The Emperor rose and stood before them in the flesh. Next to him was Eleni Symitzis and in the middle was a child, each of his hands held by each of his parents.
A voice rose above the deafening din of silence. The voice spoke in a strange language, in Byzantine Greek, then in Giorgos’ and the others’ language, Modern Greek; involuntarily all present showed their respect and submission to the Emperor in two stages.
As a first stage they fell to the floor in front of the tomb taking the kneeling position. For the second stage they bowed to the Emperor.
‘You have earned the reward of the temple of wisdom. There is no other reward, no greater power as some may misleadingly and wishfully have believed. Thank you.’
As soon as the Emperor had uttered his final word, he, Eleni and their child and before now missing heir, turned and looked above them where the upper part of the dome started to slowly come down towards Giorgos and the others present.
On its way down its shape changed to a building very much like that of the Library of Alexandria. The structure landed at their feet and its doors flew open. Aristo and Giorgos were completely thrown off balance from the shock of another encounter with a nemesis from the recent past.
For it was none other than Ptolemy who stood in profile at the door with his back to the wall, and gestured his welcome to the intruders, a clear-as-day-follows-night invitation to enter.
As Giorgos and the others passed in front of him into the interior of the Library, Ptolemy stood at attention and saluted and bowed to each member of the team passing in front of him, for his mission had been accomplished and he could now rest. He had delivered his legacy to the next generation of caretaker successors and he was happy.
CHAPTER 64
Limassol, Cyprus
Present day
Three figures had followed behind them into the central structure and hid there watching. The Madame Marcquesa walked in front. Iraklios and Andrew brought up the rear. Suddenly the Marcquesa saw Katerina and, in her, she saw her nemesis and instrument of her revenge.
If that were to be her final day then that would be her final act. She was goaded on by her warped mind that told her that that act was in her destiny and that then she would have salvation, but, satisfyingly, she would take the people she hated with her, physically or mentally, by leaving them scarred for life, or so she hoped.
The Marcquesa sought revenge. She wanted to hurt Elli. She could have done it through Aristo, but that would have been too easy. That’s why she decided to eliminate Katerina.
Her loss would devastate Aristo and in turn seeing her child suffer would eat away at Elli. Of course Elli cared for Katerina in her own right and so her pain would be worse.
Obsessed with only one thing she launched herself on an unsuspecting Katerina. But for some reason it was as if a guardian angel had a soft spot for Katerina. The Marcquesa began to suspect that she was fighting a mirrored image of Katerina.
She was sure of it. Because anything the Marcquesa threw at Katerina either went through her and caused her no harm or bounced back at the Marcquesa who was left bewildered. She was exhausting herself. Her power was weakening.
The Marcquesa was effectively fighting herself. Everybody present was mesmerised. Iraklios and Andrew were rooted to the spot, unable to react, to help her, as if hypnotised by the drug of her torment.
Suddenly the Marcquesa, completely drained, the remaining vestiges of her strength having left her, collapsed. She was dead. The effort took everything out of her. The stress caused her heart attack, the final nail in her coffin.
But before she passed away from this world she became a child again, the child she was back when the nightmare was still ahead of them. She became the child that Elli remembered. She smiled at Elli and mouthed a ‘thank you’.
Out of nowhere a huge trunk came rolling down and nearly chopped off the heads of Elli, Katerina, Aristo, Giorgos, Vasilis and John, as well as the last Emperor’s and Eleni’s. But Aristo saw it coming and warned everybody.
‘Get down, now. No, don’t look, just duck for God’s sake.’ They all ducked just in time. In the end the trunk ended up knocking the hell out of one of the walls which started crumbling down together with the whitewashed frescoes until then covering its imperfections and giving it a worth and value it would not otherwise have had.
‘Who are you?’ Aristo said, anger spitting it out of him and infecting the air around them.
‘You don’t recognise me, do you? Does my voice say anything to you? No?’
It was Andrew. Elli knew that voice. ‘You always were full of yourself, a pompous fool.’
Andrew, like a dog with a bone, would not let go. ‘I cannot let you do this. What you are doing is perverse, a travesty. It’s dangerous messing about with powers beyond your control. Are you not afraid of the consequences?’
Elli tried to placate him and, at the same time, to hammer some sense into him. ‘Andrew, get out of the way. Don’t be stupid. We are not doing this for our benefit. It’s not selfishness. It’s charity. Let those souls rest at last. Restrain yourself.’
It only took a flick of her wrist to immobilise Andrew. However, he immediately managed to shake her off and free himself from her suffocating embrace. The sudden shift in advantage left her bewildered and confused, but only for a second for in the next round she managed to restrain Andrew and gain the upper hand once more.
The situation could not be judged resolved as it kept changing with the advantage moving from one side to the other, from Andrew to Elli and back again.
Aristo had to intervene to help his mother and prevent a catastrophe at the hands of a seemingly ruthless Andrew, even though she appeared to be handling herself surprisingly deftly. He had no idea she had it in her to be so capable in physical combat.
Elli and Andrew were preoccupied with each other, in deliberate denial to the presence of anything else around them. They did not expect anybody present to dare to interfere.
It was personal between Elli and Andrew now, after Andrew’s so blatant a betrayal and Elli was still smarting from the realisation as if having been slapped. Elli and Andrew’s mental blocking of everything around them apart from each other allowed Aristo enough time to react.
He began to slowly, but determinedly, approach the near explosive spot, hoping against all odds to diffuse the pressure building to a deafening crescendo. But he was concerned that he was too far and would not make it.
Elli had regained control of the tussle and her hold over Andrew appeared to be decisive when, suddenly, it was Iraklios’ turn to move to immobilise Elli, and, in case there was any doubt in the mind of anyone present that he was serious, he made clear his intentions by pointing a gun to her head, showing that he would not hesitate to use force to harm her and anyone daring to get in his way.
Iraklios’ action left her even more confused than before. Even though everything up to that moment had been telling her that her brother, Iraklios, was the traitor, she refused to acknowledge the fact staring her in the eye, pushing to gain entry and blind her in the process.
Now that the truth had finally sank in it was probably too late to deal with Iraklios. With a gun to her head, she had run out of options. With her back to the wall she was maniacally trying to think her way out of a seemingly impossible situation.
Aristo knew he had to intervene, but without putting his mother’s life at further risk. He forgot any intentions he had of using diplomacy to defuse the situation. He just could not believe and could not accept that Iraklios, of all people, was capable of such ruthlessness.