Solomon Key

Chapter 30

Maddock saw nothing royal about the village Vatumasina. Located only a short distance from Vohipeno, it looked no different. The same dilapidated shacks and commonly dressed citizens. The people were friendly, to be certain, but nothing felt royal.

“This is as disappointing as the sacred rock,” Bones said.

Maddock nodded. They’d stopped at Alakamisy-Ambohimaha. As Rakoto has said, it was a boulder inscribed with Hebrew letters. Three of them to be exact, and no matter how Maddock arranged them and what vowels he tried to insert, he couldn’t come up with a word that seemed to have any significance. Isla planned on continuing to work on it, but he didn’t hold out much hope for success.

After asking around, Maddock found someone who understood his limited French well enough to guide them to the people he sought: a group of elders the villager called “Les rois et scribes” or “the kings and scribes.”

The kings and scribes met them outside a squat stone building. The structure was old, but had been fitted with a steel door that was secured with a heavy padlock. The men stood in a line, arms folded, staring daggers at the newcomers. All twelve wore the traditional lamba, a rectangular cloth wrapped around the body, over white robes, and each wore a pillbox hat of red or yellow. Maddock wondered if there was some significance to the color of the hat — perhaps one color denoted a king and another a scribe? Before he could ponder the question further, a wrinkled, bespectacled man spoke.

“What business have you with the kings and scribes?”

Maddock had been considering how to approach this ever since their meeting with Rakoto. He had no idea what the “proper form” of addressing the men might be, and internet searches had proved as fruitless as one might expect, considering no one had ever stumbled upon the proper words. He decided to start with scripture.

“We seek Ophir, from which 420 talents of gold were brought to King Solomon,” he said, paraphrasing 1 Kings 9.28.

The man’s expression didn’t change.

“Speak the words.”

Crap. It had been too much to hope that he’d guess it on the first try. Of course others had probably tried this same scripture. Perhaps they could be persuaded.

“We seek to protect the mines from dangerous people who would put the wealth to ill use.”

The man held up a finger. “Speak the words,” he said, and held up two fingers. The implication was clear. Three strikes and you’re out.

In desperation, Maddock took out the ring and held it up for all to see. An audible gasp rippled through the assembly. A few flinched, while others took an involuntary step forward.

“We have Solomon’s ring. Help us.”

The man swallowed hard, put up a third finger, and said, in a choked voice, “Speak the words.” Maddock thought he heard a note of pleading his time, as if the fellow wanted him to succeed.

Bones took a step forward. For a moment, Maddock worried that his friend was about to do something violent, but instead, Bones spoke in a loud, clear voice.

“O ye dry bones, hear the word of the Lord. Behold, I will cause breath to enter into you and ye shall live.”

It was the scripture found on Haggard’s grave. The same words that Avery and Corey had translated from the artifact recovered on Caesar’s rock. Could this be the key?

The faces of the kings and scribes relaxed, and their leader gave a curt nod.

“It suffices.” He managed a nervous smile. “I am called Princio. You must surrender your weapons.”

Upon their arrival in Madagascar, they’d managed to acquire pistols through a shady dealer. They handed them over, along with their belt knives, and waited as they were frisked. Isla offered up her pistol but Princio shook his head.

“The woman must wait outside,” he said.

“She comes with us,” Maddock protested.

“It’s fine,” Isla said. “We have bigger battles to fight than one against the patriarchy. My feminism can handle the slight if it’s for a greater cause.”

Maddock gave a reluctant nod and waited as one of the men unlocked the door and held it open for them.

“Follow the labyrinth,” Princio said.

Maddock took the lead and followed the narrow corridor as it spiraled inward toward the center of the building. Along the way he noticed carvings in the floor — words in Hebrew, the menorah, and finally, at the very end of the labyrinth, a tiny room. A skylight permitted a narrow beam of sunlight to shine down on a familiar symbol etched into the floor — Solomon’s Seal. He and Bones waited expectantly as Princio and another man grasped invisible handholds in the seal and lifted it. It came free like a manhole cover.

“Inside,” Princio instructed.

Maddock saw handholds carved into the rough rock. He’d made much more challenging climbs, and if the old men could do it, so could he. He descended quickly, hopping out of the way of Bones, who hit the ground a few seconds after him.

“Wonder why they took us all the way down here.” Bones said.

“I guess we’ll find out.” Maddock glanced up, expecting to see the kings and scribes following them down. Instead, he watched as, like a solar eclipse, the light from above vanished as the seal was dragged back into place, sealing them off from the outside world.

Rakoto couldn’t help but feel shaken by the conversation he’d had with the three foreigners. It wasn’t that they were interested in Solomon’s Mines. That was hardly out of the ordinary in this part of the world, though it wasn’t so common in Madagascar. It was the ring that had him rattled.

He could tell at a glance that it was ancient, and it fit the description of Solomon’s ring. But what was more, he could feel it. He had never before been in the presence of such a holy object. The spirit of God, he supposed. But it hadn’t made him feel the way he felt in worship. Its presence was…unsettling. He had felt only relief when they finally left.

Hours later, he sat there in the dim light, staring at the wall. The late afternoon sun cast a beam of golden light through the open doorway. It was getting time to go home. Rakoto stood but before he could take a step, a shadow announced the approach of a visitor.

A woman stepped inside. She was attractive, with high cheekbones and big eyes, but the sinister expression on her face deprived her of much of her beauty. Two men entered in her wake, closing the door and taking up positions in front of it. Rakoto did not miss the bulges of poorly concealed weapons.

“Welcome.” Rakoto was certain they could hear the fear in his voice. “How may I help you?”

“We need information.” She ran a hand through her close-cropped hair.

Rakoto waited, heart in his throat.

“Have you had any visitors today?”

“I have,” he said in a hoarse grunt. He cleared his throat, forced a measure of confidence into his tone. “Two sets of visitors in one day. More than I usually receive in a month.”

“Dane Maddock.” It was not a question.

Rakoto saw no point in lying to these people. In fact, he suspected it would be in his best interest to cooperate fully. He had no stake in this foolish legend quest.

“American with blond hair and blue eyes? Traveling with a big Native American and a Scottish girl?”

The woman frowned slightly, then nodded. “Tell me everything.”

Rakoto recounted his conversation of earlier in the day. The woman listened, nodding impatiently. She interrupted him only once.

“He had a ring?” she asked, her voice sharp like the crack of a whip. “Describe it.”

He described the ring, omitting the way he felt when he looked at it. He had a feeling these people had no time for such nonsense.

The woman turned and looked at her companions, who flashed twin smiles, predatory like lions on the hunt.

Rakoto’s heart raced. Clearly this ring was important to them. But was it important enough to silence him? He couldn’t believe the turn of events in his life that had led him to even contemplate such a thing. He was a simple man. He wanted no part of dangerous people.

“Do you know where they went?”

“Yes. At least, I know where I told them to go.” He told her about the royal village of Vatumasina and of the legends that connected it with Hebrew tradition. She probably didn’t need to know all of that, but he felt the need to keep talking, to forestall the moment when they decided what to do about him.

When he finished, the woman stared at him for ten heart-stopping seconds.

“Anything else? Anything at all you forgot to tell me?”

Rakoto considered. There was nothing else, but he wanted to keep talking, make himself useful, to prolong with might be the last moments of his life. But to tell her more might suggest he had held something back. He looked around for a weapon, knowing there was none. And even if there was, what could a man of peace do against three armed assailants who looked as if they knew what they were about? He shook his head.

“I have told you everything,” he rasped, his throat a desert. He breathed a sigh of relief as the woman turned toward the door. “Blessings be upon you.”

One of the men reached for his pistol. Rakoto took a step back.

“No,” the woman said. “The killing could be used to track us.” She turned to Rakoto. “If anyone else comes, you have had no unusual visitors. That includes Maddock.”

“I understand,” Rakoto breathed.

He stood there, frozen in place, until long after the three had gone. Finally, he summoned the strength to walk to the door and steal a glance outside. No sign of them. He closed the door, locked it behind him, and hurried home. He hoped he never heard another word about Solomon’s Mines for the rest of his life.