Coyote (32 page)

I parked on 16th and walked towards Dolores Street. It was dark and deserted and the fog had returned in force. My passage made the wet air swirl around me like a cape. Whatever had happened to me back in old Santa Fe, my night vision was now amazing, but I still couldn't see through fog. Father Angelo had warned me it was not a place a woman should walk alone at night, but I'd insisted so he'd said to come to the presbytery at the back of the church.

The fog parted to reveal Mission Dolores and I shivered. For a moment I felt like I was back in old Santa Fe …

Mission Dolores was a low, whitewashed adobe church with a red tiled roof. It was the oldest building in San Francisco — a remnant of the original Spanish settlement here. Towering over the squat little reminder of Spanish territorial conquest sat a larger, more modern cathedral. I walked the dark corridor between them, heading for the presbytery.

As I knocked the door swung open and light spilt into the darkness.

‘Miss Dupree, come in.' An older man, possibly Eastern European, in neat black pants and a recently ironed white cotton shirt, politely waved me past. He searched the darkness behind me and then shut and locked the heavy door.

We sat in the old-fashioned parlour.

‘I'm still not exactly sure why you've come here, Miss Dupree. As I told you over the phone, I have no idea why your partner, Mr Carmichael, wanted to see me.'

‘But, Father Angelo … you must have some idea what the appointment was about?' I made it clear I wasn't leaving until he'd given me some clue that'd lead me to Des.

‘But I don't.' He spread his hands, indicating his confusion. ‘I wish I could help you but Mr Carmichael merely said that he needed to see me as soon as possible. He didn't say it was about a case he was working on … I presumed it was a personal matter.' He paused. ‘That is why most people ring here in the late evening …'

I sat and thought. How could Mission Dolores fit into the line of clues Des seemed to be following? ‘Have you ever heard of a bandito called El Chacal, who operated in Mexico in the 1860s?'

His expression said it all — blank astonishment. ‘No.'

I decided to lay it all out. ‘My partner was researching this El Chacal and in the process found out that the Mexican bandito was hunting for the Cross of St Theodosius —'

The priest's brows rose. ‘Isabella's Cross?' He smiled. ‘Ah … in that case I know why your partner wanted to talk to me …'

‘Go on.' Now we were getting somewhere.

‘My theories are well known …' His tone was now tinged with resentment. ‘… though not necessarily popular. My special field is mysticism — direct contact with God, unmediated by the Church.' He paused. ‘My ideas have been … controversial to say the least.'

‘Mysticism?' I frowned. ‘But what's that got to do with Isabella's Cross?'

‘I believe it was an Instrument of Grace.' He leant in, eager to share his passion for the subject. ‘In the Church they say such an artefact is the embodiment of God's will on earth …' He studied my non-believer's face and translated, ‘Scientists would call such an artefact an Evolutionate — a catalyst that speeds up evolution.'

That didn't help.

‘Wait a minute …' I tried to keep my impatience down to a low simmer. ‘Are you trying to tell me that Isabella's Cross is supposed to speed up human evolution?'

Father Angelo nodded, still eager. My disbelief hadn't fazed him in the slightest. ‘Those in its presence can be propelled into a state of grace … a higher state of being. Not all,' he qualified, ‘… but those souls who are ready, yes certainly. It connects the individual with the divine.' He read my cynicism and keen to persuade, insisted, ‘The artefact, now known as Isabella's Cross, has been legendary for this power for millennia.'

‘Millennia? Where was Isabella's Cross supposed to have come from?'

‘We're not exactly sure …' That thought seemed to perplex him. ‘But archaeologists have found proof that the artefact predates even the ancient Egyptians, who covered their cities with its image.'

The cover of Des' book flashed into my mind. The cross was solid gold and the piece above the cross bar was a flattened oval shape …

‘Are you saying that Isabella's Cross is actually an ankh?' I barked, ready to argue. Then I stopped — it was the right shape.

An ankh was the ancient Egyptian symbol for eternal life. It looked like a Christian cross except that there was an oval shape above the cross bar. The Egyptians considered the ankh so powerful that most of their gods were depicted carrying one.

‘Yes,' replied Father Angelo, ‘that's certainly what the ancient Egyptians called the artefact … But we know Isabella's Cross originally came from somewhere in Africa — it was carried out of there through Egyptian conquest. Acknowledging its great power the ruling pharaoh, Khufute the Third, built a temple to house it on the Nile …' He shrugged. ‘And that's where Emperor Theodosius later found it.'

I eyed him with cynicism. ‘When you say he “found it”, don't you actually mean he looted the temple and stole it?'

He nodded. ‘I'm afraid so.'

I couldn't resist adding, ‘And was this the same cross that St Theodosius held while he eradicated all rival religions from the Roman Empire … destroying their places of worship and putting them to the sword if they refused to become his kind of Christian?'

So much for an Instrument of Grace … Violent religious persecution didn't sound like an evolutionary step up to me!

Father Angelo coughed uncomfortably. ‘Actually the Nile temple to the Global Trickster was the very last pagan shrine Emperor Theodosius destroyed.' His antique chair creaked as the uneasy priest shifted. ‘After taking the cross Theodosius had a change of heart and began to —'

I frowned. ‘The Nile temple to the … who?'

‘The Global Trickster,' said Father Angelo brightly. He was obviously glad to get off the topic of what St Theodosius had or hadn't done. ‘The Egyptians believed Isabella's Cross was his sacred tool … that he used it to keep humanity safe and they —'

‘Wait a minute,' I said, frustrated. ‘What do you mean, the Global Trickster?'

‘The ancient Egyptians believed the Global Trickster guarded all the lands of the world — not just Egypt — so they called him —'

‘Isn't Coyote the trickster god?' I vaguely remembered having this conversation with River.

‘He's one Native American version … they have several … but all cultures have at least one. Even —'

‘Okay, okay …' I put up my hands to forestall the lecture.

I bit my lip, trying to think. This was going nowhere I wanted to go very fast. Des had been hot to see this man for a reason … but what was it?

I backtracked. ‘Let me get this clear. You're known as an expert on Isabella's Cross?'

‘Yes.'

‘Okay, that has to be it …' I racked my brain. ‘You say it was an Instrument of Grace, that it speeds up our evolution.' I studied his earnest face. ‘Now, just exactly how does it do that?'

He was more than ready for that question. ‘Somehow the artefact is supposed to cut through all our delusions and force us to see ourselves as we really are. I believe that it shows we are inextricably linked to every other living being … and that the consequences of our actions towards others have huge personal repercussions.'

‘Okay, so no lies, no excuses — just the truth.'

‘Yes … But I also believe Isabella's Cross reveals far more than that … I believe the true grace of Isabella's Cross is that it shows us the might and the breadth of our souls.'

 

A curiously attractive idea. No wonder Father Angelo was obsessed.

I shook my head wearily. ‘I'm sorry, Father Angelo, but I still have no clue as to why Des would want to talk to you.' I studied his earnest face. He really wanted to help me.

I sighed. ‘Do you have any idea … any idea at all?'

He frowned. ‘Well, as I said, Miss Dupree, my views are very controversial. Especially my theory about the Holy Roman Empress Isabella … You see I don't believe the cross was stolen from her.'

I remembered back to what I'd just read in Des' office. The cross had been stolen from Isabella the week before she died. ‘I thought it was taken by some court flunky who fled with it to Mexico.'

Father Angelo stiffened. ‘Alonso de Olid was no flunky!' I'd obviously hit a sore point and he was off and running with a well-honed defence. ‘De Olid was a much honoured Knight of the Cross, a military order of priests originally established to reclaim Spain from the Moorish invaders. He was specially selected and trained to do the same in the Americas — to claim the New World for Christ. He'd been over with the first conquistadors and returned covered in glory. Empress Isabella respected him so much she even insisted he become her personal confessor!'

I narrowed my eyes. ‘So what are you saying? That de Olid didn't steal it?'

‘I'm saying that Isabella gave him the cross,' he asserted with vigour.

‘Now why would Isabella just hand this priest a major piece of the Spanish royal treasure? It wasn't hers to give anyway … was it?'

‘You have to understand, Miss Dupree, that Isabella was a beautiful and intelligent woman, a leader of men. She married one of the most powerful men in the world, the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V. And for much of their marriage … while Charles ruled the empire … Isabella ruled Spain as regent. All this at a time when many women couldn't even own property.'

‘Okay, so she was a force to be reckoned with.'

‘Isabella was much more than that. She became a great mystic. I believe she experienced profound visions after she spent so much time near the cross.'

I studied him. ‘So how does this relate to it being stolen by …' I amended that. ‘Taken to the New World by de Olid?'

‘I believe Isabella commanded de Olid to take the cross for a specific purpose — that she had a God-given vision about the New World … and its future. I believe de Olid wasn't fleeing along the El Camino Real de Tierra Adentro away from the soldiers …' He leant in. ‘I believe he was searching for the sacred place Isabella saw in her vision … the place de Olid had been sent to hide the cross.'

 

I eyed the priest tiredly.

His story was all very interesting but I still had no real idea why Des had made this appointment tonight. If the story didn't involve El Chacal then why the hell was I here?

I tried to find the connector again. ‘So does anyone know what became of Isabella's Cross?'

‘No.' Father Angelo shrugged. ‘Nor did anyone ever find de Olid's body. He just disappeared in 1539,
heading north from Mexico City along the route that would later become known as the El Camino Real de Tierra Adentro. There are clues that show he went that way, sightings at certain small Spanish settlements and Native American villages, but we don't know what happened to him … or the cross.'

I tried a long shot. ‘So, Father Angelo … what could de Olid and Isabella's Cross have to do with whoever committed the Dry Gulch massacre?'

Father Angelo gave me a blank look. ‘You mean the deaths near Santa Fe?' He wrinkled his brow. ‘The only thing I can think of is that de Olid made it that far north … the El Camino Real de Tierra Adentro does end just north of Santa Fe. Though, of course, in 1539 there would've been nothing there … Well, no European settlements at any rate.'

‘Are you saying de Olid would've taken the cross
that
far into uncharted territory? Alone?' At least when I was there I'd known where I was going, and I'd had backup.

Father Angelo answered by pulling a thick book down from the shelf beside us. ‘De Olid was a soldier-priest acting under Imperial command. He already expected to die in battle.' The priest flicked through then stopped at a portrait in oils of a dark, lean man wearing full conquistador armour and sword. ‘This is Alonso de Olid, the year he arrived back from serving with Cortez in Mexico —'

In shock, I took the proffered book.

De Olid was lean to the point of emaciation with high cheekbones like blades, a hawk's nose, a black pointed beard and black, black eyes. He wore a crested morion helmet with pointed brim front and back, a breastplate with arm and leg greaves and a metal skirt. A Toledo sword was strapped to his side and his left gauntleted
hand clutched a green and white pennant that showed a strange kind of tower, which emitted light. His right hand held a lethal-looking cavalry lance.

It was him!

The only thing that was missing was the small oval shield that'd lain at his dead feet, the one with the rough figure of a dog scratched into its surface.

De Olid was the conquistador. The mummified object of veneration in the church in old Santa Fe.

I dredged my memory, like a sniffer dog searching the swamp for a corpse. The Big Swede had forced the frightened priest to … to what?

That's right, there were fragments of a letter found with the dead conquistador. The priest had brought them out in a framed glass …

I'd watched the priest run his nervous fingertips over the glass as he translated: ‘As prophesised the dream has been made real. This world will be saved by God's grace and the great extinction avoided … The cross is now swallowed by the stone circle held up by four living trees … and protected by the Great Hound who stands guard over all. As my Empress commanded, it now waits in the City of Gold. Heaven sent me forth with the holy cross to cast light where there is darkness and I must stand guard until the Empress sends for me to return home. That is my fate …'

I let the book drop into my lap.

The stone circle held up by four living trees … That was the Great Kiva on Spruce Tree Mesa. The roof had been held up by spruce trees.