Time is short. We may only have one chance.
I must put down my pen now, and clear my mind in preparation.
*
Luisa once heard that the smell of human flesh burning is like roasting pork. Now she will find out if this is true.
Father de la Cruz is with the warlock, giving the Heathen a last chance to embrace the True Faith. From her place under the portico she sees the bound man shake his head. Father de la Cruz turns away from the stake in the centre of the courtyard, his face set. As soldiers come forward to stack the last faggots on the pyre the priest approaches her seat, his expression softening.
‘You did the right thing, child.’ It is the gentlest speech she has ever heard from this hardest of clerics.
She is touched, but her gaze still drifts to the far side of the square, where Gabriel stands between two guards, his head lowered.
Father de la Cruz says, ‘Your brother is not the first to be so beguiled.’
‘What will happen to him?’ The priest’s zeal when his party swept into the garrison while all – or almost all – slept had surprised and alarmed her; so eager were the priests they had ridden through part of the night. Had their family been of lower status, today’s pyre might have been built for two.
‘He will be sent back to Spain, to face a formal hearing by our order.’
‘Will he be excommunicated?’ Gabriel’s soul can still be saved, she is sure.
‘I pray not. But if he decides to remain part of the Church he will be stripped of all rank and assigned grave and lasting penance.’
Given that the alternative is to throw himself on the ‘mercy’ of their father, Luisa knows what her brother will choose.
Captain Rodriguez approaches the pyre, a torch in his hand.
Luisa remembers Gabriel telling her how the Inca Emperor converted in his final moments. As well as saving his soul, he bought himself an easier death, garrotted before the fire took him.
The wood is dry, and the flames take quickly. The warlock stares straight ahead in silence as fire licks his robe.
‘You do not have to watch this,’ murmurs Father de la Cruz.
‘I know,’ she says, but if she looks away she will see only her brother, broken by his latest, most foolish, mistake. ‘But I wish to see God’s will done.’
The Heathen is wreathed in flame now. His hair flies up around his face, then catches fire. Still he makes no sound. A nearby soldier mutters, ‘That’s five you owe me,’ to a comrade; no doubt the outcome of a bet.
Beyond the pyre she sees movement. Gabriel has raised his head to look at the man who entrapped him. Even from here Luisa can see that he is crying.
She looks away.
The dying warlock finally makes a sound. He strains at his bonds, moaning like an animal, the low moans barely audible over the fire’s crackle. His skin is starting to blacken.
Luisa keeps her head up, but lets her gaze drop, focusing on a patch of dirt just in front of the pyre. She prays under her breath, though the words bring little comfort.
The wind changes and when the smell reaches her, she finds what she was told to be true. She presses a hand to her mouth, swallowing hard. But she will not disgrace herself, not in front of everyone. After a while the urge to vomit passes.
At a loud and splintering crack she looks up to see a dark form crash down into the pyre, sending up a shower of sparks into the darkening sky. The ropes binding the warlock to the stake have finally burnt through.
The falling body fans the flames briefly, then they die back. Luisa can watch again now there is nothing obviously human in the pyre, nothing still alive. In fact, she cannot look away.
Finally, with the first stars coming out in the east and the western sky fading to old gold, the observers begin to move off. As Luisa prepares to stand she sees Gabriel approaching, still under guard. The hurt and accusation in his eyes make her want to look away, but she must not. Instead she raises her chin and says, ‘I will pray for you, my brother.’
He pauses – his guards let him – and shakes his head. ‘You have no idea what you have done, Luisa. No idea. If you had only waited one more day . . .’
She is puzzled; Father de la Cruz said they found Gabriel awake in his rooms, apparently at prayer, when they arrived. It was odd for him to be up so late, but the good Father made no mention of anything else amiss. ‘Why?’ she asks, ‘what will happen tomorrow?’
He laughs, a broken and mirthless sound. ‘What will happen tomorrow? Why, dear sister, I have no idea. No idea at all. And now I never will.’ He moves off, giggling under his breath.
Father de la Cruz regards her with kindly eyes. Looking for reassurance she asks, ‘Do you know what he meant?’
‘Not as yet, but we will.’
‘I am not sure he will tell you.’ There was madness in her brother’s eyes.
‘Worry not, child. We have his books.’
*
From: Commissar Eduardo de Salazar to Señor Gabriel Ruiz, 22 November 1541 Brother Ruiz,
I hope this brief note finds you before you embark for the motherland. News may not have reached you yet of the serious earthquake we recently suffered in Cuzco. Many lives were lost and it is with great sadness that I must inform you that your sister – my wife – and our baby son were among those now gone to God. They were in the Cathedral of Our Lady at the time, in the new section, where the roof collapsed. I know that you, like me, will pray evermore for their souls.
Yours,
Eduardo de Salazar
Ω
This account was compiled by Father de la Cruz from the papers of Brother Gabriel Ruiz and his sister Luisa. In a note attached to it Father de la Cruz expressed his concern that supernatural powers were apparently manifested among the heathen when those of the True Faith do not have them. This power of foreseeing the future, he judged, must therefore be of the Devil. That such a power might exist on Earth was sufficiently disturbing that it had to be brought to the attention of Pope Paul III in Rome.
Father de la Cruz was pleased to inform his Holiness that because of his swift intervention God’s Church had overcome the heathen Inca. Apac Kunya, the last amautas, had perished in the cleansing flames before he could finish passing on his devilish power to Brother Gabriel Ruiz.
As for Brother Gabriel, he had been sent back to his Order for correction, penance and reorientation in the true ways of the Church. This was not expected to be a rapid process.
c. 1580
This document appears to be written in the hand of the Elizabethan philosopher, mathematician, cartographer and occultist, Dr John Dee. Internal references to ‘the good doctor’ and his ‘methodical’ note-taking suggest that he wrote this account of his receiving a box of documents, and one in particular, ‘a copy of a copy of a translation of another far more ancient manuscript’.
He himself queries its claimed origins, but if the original does indeed go back to the early centuries of Christianity it could cast serious doubts on the very origins of the religion.
The Gifts
Kleo Kay
Dr John Dee was in his study when the messenger from Florence arrived. He was carrying a package of books and scrolls which the good doctor had been eagerly awaiting. A trusted colleague who dealt in antiquarian books and rare documents had been searching for these on his behalf for a long time; now, at last, they were here.
After he had swiftly checked the contents and found that everything he expected appeared to be there, he paid the messenger and sent him to the kitchen for some refreshments before he left. Then he retreated to his study to examine his latest acquisitions.
One of the foremost scholars of his age, Dee was searching for answers to the great mysteries of life. The more he learned, the more his passion for knowledge was inflamed.
These particular papers were nearly ninety years old and were reputed to have come from the library of Marsilio Ficino, noted Italian astrologer, alchemist and classical scholar. In them were copies of
translations of Greek texts that he had wanted to add to his collection for some time. There were some letters written by Ficino himself, and the prize was a copy of Ficino’s Book of the Sun written in the early 1490s. Dee hoped that he would find hints in this about the transmutation of metals into gold, the metal that embodied the energies of the Sun in physical form.
He continued flicking through the various papers. Everything was there that he had expected; he was pleased with the new additions to his library. At the bottom of the box was a scroll case that he hadn’t yet looked at. He opened it and pulled out the curled up roll; it seemed quite brittle, so he was careful handling it. As he placed the scroll case down he heard something else rattling in the bottom of it. He up-ended the case and a small box fell out. It had no apparent lid that he could see; he noted it was quite finely made, and put it to one side of his desk for the moment.
He turned his attention back to the scroll and found a great curiosity. As he scanned the first few sections he discovered that it purported to be a translation of a much older work, claiming to deal with the gifts that were given to the Christ child nearly sixteen hundred years ago. Fascinated, he read further, a hundred questions forming in his mind as he read; methodical, as always, he began to make notes of his thoughts.
It began with a comment from the copyist about his source.
This document is a copy of a copy of a translation of another far more ancient manuscript allegedly dating to the early years of the Church. It is written in medieval Latin and the style of it seems to date the translation to the twelfth or thirteenth century. The original must have been badly damaged for much text is missing. The first section is complete enough to understand the gist of it. The second section about the gifts themselves is the most complete. The third section, where the formulae should have been, is completely missing, torn off as if taken by someone, perhaps along with the original artefacts in order to use them. The translator has noted the gaps in the text with careful attention to the detail, including even single words where that was all that could be made out. It came into my hands by such subterfuge that very few people have laid eyes upon it. I was only able to borrow the manuscript for a single night, just long enough to make this copy. It holds great and important secrets and must be guarded from the eyes of the public and the blinkered. It is only for the eyes of the true seeker of knowledge, and the practitioner of the alchemical arts. The text begins below.
Dee noted that the writing looked very similar to that of the letters from Ficino that he had been perusing earlier. He compared the documents and the writing matched, although this was slightly smaller and the characters not quite so well formed. He concluded that it was likely to have been written by Ficino, probably in a hurry, which fitted with the comments he had just read. He read on.
First, let me attest that this is a true and secret record that has been passed down to me by my ancestors. After many years it has fallen to me to pass this knowledge on to those who will preserve it into the far future. I now commend these three most precious artefacts to the care of the elders of the new Church, now that it is fully established. They have extraordinary powers that go far beyond what is deemed possible in the mundane world, therefore it is essential for me to explain how they came into my family’s possession, their nature and qualities, and how they should be used.
(Several lines of text missing at this point.)
It was He who started the new and gentle faith who entrusted these things to us, and it was my thrice-great grandfather who accepted this mission. Blessing or burden, it depends on how you look at it. From my point of view it is both. Those who carry the secret live long and healthy lives, usually attaining nigh on 100 years of life. That is the blessing. The burden is the fear of failing, that these secrets will be discovered, or the artefacts stolen, accidentally destroyed, or lost. That responsibility is heavy indeed. And now I carry them, the sixth person to do so.
Dee started calculating the most likely date that the original manuscript could have been written. Six generations from the beginning of Christianity, and the guardians lived long lives. Assuming that an old guardian handed it on to a young person, it must date to approximately AD 450–480. However, if each one passed it down to their child, then the child might be quite old before they even received it, so it could be earlier, maybe AD 300–320? He read the next section.
(Three lines of text missing.)
When my ancestor met him he was known simply as Joshua. At that time they were both young men, sharing a common purpose to travel the world and seek out knowledge.
(Several lines of text missing.)
. . . and how followers of other religions honoured their various gods.
(About ten lines of text missing. Only a few words were decipherable on the original document here – ‘great grand’, ‘travelled alone’, ‘medicine’, ‘study’, ‘the east’ – indicating there was information here about family history and the exploits of the writer’s ancestor.)
Joshua, having always lived partly in the spiritual world, pursued the goal of achieving communion with the divine part of his nature. He travelled far and wide, and studied at many temples and sanctuaries.
(About twenty lines of text missing. This section probably dealt with the early years of the life of Jesus and when he started his ministry.)
. . . Judea. By this time Joshua had attracted a great crowd around him, and followers who went everywhere with him, hanging on his every word.
One evening Joshua confided in my ancestor that he believed a time of great darkness was descending upon him, but not to be afraid as, if all he expected came to pass, they would meet again on the other side. Mysterious though it seemed, he just accepted it. Over the years he had become accustomed to Joshua’s cryptic comments.
(Several lines of text missing.)
... something terrible had happened. Joshua was dead! Murdered by the authorities! Arrested by the Temple police and tried on the charge of blasphemy. Apparently he had been engaged in what they termed ‘subversive acts’ within the holy precincts. Nobody seemed to know exactly what had been said at his trial, so it was difficult to really understand what had happened. The official line was that he had declared himself the Messiah. He hadn’t bothered to defend himself, or to beg forgiveness for his crimes against the Temple, and was condemned to death. No time was lost in carrying out the sentence, and he was swiftly executed as a criminal. Fearing repercussions, his closest followers fled into hiding.
(Several lines of text missing. A few words were visible here, ‘days and nights . . . persecution . . . Body [had] disappeared . . . mystery’.)
My great-great-great-grandfather was grief-stricken. One morning to his astonishment, Joshua knocked quietly at his door, let himself in and sat down at the table. He had a strange glow about him and seemed oddly calm. Then it was that Joshua charged my ancestor with the task of protecting these extraordinary treasures into the future. He confided the tale of his curious birth, the gifts he had been given at that time, and how to use them. He explained how he had used them to great effect in the previous three years, especially in the last few weeks. He confessed that the only gift he had never fully used was the first, as it hadn’t seemed particularly relevant to his life’s work and he had used only a few of its secrets of transmutation.
Dr Dee recalled the version of the birth of Jesus as it was written in the Gospel of Matthew. He had always wondered whether the birth stories were a later fabrication designed to validate Christ as the One and Only True Son of God. If this was the case, could this be part of that early corpus? Or could it actually be true? Did this prove that the nativity stories in Matthew were historically accurate? His mind raced with the possibilities this presented him.
(Text missing, with several words visible. ‘Joshua . . . caretaking task . . . [l]ong . . . generations . . . until . . . entrusted . . . care of . . . [His] new religion’.)
Joshua had been given a glimpse of the future and he knew that
his teachings would take root and grow over time, until they became a great Church open to all. His heartfelt hope was that it would stay pure and true and be a force for good in the world.
And now, to the explanation of the artefacts and their properties. These are written from memory in the words that were passed down to me, and that I learned by rote, when the artefacts were passed into my care.
The first gift: Gold
In the carved box is the gift that is known as gold. Although by its very description, it sounds as if it is simply metal, precious though such worldly treasure is, there is much, much more to this artefact than that. The box is carved with images of the celestial luminaries, and it has a protective device within it that makes it hard to open unless you know how.
(Text only partially visible here: ‘. . . in turn gently depress the . . . by the horns of the cres[cent moo]n . . . third ray of the sun . . . your hand below the box . . . [ro]tate the base of the box to the l[eft] and the lid will spring open.)
Within the box are two compartments. Within each section is another box made of crystal. One is of a rosy hue, and the other looks more silvery. The rose crystal box contains a red powder, and in the silver crystal box is a white powder. Each will create a different type of gold when added to base metals. Both are highly prized for their purity and colour. First the red. Follow the formula that is detailed later, and when this ruddy powder is added to source metal ore, in the right quantities, at the right time, and with the right incantations, it will create a valuable pink-red coloured gold.
Tales from the Vatican Vaults: 28 extraordinary stories by Kristine Kathryn Rusch, Garry Kilworth, Mary Gentle, KJ Parker, Storm Constantine and many more Page 19
