White Death - Cussler Clive (библиотека книг бесплатно без регистрации .TXT) 📗

The cell phone in his suit pocket trilled. Grateful for the distrac- tion from his quandary, he flipped the phone open. "State your busi- ness in a concise and businesslike manner."

"You're a hard man to find, St. Julien."

The sky-blue eyes in the ruddy face danced with pleasure at the sound of the familiar voice ofKurt Austin.

"To the contrary, Kurt m'lad. I'm like Hansel and Gretel. Follow the food crumbs, and you'll find me nibbling at the gingerbread house."

"It was easier to follow the suggestion of your housekeeper. She told me you were in Italy. How's the tour going?"

Perlmutter patted his substantial stomach. "It's very fulfilling, to say the least. All goes well in the District of Columbia, I trust?"

"As far as I know. I just flew back from Copenhagen last night."

"Ah, the city ofHans Christian Andersen and the Little Mermaid. I remember when I was there some years ago, there was this restau- rant I dined at-"

Austin cut Perlmutter off before he launched into a course-by- course account of his meal. "I'd love to hear about it. But right now, I need your historical expertise."

"Always willing to talk about food or history. Fire away." Perl- mutter was often asked to lend his expertise to NUMA queries.

"Have you ever come across a Basque mariner by the name of Diego Aguirrez? Fifteenth or sixteenth century."

Perlmutter dug into his encyclopedic mind. "Ah yes, something to do with the Song of Roland, the epic French poem."

"Chanson de Roland? I struggled through that as part of a high school French course."

"Then you know the legend. Roland was the nephew of the em- peror Charlemagne. He held off the Saracens at Roncesvalles with the help of his magic sword, Durendal. As he was dying, Roland beat his sword against a rock to keep it out of the hands of his enemies, but it wouldn't break. He blew his horn to summon help. Charle- magne, hearing it, came with his armies, but it was too late. Roland was dead. Through the centuries, Roland became a Basque hero, a symbol of their stubborn character."

"How do we get from Roland to Aguirrez?"

"I recall a reference to the Aguirrez family in an eighteenth cen- tury treatise on pre-Columbian voyages to the Americas. Aguirrez was said to have made many fishing trips to North American waters decades before Columbus's voyage. Unfortunately, he ran afoul of the Spanish Inquisition. There were unverified reports he had been en- trusted with the Roland relics."

"From what you say, the Roland story was not just a legend. The sword and the horn actually existed."

"The Inquisition apparently thought so. They feared the relics could be used to rally the Basques."

"What happened to Aguirrez and the relics?" "They both disappeared. There is no record of a shipwreck that I can recall. May I ask what prompts your interest in the subject?" "I met a descendant of Diego Aguirrez. He's retracing the voyage

of his long-lost ancestor, but he never said anything about sacred relics."

"I'm not surprised. Basque separatists are still setting off bombs in Spain. Lord knows what would happen if they got their hands on po- tent symbols like this."

"Do you remember anything else about Aguirrez?" "Not off the top of my head. I'll dig around in my books when I aet home." Perlmutter owned one of the world's finest marine li- braries. "I'll be back in Georgetown in a few days, after a stop-off in Milan."

"You've been a great help as usual. We'll talk again. Buon ap- petito."

"Grazier Perlmutter said, clicking off his phone. He turned his

attention back to the table. He was about to dig in to a plate of marinated artichoke hearts when his host, who owned the villa and the surrounding vineyards, came in with the bottle of wine he had gone for.

Shock registered on the man's face. "You're not touching your food. Are you ill?"

"Oh no, Signor Nocci. I was distracted by a telephone call re- garding a question of a historical nature."

The silver-haired Italian nodded. "Perhaps a taste of the chingali, the wild boar, will help your memory. The sauce was made from truffles found in my woods."

"A splendid suggestion, my friend." With the dam breached, Perl- mutter dug into the food with his usual gusto. Nocci politely held his curiosity at bay while his guest devoured the repast. But when Perl- mutter dabbed his small mouth and set his napkin aside, Nocci said, I am an amateur historian. It is impossible not to be when one lives in a country surrounded by the remnants of countless civilizations. Perhaps I can help you with your question."

Perlmutter poured himself another glass of 1997 Chianti and re- counted his conversation with Austin. The Italian cocked his head.

"I know nothing about this Basque, but your story brings to mind something I came across while doing some research in the Biblioteca Laurenziana.f)

"I visited the Laurentian Library many years ago. I was fascinated by the manuscripts."

"More than ten thousand masterpieces," Nocci said, nodding his head. "As you know, the library was founded by the Medici family to house their priceless collection of papers. I have been writing a paper on Lorenzo the Magnificent which I hope to publish some day, although I doubt if anyone will read it."

"Be assured, / shall read it," Perlmutter said grandly. "Then it will have been worth my labor," Nocci said. "Anyway, one of the hazards of research is the temptation to wander away from the highway, and while I was at the library, I traveled a side road that led to the Medici Pope Leo X. With the death of King Ferdinand in 1516, his seventeen-year-old successor, Charles V, encountered pres- sure to restrict the power of the Inquisition. In the great humanist tradition of the Medici family, Leo favored curtailing the Inquisitors. But Charles's advisors persuaded the young king that the Inquisition was essential to maintain his rule, and the persecution continued an- other three hundred years."

"A sad chapter in human history. It's comforting to know that

Aguirrez had the courage to speak out, but the dark forces are strong."

"And none was darker than a Spaniard named Martinez. He sent a letter to the king urging him to support the Inquisition and expand its powers. As far as I can determine, the letter was forwarded to Leo for his comment and came to the library with the Pope's other pa- pers." He shook his head. "It is the fanatical raving of a monster. Martinez hated the Basques, wanted them wiped from the face of the earth. I remember there was a mention of Roland, which I recall thinking was unusual in this context."

"What was the nature of this reference?"

Nocci heaved a great sigh and tapped his head with his forefinger. "I can't remember. One of the consequences of growing old."

"Perhaps you'll remember after more wine."

"I trust the wine more than my memory," Nocci said, with a smile. "The assistant curator at the library is a friend of mine. Please relax, and I will make a telephone call." He was back in a few minutes. "She says she would be happy to produce the letter I mentioned for us any time we want to look at it."

Perlmutter pushed his great bulk back from the table and rose to his feet. "I think perhaps a little exercise would do me some good."

The trip to Florence took less than fifteen minutes. Nocci usually drove a Fiat, but in expectation ofPerlmutter's visit, he had leased a Mercedes, which more comfortably accommodated his guest's wide girth. They parked near the leather and souvenir stalls that abounded in the Piazza San Lorenzo and went through an entrance to the left of the Medici family's old parish chapel.