‘What is going on here?’ asked India as they walked.
‘I’m not sure,’ said Brandon, ‘But Sister Bernice told me about a secret inner order within the convent. I think they have something to do with it.’
‘Sister Bernice?’
‘Yes, a long story but I don’t think she is part of this, whatever this is.’
‘Where is she now?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘What about him?’ asked India, indicating the back of Gatilusi.
‘We have no option but to trust him,’ said Brandon, We are on our own here.’
‘Shouldn’t we just call the police?’ asked India
‘Not possible,’ said Brandon, ‘There are no phone lines here and apparently the only place you can get a signal is at the top of the hill at the end of the valley.’
Gatilusi stopped before the giant door to the cavern.
‘Is this the place?’ he asked
Brandon nodded.
‘Then it’s time find out what this is all about,’ said Gatilusi and, kneeling on the floor to keep a low profile, eased the door inwards, just enough for them to slip through.
Brandon joined Gatilusi behind the protection of the dwarf wall. They had crawled forwards from the door and now sat behind the wall, invisible to any eyes in the cavern. India followed them and, very slowly, they peered over the wall and into the Temple below. There was no sign of Sister Agnes and the cavern seemed to move eerily in the flickering candle light.
‘Can you see anything?’ whispered India
‘The Palladium doesn’t seem to be on display,’ said Gatilusi, ‘But that was to be expected.’
‘Sod the statue,’ hissed India, Is there any sign of the girl?’
‘No,’ said Brandon, ‘Though she may well be in one of those locked cells. If there’s no one here, we can quickly check and get the hell out.’
‘We can’t do that,’ said Gatilusi.
‘Why not?’
‘Because, I need to wait until someone comes. The chances of finding the Palladium by chance are minimal. I need inside information.’
‘But that increases the risk,’ said Brandon, ‘If the girl is there, we can be away in minutes.’
‘And how does that help me, exactly?’ asked Gatilusi, ‘You forget we have a deal. You help me and I help you, remember?’
‘And why should we help you?’ asked India, ‘You intend to steal an ancient artefact and take it to the other side of the world.’
‘I intend to steal nothing,’ hissed Gatilusi, ‘The Palladium is ours by right and was taken from Samothrace a long time ago. For thousands of years its location has remained a mystery until now. We have spent millions on unsuccessful investigations and though we had made the link between the disappearance of Rubria and the placement of the fake Palladium in the Forum, the trail went cold around the time of the great fire of Rome.’
‘So how come you found your way here now?’ asked India.
‘Mortuus Virgo are one of the most secretive organisations in the world,’ said Gatilusi. ‘They enjoy the patronage of some of the most influential people in power, including politicians, royals and clergy. We believe they are funded from the purse of the Vatican itself, though they have always denied it, and knowledge of this place is restricted to those privileged by right of birth only. Despite our best efforts, we could not find out where they were based, until those fools, the Venezelos brothers got lucky and fell in with a well meaning, yet senile old rogue who showed them a carved plank in return for a thousand dollars.’
‘What carved plank?’ asked India, her interest aroused.
‘Nobody thought much of it at first,’ said Gatilusi, ‘It was a very crude drawing, etched into a plank of a Roman cargo vessel, sunk about two thousand years ago. Carved by a bored sailor more than likely, perhaps to pass away the time.’
‘What was it?’ asked India.
‘A picture of a woman kneeling down and kissing the shore of some unknown land,’ answered Gatilusi, ‘But it was what around her neck that was important, a necklace of Vesta.’
Rubria gasped.
‘Are you sure?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ said Gatilusi, ‘As you know there were only six ever made, and five are spoken for, either in the hands of private collectors or are documented as being buried with various Vestal Virgins.’
‘All except one,’ said India.
‘The necklace of Rubria,’ confirmed Gatilusi.
‘How does that link here?’ asked Brandon.
‘The board was in Rome,’ said Gatilusi, ‘But it was returned there years ago along with many other artefacts. The actual wreck was found in the mud of the river Severn, A river separating England and Wales. It was a very busy route around the time of Rubria as the Romans were busy establishing a fort in a place called Caerleon, further up the river. As soon as that was established we despatched the Venezelos brothers to continue their investigations here in Britain. It didn’t take long before they picked up the trail but after a while they disappeared off the radar.’
‘And that’s where we came,’ in said Brandon.
‘Exactly,’ said Gatilusi, ‘Thanks to you, we managed to find them again and the trail led here.’
‘You know they are both dead?’ asked India.
‘Shame,’ said Gatilusi, ‘But their contribution will be remembered.’ He looked over India’s shoulder.
‘Someone’s coming,’ he whispered urgently, ‘We had better get down’ If I am correct, over the next few minutes you will witness a ceremony of one of the most secretive cults in the world, Mortuus Virgo.’
Six Nuns, each dressed in a grey hooded cape entered the cavern and made their way down to the fire. They walked slowly, in time with a bell that rang gently in the distance, each holding their hands together in prayer. They spaced themselves out around the fire pit and stood awhile in silence before Sister Agnes finally raised her arms and started a litany, her voice echoing around the cavern.
‘Holy mother, hear our prayer,’ she recited.
‘Isis hear our plea’ the others replied.
‘Holy mother guide our will,’ cried Agnes,
‘Isis light our way.’
‘Holy Mother give us strength.’
‘Isis, see our unity.’
Brandon watched the ceremony develop, the chanting raising in volume and intensity.
‘Are they supposed to represent the Virgins of Vesta?’ asked Brandon.
‘I don’t think so,’ said India, ‘It just doesn’t sit right.’
Suddenly the chanting stopped and Sister Agnes climbed up on a small podium and faced the raised pulpit set into the far wall of the cavern.
‘Pontifex Maximus. Come forth and hear our prayers, that they may reach the ears of the Goddess Vesta.’
The room fell silent and all the participants gazed upwards, waiting for something to happen. Slowly, out of the shadows, a male figure emerged onto the pulpit, swathed in a long red cloak, his face covered by a white, featureless face mask, and in his hand he held a wooden mace. He struck the struck the floorboards of the wooden balcony three times ceremoniously.
‘Hail Children of Vesta,’ boomed the male voice.
‘Hail Marcus Vibius,’ they answered in unison.
‘Oh my God,’ whispered India, ‘They have even kept the tradition of the Pontifex Maximus.’
‘Who or what is that?’ asked Brandon.
‘In ancient Rome, the Pontifex Maximus was the high priest of the Temple of Vesta. The only male allowed into the Temple. He was the controlling authority with absolute power over the priestesses. Second only to the Emperor.’
‘So let me get this straight,’ said Brandon, ‘What we have here is a religious cult, mirroring the cult of Vesta from Rome over two thousand years ago.’
‘Exactly that,’ said Gatilusi, ‘Though I fear it is about to get a lot more sinister.’
The Pontifex Maximus had raised his staff and indicated the line of locked doors in the wall of the cavern.