The Stone of Madness

by Nick Baker

  ‘What are you working on at the moment?’ he asked, entranced by her obvious pride and enthusiasm.

  ‘I’m afraid I have to work on several projects at any one time. The canvas you were studying is one of them.’

  Price felt himself colouring; she must have spotted him peering under the drapes when she came down the stairs.

  ‘It’s a reproduction,’ she continued, oblivious to his discomfort. ‘Many of the commissions I receive are for such requests. My primary interest lies in conceptual art, but unfortunately, I have to pay the bills. I’ve gained a reputation for replicating the styles of renowned artists. As a result, I receive commissions to duplicate many famous old masters. I could make a fortune as a forger … if I chose to,’ she said with a wry smile.

  ‘I thought the sketch was familiar, although I still can’t place it.’

  ‘It’s Constable’s Study of the Trunk of an Elm Tree. It’s one of my favourites. It has a complexity that belies its apparent simplicity. The painting can be appreciated on many levels, the least of which is the unadorned beauty of the tree itself. It’s easy to reproduce a treasure that’s like an old friend to me.’

  ‘I’d be interested to see it when it’s finished,’ he said, hoping she would not mind the presumption.

  ‘It won’t take long. I’d expect to complete something like this in a matter of weeks. I was working on it just before you called. Please forgive the delay when you rang, I was upstairs cleaning the oil from my hands.’

  Price frowned, wondering how she had known of his imminent arrival.

  Natacha smiled in response to his puzzled expression. ‘Luc rang to warn me that you were coming. He works in the garage a few doors down. Perhaps you saw him on your way past?’

  Price nodded, recalling the sudden disappearance of the young man after he had passed the garage.

  ‘This area has an undesirable reputation, you know. Luc’s a friend. He keeps a lookout for strangers.’

  ‘That must be reassuring.’

  ‘It is,’ she replied, throwing him another captivating smile.

  ‘What makes you so happy?’ asked Price, unable to help himself from commenting on the perpetual radiant expression that seemed to grace Natacha’s features. Despite feeling embarrassed for a second presumption, he suddenly realised the uplifting effect she was already having on his sombre mood.

  ‘Karma.’

  ‘Karma?’ Price repeated, sounding taken aback.

  ‘Yes. I fervently believe in a universal justice and do my best to live my life accordingly. Through the positive energy of my karma, I believe I’ll reap my rewards now, or perhaps sometime in the future.’

  ‘Yes, I understand,’ he replied, nodding his head pensively. ‘There’s something else that interests me, Natacha. Why is your company called Le Cart? My French is not so good.’

  Natacha laughed unreservedly, making Price wonder whether he had said something stupid.

  Natacha put her hand on his knee reassuringly. ‘No. Don’t worry, I’m not laughing at you. When I first moved here, it was part of my grand scheme for the business. I intended to have an imposing plaque with the company’s name outside. I met Luc soon after I moved in, and we became friends. He arranged for a local engraver to make the plaque for me as a house-warming present. Unfortunately, handwriting is not one of Luc’s strongest attributes, and the engraver struggled to interpret what he’d written. I intended to have a simple name for the business and wanted to use my surname. The plaque was never meant to say “Le Cart”, but “Lec Art” instead!’ she said, enunciating the words carefully.

  It was Price’s turn to laugh, despite feeling a pang of jealousy at the thought of Luc buying a gift for Natacha, and he wondered how he could feel this way when he had only been in her company for such a short time.

  ‘Anyway, I’ve grown attached to the sign and so I chose to keep it. It makes for good conversation, don’t you think?’

  Price nodded. As they sat in silence, he enjoyed the relaxed atmosphere that was more like a re-acquaintance between old friends.

  ‘I assume you didn’t come here for a commission. What can I help you with?’ she said finally.

  ‘I need some information.’

  Natacha sat forwards looking intrigued. ‘What do you want to know?’ she said eagerly.

  ‘I’m interested in Hieronymus Bosch, and perhaps more importantly, his association with a cabal known as the Esoteric Brotherhood. Can you help?’

  Natacha’s smile returned almost immediately. ‘It depends on how much you already know. It’s fair to say I know more than most on the subject. I graduated as an art historian, but my principal interest is Renaissance art. As part of my studies, I undertook a thesis on Bosch’s life and works. What specifically is it that you’re after?’

  ‘Whatever you can tell me. I’ve been the recent victim of a theft. Without boring you with the details, the name of the Esoteric Brotherhood surfaced. I believe that Bosch was associated with the Brotherhood, and I’d like to know why,’ he said, having no immediate desire to reveal his exact motives until he knew what Natacha had to offer.

  ‘I can sense your reluctance, but given your association with my father, it’s my duty to help,’ she said light-heartedly. ‘Sitting comfortably?’ she added with a sarcastic grin, ‘or would you prefer some refreshment before I start?’

  Price shook his head, feeling a creeping sense of expectation at what she was about to say.

  ‘I think I should start with some background. There have been many misinterpretations of Bosch’s work.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘The so-called experts either did not delve deeply enough or chose to ignore some of the most fundamental issues of the age when scrutinising his art.’

  Price detected a hint of admonition in her voice but did not interrupt.

  ‘Hieronymus Bosch was not his real name. He was born Jheronimus van Aken in 1450. The name means “from Aachen”, which tells us that his family originated from Aachen and not ’s-Hertogenbosch, where Jheronimus was born. He became known by the name Bosch when he began to sign his work with that name. It’s a derivative of the name of his birthplace, you see.

  ‘During Bosch’s lifetime ’s-Hertogenbosch was a prosperous, provincial town, situated to the south of what is now the Netherlands, close to the Belgian border. His father and grandfather were both painters in the same town. His family had links to other Dutch and German artists before this and it’s no surprise that Hieronymus had an inherent talent as an artist.’

  Natacha paused for a few moments and cleared her throat. ‘Before I go on, I need to digress somewhat. An understanding of the politics of the region during Bosch’s lifetime may help to explain just how far he was prepared to go to ensure that certain aspects of his life remained secret.’

  Price wondered where the conversation was leading but did not interrupt.

  ‘Bear with me. It’ll all become clear as I explain,’ she said, getting up from the sofa. ‘It’s always so warm beneath the glass. Would you mind if I opened the skylight?’

  ‘Of course not,’ replied Price, watching her intently as she crossed the room to collect a long pole.

  Natacha returned to the sofa and deftly inserted the pole’s hooked end into the latch of the skylight, and with several quick twists, she opened the window by a few inches.

  Price could feel a gentle breeze almost immediately. Natacha sat down next to him and he was momentarily distracted by a subtle scent hinting at an exotic Oriental spice he could not place.

  ‘Most of what is now the Netherlands and Belgium was, for the first time, united by the Duke of Burgundy, Philip the Good, in 1433, just seventeen years before the birth of Bosch. This became known as the Burgundian Union, the unification of what had been, up until then, a group of independent territories. This was the first step towards the formation of the Dutch nation. Amsterdam was already flourishing and had become the primary trading port in Europe for grain brought in by shi
p from the Baltic. Antwerp, similarly, became a thriving port and generated great wealth from its cloth trade. It was a period of great prosperity and growth for the region, and this was only enhanced by the establishment of the Union as a form of limited central government represented by an assembly of nobles, clergy, and towns of the region, such as ’s-Hertogenbosch. Under Burgundian rule, trade, industry and culture flourished, and it was no coincidence that many famous artists, including Bosch, appeared around this time.’

  Price nodded, recalling the conversation with Isaacson on the day he had returned to discover the manuscript gone.

  ‘’s-Hertogenbosch was predominantly a Catholic town, but this was a time of great religious unrest that ultimately culminated in the Reformation. The appearance of Protestant groups, particularly Anabaptists and Calvinists, merely added to the turbulence that would predominate in the region for over a century. In 1506, due to a combination of inheritance and conquest, the Burgundian Union fell under the control of Charles V. Charles was born and raised in Ghent and understood the politics of the region. This became particularly relevant when he succeeded his grandfather as King of Spain and leader of the Habsburg Empire.’

  ‘Which explains how the Seventeen Provinces of the Low Countries became part of the Spanish Empire,’ added Price.

  ‘Yes, but matters took a turn for the worse when Charles abdicated in 1555 because of disillusionment at his failure to maintain the unity of the Church. Charles had shown great tolerance and understanding, even allowing the Seventeen Provinces significant autonomy during his reign, but this faltered under the leadership of his son, Phillip II.’

  ‘Why was that?’

  ‘Phillip was born in Spain, and considered himself, first and foremost, a Spaniard. He knew little of the Dutch region and didn’t speak the language or understand the people’s mentality. In 1568, a decree originating with the Inquisition and signed by Philip condemned the entire population of the Netherlands to death as heretics. Not surprisingly, the Seventeen Provinces revolted against their Spanish rulers, culminating in the Eighty Years’ War, a struggle that led to the birth of the Dutch nation.

  ‘Despite the ensuing upheaval, the newly-formed Dutch nation experienced unrivalled success in an era that ultimately became known as the Golden Age. The Dutch provinces became the most important trading centres in Northern Europe as the newly-formed nation flourished both economically and culturally.’

  ‘All very interesting,’ said Price, ‘and of course, vitally important when considering that the Esoteric Brotherhood was throwing out its tendrils at the time.’

  ‘Yes, undoubtedly,’ agreed Natacha. ‘And now let me return to Hieronymus Bosch.’

  He nodded. ‘Mm. I’m intrigued to find out how this all ties together.’

  ‘Bosch, on account of his prestige as an artist, became a prominent figure in ’s-Hertogenbosch. It didn’t take him long to gain a reputation as a prolific painter that extended well beyond the borders of the thriving town.’

  ‘What of his art?’ enquired Price.

  ‘Ah, yes, his art,’ replied Natacha, looking animated. ‘This is where it all starts to get interesting. Have you ever seen any of Bosch’s work at first hand?’

  Price shook his head. ‘I’ve only seen reproductions and prints, I’m afraid. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Because I believe it’s almost impossible to do justice to the immensity of his talent without visualising his work. Unfortunately, a lot of it now resides in the museums of Spain. Philip II was an admirer and acquired much of Bosch’s work for his personal collection, which tells us that the Catholic Church revered Bosch’s work. Had they been aware of his clandestine association with the Brotherhood then perhaps they would never have made the assumptions they did about his work.’

  ‘What assumptions were these?’

  ‘During Bosch’s lifetime, ’s-Hertogenbosch was a conservative, thriving, and predominantly Catholic community not yet touched by the burgeoning storm of the Reformation. Bosch’s fame spread far and wide, and he was already receiving commissions from abroad.

  ‘The Bosch family had deep-rooted Catholic associations, and understandably, if the young Hieronymus had done anything to undermine this, it would have had huge ramifications for them all. Bosch did everything in his power to keep his association with the Esoteric Brotherhood secret.’

  ‘What do you know of the group?’

  ‘Not much, I’m afraid. I suspect you already know more than I do, being an alchemist of such repute, but I’ll tell you what I can.’

  Price nodded. ‘Please continue. You’ve already been most informative.’

  ‘It was imperative that Bosch’s association with a group of alchemists, and one with some fairly obscure beliefs at that, remained deeply buried, lest he was exposed as a heretic. What better way than to continue with the Catholic traditions of the family? Not surprisingly, this is what he did. He lived his life, to all intents and purposes, as a prominent Catholic artist. He was responsible for designing a stained-glass window for the town church, and joined the Brotherhood of Our Lady, an illustrious local group of influential Catholics, merely to reinforce his position as a God-fearing Catholic. This façade of respectability reduced the risk for Bosch when he became part of a network of like-minded people who shared his preoccupation with the dark arts.’

  ‘When did Bosch’s link with the Brotherhood first appear?’

  ‘That’s what’s so interesting. While Bosch was alive, he managed to keep his association with the Brotherhood secret. Even when he died, the truth never surfaced for many years.

  ‘Remember, when the Brotherhood was in its infancy, it was during a period of great religious instability and intolerance. Any connection with the Brotherhood would have meant almost certain death at the hands of the Inquisition. Existence of the Brotherhood did not emerge for some time after Bosch’s death and coincided with the appearance of the Piotrowski manuscript.’

  ‘You know of the manuscript?’ enquired Price incredulously.

  ‘A little, although I’ve never seen it. I learnt of it as part of my thesis. The document mentions Bosch’s name and is the only reference linking him with the Brotherhood. Other than that, it contains little else of relevance, I believe. What do you know of it?’

  ‘One of only two copies ever written was recently stolen from my library. The manuscript purportedly contains a great secret that the Brotherhood wished to keep to themselves. Piotrowski went missing soon after he’d completed writing it, but whether his disappearance is related to the riddle, I don’t know. The only other copy of the book resides in Amsterdam. I’m planning to go there in a couple of days to see it for myself. I’m optimistic this will help to unravel the mystery, but until then, I’m afraid we’ll just have to wait and see.’

  ‘How can something that was written over four hundred years ago still be so important?’

  ‘I’m not sure, Natacha, but I just hope this secret is not as dangerous as I fear.’

  ‘Do you have any idea what it could be?’

  Price shook his head. ‘Not exactly,’ he replied noncommittally. ‘It’s some time since I read Piotrowski’s manuscript. All I’ve got to go on are some notes I made at the time.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Piotrowski made no attempt to hide Bosch’s involvement with the Brotherhood or all the other names he listed as original members of the inner circle, for that matter. This implies that the manuscript was only ever meant to be seen by the most privileged members of the Brotherhood. It would have been both dangerous and foolhardy in the extreme to expose those names, bearing in mind what you’ve already said.’

  ‘What does the book say about Bosch?’

  ‘The manuscript makes reference to his artwork. Although it’s not explicit, it implies that cryptic messages or symbols were hidden in his paintings. It’s hard to imagine that these messages were directly related to the Brotherhood’s secret. Maybe it was a way of disseminating information to other members
of the cult. I was hoping you might be able to help me with this.’

  ‘Maybe I can,’ said Natacha thoughtfully, ‘but this particular topic is fraught with difficulty.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Bosch was years ahead of his time as an artist. His paintings incorporated obscure and peculiar imagery that was undoubtedly symbolic in nature. Interpretation of his work depends upon a deep understanding of the man, not to mention the times in which he lived. Many art experts have misinterpreted his work because of the assumptions they made about his life.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘The history books are unequivocal in the description of Bosch as a staunch Catholic of unquestionable standing. He lived his entire life in ’s-Hertogenbosch, married a local woman, and joined an influential Catholic organisation that contained a small number of only the most respected citizens. If this is what the history books tell us, is it any surprise that his art has always been scrutinised with this in mind?’ she said without stopping to draw breath. ‘It’s for this reason that the same interpretations of Bosch’s work crop up time and time again.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘His paintings are generally accepted as depicting the human frailty for moral weakness and sin against God. They contain all sorts of fantastical images of demons, inhuman beings, animals and bizarre machinery, pointing to a preoccupation with the evil of man. This, of course, is based on the assumption that Bosch was a God-fearing Catholic, but as we know, he also had interests with the Brotherhood. This puts us at an advantage when trying to interpret his work. Despite all of this, it’s still a matter of opinion. All I can do is expound on my theories.’

  ‘I’d be interested to hear them.’

  Natacha fidgeted on the sofa to make herself more comfortable before she continued. ‘Interpretation of Bosch’s work sees him as a pessimist and moralist with no confidence in the inherent goodness of man. The themes of his work are invariably religious and use symbols to represent temptation leading to the eventual ensnarement of man in earthly sin and evil. If you peel away the superficial layers in his work, you begin to see a man who was not so much a religious freak, but more a tormented man obsessed with the occult.’