by Paula Wynne
Intrigue spiked into her, and she hurried towards the boardroom. She couldn’t wait to find out the ancient secret. And what made it deadly.
13
Before she entered the boardroom something prickled at Kelby’s neck. She jiggled her shoulders to stop the tingle taking control of her whole body.
Then, it dawned on her. He was close by again and now she was imagining he was in her office.
Oh, my God! He was!
The Pewter Fox sat right there in front of her, his finely carved fingers draped over a petite woman’s arm. Her nerves went into overdrive. Firstly, at the sight of him, and secondly at seeing him so intimate with another woman.
Get a life, Kelby!
She moved to the boardroom table and as she took his outstretched hand, a sensual current sizzled through her.
The Pewter Fox said, ‘Hello, Miss Wade. Thank you for seeing us at such short notice. I’m Doctor Roy Robson.’ He shook his head, ‘I know how that sounds. Rob Roy and all that.’ He smiled. ‘Mum loves history.’ As his hand clutched hers, she tried to release herself from his grip. He suddenly let go as though he had been jolted by a spark. ‘Sorry.’
Kelby smiled. She sank into a chair opposite him, thankful to be off her wobbly feet and stared at the attractive Spanish woman sitting in front of her.
‘And this is my sister, Marina Peña.’
Marina’s face appeared as though someone had painted it with its sultry stare, its arched, thick eyebrows and pouting lips.
Kelby’s mind was spinning as she muttered, ‘This morning …’ She couldn’t think of how to ask if he’d been following her. That was stupid; he was simply another businessman on a flight. But she couldn’t help blurting out, ‘Were you follo—’
The doctor interrupted, ‘We just happened to be on the same flight.’
Marina’s eyes lit up. ‘Roy was visiting medical colleagues in Dublin to help me find the right home for my discovery. That’s why the big rush to see you today, Miss Wade.’
‘Please call me Kelby; formalities give me a headache.’
Marina started to open a folder, thick with documents, but Kelby stopped her. ‘Wait, I have very little time now. Give me the nuts and bolts. Sum up your pitch in one sentence.’
Marina opened her mouth to speak, but Doctor Robson jumped in first. ‘We’ve stumbled on an ancient secret. Something incredible. But there’s a problem …’ His voice dropped as he fixed his eyes on Kelby, ‘It could be deadly if it falls into the wrong hands. We’re hoping you’ll help us stop that from happening.’
Kelby gasped.
14
Kelby stared at the doctor, ‘So it was you who left the note.’
His mouth twisted into a sheepish grin.
‘Good pitch.’ She grinned. ‘Tell me more.’
‘Aside from being extremely rare, Marina’s herb has extraordinary healing powers.’ He turned to his sister. ‘Will you tell Kelby how this started?’
Marina explained, ‘My husband and I live in a rural part of Andalusia. Inland of Malaga. It’s in the middle of nowhere. You wouldn’t believe what we’ve found!’
‘What?’ Kelby tried to focus on Marina, but her brother butted in before she could continue.
‘Marina’s home has been in her father’s family for generations. They own thousands of acres of land. There are some ruins Marina wanted to develop.’
‘My husband, Pepe, he thinks it is good for me to keep busy.’ An elaborate shrug showed her amusement. ‘At first I thought of renovating the ruin as a yoga retreat, but I changed my mind.’
‘Why?’
‘¡Dios!
‘I found a skeleton in the ruins.’
Kelby pulled a face.
‘I found it in a cellar. Buried underground. I think they used to store preserved food in there. Once they heard about it, archaeologists got excited. They’ve started a dig to discover fourteenth century farm life. It appears the ruined finca, um, that’s a small farm with lots of buildings. Now they’re digging up spoonful’s of soil at a time to see how medieval farms worked.’
‘The thing is, Kelby,’ Doctor Robson drew Kelby’s attention back to him, ‘is that this discovery wasn’t just the ruins —’
Marina interrupted, ‘I also found a book and a pile of old documents.’
‘The important thing, Kelby, is that Marina has not revealed the true find to the archaeologists.’
Kelby loved the way he said her name. Once again, she felt the thread that had connected them briefly on the plane. She glanced from brother to sister. ‘I’m not with you.’
‘The real find is a journal.’ Doctor Robson sounded impatient to get to the point. ‘Marina also found a leather bound book hidden in a clay pot. It dates back to medieval times.’
Before she could stop herself, Kelby blurted out, ‘Medieval? Most people come to me with modern gadgets or futuristic inventions.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘First time I’ve had something medieval in here.’
Doctor Robson said, ‘Here, Marina will show you.’
Marina’s tiny hands slipped something out of her folder. With careful movements she unwrapped a layer of mottled mocha and buff leather. ‘It’s a medieval girdle book. I think it was handmade by this author.’
Kelby leaned closer to the leather clad book.
‘Look,’ Roy flipped back a long flap of leather with a knot on the end, ‘the book is bound with two pieces of wood covered with leather.’
Kelby noticed the leather had been pasted to the boards with an extension of leather knotted at the end.
‘¡Mira!’ Marina held the knot up in the air so the book hung upside down. ‘See, when you lift it up to read it, the book’s the right way up.’
Kelby raised her eyebrows and nodded. ‘Clever idea.’
‘They would slip the knot under their belt to carry on their bodies.’ In a gentle motion, Marina placed the book back onto the table between them. ‘Here, take a look.’
The book had a symbol etched on the cover.
Kelby gasped and held a hand across her chest. ‘I know this. I see it every day.’
‘What?’ Marina glanced from Kelby to Roy, her frown darkening her golden glow. ‘You’ve seen this book before?’
‘No. Never.’ Slowly, Kelby reached into her blouse, keeping her eyes on Roy’s face. His eyes widened.
Kelby pulled out a chain with a pendant hanging from it and said, ‘My brother Gary gave me this before he died.’
In the middle of her palm lay a pendant with a large, curved X inside it. The symbol was an exact replica of the image on the book.
15
Kelby lifted the chain over her neck and placed the necklace on the table between Roy and Marina.
‘How did he know the symbol?’ Marina asked.
Kelby shrugged.
‘Maybe he saw it on the internet? Apparently, it’s one of a few ancient symbols no-one understands. A cipher that has never been cracked. I’ve been researching and —’
Roy touched Marina’s arm to quieten her. ‘Don’t go into that. Kelby has very little time and it’ll just side track us.’
But Kelby stayed on the subject and said, ‘Gary did some cycling training in Spain before he died. Could he have seen it there?’
‘Possibly. But where?’
‘I think he was cycling around the Sierra del Torcal.’
Marina and Roy gaped at each other and Roy said, ‘That’s near Marina’s find. It’s too close to be a coincidence. Do you know any more about this?’
‘Nothing. Except he came home and had this made for me.’ She fondled the pendant and frowned, ‘I remember him saying he was onto something, but he went quiet for a while and then—’
Kelby dropped the chain back
over her neck.
Marina said, ‘At first we thought the two CCs was something to do with the occult. When I was a child I heard whispers of a secret society in Torcal so I looked up symbols and I found out there is a secret society protecting medieval manu—’’
‘Not now, Marina, we must finish this before you discuss other issues.’ Doctor Robson whispered to his sister. His gaze swept back to Kelby, as he said in a gentle tone, ‘The pendant’s precious to you.’
Kelby nodded, reached out and lifted the ancient book. Her fingers traced the grooves, along the sides and corners. The book sent a bolt of exhilaration to every nerve fibre in her body, electrifying her.
Even though most of the outer brushed leather had cracked and dried out, something about this book touched her deeply, as though the author’s warmth still radiated through it. She had spent the past ten years touching every conceivable product entrepreneur’s invented. None of them had ever caused her to react in this way. Her heart skipped a beat as though a mystery rippled through the centuries and struck a chord within her.
Kelby fondled the knot. It gave her an odd sensation, as though she had stepped into the shoes of the creator, and now, centuries later, took the same pleasure and satisfaction in their handiwork.
A slight bump near the top caught her attention, but she ignored it for the moment. As Kelby balanced it on her fingers, she muttered, ‘It’s so unusual.’
‘Si, it’s made to dangle the girdle from your belt.’
‘Thankfully, otherwise it could bring their trousers down!’ Doctor Robson grinned.
Marina slapped his arm in disgust, ‘No!’ She turned to Kelby and said, ‘Anyone who carried girdle books in the Middle Ages wore dresses or habits, not trousers! My brother is full of, how you say, diablura.’
‘Mischief.’ Doctor Robson’s eyes twinkled, ‘That’s my middle name.’
Kelby marvelled at how his face lifted as the corners of his eyes crinkled. A tender warmth filled her. Even as she watched this brother and sister’s banter, it reminded her of Gary. Instead of filling her with the usual sadness she felt when remembering him, it gave her fond memories of how they used to tease in much the same way.
‘Aside from my devilment,’ he chuckled, ‘one opens a girdle book pretty much in the way one opens any bound book. The only difference is there’s the extra length of leather hanging from the book.’
Marina pulled Kelby back into the moment as she said, ‘Es triste, it’s sad. Very few of these book carry-bags have survived.’
Kelby’s index finger hovered over the book, resting like a butterfly on the stiff cover. ‘It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like this before.’
Marina gleamed with pride. ‘Mira aquí, you see inside is an elaborate family crest and the word “Carbonela”.’
Kelby pushed her glasses closer to her eyes and leaned in to examine the.
‘Marina has done so much work on this. She found out there were a variety of ways in which medieval ink was made. In general, the recipes produced very long-lasting inks that typically don’t fade.’
‘Don’t we need gloves to touch it?’ Kelby kept her gaze on the book.
‘But this is not papyrus, it’s parchment!’ Marina spoke as though everyone should know the difference between papyrus and parchment.
Doctor Robson blushed and explained, ‘Parchment is a strong material. Remember, it’s animal skin, and not like papyrus or paper in consistency. Pages made from early papers or papyrus are fragile, turning them can cause damage.’
Marina chipped in, ‘And wearing gloves can make it worse.’
‘Yes, true. But Kelby is right to ask because medieval books are not to be taken for granted.’ Doctor Robson said to Marina.
Kelby squirmed in her seat.
‘I checked with an old friend of mine from university who’s now an expert on this. Tim studies medieval documents across the globe. He said institutions have different policies. He’s never been asked to wear gloves in the British Library’s manuscripts room. And he was only asked once to wear gloves when he was consulting a heavily illuminated manuscript in the Bodleian Library in Oxford.’
His eyes stayed on Kelby making her uncomfortable. ‘Tim said the gloves make sure hands don’t mark the parchment, but it could be beneficial for parchment to absorb the natural oils on fingers.’ Doctor Robson chuckled, ‘Either way, it’s best to make sure our hands are clean.’
Kelby saw Marina’s outstretched hand. A sharp lemon odour filled the room as she wiped her hands.
‘Phew!’ Kelby finished wiping her hands. ‘I wouldn’t want to ruin this lovely old book.’
‘But of course, best practice is to handle it as little as possible.’
‘Okay.’ Kelby said.
Each page illustrated details of a different herb in a flowing handwritten script. Beside the inked words, an elaborate decorated first letter, naming each herb had been drawn with intricate designs. Despite its age, every page in the book had high-quality drawings of the plant and its seeds.
‘It seems to be a practical book.’ Marina’s voice filled with pride. ‘Look,’ she pointed at the page Kelby was on, ‘There’s details about each herb’s medicinal properties and even directions for compounding the medicines extracted from them. They’re on every page. And these are symbols of the different planets, a sort of shorthand showing medicinal properties. Astrology was a big part of medicine in those days.’
‘What does this say?’ Kelby pointed at a large A.
Marina leaned over and squinted at the words. ‘It says “anemone”. Then it goes on to explain its juice is applied externally to clean ulcerations, infections and cure leprosy or inhaled to clear the nostrils.’
As Kelby listened to Marina, the tips of her fingers tingled. Kelby shook herself and pulled back. The girdle book magnetised her. Locked in, Kelby leaned forward again, one hand still resting on the leather knot.
Marina’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, ‘When I was researching herbals, I came across a woman author who’d written several stories in Barcelona in 1492!’
Doctor Robson reached into Marina’s folder and showed Kelby a printed list.
‘They’re now held in manuscript archives in Madrid,’ said Marina. ‘Some of these old documents are preserved in private repositories, such as Abadía de Torcal. My uncle runs an exclusive retreat there.’ She glanced at her brother.
‘Not now, Marina,’ he said.
Marina sighed, and continued, ‘But this particular author’s work is in public administration.’
Kelby nodded and made some notes.
‘I wanted to be a hundred per cent sure, so I went to the Instituto de Enseñanza.’
‘What did you find?’ Once again, the book winched Kelby closer. A shadow lingered between the pages, leaking an aura of a medieval struggle.
Marina tossed her head and twanged in her thick accented English, ‘The stories appear to be written by the first female Spanish author.’
‘Wait,’ Doctor Robson cut in, ‘she may not be the first as such. Remember Egeria.’
‘We don’t know if Egeria was Spanish,’ Marina retorted.
Kelby watched the sparks fly between them and held up her hand. ‘Can someone fill me in here?’
Doctor Robson cleared his throat, ‘Um, sorry, Kelby. Nothing like a little tiff to add excitement.’ He gave her his sheepish grin and continued, ‘Egeria was a fourth-century female pilgrim who wrote an account of her pilgrimage to Jerusalem in Latin.’
Kelby watched him stroke his sister’s arm.
‘When Marina was researching she came across Egeria. While we’re not sure who was the first female author. We’d like to believe our journal author is the first, because of her numerous short stories and her detailed journal.’
Marina leaned forward, ‘Si. There’s so much written speculation about her, yet no-one can say what happened to her. Her disappearance is a mystery.’
Suddenly a thrumming vibrated through Kelby’s veins.
‘What was her name?’
‘Ana-María de Carbonela.’
16
Fuente Prado, Castile de Granada, March 1492
Ana-María de Carbonela stood on the rocky ledge beside the waterfall inside the cave. She loved how the sun glinted on the surface of the pool below. A fine spray from the plunging water drifted over her body, cooling her and drenching her skin.
Even though the cave smelt damp, and the acrid stench of mould clung to the back of her throat, María loved this secret place.
Her grotto thrummed with life.
The constant drip of water. Insects scuttling from one hiding place to another. Underground passages that breathed out odours of damp earth with crevices to explore. In her living cueva, with its strange setting, she considered herself a passing visitor.
From her perch high in the hollowed out cave, she could see the sea mist clawing its way into the valle. Around her the day sparkled with life. Yet in a few hours the mist would wrap itself around everything in its path making it impossible to see the pond below.
She loved being alone in the wild countryside. Ever since Madre had drawn a map to show her how to find the grotto, she had spent many days lying by the pond and dreaming. Whenever she came to collect the estraño herb from the rocks, she took her time exploring the cueva.
She had been unable to tell Madre that cleaning the house and cooking bored her. Or that she preferred to live in another world inside her head.
On the clearest days, the distant mountains called to her. One day she would journey to the sea. Maybe even hide on a boat and write a story about a girl who sailed to new lands.
