Читать книгу Treasure of the Romarins - Ronda Williams - Страница 5

Natalie looked confused and shook her head. “I never called you, Uncle.” She looked questioningly at her brother. “Did you?”

“Not I,” he replied.

Mrs. Murphy looked flustered. “Well, what does it matter anyhow? Would you all sit down already and have your breakfast?”

They needed no further encouragement, and pulled out their chairs. Uncle Julien buttered his bread and took a bite, closing his eyes as he did so. “How I’ve longed for your cooking, Madame Murphy,” he sighed. “French cuisine is delectable of course, but nothing compares to the comfort I reap from your kitchen. You are an angel, cheri.”

Mrs. Murphy blushed. She always had a special place in her heart for Julien Romarin.

“Uncle,” Natalie interrupted, “What do you mean when you say we summoned you? I assure you we didn’t, although we’re very glad to see you again so soon.”

“Yes,” added Calvin, “you just left us a week ago, right after the funeral. I assume you went back to Paris?”

“I most certainly did,” replied their uncle, “and little did I know I’d be back again within the week, but you children did indeed call me back, though you probably weren’t aware of it.”

“But, how did we do that?” Natalie asked, unconvinced.

“By a very clever device dreamed up by my brother,” he answered. “Mes enfants,” he added, “we have much to discuss, but first, we eat!”

After that, there was very little conversation. Julien and Calvin were similar in that they both loved food almost as much as they loved women.

“Let’s retire to the library,” suggested their uncle, after breakfast. “I will endeavor to answer the many questions I’m sure you wish to ask.” He turned to Mrs. Murphy with a courtly bow before leading the way upstairs.

“Let’s all have a seat by the fire,” Calvin suggested. “It’s so cold outside, and I can feel it creeping into the house.” He knelt by the hearth and arranged the kindling, and soon the fire was blazing merrily. Mrs. Murphy entered the room only to set down a pot tea, leaving them to talk in private.

“Now then,” Julien began, clearing his throat. “First I must tell you how I came to be here this morning.”

“Yes, please do. I’m very curious,” Natalie urged.

“Well, I told you that Richard invented a device. That device was triggered by something you touched in this library. I was called electronically by his ingenious little gadget, but don’t ask me how it works or where it is. It was Richard’s invention, and I never understood it. He told me about it many years ago, but when I asked him why it was necessary for him to have such a thing, he was annoyingly vague and said, ‘I have my reasons. You’ll just have to have faith in me.’ All I really know is, he was adamant that when I was summoned in that fashion, I must immediately come to England, to this house, and to the library specifically.’”

Calvin and Natalie glanced at each other, absorbing this. Finally Natalie spoke.

“The gadget that called you to us must be connected to the hidden compartment we found. At first we couldn’t open it, but we finally found a trigger on the door. You must have been alerted as soon as we unlocked it. We did hear something click, didn’t we, Calvin?”

Her brother nodded in agreement.

“I see,” Julien said slowly. “But what was in this compartment you speak of?”

Calvin answered in a somber tone, “We found what looks like the original handwritten manuscript of Paradise Lost.”

Their uncle had been leaning forward in his armchair, listening, but now, he leaned back and stared fixedly at his niece and nephew, with his mouth agape. “It can’t be an original can it?”

Natalie jumped up excitedly. “That must be why you’re here, to help us find out! You are a world-renowned authenticator. Uncle Richard must have known we’d need you. What better person could help us determine if this finding is legitimate? But why he went to such great lengths to help us find something that he could easily have shown us himself is very perplexing.”

Uncle Julien looked thoughtful. “Richard was always very secretive. I used to think that maybe he missed his military days, and was acting the spy.” He smiled sadly. “Now it seems he was guarding a very big secret indeed, if this manuscript turns out to be authentic.”

“So, how do we find out if it’s the real thing?” Calvin asked impatiently.

“Well, first you must let me have a look at it,” replied Julien archly.

~

“I’ll get my Leatherman,” Natalie said, and rummaged around in a desk drawer while Calvin showed Julien the panel. They had replaced the books in front of it as a precaution.

“This is very exciting,” he said as Calvin revealed the safe once more. “I feel like Howard Carter at the threshold of King Tut’s tomb.”

“This does seem like something that only happens to other people, or to a character in a movie,” Natalie agreed. “But it is helping to distract us from our sadness.”

“That’s true,” said Calvin. “But, now it makes me feel closer to Uncle Richard.”

Natalie inserted the hex tool into the knot again and turned it. After pushing on the door and watching it recede into the channel, she turned to her uncle.

“Well, here it is,” she said, and brought forth the portfolio. She passed it to Julien, who took it from her with shaking hands. “This is beautifully wrought,” he observed, looking at the design on the leather cover. “C’est le paradis perdu, je pense.”

“We thought it might depict the Garden of Eden as well,” said Natalie, nodding. Her uncle often lapsed into French when he was either overly tired or impassioned. She reflected he must be experiencing the latter emotion, as he always did when looking at something beautiful or precious.

He opened the cover carefully, making sure not to touch the paper inside, and studied the script at length. “Mes enfants,” he said, finally, “I can’t say for an absolute certainty just yet, but, my first impression is that this is the handwriting of John Milton.”

“Couldn’t it be a forgery, Uncle?” Calvin asked. “John Milton was blind when he dictated the poem to his daughters. It’s impossible that he could have written this with no sight whatsoever.”

Their uncle sighed. “You’re correct, Calvin. He was indeed blind at the time Paradise Lost was supposedly written and published. If this is actually his handwriting, therefore, it follows that he wrote this particular manuscript no later than 1652, before he lost his sight. That’s at least fifteen years earlier than the publishing date of 1667; but I have studied his work for a large portion of my adult life, and I feel almost certain that this is in fact his hand.”

Natalie looked skeptical. “There are incredibly talented forgers out there, Uncle. They have ingenious ways of fooling even the most talented authenticators.”

“Believe me, I am well aware of that,” he replied. “I have personally caught out many of the scoundrels. I may be a little past my prime, but I still have my wits about me, and I am nearly convinced that you and your brother are in possession of the original.”

Natalie looked slightly abashed. “I certainly didn’t mean to suggest you were losing your touch, Uncle. I just wondered how you can know, just by looking at it.”

“I understand, mon cher, and I take no offense. You’re a scientist, and I know scientists are more comfortable with tangible proofs. Being an authenticator, I too use science to try and prove something is real or fake. But one thing I can tell you, and many of my colleagues will agree with me, I assure you, is that one’s first impression very often proves correct. When you’ve been tracking down forgeries all your life and you suddenly come across the real thing, it becomes instinctual, and you just know. Of course, there are always exceptions, and I’ve made my share of mistakes, but in general, you can trust your instincts … especially when they are as finally honed as mine!” he concluded, winking mischievously.

Natalie nodded. “I understand what you mean about instincts. When I’m doing investigative journalism, I often know when I’m on the right track, without any real reason, at times. It’s just a gut feeling. And other times,” she frowned, struggling to explain her point, “sometimes, I almost feel as if I’m being guided.”

“Very good,” her uncle smiled. “I’d hate to think that you or your brother didn’t trust those feelings. They’ve always served me well. However, now that I’ve given you my first impression, I think it’s best if we study this document in greater detail. Let’s take it to the table and delve into this most beautiful poem.”

~

Calvin brought three pairs of the cotton gloves to the table.

“I see you’ve taken the right precautions,” Uncle Julien commented with approval.

“Well, we don’t want to go down in history as the buffoons who destroyed the original copy of Paradise Lost,” replied Calvin.

“No, no, the Romarins are protectors of old knowledge, not destroyers. We always have been,” he replied vaguely, donning the protective gloves.

Natalie looked startled at his remark. “That’s what Uncle Richard used to say.”

Uncle Julien grasped his niece and nephew’s hands. “When I first brought you to this house,” he began, “I knew I was doing the right thing. Between the two of us, I was the most ill-suited to raise children. My lifestyle was far too cosmopolitan for all that, and I was too selfish to relinquish it, though I love you both so dearly. But Richard has always been the rock of our family. When I say we are protectors of old knowledge, I mean all of the Romarins, including your ancestors; but my brother has always had the highest ideals, and was the most dedicated to the notions of truth and honor.”

Calvin nodded his agreement. “But back to the poem,” he said. “What’s so important about Paradise Lost?”

“You mean besides being what many consider the greatest epic poem in the English language?” their uncle asked rhetorically. “Well! To begin with, it’s more than just a religious poem describing man’s fall from grace. Much more! It’s also a political activist’s defense of the English Civil War, and the subsequent execution of Charles I. John Milton felt, like many others of his day, that the Church of England was moving back towards Catholicism, which as you know, didn’t sit well with a lot of people. Queen Mary’s bloody reign was still fresh in their minds, no doubt, and the Inquisition was in full effect in other parts of Europe. Milton himself supposedly visited Galileo in Florence, who was under house arrest because of his supposedly anti-Papal beliefs. Further, Milton didn’t believe that kings were ordained by God. He felt they were ordinary men who were placed on or taken off the throne by ordinary men.”

Calvin listened to his uncle with great eagerness. Julien had a way of making history come alive for him. “Go on,” he urged rather impatiently, when his uncle paused in his narrative for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

Pleased to have such avid listeners, Julien continued. “AlthoughParadise Lost is certainly a poem of its times, it is even more important to remember that it was truly a metaphysical poem. The political underpinnings are important, to be sure, but they aren’t what the poem was most winningly trying to convey. “

Uncle Julien put his fingertips together as he gazed down at the document lying open before him.“I’ve always felt that this poem had a special meaning for John Milton, aside from the religious and political aspects of it.”

“I agree,” said Natalie fervently. “I sometimes felt, when I read his work, that Milton had sympathy for the devil —in a matter of speaking, that is.”

“He certainly humanizes Satan in his poem,” added their uncle, “but Milton was a Puritan, don’t forget. Aside from that, to my mind at least, he was a radical thinker.”

Calvin had been gently turning the pages of the manuscript and scanning the neat, but curiously jaunty script. “Listen to this line,” he said. “It’s when Eve was being convinced by Satan to succumb to temptation.”

“O sacred, wise, and wisdom-giving plant, Mother of science, now I feel thy power Within me clear, not only to discern Things in their causes, but to trace the ways Of highest agents, deem’d however wise”

“I can’t help but feel that if I were in Eve’s position,” Natalie remarked, “I’d fall for Satan’s offer too. I mean, I’ve spent the last ten years of my life trying to derive wisdom from plants. What’s wrong with that?” she wondered.

“Nothing now, my dear,” her uncle answered. “We’ve already fallen. We cannot squander the gift of knowledge we have received, however ill-gotten it was.”

“What we need to do is to tackle this thing logically,” Calvin said briskly. “We’ve got to read the text from beginning to end.”

“I propose we take turns,” said Natalie. “Let’s make ourselves comfortable, and read the whole thing aloud.”

The next few days were spent pleasantly, reading the beautiful blank-verse of John Milton. Mrs. Murphy kept them well supplied with tea and simple but satisfying meals. The reading was slow-going, because either Natalie or Calvin transcribed what was read in a notebook, and Julien followed along with the published version of the poem. Julien felt this was important, because if their manuscript really was the oldest version of Paradise Lost that was known to exist, he wanted to catch any discrepancies or changes of text they might encounter. Little did they realize that they’d find a very large discrepancy indeed!

~

Calvin had just begun reading Book IV, in which Satan has found the Garden of Eden but is having self-doubts about whether it was in his best interest to be avenged on man, God’s best loved creation. His fall from the heavens was essentially tearing him apart, and he sat on the outskirts of the Garden, contemplating breaking in, so to speak, and bringing Chaos with him. Calvin read these lines:

So farewel Hope, and with Hope farewel Fear, Farewel Remorse: all Good to me is lost; Evil be thou my Good; by thee at least Divided Empire with Heav’ns King I hold

“Satan is saying goodbye to any last good feelings he has about God,” explained Julien. “He is committing himself to what he is about to do, which is to bring Hell into God’s own earthly paradise. He is talking himself into destroying God’s most precious creatures.”

“I wonder what the world would have been like, if he’d left us alone,” Natalie mused.

“I imagine that we’d be dwelling in perfect happiness and innocence, in surroundings totally void of what we consider civilization. We’d still be living in the Garden,” answered her uncle.

“But is that better?” wondered Calvin. “I can’t imagine living without books, or museums, or things baked in an oven. I’ve often wished to live with the wild animals I study in Africa, but I know I’d miss going to pubs, and plays, and I’d miss watching movies. And I can’t help but feel that I’d dislike running around like a buffoon, naked and ignorant.”

“And oh, to be denied the sight of a beautiful woman in a Valentino gown!” Uncle Julien’s eyes grew misty at some distant memory.

“But you wouldn’t know what you were missing,” Natalie argued. “If those things never existed, you could never long for them.”

They continued reading throughout the morning, until they came to a part of Book IV that described the Garden of Eden:

Of goodliest Trees loaden with fairest Fruit, Blossoms and Fruits at once of golden hue Appeerd, with gay enameld colours mixt: Fanning thir odoriferous wings dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmie spoiles. As when to them who saile Beyond the Cape of Hope, and now are past Mozambic, off at Sea North-East windes blow Sabean Odours from the spicie shoare

Natalie sighed. “I love how he describes Eden.” She closed her eyes. “I can almost smell the spices and perfumes in the air.”

“Nutmeg,” said Calvin dreamily.

“Pears and limes,” added Uncle Julien.

They shook their heads, as if from a spell, and Natalie took her turn reading.

Flowers of all hue, and without Thorn the Rose: Flowers of exotic enchantment, which wrest Malignant spirits from the soul And Goodly Herbes, though gone from man now, Herbes of power, and magical fruits, Fruits that heal all manner of woes, all suffering repel Roots of moste potente charms, hiding underground Resting til’ Eve brings them to the light

“Attendez!” cried Uncle Julien suddenly. “Those last lines were never in any translation, except the first line about the rose.” He read the unfamiliar section over again.

“He’s talking about plants that are now extinct, it sounds like,” said Natalie. “Herbs and flowers and such that have powerful healing properties. I wonder what they were?”

“And what does Milton mean when he writes, Resting til’ Eve brings them to the light?” Calvin asked.

“I don’t know,” Julien replied, his brow furrowed in concentration. “This is very curious. Very curious indeed! Why would he have left these lines out of the published poem?”

“Who knows, but we should mark the discrepancy and read on. Maybe he will enlighten us,” suggested Calvin.

~

After discovering such an intriguing addition to the poem, all three were on the alert for more differences. After a couple more days of reading, however, they had not found anything new. Despite their disappointment, they continued to read and appreciate the verse.

Of Eden planted; Eden stretchd her Line From Auran Eastward to the Royal Towrs Of Great Seleucia, built by Grecian Kings, Or where the Sons of Eden long before Dwelt in Telassar: in this pleasant soile His farr more pleasant Garden God ordaind

“I wonder what this part means,” Natalie said. “It sounds like he’s describing the actual boundaries of the Garden.”

“He is,” Julien affirmed. “Milton is describing areas from the east bank of the Jordan River in Israel, to Telassar City in Mesopotamia, which is modern-day Iraq.”

“That’s quite a distance,” remarked Calvin. “I always thought of the Garden of Eden as a regular garden, maybe a few acres at the most.”

“Oh no, it was at least 600 miles across,” Julien assured him. “At least according to the boundaries set by John Milton,”he added.

“Please, do keep reading,” Natalie urged. “I am enthralled.”

And so on they read, interrupted only once around noon, when Mrs. Murphy arrived with a tray of hot tatties and a pitcher of ale. After a short break, which included a little flirting on Julien’s part with the widow Murphy, he took his turn reading, and paid especially close attention to Milton’s description of Eve.

Shee as a vail down to the slender waste Her unadorned golden tresses wore Disheveld, but in wanton ringlets wav’d

“Ah,” he sighed, breaking off. “You young ladies these days are always chopping off your crowning glory.” He eyed Natalie’s short black hair and shook his head sadly.

“Oh Uncle!” Natalie laughed. “You’re a bit old-fashioned, I’m afraid.”

“Not at all,” he said. “Your hair is tres chic, and very becoming on you, but I do so love to unpin a woman’s glorious locks.”

Calvin eyed his uncle appraisingly. “I think you must see a good deal more action than is seemly for a man your age, Uncle.”

Julien’s warm brown eyes twinkled, and he pretended to be affronted. “What you call ‘action,’ my dear boy, I call romance!”

For the next several days they continued to read the poem. Julien was very familiar with it, and knew many sections by heart, but it was as if Natalie and Calvin were reading it for the first time. They had never given a poem such minute focus, and found that each line was infused with beauty and meaning. Their uncle explained the more obscure references, and they had a thoroughly enjoyable time, despite being all but sequestered in the library for a good part of the week. At last, they were nearing the end of the great work, and Calvin read the lines in which Adam and Eve were banished from the Garden, and their punishment is announced to them by God’s son.

To whom sad Eve with shame nigh overwhelm’d, Confessing soon, yet not before her Judge Bold or loquacious, thus abasht repli’d. The Serpent me beguil’d and I did eate.

“Poor Eve,” sighed Natalie. “She has to take most of the blame. There’s one thing about this poem I don’t like.”

“What’s that, child?” asked her uncle.

“I don’t like how Milton portrays Eve as inferior to Adam.”

Calvin interjected. “Milton was a product of his times. You can’t blame him completely. Women were the property of men in the 1600s. Equal rights for women wouldn’t come for a few hundred more years.”

“That’s true,” said Uncle Julien. “But we must remember that it was Eve’s pride and vanity that gave the Serpent the weakness he needed to convince her to eat the fruit.”

Natalie still looked sullen. “I know, I just hate her being the scapegoat. I think Adam would have done the exact same thing, if Satan whispered in his ear.”

“You could very well be right,” sympathized Uncle Julien. “I myself have often been the hapless victim of temptation.” At which he flashed a decidedly wicked smile.

The three of them grew somber as Uncle Julien read the last portion of the poem. The archangel Michael took Adam up to a high mountain, where he could see half the world, and explained to him what humankind has in store. As this happened, Eve was made to fall asleep.

“Poor Adam,” said Uncle Julien. “I’m afraid he was rather horrified when he was told of all the awful things to come.”

“At least Michael also offers some hope and redemption,” added Calvin.

He ended, and they both descend the Hill; Descended, Adam to the Bowre where Eve Lay sleeping ran before, but found her wak’t; And thus with words not sad she him receav’d. Whence thou returnst and whither Thou wentst, I know, For God is also in sleep, and Dreams advise, Which he hath sent propitious, some great good Presaging, since with sorrow and hearts distress Wearied I fell asleep: but now lead on;

“I don’t like that Eve was forced to sleep during all this,” Natalie remarked with a frown. “It’s like she was sent to her room or something.”

Julien agreed that it was rather unfair, and continued reading.

And by His love and forgiveness, advis’d me thus; To gather to me all the goodlie herbes, and most Precious and powerful plants of Eden. Did shewe me where the magical roots may be, And bade me gather the all-healing fruits. And this I did in all obedience to Him, And stored them in this Bowre. In further sleep did God tutor me, in another dream He grant’d me the gift to propagate and use These mystical plants I gather’d.

‘Take them hence, from Paradise into the greater world,’ God decree’d, But warn’d me to keep hidden from Man Who would use for ill and malice Til’ such time as Man and Earth can no longer Do without, for these are the plants He sow’d to bridge the chasm to woman

“Sacre bleu!’ cried Uncle Julien. “Another addition! And it relates to the other difference we found!”

“Hurrah!” Natalie exclaimed. “Redemption for Eve! Forgiven and given the best plants in the garden, and even told how to propagate them for the future! That’s lovely. I’m feeling much better about Milton now.”

“This is getting rather strange,” Calvin declared. “I can’t help but wonder why Milton chose to leave these parts out of the public version.”

“My guess is that it would have been looked on as heresy,” Julien explained. “But let’s read the final lines, and see how this plays out.”

Th’ Archangel stood, and from the other Hill To thir fixt Station, all in bright array The Cherubim descended; on the ground Gliding meteorous, as Ev’ning Mist Ris’n from a River o’re the marish glides, And gathers ground fast at the Labourers heel Homeward returning. High in Front advanc’t, The brandisht Sword of God before them blaz’d Take what God has gift’d you, and nothing more, Commanded Michael, and take my hands

“Another change,” noticed Uncle Julien. The last two lines. Michael doesn’t say that in the later editions.” And he read the final lines.

The World was all before them, where to choose Thir place of rest, and Providence thir guide: They hand in hand with wandring steps and slow, Through Eden took thir solitarie way.

“Well!” said Natalie.

“I say!” added Calvin. “What a rush!”

Uncle Julien looked gravely at his niece and nephew. “I know my brother liked to keep his secrets, but it’s quite beyond me why he felt it necessary to keep this original, and complete edition of Paradise Lost from the rest of the world.”