Читать книгу Treasure of the Romarins - Ronda Williams - Страница 7

They arrived at Mckella’s family home a little after noon. She immediately deposited her guests in the drawing room, where they tiredly collapsed onto the couches. “Ill be right back,” she promised, and went to prepare them some tea. The Romarins didn’t speak during her brief absence. The import of the morning’s events had finally begun to sink in, and each of them were considering their options.

“You poor dears,” Mckella clucked sympathetically, returning with a tray of sandwhiches and a large pot of tea. “You’ve been through so much! You all look to be in a state of shock.”

“Thanks for rescuing us,” Natalie said piteously.

“This is more excitement than I’ve had in quite some time,” Julien agreed with alacrity.

They felt a little better after tea, however, and Mckella suggested they rest for a while, and meet back in the drawing room when her father returned home. “Then we might all figure out a solution to your dilemma together!” She showed Calvin and his uncle to the guest bedrooms, and led Natalie to her own.

Mckella’s room was filled with beautiful paintings, some done by herself and many others by both well-known and obscure artists. Art was her all-consuming passion, and she hoped to be a museum curator some day.

Natalie dropped on the bed and sighed. “What a wretched day!” she lamented.

Mckella looked at her curiously. “This seems so unreal,” she remarked solemnly. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“I’d like to tell you everything, but I’m worried about the consequences.” Suddenly she jumped up and cried, “Oh no!”

“What is it?” Mckella asked, alarmed.

“Mrs. Murphy! She must be warned!” She retrieved her cell phone once more and entered the number to her childhood home.

After several rings, Mrs. Murphy finally answered. “Yes?” she answered with some hesitation in her voice.

Natalie let out a sigh of relief. “I’m so glad to hear your voice! I don’t mean to alarm you, but it’s very important that you leave the house at once. I can’t tell you why, but you must stay away from the house until you hear from us.” She knew Mrs. Murphy would probably go to her sister’s house in Scotland.

“Don’t worry about me, dearie,” Mrs. Murphy reassured. “Your uncle has already phoned and told me there has been some unpleasantness at the library, and I was just leaving. I’m told not to say where over the phone though, and I’ll be calling him back when I’m safely away.”

Natalie let out a sigh of relief. She should have known Uncle Julien would have already taken the matter in hand, especially considering his tender feelings for Mrs. Murphy. “I won’t detain you then, you must clear out quickly. We’ll be in touch. Take good care of yourself, and with luck we’ll be seeing you again very soon!”

“Dearie,” Mrs. Murphy declared before ringing off, “if anybody tries to pull something over on me, they’ll soon live to regret it!”

“I don’t doubt it,” Natalie said, smiling at her bravado. “Now do hurry!”

After her conversation, Natalie felt somewhat relieved. What a blessing Uncle Julien had turned out to be! He was always thinking one step ahead, Natalie reflected. He had informed them in the car that he had brought the manuscript with him. Thank God it wasn’t still hidden in her uncle’s library.

“But wasn’t it rather risky to bring it?” Calvin asked him. “I’m glad you did, but why did you? We didn’t know what danger we were in this morning.”

“It’s hard to explain,” Julien said with a shrug. “I guess it was those instincts that we’d been discussing. When I was getting ready to join you downstairs this morning, I felt as if I must retrieve it. I can only say that I had a vague uneasiness about its safety.”

And now here was her family, holed up at Mckella’s house like three trapped mice, with no idea when they could return home. Natalie shook her head and said as much to her friend.

“Surely the authorities must be alerted,” Mckella said. “You can’t run from these people forever.”

“I have no intention of running for long; but until our immediate danger has passed, I don’t think involving the police just yet is a good idea,” she replied.

“I won’t press you for details,” Mckella told her friend, “but I hope you’re making the right decision. You could use some help.”

“We have gotten some,” Natalie smiled. “We have you.”

“Well, naturally I’m always here for you and your family, and you can stay as long as you like, but if you’re not going to call the police, shouldn’t you have some sort of protection, like …” she hesitated, a little embarrassed, “… bodyguards or something?”

Natalie scoffed at the idea. “I don’t even know who those men were! For all we know they could have been insurance adjusters.” She frowned, dissatisfied at her lack of information on the subject. “The more I think about it, the more I wonder if we overreacted.”

“The fact is,” Mckella argued, “your uncle got a death threat, and a few days later he was dead. Now there are men following you. I don’t think you’re letting your imagination get the better of you. Not in the least! I think you should rest for a while, and you’ll be able to handle the situation with a clearer head.” With that, she shut the door, leaving Natalie to ponder a vibrant painting of an exotic tropical forest.

~

Night was falling by the time everyone gathered in the drawing room. The temperature had dropped, and a fire was laid in the hearth.

Mckella entered the room behind her father. “Good evening, Mr. Edwards,” Natalie greeted their host with a hug. “Thank you so much for having us here on such short notice.” Uncle Julien and Calvin added their thanks as well.

“It’s my pleasure, and please, call me Randy. I’m only sorry that you’ve had such a hideous day. Mckella has filled me in on some of your troubles.”

“It has indeed been full of nasty surprises,” asserted Julien. “I’ve been thinking about our next steps. Naturally it seems inadvisable to return to my brother’s house. We did not tell your daughter precisely what my brother was protecting, but I can tell you it is of inestimable value. The fact that he died to keep it in his possession convinces me that we must guard it as well as we can. We Romarins are a wealthy family, but we are not covetous of material things. I speak for all of us when I say that we value humanity above all else. That being said, I must believe that Richard was guarding something that meant more to him than his own life.” He looked at his niece and nephew meaningfully, and they nodded their silent approbation.

“I think it is fitting that we explain exactly what we are protecting.”

“Yes, most assuredly!” Natalie agreed emphatically. The burden of their findings was such that she felt a great relief in relating their secret to others, thereby sharing some of the weight of it all. Natalie explained everything, beginning with when they first found the manuscript, and by the time she had finished, Mckella and her father were struck with the gravity of it all.

“When you told me it was an artifact, I was imagining some kind of gold statue from an Egyptian tomb or something,” Mckella declared with conviction.

“I just hope us we aren’t endangering you both by telling you,” Natalie worried. “It’s already cost one life. I don’t want anyone else I care about to suffer because of it.”

Randy looked thoughtful and waved his hands dismissively. “What are these papers you found in Richard’s office?Perhaps they might help your situation somehow.”

Natalie had given Julien the Nathaniel Hawthorne book earlier, and he had it with him now. “I’ve been examining these documents and giving the matter some thought,” he said, removing the the bundle of papers inside.

“First, we have a letter.” Gently he unfolded a small, frail piece of paper. “It’s from John Milton,” he said reverently, “to John Rouse, dated 1651.”

“He was the Bodleian’s second Librarian,” Calvin interjected. “and he certainly protected John Milton’s work. I know he saved Milton’s writings from burning by the monarchy at least twice. Uncle Richard used to say that Rouse was his inspiration.”

“Why would anyone want to burn Milton’s poems?” asked Mckella.

“Because of the English Civil War,” answered Uncle Julien. “Milton was a political activist. He was a pamphleteer who wrote tracts reflecting his belief that the English Crown wasn’t quite as sacrosanct as King Charles believed.”

Julien unfolded the letter and read:

My moste esteem’d Friend and Colleague,

I am ever grateful and humbl’d by your courageous defense of my scribblings. I honor your dedication to preserving knowledge and vouchsafeing authors safe harbour for theire works. Entrusted with my servant are the two volumes you requested, but moste importantly is the manuscript of my life’s most solemn labour. I beseeche you, in honour of the trust you hath hitherto shown me, to guard this manuscript well, and to let no man’s eyes see it, save yours. For this is not mere poesie, but an historical record of the utmost importance. I honor you with it’s safe-keeping; urge you to keep your counsel, until such time as it is claimed by it’s rightful heir. You will never see the man, but you know his name. One day he will hold your Moste Revere’d Poste, this Romarin.

Your Servant, John Milton, London 22 March in the Year of Our Lord, 1651

There was silence in the drawing room for a moment after Julien read the letter. Finally Natalie spoke, “This must be the letter Milton sent when he entrusted the manuscript we found to the Bodleian. But was there another Romarin who was head of the Bodleian before Uncle Richard?”

Julien shook his head. “No, never. It must have been passed down through the centuries, for the last 360 years it seems, until Richard inherited it.”

“Imagine!” Calvin exclaimed. “How could he have known? And Milton must have had considerable trust in John Rouse to give him such a thing.”

“That’s not all.” Uncle Julien removed a second letter, which looked as old as the one he just read. “This letter is from a Lucy Diodati, in Paris, France, to John Milton.” He adjusted his glasses and peered closely at the letter. “It’s dated February of 1651, just one month before the letter to John Rouse.” He looked up from the letter and shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s in Greek.”

Calvin asked to see the letter. “Uncle Richard insisted we learn Greek. I’m a little rusty, but I’ll have a go.” He translated in halting voice:

My Brother in Enlightenment,

I write you at your behest to assure you of the successful fruition of the solemn task we have undertaken. I thank you for your faithful service to me, and trust you know that we are well satisfied with your endeavor. I have left the poem in my uncle’s translation. Should anyone find it, they shall be entertained as by mere Lore. I shall now return to Geneva and be comforted that we have done all we must at present.

Ever your devoted Friend, Lucy Diodati

Natalie chewed on her thumbnail. “Now who on earth is she?” she asked.

Uncle Julien frowned. “I’ve never heard of a Lucy Diodati, but I know that Milton’s childhood friend was Charles Diodati.”

Randy had been sitting at a small writing desk in the corner, listening quietly. He opened a laptop and typed a search for Lucy and Charles Diodati. “I can’t find any mention of her, but but it says here that Charles Diodati died in 1638.”

“I believe he died relatively young,” Uncle Julien mused. “His family was originally from Italy, but were forced to flee to Geneva for its Protestant sympathies … Mon Dieu!” he cried suddenly, smacking his forehead. “Giovanni Diodati!” he declared with excitement.

“Who’s that, now?” Calvin asked, perplexed. “I must say, it’s a wonderfully lyrical name.”

“Of course! Now it makes perfect sense.” Julien continued. “Giovanni Diodati was Charles’ uncle, a very wise man, much like myself,” he finished with a wink.

“Go on,” Natalie chuckled.

“Giovanni was an important figure in the Reformation. He was a professor of Hebrew and theology at Geneva.”

“How does he relate to Milton, though?” asked Calvin.

“John Milton visited Giovanni in Switzerland when he was travelling through Europe,” Julien explained. “He was the uncle of his dear childhood friend, so it was only natural for him to stop there. If I’m not mistaken, that is when he found out that Charles Diodati had died.”

“So who is Lucy?” Randy asked. He’d been typing anything relating to the Diodati family on his laptop. “I still can’t find any mention of her.”

Uncle Julien looked confused as well. “She must be Giovanni’s niece, and sister to Charles, maybe. At any rate, she is apparently a person lost to history, save for this letter.” He frowned in concentration. “She says she left the poem in her uncle’s translation. She can only be referring to one book.”

Calvin leaned forward eagerly. “Which book?” he asked.

“The Bible,” said Julien simply. “Giovanni Diodati was the first person to translate it into Italian from Hebrew and Greek sources.”

“Her uncle’s translation,” Natalie mused aloud. “So according to this letter from Lucy, she placed Milton’s poem in a copy of her uncle’s translated Bible, currently residing in Paris …”

“That seems to be the most plausible theory we have at this time,” Julien said. “I shall think on it. In the meantime, there was one final item in Nathaniel Hawthorne’s book.” He brought forth a small engraving, which had been slipped into a protective plastic cover. It was obviously very old, and beautifully hand-colored. Julien handed it around to the group. The engraving was a minutely detailed depiction of some sort of tropical flower. It was creamy white and red, with a very curious looking caterpillar climbing on its petals.

When Natalie was handed the engraving she gave a start. “Why, I know who did this!” She examined the drawing closely. “This is most certainly an engraving by Maria Sibylla Merian. She was a highly gifted illustrator and naturalist from the seventeenth century. I don’t see her signature,” she said, examining it minutely, “but I’m sure this is her work. She had a very distinctive style, and was quite scientific in her method. Many botanists I know today still refer to her volumes of work.”

“May I see it?” asked Mckella. “I studied her as part of my art degree.” She took the engraving gingerly from her friend’s hand and peered closely at it. “Oh, you’re right, Natalie! This is definitely her work. And it’s an original piece, too. This is no copy.” She laid the piece carefully down on the table. “This is probably around 300 years old. We should definitely not be handling it so freely.”

“Good thing it’s in a plastic sheet,” noted Calvin. “I still have a little jam on my fingers.”

~

After a delicious dinner of roast beef with Yorkshire pudding, everyone decided to retire early and tackle their situation early the next morning.

Natalie had taken the book with the hidden documents up to the room Mckella had given over to her use, and Calvin held onto the manuscript for safekeeping. Julien felt it was best to keep them separated, as a precautionary measure. Natalie had been sitting on the bed, gazing at the engraving, when Mckella knocked softly on the door.

“Come in,” she said quietly.

Mckella had two bottles of ale with her, and passed Natalie one as she sat down next to her. They clinked bottles together and smiled. “To friendship,” they said together and took a long drink. Natalie indicated the drawing she had been studying and asked, “Why was this included with the letters, do you suppose?”

Mckella considered the question. “Well, it was drawn many years after those letters were written, I can tell you that. Maria Sibylla Merian was much too young to have been contemporaries with Milton. She was only three in 1650, in fact.” She took another swallow of ale. “But I think they must be related somehow.”

“I think so too,” agreed Natalie, “but how?” They gazed at the beautiful flower in silence for a few moments. “It’s odd.”

“What is?” asked Mckella.

“It reminds me of the carving on the panel we found in Uncle Richard’s library, and also the ones on the portfolio that the manuscript was in. There’s something about the style of the flowers. They’re almost freakish. They all have this …” she struggled for a fitting word, “alien quality,” she finished.

“Well, you would know,” Mckella replied. “You’ve always had some leaf or flower petal under a magnifying glass; but it’s probably just the artist exerting creative license.”

“Wouldn’t that indicate that the carving, the portfolio, and this drawing were all done by the same artist?” Natalie asked.

“It’s possible,” Mckella said doubtfully, “but I never heard that Merian did any carvings in wood, let alone leather.”

“There must be something …” Natalie muttered distractedly.

Just then, Mckella’s father burst into the room. “We have to get out of the house at once!” he said urgently. “Your uncle and brother have already left in the Range Rover. I told them we’d meet at Cambridge Airport. Gather your things and come with me.”

The tension in his voice spurred them to immediate action. Natalie and Mckella jumped up, grabbing nothing but their coats and bags. Natalie hastily replaced the engraving and made sure the keys and the Hawthorne book were tucked deep down in her satchel. They didn’t speak until they were packed into Mckella’s Mini, speeding down the driveway.

Randy gripped the steering wheel tightly with a grim expression on his face. Mckella observed her father with some alarm. She had never seen him look so stressed. Randy Edwards had always been a quiet and calm presence in her life; to see him in his present state was highly unnerving. “Father,” she touched his arm gently, “what’s going on?”

“Julien got a phone call a few minutes ago, from a boy named Seth.” He glanced in the rear-view mirror at Natalie. “I trust you know him?” he asked.

“Yes, we met him this morning. Is he all right?”

“I can only hope so,” Randy answered grimly. “Julien didn’t tell me everything, just that Seth called him and told him that you were in serious danger, that the men you saw this afternoon were at the Radcliffe Camera looking for you, and now they know where you are.” He looked somberly at his daughter. “Julien said the line went dead while he was speaking with the boy.”

Natalie’s throat was tight as she asked him, “Then why are we going to Cambridge Airport? We must return to Oxford!”

“These men seem very determined to get at your family,” he replied. “Your uncle said he’s taking you all to Paris, and I agree with him. Mckella and I will find out what’s going on with Seth Conley.”

Natalie nodded mutely and stared out the window miserably. She couldn’t bear it if that boy who had been so doggedly devoted to her uncle got hurt on their account, and wished she hadn’t been so angry at him, when he had only been trying to help her family.

Unaware of the direction her thoughts were taking, Randy continued talking about their present plans. “I suggested to your uncle that he not take an obvious route to France. Since it’s clear that you can’t go by way of the Channel Tunnel or use any major airlines, I suggested flying you myself.”

“Oh, father!” Mckella cried. “That is an excellent idea!”

“If these men used surveillance on your uncle Richard,” Randy continued, “the same could be said for you. Our location can easily be ascertained if our pursuers have certain technology at their disposal. In fact, I suggest you get rid of your cell phones at once. I’m certain that’s how you were located at our house so quickly.”

Natalie and Mckella immediately rummaged in their satchels and chucked their phones out the window, and Randy did the same. He was an security consultant for high tech companies, and the girls supposed he knew what he was talking about.

“When we reach the airport,” Randy went on, “I’ll fly you and your family to Calais. There’s a small airport there.” He shook his head helplessly. “After that … I don’t know.”

“Thank you, Mr. Edwards,” Natalie said in a small voice, “for everything.”

“I only wish I could do more,” he said sympathetically.

They drove through the fog in worried silence. When they reached Cambridge Airport, Randy passed through the entrance and drove directly to a sleek-looking Gulfstream. He looked a little embarrassed. “I share this with my business partner,” he explained to Natalie. Randy secretly felt that owning a private plane was ostentatious, but it sure came in handy at times.

While he prepared his plane for flight, Natalie waited nervously on the tarmac for her uncle and brother to arrive. She paced around fretfully, worried they may have run into trouble along the way. But soon, the lights of the Range Rover came into view.

Calvin jumped out of the driver’s seat and handed the keys to Randy. “I sure wish I had one of these,” he smiled. “It would be awesome on the African Plains.”

“A very useful automobile,” Uncle Julien replied with approval as he emerged from the passenger side. “Not at all like those toys our girls insist upon having.”

“If everyone is ready, I think we can take off now,” Randy said. “I’ve gotten permission from the tower.” He led them up the short flight of steps and into the passenger jet. “Please get settled in and buckled up. Mckella knows the drill. After we hit cruising altitude you can move about the cabin.” With those instructions, he disappeared into the cockpit.

The jet’s engines roared to life, and they taxied down the runway into the starry night.

~

Once the plane was well on its way, everyone settled down and Mckella offered them each a glass of wine to calm their overwrought nerves. “I’ll bring father some tea and keep him company for a bit,” she said, and joined him in the cockpit.

“I must say I’m glad we didn’t have to use the Chunnel.” Calvin shuddered, using the nickname for the tunnel which crossed the English Channel. “I hate going under the ocean. It’s even more unnatural than flying, if you ask me.”

Natalie smiled fondly at her brother. He had a couple of phobias that she found endearing and a little perplexing, amnesia-phobia being the oddest, the fear of amnesia. She reflected that it was probably the reason her brother constantly challenged his intellect; he’d told her once that it might combat any forgetfulness he may acquire. Whenever he lost or forgot something, he became quite agitated, and couldn’t rest until the object, or the memory, was safely recovered.

In many ways, Natalie was the complete opposite of her brother. She had, at least in her family’s opinion, a complete lack of fear. Even Uncle Richard, who was quite daring in his own right, was alarmed by some of Natalie’s antics. He had been especially angry at her for getting lost in an underground cave for several hours. Richard shared Calvin’s antipathy of tight spaces, and he had not been at all pleased to have to go in search of his niece in one.

“I think Randy had the right idea in using his plane,” Natalie commented. “I feel like we’re being hunted. Uncle, can you tell us more about your conversation with Seth? I’m terribly worried about him.”

“Of course,” Julien replied. “He called me shortly after we retired for the evening. He was still at the Bodleian, at Radcliffe Camera. He told me that two men came in soon after we left, asking for Natalie or Calvin Romarin. Seth informed the men that you were not there. Luckily, no other employees at the library knew who we were. The men left, and Seth assumed that was going to be the last he’d see of them. While he was locking up, however, they returned. The lights were out but he hadn’t locked the doors yet. He hid under the stairwell and observed them. They just walked right in and shined flashlights around the place. He had a tense moment when they came very near the stairwell, but they ascended the stairs and didn’t see where he was hiding. They were up there for a few minutes, and when they came back down he listened to their conversation.”

“Do we want to hear this?” Calvin asked no one in particular.

“Seth heard them arguing,” continued his uncle. “One of the men wanted to go back to Richard’s house, and the other wanted to search Natalie’s flat in Soho. Seth realized they had probably come to ransack Richard’s office.”

“Oh no!” Natalie cried.

Uncle Julien reassured her, “Don’t worry, I don’t think they went to your place. Seth said that one of the men got a call on his cell phone, and he heard them say, ‘Mckella Edwards? Got it. We’re on our way. ‘Seth recognized Mckella’s name and put two and two together.”

“I don’t like the sound of all this,” Calvin said, his voice strained.

“Neither do I,” added Natalie, “but what happened to Seth? Mr. Edwards said that you told him the line went dead.”

“It did,“ her uncle replied, frowning. “Seth called me just after the men left Radcliffe Camera. He was following them at a distance to see where they went. The last thing I heard from the boy was, ‘Uh oh,’ and that was all.”

“Let’s just hope he wasn’t caught,” Mckella said, rejoining them. “I like that kid. I’ve spent a lot of time at the Camera reading room lately, and he’s always such a sweetheart.”

Natalie smiled. “Mckella, everyone is a sweetheart to you, especially young men. You just bring out their better natures.”

Just then, Randy called to them from the cockpit, “Everyone, please put your seat belts back on. We’re making our descent into Calais.”