Welcome to
Rome
The Root of Evil is Greed
Obelisk – Follow Me
Thoth´s Brotherhood
They stood in silence, listening to the cleaning of the graffiti. Michele asked.
”Who is Thoth´s Brotherhood?”
They looked at Michele. Then at each other and nodded. Fabrizio told him to come closer. He said in a low voice.
”You mean you never heard of Thoth´s Brotherhood?”
The men looked suspiciously at Michele, to see if he was playing dumb because there were not many in Rome who had not heard of Thoth´s Brotherhood, it was next to impossible.
Fabrizio explained that the Brotherhood was even known in the dog Turk’s kingdom. Among harems and sultans they whispered and pondered what the great secret was that the Brotherhood was believed to possess. In the sultan´s kingdom there were rumors that sometimes the minaret singers were singing about Thoth´s power.
”Michele, Prisca Sapientia”, said Fabrizio.
”Prisca, what?”
”My God, what vacca! Is all that true that we hear about Lombards? Do you eat grass with your toes and blow you with your hair? Isn´t that right, Mario?”
”As a Peacock”, Mario said and laughed his silly laugh.
Fabrizio shook his head. Hit his partner over the neck.
”The sacred truth, my friend,” said Fabrizio, while he brushed away the dust from his pants. ”Thoth´s Brotherhood owns it.”
”What is this truth?”
”It is said that if you control Prisca Sapientia you control one more important thing.”
Michele stared at Fabrizio.
”What?”
”The magic that is so powerful that it cannot be described. It creates and unleashes a force that has never been seen before in the world.”
One of the beggar boys poured a bucket of black water into the street. It ran in small gutters over the piazza to the obelisk that stood in the middle of the square.
”It is said that Thoth´s Brotherhood hides the secret in the temple The Theatre of the Five Gates which has been missing for God knows how long.”
Michele lit up, glad to know what they were talking about. Michele had a faint memory of when he was a little boy when Fermo had told him about an ancient, lost temple, called the Theatre. The Temple was said to incubate10 an amazing secret. Deep in the underground the temple would be watching over a magical book written a long, long time ago.
”The Theatre. My father has told me about it. I've heard that a secret society was guarding it but I didn´t know they were called Thoth´s Brotherhood. But I thought it was just a story that father told me. Are they really here in Rome?”
”Yes, and there's no story I can promise you. But no one knows where. According to the rumors, they have taking refuge near the Theatre which is said to be found here or somewhere on the peninsula.”
Fabrizio lowered his voice further.
”But listen carefully, my friend. If you have something dear, you should know something, and know this as clear as a mountain lake. Do not look for Thoth´s Brotherhood. The Pope and the Inquisition are at war with them. The graffiti and writings of the Brotherhood are strictly prohibited. It will mean the scaffold according to the strict Trento rules if you own or touch them.”
”Do you know someone who has searched for the Theatre?”
Both shook their heads. But it was a lie, they had, like many others, sought the Theatre in secret, but it was something they didn´t want to tell a stranger.
”First, you're crazy if you seek it. Secondly, you must have hold of a pamphlet and they are as I said strictly forbidden and hard to get by. If you can you will have to do it in silence, like him, what's his name, Columbus when he secretly searched for the lost city of El Dorado.”
”Christian”, marked Mario with a wise grin.
Michele looked curiously at the men. Friendly but still suspicious, he asked.
”Why should I trust what you say? For all I know, you can be just as dishonest as the Rome you talk about.”
Fabrizio laughed. He turned his palms upward to show their noble intentions.
”We are the light in the darkness, my friend.”
”Without light, no darkness”, said Mario and nodded wisely.
Halfway across the piazza, they went past the obelisk. While they passed the Egyptian stone Fabrizio said that it was rumored that the Brotherhood's writings described how to find the secret path to the Theatre via the obelisks in Rome. Just as it was said in the graffiti that the beggar boys scrubbed away.
They stopped and looked up at the mysterious Egyptian characters.
The deserted, old city felt eerie for Michele, it was nothing like he imagined. Unlike Florence the stylish renaissance elegance had been brutally cut down.
His father had told him about the palaces, the stadiums, the magnificent churches. But almost nothing was left of it. Fermo had been in Rome as a young boy, before Charles V's troops raped the city and destroyed much of it.
Ancient ruins stood next to newly built palaces that rose on the hills behind the dilapidated brick houses. Worn saints beat in the wind against the houses. Several brick buildings were empty after being vacated by the plague, outside there were traces of the plague fires. A couple of dogs ran aimlessly around the piazza, carefree as only dogs can be, they went about their business on old marble busts that lay half buried in the earth.
Fabrizio went to piss on a rundown half column sticking up a meter above the ground at the edge of a string of houses. He leaned back. Looked up at a Madonna that hung in the wind.
Michele took the opportunity to ask a question to Fabrizio's companion Mario.
”How is it that Fabrizio know so much about this?”
Mario looked slyly at Michele.
”Have the faith, Michele”, he patted Michele in the back to add weight to his words. ”Fabrizio has studied and written by Patrizi. He is the professor who is in Rome now.”
Michele shook her head.
”But Mario, why would a messenger have studied at the university?”
”His mother died and his father is very ill. He took over the small farm they had. Not a lot of money at the university. We need our money, right?”
Mario smiled a knowing smile at Michele.
At via Ripetta which ran along the Tiber River the men was met with an impressive sight. The avenue was deserted except along the walls where a large number of sbirris guarded. They stood upright with twenty meters apart. Everyone had a burning torch in his hand. A yellow glow floated in the street.
Michele Fabrizio and Mario heard the Porta del Popolo open behind them.
11
The Castle Ruotkerspurch, Riegersburg
June 1
After a few minutes the door wearied and slipped up. August opened with a kerosene lamp in one hand. Ludwig presented himself directly. He felt how wrong the name Norfelt was in the mouth but hoped it would not be noticed.
”Hello, my name is Ludwig Norfelt, I'm here about the job in the library.”
August shook Ludwig hand quickly and opened the door wide open.
August's Swedish resonated with tones of German, he had long struggled with getting them out, but he rarely spoke the language nowadays. He was well dressed with a cravat, tweed jacket and off-white water combed hair. It was somewhat sparse on the front. He wore a pretty intensive scowl. He was taller than Ludwig, maybe half a head. Ludwig thought he recognized some trait of August from the art historian Kenneth Clark, who was a dry but pleasant Brit.
The door slammed behind Ludwig. He stood in the foyer in a dark castle. A muffled echo of the door could be heard further away in a dark corridor. Along the corridor rows of upholstered armchairs stood and looked like as if no one had ever sat in them. Ludwig looked at his host.
August's mouth was hanging and gave Ludwig the impression that he was a very sorry man or that he was a pissed off person who had lived a long time being angry. According to
Ludwig, he had sharp eyes and spoke not a word more than he had to.
Ludwig viewed the castle as if it was almost deserted, empty of life and joy if it once existed there. Had it not been so neat and well-kept, he would have thought it was desolate.
There was some truth to what Ludwig thought. August had recently not even bothered to turn on some lights, more than what was necessary for him to find the bathroom and he kitchen. When Laura left for the day the castle fell asleep and was filled by a near ghostly life.
Ludwig could not help but think of how many millions, how many billions, August was worth. He had expected a rich lord given the unusual job but a castle of this measure, he had not expected. The castle reeked of old money.
”Put your bags here in the foyer. The dinner is served in the dining room, although it is a bit late.”
August went in advance. Ludwig went on with a proper distance.
They sat at respective end of a ten meters long, shiny mahogany table and ate a lobster supper.
August looked at Ludwig for a long time.
He tipped the salt shaker slowly back and forth over his food. After a moment of contemplation, he returned the salt on the table. It gave off a sound like someone stamped with a stiletto heel on a parquet floor.
The silence was over them. Ludwig swallowed carefully. He searched in August's face if he had seen something about Ludwig's escape on television. He saw nothing. He thought that it was probably too early. Hopefully they hadn´t put out an international warrant yet.
August looked at Ludwig without budge and said.
”Norfelt.”
”Yes?”
”It is an old noble name.”
Ludwig looked at August without blinking. He put down his cutlery. Put his hands in his lap.
”I recognize it from the House of Lords when I was there a few years ago. It was a merchant from Stockholm, a gentleman who was knighted late in life.”
Ludwig folded his hands and listened.
”But he had no further luck that I understood it. The family died out in the late 1600's.”
Ludwig took a deep breath. He looked straight at August.
There was a doubt in August's voice. He said.
”But it seems to have miraculously resurfaced now 400 years later.”
Ludwig twisted a little. He glared back in August and said.
”No, that's not true. Israel Noraeus was from Nora Parish. And yes, it is true that the family died out in the late 1600s, but a bastard survived, whom began working at Falu Copper Mine days after the big slump in 1687, his son Gustav took the name Norfelt when he worked as an assistant to Polhem which manufactured machinery for the mining company. His children were then left in Stockholm. But I would hardly call them noble.”
August's features stiffened, surprised by Ludwig’s straight answer. A small crease appeared in his forehead.
”Yes, that´s exaggerating a bit.”
Ludwig was eager to change the subject and asked.
”The ad was somewhat vague, what is it that you want help with?”
”We will discuss it tomorrow.”
”We have not discussed a salary. Otherwise, I tend to be pretty careful with things like contracts and so but I guess I was so keen to go to - ”
August interrupted Ludwig in a way that seemed natural to him.
”This is a simple arrangement. You work for me pro bono the first few days then we'll see. I do not buy a pig in a poke. As you can see, I must know if you are of the right timber11, so to speak.”
Ludwig heard that August was of the habit of having the upper hand in negotiations. His poise broke Ludwig like a dry twig on his knees.
August was still hesitant to let someone so close to Victoria. Into landscapes he himself had yet to visit. He came immediately into his accustomed role as employer. As the owner of industries and employer of thousands of people, he was accustomed to dictate the terms. Never before had anyone been his boss.
Ludwig did not know what to say. Normally, he would have been pissed but he was more dependent on work than lifting wages.
More dependent on hiding than anything else.
A fact that August knew to utilize it seemed. The irritation grew within Ludwig but he soon calmed down. He tried to let it all go by continuing to talk.
”Where there many people who responded to the ad?”
”There were many answers yes and that was what I had expected.”
Ludwig waited for August to continue. He did not.
”What did you expect?”
August struck out his hand nonchalantly. Ludwig did not understand the gesture.
”Why did you choose me then, if it's okay that I ask?”
August laughed. But Ludwig saw no heart in the laughter, only scorn. As if he sat with his friends and pushed down their waitress to the floor with a muddy shoe.
”It was simple. You were the only one that was able to decode the cipher.”
Ludwig was surprised.
”The Steganographia-cipher?”
August nodded.
”Huh? Aside from the Caesar-crypto and Vigenère's le chiffre indéchiffrable it must surely be one of the most famous ciphers known. How many applications were there, really?”
”Very many. But as I said, I'm not surprised. You are an anomaly, Ludwig, or it appears that way, at least in this case. A deviation of a lost generation.”
They sat in silence the rest of the dinner.
When they finished eating Ludwig followed August out to the foyer. They went up the broad staircase with thick mahogany banisters leading to the upper wings.
”You have your room in the east wing. I have mine in the west. Follow me.”
August pointed with his hand to a long corridor with closed doors.
The hall echoed with an emptiness that Ludwig only seen in works by Edward Hopper and Ola Billgren. It felt as if he and August were the only ones left in the world.
Alone in an endless corridor.
Alone in a café with a coffee cup in their hands. They were waiting for something they did not know what.
They walked slowly across the creaking floor. Ludwig felt feverish. It crept in the body.
Ludwig got the feeling that August knew he had done something bad, like Raskolnikov.
It rested something eerie in the mood. The castle seemed to whisper about something lost. Ludwig had no idea what.
With all the shit flying around in his head - the monkeys, Ella, Hall, the escape - it was not the time to ask. He was just glad he had arrived, his hiding place so far was undetected.
His room was simply furnished with a bed, a patinated secretary12 and an older, upholstered armchair. Ludwig looked out in the hallway. He thought of the C building. The ward-asses were far away.
August lit a lamp over the bed. Then he went to the doorway. He was just about to open his mouth when Ludwig said.
”I know it's late but I'm not tired. I can start working now if you want.”
Even though he didn´t think about it, it was easy to hear that there was a creeping fear in Ludwig´s words. A fear to face the unwanted. It was that weak jitter in the sentences. I know he struggled long to end that jitter, while growing up and even as an adult, he never wanted anyone to hear that he was scared but it was hard for him.
The castle was hiding something.
Ludwig knew it.
I knew it and I could not do anything.
It was there in the silence, in the emptiness.
In the dark.
But the one thing Ludwig was scared of the most was m13
August was just as short as before.
”Tomorrow the work begins. Further down the hallway is a toilet that you can use. Good night.”
August closed the door in front of Ludwig. He went to the window and pulled the curtain. The dark horizon probably hid an endless view.
The roads were quiet and deserted. The lights in the village below were extinguished. There were
no police cars in sight and no other cars either.
The bag he bought in Berlin lay on the bed. The wallet was in an outside pocket. The zipper snapped when he pulled it out. He checked the pills again.
He lay down in bed and hummed a song by Jeff Buckley. After the first verse he turned off the lamp. In his head the images were still there.
Ella.
He hesitated but finally he closed his eyes.
In slumber he saw her from behind, or she, he did not know who it was. They were in a town, up on a hill, on a cobbled street with old two-story house around.
Her hair was above the shoulders, it was longer than he thought it would be, what he was used to.
The town was deserted. The stores were closed. It was bright and the light was getting brighter. The sun shone on a lamp post at a closed shop.
All the houses were dark.
He wanted her to turn around.
He said to her: ”Please turn around.” But she continued to walk, the light became stronger, but the houses were empty and the streets were deserted like an early Sunday morning, as in a painting by Hopper.
Everything was still.
Suddenly she lay beside him in bed.
The pain was so fucking intense when he felt her warm back press against his chest. He swept away her hair and lay closer. He gulped when he heard her say good night.
He saw the monkey hands, his gnarled fingers and skinny cheekbone.
He lit the lamp and threw off the covers. Took two quick steps to the bag and pulled up the wallet.
His hands were shaking.
The zipper hooked itself but went up after a few jerks.
He poured out all the money on the floor and shuffled away everything when he saw the pills. The saliva in his mouth enveloped the pills. He stuffed a double dose Imovane and threw himself on the bed. He appealed to something he did not know what it was and he could hear how scared he sounded.
”Please, please, please. Do not come.”
He crossed his arms over his chest.
Looked up at the ceiling.
He grabbed his shoulders and squeezed everything he could.