25

Dom Letizia, mobile phone pressed to his ear, tried to smile graciously for the tourists as they fired away at the incredible view. Their snaps captured him – a fully robed monk in his mid-sixties in the background. He had an unlined, unthreatening face with a full head of black hair, slightly greying at the temples. His steely grey-blue eyes hinted at a grimace rather than a smile. The monk was oblivious to the panoramic view of southern Lazio from the balcony off the medieval cloister and his pleasant countenance gave no clue to the seriousness of the information he was about to hear.

‘I am sorry, Dom Letizia,’ said the voice on the other side of the phone, ‘they are very close. They have the Amsterdam map. They took it before the auction. I could not take any chances. We have the London map, however.’

The monastery at Monte Cassino had a remarkable history stretching back to the sixth century when Benedict of Nursia climbed the mountain and destroyed the pagan altar and statue of Apollo. He never left and spent the rest of his life on the mountain, writing what became known as the Benedictine Rule, the founding principle for western monasticism.

Dom Letizia’s life had been spent following this Rule. Born only a few miles away from where he was now standing, he could not remember a time when the monastery had not been part of his life. He had been four years old in 1944, when his mother had carried him up through the snow from the village of Cassino, along with hundreds of other crying children and their mothers, to the safety of the ancient monastery walls. The German troops had been too preoccupied building defences in the lower villages to worry about the departure of the women and children. Free Polish troops were advancing by road and, from above, constant Allied air raids bombarded the German’s positions.

The Benedictine monks had welcomed the villagers and provided shelter and food. Dom Letizia had little memory of the bombing itself or the carnage all around. His mother was dead and all was smoke and ruins. The survivors struggled back down the mountain, but he and one other boy remained, waiting for a father to return or a relative to claim them. They never came and the boys stayed with the monks.

As he listened to Montano, Dom Letizia gazed in pride and wonderment at the restored abbey and smiled again for another tourist photograph. The disembodied voice in his ear continued. ‘They have killed again. This time a young woman.’

Dom Letizia closed his eyes and dropped his head. ‘Do they know what they are looking for?’

‘No, not yet. But they know that the maps are the key.’

‘What about the map dealer, Lawrance?’

‘We followed him to Oxford. He knows nothing.’

‘You did well. Bring the map home and leave Paulo in London. Ciao.’ The phone clicked off.

Dom Letizia sighed and placed the phone deep in the concealed pocket of his black cowl. Then he made his way through the throng in the cloisters, past the old Roman well and climbed the one hundred steps leading towards the church. Instead of entering the place of worship, he veered left and walked briskly along an elaborately arched passageway lined with statues and busts of the saints and turned right into a narrow, partially concealed entrance. The passageway narrowed further as he walked, and here only irregular filtered sunlight pierced the gloom, discouraging any wandering tourist. He moved briskly, breathing in the familiar dank smell of moss and dampness deep in the passageway, and then he disappeared. To a casual observer it would have looked akin to a conjurer’s trick. One second he was there and the next he was not. The passageway continued but Dom Letizia was no longer there.

The trick was a narrow recess, no more than the width of a man, on the right of the passageway. It was almost impossible to see. However, if you knew where it was, you could step sharp right into the narrow opening, turn about-face and shuffle back a few steps, now hidden behind the wall.

The secret space was not meant to be a foolproof hideout, but if you weren’t aware of it, you would walk right past the narrow gap none the wiser. He was prepared with his key in his right hand when he found the metal lock in the darkness.

He opened the door, stepped inside, closed and locked the door behind him, taking care not to fall down the steep steps. Using his right hand, still with the key in it, he felt for the light switch. This was a relatively new addition. When he was young he had always negotiated the sixty-three steps down the twisting passageway in total darkness. Thankfully, now there was a bare light bulb around every turn. One thing that had not changed was the dramatic drop in temperature the further he descended into the mountain.

There were many such passageways riddling Monte Cassino. Throughout the centuries, the monks had been subject to harassment, first from the Lombards in the sixth century, then the Saracens in the ninth century, both sacking and destroying the monastery. Experience had taught them that, if they were to survive and prosper on the mountain, they needed to be able to hide their priceless manuscripts and treasures. Dom Letizia knew of most of these hidden rooms and passageways, having spent all of his life in the monastery, but he was not so egotistical as to believe that even he knew them all.

The Abbot Primate did though. Letizia opened a door to be greeted by Dom Carlotti, shouting down at him from his precarious position up a ladder. ‘Francesco, you frightened me. I nearly fell.’

Dom Letizia laughed. ‘Sorry, Roberto. I forgot to knock.’

Neither man could remember a time when they had not been together. Dom Letizia had gathered the screaming Roberto from the rubble all these years ago and held the two-year-old close to him. He never let go.

Bookshelves from floor to ceiling covered the walls of this cave-like room, leaving very little of the original whitewashed walls exposed. Most of the monastery’s extensive library was open to the public and even the ancient manuscript section could be accessed. However, this room held only the most rare and controversial works.

The second-century Gnostic Gospel of Judas was one such work. It recorded a conversation between Jesus and Judas Iscariot, where Jesus explicitly instructed Judas to inform the Romans of his whereabouts and clearly depicted that Judas’s actions were only out of pure obedience to the commands of Jesus. This controversial manuscript had been in the possession of the Benedictine community in Monte Cassino for over fifteen hundred years.

However, the cave-room also held thousands of papers on more recent subjects: secret political agreements, astronomy and space, the secret knowledge of ancient civilisations, witchcraft, medicine, exploration and travel. Among the most fascinating for Dom Letizia was an original Chinese manuscript obtained in India from one of Admiral Zheng He’s treasure ships and brought back to Italy in 1428. This manuscript detailed Zheng He’s voyages of exploration to America over seventy years before Columbus ‘discovered’ the new continent. The manuscript included not only charts of the American coastline, but also sketches of animals and plant life.

Dom Letizia never questioned why these documents were secret but suspected they were considered so divisive that they could never be made public. Only the Abbot Primate could sanction access. Not even the Pope could demand a viewing. He could request, as indeed had Pope John Paul II a number of years before, but even then, the Holy Father had only been granted entry at the behest of the Abbot Primate.

Dom Letizia was the Keeper of the Secret Manuscripts, an acquirer and curator, and he answered only to the Abbot Primate himself. Dom Roberto Carlotti was his assistant.

‘Roberto, have you moved Heinrich Bunting again?’ chided Dom Letizia, his eyes scanning the bookcases. Roberto was constantly rearranging the books, much to Dom Letizia’s chagrin; something about dust, dampness and damage.

‘Yes, Francesco,’ shouted the voice from the ceiling, ‘I have to keep dusting them and moving them for their own wellbeing. If we leave them in one position for too long we will not notice damage. That is why I am always up this ladder, moving books and manuscripts, checking for dampness.’

‘Yes, yes, thank you, Roberto. Where are they now?’

Roberto pointed past a small radiant heater taking the edge off the chill, to a low separate bookcase at the far end of the caveroom, crammed with numerous leather-bound books. At first glance they appeared different, but a more exacting investigation showed them all to be the same publication, the Itinerarium Sacrae Scripturae … Antwerpus 1581. On some, the ravages of time had almost destroyed the bindings, some had been damaged by rough handling or were affected by water and fire, giving the impression of individuality, while others were obviously in mint condition.

On a separate shelf above the books were numerous maps of the world, all with the same title: Die eigentliche und warhafftige geftalt der Erben und des Meers, Cosmographia Universalis. They also appeared in a range of conditions. Some were shabby and torn, others water-stained and foxed, yet some were as if they had been published yesterday.

‘Montano is bringing us another map from London, Roberto.’

‘What about the Amsterdam map?’ the voice from on high enquired.

Dom Letitzia sighed deeply. ‘There we have a problem. They have the Amsterdam map. I will go and see the Abbot Primate and get his advice. What are our numbers now?’

‘Well, we have seventy-two books. Fifty-three of them have the map intact and we have thirty-four individual maps. Once we receive the London map and confirm its authenticity, that will be thirty-five maps. So, in total, we will have eighty-eight of the Antwerp first-edition World Maps by Bunting.’

‘You know, Roberto, in my time as Keeper of the Secret Manuscripts, we have only acquired eleven, and we had technology on our side. The internet brought our attention to most of those eleven. Consider how difficult it must have been for those who went before us to do the job that they did. Seventy-six collected before us. They searched the world’s libraries, antiquarian map and book dealers, attended obscure auctions and wrote letters to all the major institutions, sometimes waiting months for replies. Theirs was an amazing accomplishment.’

‘They will be blessed in the hereafter.’

‘True. And us? Will we be blessed in the hereafter if the secret is discovered?’

‘The Abbot Primate will know the answer, Francesco,’ said Roberto, as Dom Letizia closed the door behind him and commenced climbing the sixty-three steps.