Читать книгу Treasure of the Romarins - Ronda Williams - Страница 8

The plane touched down gently on French soil, and soon came to a halt.

“Well, at least we don’t have much baggage to lug around,” Calvin joked, as everyone emerged from the plane. “I’m glad I put on my warmest clothes this morning.”

“We can sort out our wardrobe deficiencies tomorrow,” Uncle Julien remarked. “Right now our first priority is to find a place to sleep. I have a friend who lives in Calais. If I didn’t throw my phone in a dumpster, I could contact him right now.”

Randy suggested that he might find his friend the old-fashioned way, with a phone book and a pay phone.

“How right you are, Monsieur,” he said, self-deprecatingly. “I have always been told by the younger generations that I embrace technology with much more alacrity than is normal for a man of my years.”

“That’s true,” Natalie asserted. “Uncle Julien was the first person I knew who had an iPod.”

Mckella and her father bade them goodbye, amid many promises that they would look out for themselves.

“I wish I could go with you,” Mckella said sadly. “If I didn’t have such an obscene amount of work to do at school, I’d accompany you to Paris.”

Natalie gave her a tight hug. “Don’t worry, we’ll be back before you know it, and I’ll bring you some French champagne to celebrate your doctorate!”

After giving Randy and Mckella their heartfelt thanks, the Romarins hailed a cab and headed into Calais. Julien instructed the driver to take them to the Hotel Metropol, on the Quai du Rhin.

“I thought we were going to try and stay with your friend,” Calvin reminded his uncle.

“I decided it wouldn’t be polite to rouse him at almost two in the morning. Besides, I have plenty of cash, so I think it’s safe for us to stay in a hotel, as long as we aren’t required to use a credit card or show our passports. I think it highly advisable we leave no paper trail, and I don’t think we should get in the habit of underestimating our pursuers.”

The cab pulled up in front of a charming brick building. It was very late, but the night manager was still behind his desk in the lobby. After a little financial maneuvering by Uncle Julien, they were finally able to procure a suite. The manager was reluctant at first to give them a room without a credit card, let alone proper I.D.s, but Julien quickly changed his attitude with a substantial wad of euros.

“Way to grease those palms,” Calvin teased him in the elevator.

“Unfortunately, money is a primary motivation for most people,” Julien sniffed. “However, in this case, the predictability of human nature was on our side.”

They took the lift to the top floor and found their suite. After taking turns in the bathroom, they crawled into their beds and were sound asleep within minutes.

Even Calvin got up late the next morning, awakening abruptly from a bad dream. He dreamed that he was being pursued by wolves through a tangled jungle, and just as he was about to be overtaken, he woke with a start. He jumped out of bed and checked on his uncle and sister, who were both sleeping soundly. Relieved, he went back to his room and pulled on the same clothes from the day before. He decided to check out the area and see if he could procure some breakfast.

When he returned a short while later, laden with French pastries, his uncle and sister were up.

“Jeez, Calvin, you should have left a note,” chided his sister. “We thought you got abducted or something.”

“Sorry, Nat,” he apologized. “I didn’t think about that. I guess we’d better get used to keeping track of each other.” He laid out eclairs and brioches on a little table in the sitting room. “I was just out getting breakfast.”

“Well, then we must forgive you this one time,” Julien said teasingly. “What a decadent treat! And I’ve just ordered a pot of chocolate.”

“Uncle,” Natalie began as she helped herself to an eclair, “why did we come to France? Are we going to stay with you until things cool down?”

Julien patted his mouth delicately with a napkin, saying, “I do think it was wise for us to remove ourselves from harm’s way, but I have other reasons for bringing you to Paris. I think it’s imperative that we find the Diodati Bible that was mentioned in Lucy’s letter to John Milton.”

“But how are we to know where it is?” Calvin asked plaintively. “Paris is full of libraries, and that book could be long gone by now, or in someone’s private collection.”

“I’ve considered that possibility, but since I was the Head Librarian at the Bibliothèque Nationale, I am certainly in a very good position to find a hidden poem in a very old book, particularly if it turns out to be in my own library.”

After breakfast, all agreed it was time to find a much-needed change of clothes, as well as a means of getting to Paris. Natalie asked to strike out on her own for a while. After spending almost every minute with her brother and uncle for the last few week or two, she felt that some solitude was in order.

“Of course, cherie,” said Uncle Julien, handing her some euros. “But mind you keep your wits about you. I think we are safe for the time being, but we must remain alert, nevertheless.”

She nodded and agreed to meet back at the hotel in a couple of hours, assuring them she would watch out for herself.

As she strolled down the street, she noticed how relatively modern many of the buildings appeared. It seemed unusual for such an ancient and important port town. She remembered her history classes and realized it was because Calais had been heavily bombarded during World War II. She wandered into a small vintage clothing store and found a number of things to get her by in the coming days. There was really no way of knowing how long they’d be away from home, so she tried to be somewhat practical. She smiled, reflecting that her uncle would probably be a bit dismayed by some of her choices. Birthday and Christmas gifts from him invariably consisted of expensive designer clothes and jewelry, but she had always been what Julien deemed “experimental” in regards to her wardrobe. How appalled he had been during one of his visits, finding her wearing a very pricey Gucci jacket he had given her paired with Levis that he said “appeared to have been tortured with a hacksaw.”

After purchasing necessary undergarments and a warmer jacket, she decided to find a bookstore in hopes of learning more about the Diodati family. Spying a little shop across the street, she frittered away some time in the biography section. There were plenty of books on Milton, but nothing could be found on Lucy or Charles Diodati, and only one book on Giovanni. She did find a beautiful little volume of Merian’s illustrations and purchased it for Mckella. She thought Calvin also might be interested in Merian’s depiction of a pink-toed tarantula making a meal of a hummingbird. She checked to see if her own recently published book was on the shelves—it was—and headed back to the Hotel Metropol.

Calvin and Julien had spent a pleasant morning as well, replenishing their own wardrobes. Calvin had adopted a decidedly old-fashioned style of dress while attending Eton, and had not changed his look much since then. He preferred wool to denim, and tweed to t-shirts. He was often teased by his friends for his fustiness, but the look suited him, and nothing they said could convince him to appear anywhere in public without his favorite cardigan. Uncle Julien did insist that he buy a rather dashing fedora, and he wore it with great aplomb on the walk back to their hotel. His uncle had found everything he needed in one rather posh menswear establishment, and had made the proprietor of the shop a very happy man.

Upon returning to their temporary home at the hotel, they met Natalie in the lounge for lunch and to discuss their future plans. Julien ordered a Manhattan, and Natalie raised her eyebrow at him before shrugging and getting herself a Campari and soda. It was barely afternoon, but they’d had a trying couple of days, and tacitly decided they could use a stiff drink. Calvin usually ordered ale, but Julien’s urbanity must have rubbed off on him, because he broke tradition and ordered a martini. They settled comfortably in the lounge’s armchairs sipped idly at their drinks.

“How do you propose we get to Paris from here?”Calvin asked his uncle, at length.

“I could rent a car, I suppose, but I’m pretty certain they will require a credit card and identification, and I doubt a bribe will be appropriate in such a case.”

“I’m not so sure it’s a good idea to take the train either,” Natalie remarked. “I don’t have my passport.” She looked at her brother. “Do you?”she asked. He shook his head no.

Uncle Julien pulled a large wallet from his jacket. “Oh, don’t worry about all that. I’ve got any travel documents we might need with me. While we were still at Richard’s house, I saw your passports on Richard’s desk and took the liberty of pocketing them.”

Natalie and her brother looked at their uncle in amazement. “Surely you couldn’t have foreseen our need to flee the country?” she asked with incredulity.

“No, I did not imagine we’d be running from blackmailers,” he said, rubbing his chin, “but as I told you before, I felt something was amiss when we left Richard’s house the other morning. I retrieved both the manuscript and your passports. I took the necessary precautions one would expect in an emergency situation, and as it turns out, I was right!” he finished smugly.

Natalie smiled. “It’s our instincts protecting us again. Uncle Richard was right in telling us not to underestimate them.”

“Too bad his own instincts didn’t urge him to flee like we have done,” Calvin remarked bitterly. “He’d still be with us, if he had.”

“Richard was never one to run from a fight,” said Uncle Julien. “In fact, he relished a good brawl. It’s why he joined the Navy.” Julien shook his head sadly. “But I agree with you, Calvin. He should have protected himself better, even if it meant he had to go on the run. He shouldn’t have given his own life so little consideration.”

“Well, in any case,” Natalie added, “I don’t think we should be flashing around our passports any more than we need to. There must be a way to get to Paris without leaving a trail of official breadcrumbs.”

“I have an idea!” Calvin cried suddenly. “Couldn’t we pay someone to drive us there? That way we wouldn’t have to use any identification.”

“An excellent idea, my boy. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before, and I doubt we’ll have to pay if I call on my good friend Kieran Beaulieu, the man I spoke of last night. I’m almost certain he’ll be amenable to spending a day or two in Paris with us in exchange for a ride there.”

That settled, they returned to their suite to change. Julien called his friend and they were subsequently invited to dine with him and his wife. “He’ll pick us up here at 7:30,” he told his niece and nephew, after hanging up.

“What luck!” Calvin said cheerfully. “A home-cooked meal!” He rubbed his stomach in pleasant anticipation of gastronomic delights to come.

Natalie shook her head at her brother. “You’re always thinking with your belly,” she said playfully, and poked him.

~

At precisely seven-thirty, the front desk rang up to tell them a car was waiting for them in front of the hotel, and everyone descended the lift in their new finery. Uncle Julien examined Natalie’s outfit and smiled. “Cherie, your style is beginning to grow on me, though I think very few women can get away with wearing the things you do.”

Natalie was sporting black-and-white striped leggings with a long red shirt worn as a dress over it. Cinched around her waist was a Moroccan leather belt encircled with silver medallions. She’d bought some Campus boots as well, because she thought they would go with anything.

Calvin complimented his sister, saying, “I think you always look smashing, but I don’t think I can be so adventurous in my tastes. I’d feel too conspicuous.”

“You’re adventurous in your own way,” she told her brother. “I don’t know many people who run around the Serengeti with lions and wildebeests.”

Uncle Julien smiled warmly at his niece and nephew, reflecting what charming young adults they had turned out to be. “My brother did a superb job raising you children,” he told them unexpectedly. “Your parents did right in choosing Richard as your godfather. If I had raised you, you’d probably be spoiled little jet-setters by now.”

“I doubt that, Uncle,” Natalie assured him. “Your morals are much stricter than Uncle Richard’s in lots of ways. You may be more free with your money, but you’re infinitely more civilized.”

“That’s true,” Calvin added. “Uncle Richard practically let us run wild, so long as we did our schoolwork and chores.”

“I most certainly would have enrolled you both in boarding school,” Uncle Julien said, teasing them. “And definitely catechism.”

“Yikes!” Natalie yelped playfully. “Close call.”

A black Mercedes waited under the awning in front of the hotel, with a handsome gentleman in a black wool pea coat leaning on it nonchalantly, arms crossed. When he saw them emerge from the lobby, he rushed forward to greet them.

“Julien!” he cried. “It’s been far far too long!” Kieran Beaulieu kissed Julien on both cheeks and embraced him warmly.

“Kieran, monami, what catching up we have to do!” Julien introduced them, and they shook hands enthusiastically.

“I’ve heard a lot about you both. Julien is one of the proudest uncles I know, and has told me how singularly brilliant his niece and nephew are.”

“Oh dear.” Natalie turned a little pink at such extravagant praise. “Uncle Julien is too kind, as well as biased.”

“Nonsense,” Kieran returned, “I’ve read two of your books, Natalie. And I’m also very familiar with Calvin’s efforts in Africa. I admire your commitment, both of you.”

They mumbled rather embarrassed thanks and stomped their feet, trying to warm them. The night had turned frightfully cold and the air smelled as if it might snow any second.

“Well,” Kieran said briskly, “let’s get in the car where it’s warm. I have a delightful meal prepared, and I’m starving!”

“I’m all for that,” Calvin replied with readiness.

Kieran drove them through the streets of Calais and towards the Place D’Armes. When they passed an ancient stone watchtower, Kieran explained that the monument dated all the way back to 1302 and had miraculously survived the many bombings inflicted on the city during World War II. “It was one of the few structures left standing,” he told them somberly. “The Place D’Armes also hosts a morning market in front of the tower, twice a week. Luckily, today is Saturday, so I was able to find all sorts of delicacies this morning. I do all of my own cooking, you see.”

Natalie laughed. “You shouldn’t say such things around Calvin. He’s a regular glutton, although you wouldn’t know it to look at him.”

Kieran lived with his wife near the old watchtower, in an elegant townhouse. He ushered them inside, which was warm and lit invitingly with firelight and candles. As they removed their coats, a tall, pretty woman greeted them in the entryway.

“Janette, how lovely to see you again!” Julien said gallantly, and kissed her hand. “And may I say that you have grown even more stunning since last we met? I did not think that could be possible, but here you stand, proving me quite wrong.”

Janette’s blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh Julien, you know you’re the only man besides my Kieran that I have ever set my cap for! But you can’t cook to save your life, so the scales were tipped in his favor.”

“I knew I should have enrolled in Le Cordon Bleu!” he lamented. “Why are all the best women swiped out from under my nose?”

Kieran laughed while handing round glasses of wine. “Julien, you’re not fooling anyone. We all know you have left a trail of broken hearts in your wake!”

Julien and the Beaulieus spent a few minutes catching up on mutual friends, before sitting down to dinner. Kieran and Janette were antique dealers, and their home was filled with a diverse collection of furniture and artwork. Kieran favored Asian and Indian pieces while Janette was drawn to Italian and French artwork, so their home was decorated in a pleasing fusion of east and west.

Kieran, a devout Catholic, said a prayer of thanks for food and friends and began passing around plates. “This dish is called anguilles au vert,” he explained, “which is basically eels cooked with sorrel leaves in white wine. I like it on fried bread.”

He also passed around plates of ostrich pâté and a savory tart known as flamiche. Calvin was in seventh heaven and ate as if he had been starved for days.

“That’s so beautiful,” Natalie said, pointing at a large wall tapestry. “What’s the story behind it?”

“It’s funny you should notice that particular tapestry, Natalie, as it was a gift to my parents from your own family.” He glanced at Julien and bowed his head slightly, “A most extravagant one, to be sure.”

Julien smiled, saying, “It was no expense. It was a family heirloom, and I couldn’t think of a better couple to have it. Have I ever told you the story behind it?” he asked.

“No, but I’d love to hear it,” Kieran encouraged. “I’ve always meant to ask you about its origins.”

Uncle Julien cleared his throat. “Well, to begin, this tapestry tells the story of our family’s beginnings.” He looked at his niece and nephew intently. “This story will hold great interest for you children. Richard and I had planned to tell together someday, but …”

“He said we came from India, countless generations back,” Natalie interrupted, before he could finish. She didn’t want to hear the end of that sentence.

“Just so. And this tapestry depicts our migration.”

Calvin examined the tapestry with more interest. “It looks like they’re traveling through a desert,” he noted. “Are there deserts in India?”

“There is at least one great desert, in the northwest,” Julien replied. “It’s called the Thar, and it’s one of the most inhospitable places on earth. It borders Pakistan, and it is this desert which has been sewn into the tapestry.”

“But who made it?” Natalie asked. “It’s obviously very old, and how do you know it depicts our ancestors?”

“This tapestry was passed down from second son to second son, for hundreds of years, at least. I’ve never had a son, but that wasn’t the reason I gave this family heirloom to Kieran’s parents.” Uncle Julien paused dramatically. “I gave it to them to protect it.”

Janette looked unsurprised. “Kieran’s mother told me it was very important that we never, ever sell the tapestry or give it to anyone else, including a museum. She told me it was given to them in trust.”

“But why did it need protection?” Calvin asked his uncle.

“During the Nazi occupation of France, our family found it prudent to remove the tapestry from our house in Paris. My parents,” he nodded to Natalie and Calvin, “your great-aunt and uncle, were not on good terms with the Nazis. In fact, they were in considerable danger from them.”

“Why is that?” Natalie asked.

“Because it became known by the Third Reich that our family was Roma.”

Everyone stopped eating and stared at Julien, puzzled. “You mean gypsies?” Natalie asked, confused.

“Well, we don’t really like that term, but yes, that’s what I mean.”

“But our great-aunt and uncle weren’t nomads,” Calvin protested. “The Paris house has been in the family for at least two hundred years, hasn’t it?”

“That’s true, but consider our family as a whole.” Julien paused to gather his thoughts. “Richard couldn’t stay in one place for more than a month, and both of you are the same way. I don’t think Natalie has entered her flat since last August.”

Natalie looked a little abashed. “July, actually.”

“And Calvin,” his uncle said, fixing his eye on him seriously, “you are even worse than your sister. You appear on my doorstep every few months, freshly arrived from some far-flung corner of the globe.”

“Well, what about you, Uncle?” Calvin retorted. “You’re not exactly a stay-at-home type yourself!”

“You illustrate my point, dear boy. We are all of us wayfarers at heart, despite our thin veneer of civility.”

Natalie and Calvin considered this. It was true that they had an unusual family, who were generally unsettled, but gypsies? It seemed strange to imagine themselves as Romani when they were so wealthy. Calvin mentioned as much to his uncle.

“Gypsies are generally poor and live a hardscrabble life,” Uncle Julien agreed, “but there’s one difference between us and the rest of the tribe.”

“What’s that?” asked Kieran.

Uncle Julien looked around the table, then fixed his gaze on his niece and nephew. He hadn’t meant to tell them in this way, but things seemed to have a way of working out unexpectedly. “Our family name, Romarin, is really a mutation,” he explained. “In ancient times it was Rom, and as our family migrated, our name evolved to what it is today. What I’m trying to say is that we are the leaders and progenitors of that tribe, the Roma.”