I got to Goa.”

  “What?” She was still in shock. “You have a treasure of the Templars?”

  “No. I don’t have it. But I took a small portion of it. The men from Lisbon had found me in Goa. They wanted the letter most of all, but they suspected there was a treasure. They followed me for days and weeks. Finally, out of desperation, because I felt that I could follow de Gois’ book and find it, I changed my appearance. As a Jesuit I was easily found and followed. As a sailor, I was not. So I dressed in the clothes of a deck hand, and I moved to a boarding house near the water. I said that my name was Afonso Borges. I frequented the ale houses of the sailors, and I kept watch for many days. When I determined that the dark men had not found me, I purchased a horse and supplies, and set out to find the treasure. I explored the countryside all around Goa, looking for the places mentioned in the book. De Gois had arrived in the area by land, not by sea, so I spent half of the year out there looking for his landmarks, alone except for when I needed food or provisions. I grew out my hair and my beard. I dressed as settlers did who lived and farmed nearby. When the shopkeeper asked me where I lived I would wave to the north and change the subject to the weather or the crops…” He stopped, remembering the lonely time, and his despair of ever finding the end of Sebastian de Gois’ trail.

  “Go ahead…” Isabel finally said. Joao looked at her and realized she didn’t look angry. She was not happy, of course, but perhaps she was finding a way to understand. He touched her arm gently.

  “I found it. I finally found it, Isabel. And it was the most magnificent thing I have ever seen….”

  “What is it?” She asked, some excitement in her voice.

  “The throne of King Solomon himself. It is not just a chair, mind. It is gold, with precious stones all over it—rubies, sapphires, emeralds. There are golden heads of beasts on each step leading to the seat. A lion, an ox, a wolf, a lamb…Above the throne is a golden dove with a golden hawk in its mouth. There are gold decorations all over. Fruit. Flowers. Even a menorah. There are other chairs, and branches, and vines. A crown. It is all, everything, in gold! And there is some wonderful mechanism that makes the creatures move… It is beyond imagining, really, and it is his throne. King Solomon. The richest king to ever live.” His eyes shone at the memory.

  Isabel grabbed his hand. “But where is it now?”

  “I couldn’t move that myself, of course, and I wasn’t sure, anyway, that I wouldn’t be found by those men. Nearby the throne there were golden bowls full of jewels, and many kinds of gold coins. There were more vines and leaves made of gold, which must have come from some other part of Solomon’s palace or from the Temple itself. I spent many days with the treasure, and I prayed to God for wisdom. Finally, He gave me a plan. I took several of the leather bags that I had been using to transport grain and dried meat, and I filled them with small items from the cave. The ones not part of the throne—jewels, pieces of gold, coins. Whatever I could put in the pouches that I thought could be sold. I left the throne as I’d found it, and I did nothing to disturb either the entrance nor any of the landmarks that I had used to find it. And I returned to Goa.”

  He rubbed his face with his hand, and finished the tale. “When I had been acting as a sailor, I met a man who the captains and other officers said could arrange anything. Shipments. Cargo. He had a reputation as a scoundrel, but also for being discreet should one want to bring things out of Goa that perhaps weren’t strictly counted by the shipping company. I sought him out, and over two months time he was able to sell half of my treasure. For a large commission, of course, but I had expected no less. He was also able to help me become Joao Pastorhino Xavier, with letters of patent, and references from far flung merchants. He is the only one, until now, who knew my secret…” He tapered off, unsure, now that he was at the heart of the matter of his lies directly to her, how the remainder of his tale would be received.

  “I didn’t intend to marry, Isabel. I was a priest! I didn’t know I would meet you, would fall in love with you. By the time that happened, everyone was accepting me as the wealthy merchant, Joao Xavier. Your father… he would not have given me permission to marry you if he’d known I was just Father Eduardo of Lisbon, from no prominent family. All I had was the money God had provided me through Sebastian de Gois, and a plan to make a business, to become the wealthy merchant through my own work and ideas that I was pretending to be. I know that I should have told you sooner… I do know that, and I have wrestled with God for many many months now. I hope that you will forgive me, but I know that you might not. My heart is breaking because I have hurt you, and I know that I cannot make that up to you. But voce e o amor da minha vida—you are the love of my life. And I will do whatever I can to earn your forgiveness.” He hung his head. It was all out now, and there was nothing more to say. It was no one’s fault but his own. If she left him now, he deserved it, and he would give her a sizable sum to get her back to her father in Goa and allow her to live her life in comfort. He couldn’t even pray now. He, of all people, understood reaping and sowing.

  Isabel didn’t say anything for a long time. She was still holding his hand, and he felt tears dropping on it. He looked up at her. She loo
ked peaceful, but tears ran down her face. It is over, he thought.

  “I love you, Joao. You have brought more joy into my life than I knew was possible. And you are right, my father would not have assented to your proposal of marriage if he had known who you really were.” She stopped and withdrew a delicate handkerchief from her sleeve. She wiped her face gently, and lifted his chin. “I love you, Joao. Eduardo. Both of you. And I am pleased to be your wife, and share your adventure with you. I wish you had told me before… But I understand why you did not, and I forgive you.”

  For a moment Joao didn’t understand what she had said. He was so sure that she would leave him and return to her father that he couldn’t make sense of her actual words. But he saw her smile, and he felt her hand on his face, and he knew that, beyond all hope, she was still his.

  The following day they went to the Jesuit outpost. It was, indeed, a crumbling pile. There were many Portuguese in the town, of course, but many had left their devout Catholicism back in their homeland. The small outpost received little support or help from the Pope, and struggled along with the small tithes, donations, and occasional offerings they received.

  “Will they recognize you, Joao?”

  “I hope not. No, I think not. I do not look the same, and I am, of course, no longer dressed as they. I am now married, and a merchant trader, and I will speak as such. I will say that you are devout, and wished to see their small chapel, and that I would be happy to merely explore until you have finished your devotions. I know that they must tend their small herd of goats, and their fields, as they must provide their own food. It is my hope that they find me respectable enough to be left to my own devices…” He grinned at her.