The Keepers of the Rose

The Keepers of the Rose

  D.J. Dalasta

  Copyright 2011 by D.J. Dalasta

 

  The Past

  Nova Scotia, 1720

  “Bring them,” Robert called from inside his cabin, “and the plate and tome as well,” he added after a moment of silence. Immediately, the small men appeared at his doorway. Dark hair laced with streaks of silver fell to their shoulders and coal black eyes were cast towards the wooden floor. Their scarred and painted bodies stood only to his chest, frail and old these three, the last of the priests his father carried away from the Caribbean.

  Their civilization was lost twenty years back. Their last city, Tayasal, taken forcefully by the Spanish though a few, including the three that stood before him, escaped with the most sacred of relics. The Spanish forced their people into labor and converted them to Christianity. They raided their temples, burned their books and smashed their idols. Their land was already divided amongst the heroes of a one sided war. They were men without a home.

  His translator, John Canter was next to slide within, followed by his master at arms, Cort Brakken. He softly cradled what was to be hidden away. The ship’s old oak planks groaned beneath their leather boots while dim candlelight played with shadows, chasing them around the room.

  It was time.

  Robert cleared his throat. “I am a Christian man,” he started. “I do not believe in your Gods, I do not believe in your rituals, your magic. But I also cannot deny what I can see, feel, smell.” His words were directed towards the little priests and Mr. Canter quickly muttered the translation. “And what that I have witnessed and what my father, rest in peace, had witnessed, of that I cannot deny. It is perhaps of that which I have taken stock in what you preach and if you are right then God is surely wrathful for what we have done. If you are wrong, and I pray you are, then I would have wasted my life on a foolish venture. But it is not my choice to make nor will I ever know the truth of the matter and for that I am grateful.” He fell silent and the smallest of the little priests mumbled a response. Robert shot a quick glance to Mr. Canter.

  The translator furrowed his brow in concentration, “Captain, I believe he says that you should destroy it. That if his people cannot hold and guard the relics until the specified time, then none should know of it. If the secret is revealed, there will be only death and pain. War will be waged for the right to continue and survive into the next age.”

  “Tell him it is not my place to decide if this should be destroyed, but he should stand secure for only the worthy will be able to reach it, if even then.” In truth, the thought of destroying the plate and tome crossed his mind more than once. This type of knowledge was far too dangerous to stay in the light where greedy and terrible men would covet its secrets. But he wasn’t anyone to decide its destruction, and nor was any man that lived of the moment. It wasn’t meant for this time. For that reason he wouldn’t give it, nor could he keep it, and as such, he would let the ground have its secrets and let the sea protect them.

  “Tonight we seal the truth and perhaps our fate. Place the items on my desk sir,” he signaled to his master at arms. “I shall take one last look before committing them to the depths. I will honor your previous request,” he said sweeping his hand out to acknowledge the little priests. “You will be laid to rest, sacrificed in your way and your bodies left to watch over the knowledge. Go, cleanse your spirits and prepare for your journey, I will see you on shore.” The men silently left the room. Once again, he was alone.

  He stood over his desk, contemplating the old text. In his years with the priests, he’d been witness to their methods of timing the sun, earth and heavens. That system, he found, was nearly perfect. They could predict a celestial event down to its exact moment. How they accomplished this was never made clear, but their prowess in knowing the march above was undeniable. They were brilliant.

  This book, however, didn’t reiterate what was above but centered on what was to come. It dealt with the timing of future events, when the world would cross over from this age to the next. That transition was professed to be a period of unbridled violence. It was to be a time when man would be stripped of everything he’d come to know. It was a future Robert didn’t want to believe in, but one he was not willing to ignore.

  He paced to the back of the room to gaze out his only window. In the distance he could see the rocky outline of the shore. They were anchored off a small island, far to the North of the colonies. It was an island that was marked proper on a single map, his father’s map. Robert closed his eyes at the thought, recalling their final interaction.

  “This is the location,” he had told Robert in a whisper, moments before he was seized in Boston. He recalled the restless, wild look, captured in his father’s eyes. “This is where the work is being done. This is where my most recent and important prize shall rest. It’s up to you now son, they’re coming for me.” He shoved the map into Robert’s hand. It was the last time he saw him alive.

  A year after they took him, his father was tried in England for piracy and murder. The trial was laced in corruption, he was even denied right to council. Two weeks later, he was hung. Twenty long years had passed since that day. Robert wondered where the time had gone.

  He took a deep breath and made his way back to his chair. He dipped a feather quill into a bottle of ink, ready to commit his last thoughts to paper.

  War is worse than ignorance, fear of death worse than death itself, and justice should be done only through the just which no man can lay claim to in truth. Who am I to choose who is to receive life’s knowledge and who’ll be cast in darkness, I am nobody of import. And as such I choose to give it to specifically none, and let the fate of lives decide that day which peoples shall be brought forth into the world’s 6th age. I do not believe war over land, where surely the most powerful would prevail, to be in the best light of moving forward for the strong are not always the most worthy, though history would have us believe otherwise. As such, this treasure awaits the patient, the clever, the intelligent and the determined for you must have these qualities if you are reading this now. I leave the fates in your capable hands. Careful on how to proceed, and I caution on which king and country is given access and thus do not blindly follow the land of which your life was given for that which you have is worth the lives of more than you know. My advice would be to take the gold, take the jewels and forget the rest. It will only bring suffering. It will only bring pain. The world is yours. Fate is yours. Power is yours. But beware, corruption, greed and ambition won’t linger in the shadows for long.

  Captain Robert Ryder

  Son of Captain William Kidd

  1720 – 292 years to date

  Robert carefully folded the parchment and sealed it with wax. He opened the tome of Hunab Ku and placed the letter inside. A few of his thoughts were wedged within its ancient pages but this would be the last. The tome was scripted of their great God, Kukulcan. These were his words, written in his hand. Robert didn’t understand the language or many of the symbols but those few secrets he did come to know, he never spoke of. Knowledge that creates questions, he had come to realize, will fester and breed insecurity.

  He shut the cover and gently ran his fingers over the small, golden rose near the bottom corner. The symbol was the only marking on the outside and its existence always puzzled him. Even the little priests were lost to its significance.

  A knock on the door disturbed his thoughts. “Come,” he called laying the tome to his side. One of his young deck hands stepped in and waited. The boy had just turned thirteen years of age this past week. “You may speak,” he said to him.

  “The
dinghy is ready to shore, sir.”

  “Very well,” he stood, tucking the tome under one arm. “Come, take the plate Lancel, it is past time we finished our business here.”

  Lancel was a spry youth, full of energy and eager to please. He jumped ahead to snatch the plate and misplaced a foot. He lurched forward but caught himself on the desk and regained his balance.

  “Careful. You’re not going to want to be breaking this. It’s the only one of its kind,” Robert handed the plate over once he saw the boy was steady.

  “Why is that,” he asked.

  “It would be prudent for you not to know that answer and probably better for all if you stopped asking questions.” Robert patted him on the back to urge him along.

  “But then how am I to learn? Gregor used to say asking questions is the best way to learn quickly.”

  “Gregor was full of shat,” Robert returned. “Asking questions of secrets you shan’t be privy to will more likely get you iron bouts around your wrists and a shove overboard. Then you can ask the mermaids how to swim without your arms. I don’t think Gregor learned that specific answer for we never saw him surface again.” Lancel wrapped both arms around the plate and said nothing else as they walked to the deck.

  Outside, Robert’s eyes took a moment to adjust. It was dark, but the waning moon provided a soft light, wrapping everything it touched in a washed out shade of blue. There was a cool but gentle breeze blowing from the West and the tingle of salt in the air cleared his mind of anything but the task at hand.  As Lancel reported, the dinghy waited for them and they quickly boarded and lowered into the water.  Robert found his place at the bow and sat quietly, staring at a small island just off the coast, watching it grow in size with each stroke. 

  They landed on the North shore, near one of three elaborate dams constructed on the island.  The men jumped out of the boat, formed a single line and moved inland following a shallow path towards the main site.  It didn’t take long before they arrived at a ring of torches surrounding what appeared to be a bottomless tunnel, burrowed into the ground.  Its width stretched over fifteen paces.  Robert immediately stepped to the edge and started helping a man climb out by using a complicated system of ropes.  Below him, he could see the faint glow of yellow light coming from the lanterns of other men still working.  

  When the man was safely over the lip, Robert made his way to the outside where a single tent had been erected.  Inside, two shadows silently moved in silhouette.  He knew the men inside were his father’s engineers, the brothers Francis and Adox.  The pit was their design.  They didn’t know what it was to hold, just that it was to be exceedingly secure yet unblemished by time.  

  Robert made his way to the tent and threw open the sash. The two men flinched backwards at the unexpected entrance. “C..C..Captain,” stammered Adox, the younger of the two, “you’re here.”

  “Perceptive tonight. Are we ready,” Robert asked.

  “We are,” Adox replied, gaining a smile, “we’ll still need to seal the chests with clay to watertight them, but that is all. The foundation of each layer has been completed and the water tunnels run to their full lengths.”

  “Very well. What of the leaders I have asked to be made?”

  “Cryptically done as you instructed,” Francis answered. “All will interpret incorrectly at first glance. The maps are few, and only read real by your requirements, Captain.”

  “And how many men,” Robert asked solemnly.

  “For what?” Adox wrinkled his thick eyebrows.

  “How many men have died since this was started?”

  “I do have the count, sir,” Francis fumbled with some parchment and brought forth a single scroll. He counted under his breath. “From the beginning, we have lost four and eighty men to the construction of the pit.”

  Robert cast his eyes to the ground and sighed. “Too many,” he whispered.

  “Of course that wasn’t all from the dangers of the construction.” Adox answered. “Many, if not half of those who perished were taken due to bad food or water, disease, natural causes or plain stupidity. It’s not as hazardous as the numbers make it to be. We have been reasonable with our expectations of the men.”

  “I am sure you have. But that doesn’t keep their lives from being my responsibility. Keep that list safe, I will see to their families when this is done.” Robert took each life seriously. Most of the men didn’t even know what they were working towards. Many were even blindfolded on the trip to the island. “I believe that since the digging is complete, the rest of the work will be less tragic?”

  “Yes,” Francis said, mimicking Robert’s solemn tone. “We don’t anticipate any more problems.”

  “Well, perhaps our part will be less hazardous,” Robert replied.

  “It should be,” said Adox.

  “We’ll see, but for the moment we need to finish tonight’s first act. Let’s begin.”

  Robert stepped outside and pulled his coat around him as the cool air bit unexpectedly. The heavy leather usually kept him dry and warm, even during stormy seas, but tonight it did nothing to hold back the chill.

  Word of his arrival had traveled among the men and they quickly gathered around the giant opening in the ground. Robert silently estimated their numbers to be close to seventy in total. Above them, a strong oak branch struck from a lone tree to reach out over the pit. A wench and rope was drawn about it, ready to be used to ferry down the treasures.

  Adox and Francis brushed by his shoulders to stoop next to three chests. Their hands were full of soft blue clay meant to seal and watertight the seams. The chest on the left was filled in with golden coins, seized by his father and the one on the right held pure silver, precious jewels and gemstones, also taken at the same time. The middle chest sat empty, for now. There was enough wealth to last a lifetime for whomever laid claim to the find, sometime in the distant future. The other possible outcome was that their current actions would be the final moment human eyes laid sight upon the riches. Robert decided both causalities had an equal chance to occur.

  This was the first time a good majority of his men actually saw what was to be hidden. Their eyes showed no expression though he knew the thoughts within were greedy and lustful. Most, he knew, played out a scenario in their minds, one where they took the riches for themselves and left Robert for the crows. But all men scheme, he knew, it was the ones bold enough to act that he must worry about. At these times he was grateful to have Cort standing nearby. His master at arms had a keen ability to predict trouble.

  Lancel stepped from behind Robert, urged by a short hand gesture from Francis. Together, they gently placed the large plate in the middle chest, wrapped in a white cloth. Robert would be next to place the book on top, before it was to be sealed.

  “It is time to lay the tome within,” Francis whispered.

  “I know,” Robert replied clutching the book that much tighter. For some reason, he didn’t want to let it go. It had been with him for so long and since it was passed to him, he thought of nothing but this moment. But now, it was difficult to give it up.

  “Captain, we’re waiting,” Francis nudged him.

  “I know,” he said again, agitated. All of his men stared at him, waiting. “Very well,” he said reluctantly and stepped forward. Lancel moved with him and handed him a white sheet. Robert carefully wrapped the tome of Hunab Ku and gently placed it atop the plate. Francis and Adox quickly went to work and started sealing the final chest, using more of the blue clay, just as Robert had instructed. Nothing was to creep into this one, he had plainly directed, even if it’s to sit in water for five hundred years, not a drop was to make it inside. They had told him it would be so, and he would have to believe them.

  When the brothers finished, he signaled Cort to have the chests lowered into the ground. His master at arms dutifully responded and started the men working. Two of the younger hands disappeared into the deep hole as t
he others tied and hoisted the heavy treasure over the pit. The chest with the plate and book was lowered first and as it was lost to darkness, Robert felt a heavy burden lifted from his shoulders. “What of the priests?” His master at arms whispered next to him. “If they truly are sacrificed and sealed within, their spirits may bring ill omen to us in our lives or even on the open sea.”

  “It is their wish, Cort, it is their choice. I do not believe we will be bothered in our lives. They wish their relics to be hidden, secured, they won’t bother those who seal them for protection.” Cort’s leg trembled rapidly in unease as Robert continued. “Though any who seek the contents of these chests may sing a different tune. You will take their lives how they wish and place the bodies accordingly. See to it, I am going for a walk.”

  Robert moved beyond the torches, beyond the tent and into the darkness. The stars above flickered in an unknown rhythm and he recited the constellations as they came to him. Those patterns were his familiar guides by night when he stood on the deck with nothing but water and wind. Do they truly hold the answer to when the world will end, he mused silently. Could the future truly be told in the heavenly writing above? Perhaps if it’s written in plain sight for all to see, it wasn’t such a secret.

  Robert sighed, he knew that though it would be the easier path, it wasn’t the one laid out for him long ago. He picked up a rock and flung it into the brush. His father, himself and many others had given far too much to let this truth out in the open. It must be kept safe and hidden until the appointed time.

  Robert didn’t know how long he kept to himself, under the night sky, listening to the waves, but it was long enough for Cort to come looking for him. He made no immediate answer until his man crept closer. As he passed within a few paces, Robert made note of himself, “Here, Cort,” he spoke in a low volume. With his dark attire, he knew Cort would have walked right by him, not seeing his unflinching form huddled in the dark, perched atop a rock washed smooth by the tides that once rose to this height in the past.

  “Captain,” he said, “you’re nigh invisible sitting there.”

  “I did not wish to be found,” he replied.

  “My apologies sir, I’ll return later.” Cort began to move off.

  “Cort,” he called, “you have come for a reason, speak what you will.”

  “The chests have been lowered. Adox and Francis told me to report,” he paused and looked around, “that everything is moving as planned, only us few will know the truth.” He fell silent.

  “Thank you,” Robert stood up and stretched his legs. “Cort.”

  “Yes Captain.”

  “My prayers go unanswered, to whom I believe only responds in silence. What I’m told is a higher power gives me nothing to see with my own eyes, only tells me to have faith on what I’m told and what I read.” Robert paused for a moment.

  Cort shifted in the uneasy silence. “It is where we draw our beliefs, from our faith.”

  “I wasn’t finished,” Robert interjected. “But the little priests, their Gods have given them the heavens as proof. They know the heavens and its movements better than we ever will, and they have known for hundreds, if not thousands of years. I want to know how they do this, though with the tome in the ground I doubt I ever will. But more than anything Cort, I’m scared they’re right.” He nodded to let Cort know he had permission to speak.

  “And if they are, to what I understand, we will not be here to know. In that you can take some comfort,” his friend said.

  “Not in truth, Mr. Brakken. For if they are correct, where is my God in all this. Why has he not made this clear to us, and why do we not have the knowledge that these men do? Where is my God, where will my salvation come from?

  “I cannot answer those questions, Captain.”

  “Nor do I expect them to be answered.” Robert rose from his rock and clasped Cort on the shoulder. “We have a few things left to do before this is finished. Let us be done with those and get on with our lives.” He smiled and Cort seemed to ease at the gesture.

  “Aye Captain, where are we going?”

  “To the Caribbean, for I cannot bury all the secrets in one place now can I, that would be a fool’s plan. But first we’ll stop in Dover by way of Portsmouth. I haven’t seen my wife in sometime. From the Caribbean we sail along the coast of America and come to Boston, and lastly we end back here. By then, Adox and Francis should be finished and everything will be done.”

  Robert smiled as they walked into the darkness, but Cort had a lamp and it showed their path well.

  