‘So, where was I? Blood sacrifice. They pretty much had every aspect of ritual human sacrifice covered. We always picture them at the top of one of their wondrous pyramids, cutting out living hearts, but just as common was the practice of burning sacrificial offerings, cutting them down when still alive, and only then removing their hearts to—’
Squeezy snorted, possibly at the overkill of this execution method, interrupting the flow of the grisly tale, and when Tim began to remonstrate with him for finding any of this horror funny, the professor got instantly put inanotherheadlock—but this time for cheek. Ben laughed, and Aleksey realised that they were, very much, back to normal. He put down the little carving he was still holding and picked up what appeared to be a roll of parchment. Until he examined the material more closely and laid it carefully back down.
Harry only commented, amused, ‘Exactly. So, we have a long history of sacrifices to the gods, and the bishop’s bonfire rather fits into those traditions. The last descendant of the empire didn’t want to convert, and so he was burnt, but what interests us more here is the vast, almost unbelievable hoard of Aztec treasure that Zumárraga destroyed at the same time.’ The word hung between them, an almost palpable presence. Ben glanced at him at the same moment he turned to raise his eyebrows at Ben. Squeezy released his captive and leaned forward a little, although he must have heard and discussed that fascinating word many times with his father over the last few months.
Tim was glancing between the objects on the table and Harry and said it for them all.
‘Treasure. This is about…treasure?’
Harry gave a little twist of his neck and confirmed the twinkle in his eye by saying, ‘It could be, son, it could be.’ Before Tim could probe more, he continued quickly, ‘It’s not entirely unheard of, of course—legendary Spanish treasure. It’s estimated that in today’s money about twelve-billion-dollars-worth of gold and silver was taken out of these new Spanish territories. And some of it was lost before it reached Spanish shores.’
‘Oh,yes,Montezuma.’ Harry chuckled at the eager addition, and Aleksey pursed his lips, a little embarrassed. ‘I read such books as a child in Denmark. I was much takenthenby the idea of treasure hunting.’
Ben began to laugh quietly to himself, and Aleksey suspected no one needed his annoying other half to explain what he found so amusing in this claim. He wrinkled his nose.
‘This is all just storytelling, and I am no longer a child.’
‘Ah, don’t be so hasty, son. We may dismiss these tales as just nonsense to stir the imaginings of little boys the world over, but remember, we do find these hoards occasionally. Have they not just discovered the wreck of theSan Jose?’ He got little response to this, so added patiently, ‘A treasure ship that set sail from the New World to the Old in the early 1700s was engaged by a British naval battleship. Wonderful example of—ah, another time for that story then—well, the Spanish ship and its vast cargo of gold were sunk. But, five hundred fathoms deep, there was no possibility of its discovery again until modern ingenuity could come up with the wonders of submersible technology. And Bob’s your uncle; they say they’ve found it.’
‘Say?’ In his enthusiasm, Ben gave an unconsciously hard squeeze.
Harry smiled. ‘What is wondrous excitement in the young so often becomes nothing more than folly, greed and treachery in adults. No one can agree who it should now belong to, and so nothing is being done to salvage it. Should we so readily dismiss Mr Rider-Mikkelsen’s belief in the treasure of Montezuma, therefore? Perhaps not. But Bishop Juan’s treasurewas,according to contemporary witnesses, destroyed during his little bonfire of the vanities; possibly buried, possibly crushed, the accounts vary. Until the final one—the account to God Himself, that is. On his deathbed, our burning bishop made confession, and in this final accounting for his deeds on Earth, he admitted that the vast treasure of the Aztecs had indeed been buried—and that it was entirely safe and sound and ready to be dug up once more. To endow his order—which would be his great legacy and hasten his release from purgatory, obviously.’
Ben laughed again, obviously enjoying this tale enormously. ‘So one priest escapes hellfire, and a church now becomes fantastically rich?’
‘Ah, it was perhaps God’s little joke on everyone that the dying bishop’s confessor was coincidentally the brother-in-law of the King of Spain: Philip II. By his first wife, obviously.’ Not just for Ben’s benefit this time, he tacked on, ‘His second wife was Bloody Mary—our Queen Mary of England. What would you all do with a vast treasure if your brother’s new wife was in desperate need of gold to fight off rival claims for her throne from her half-sister?’ After looking around the table he coughed lightly. ‘Well, anyway, Mondejar, the confessor,didwant to help, and so he confirmed the location of the hoard, dug it up, loaded it on a ship and set sail for London. But—shall we have some tea? Thirsty work, telling tales, and this one is about to get very dark.’
They all leaned back at the same time, not realising until that point how tense and focused they’d all been on the old man’s words. Tim and Ben went to the small kitchen, and Aleksey stretched and went outside to smoke, not surprised when the moron followed him out, also stretching, something he often did whenhewas watching, much to his annoyance and amusement equally. ‘What do you think so far then, boss?’
‘I think you should stop calling me that, as it appears not to apply anymore.’
‘I can’t fucking say out loud the other things I call you, now can I? An’ I weren’t intruding on your island; I were coming down to visit me old man. Huge fucking difference.’
Aleksey laughed. ‘You do what Morwenna Eames does.’
‘What? Annoy you?’
‘That too. But you change your way of speaking when Harry is present.’
Squeezy narrowed his eyes. ‘An’ that from a Russian who barely spoke coherent English when I first knew ‘im?’
‘So, you think there is something in this? We are being told of sunken treasure at the end of this tale, I assume.’
‘You’d assume right. An’ yeah, I think there might be.’
‘So why the deception? Why not just tell us straight off?’
‘Well, see, here’s the thing…it’s that again.’
He waved once more at Aleksey’s groin, but this time Aleksey knew what he meant, so retorted, aggrieved, ‘I am fully healed and more than capable of going treasure seeking. I could take you out any time I wanted to—don’t ever forget that.’
To his intense but private delight, the moron didn’t contradict this but even admitted, ‘Yeah, I do. But it’s become metaphorical, that leg, ain’t it? It’s all those promises you’ve made to Diesel. It’s Pretty Boy being so relaxed and happy and not turning up to me and mine in the middle of the night, thinking you’ve cheated or murdered someone. See? Poking, Ben calls it. You heard him. He accused me of poking.’
‘Yes. He did.’ He toed the ground. ‘I recall that I admitted to Ben I had no reason to risk our lives for Billy—and yet I did.’
‘I know. He told me that an’ all. And now it’s not even to save a little mite like him from danger. It’s just for fucking gold—which you, matey, by any reckoning, don’t fucking need.’
‘Well, yes, but possibly also precious jewels.’
