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*
Malta, now
“WHAT’S UP, CINDERELLA? Did you lose your crystal slipper?”
Eric burst into laughter when Floriana appeared, passing barefoot through the sliding doors to the crowded International Arrivals Hall of the Malta Airport. He looked stunning in his khaki linen pants and the loose white shirt that accentuated his suntanned skin. The bright sun highlighted his reddish-blond hair and a wide smile was on his face.
She quickly crossed the Hall, a pair of leather high heeled sandals in one hand and the handle of a rolling suitcase in the other, her unruly red curls whirling in the hot, dry, summer wind. As she dropped herself into his arms, Eric gave her a warm hug and kissed the top of her head.
“What happened to your shoes? Was your flight that bad?” he joked. “Did your airplane hit severe air turbulence?”
“My heels broke when I tried to grab my suitcase off the baggage carousel.” Floriana kissed his cheek softly. “I’m so happy to see you again.”
“I missed you, little Ninja.” He grinned affectionately.
“Missed you too.” She looked into his light blue eyes. “It seems I’m not a high heels person. I should go back to my flats,” she said as she bent over her suitcase and started unzipping it.
“You don’t have to do this.” Eric put his palm on her hand and stopped its movement.
“What do you mean? I need to get another pair of shoes out.” Floriana stared at him, confused.
“No, you don’t.” With a sudden move, Eric lifted her into his arms. “Now you don’t need to wear any shoes.”
A few faces turned their way and, embarrassed by the spectacle they offered to the bystanders, Floriana tried to cover her red face with her hand. “You can’t be serious! This can’t be happening.” She giggled.
“I’m serious.”
“But, my suitcase, someone has to carry my suitcase.”
“Hey, buddy,” Eric told a young man who was passing by them. “Cinderella lost her shoe, and I won’t let her walk barefoot on the hot asphalt. Could you please give us a hand with her suitcase?”
Smiling broadly, the young man agreed to help them out, and the three of them made their way to the airport parking lot where Eric had parked his car.
“I only hope he won’t run away with my suitcase,” Floriana whispered in Eric’s ear.
“I hope that too, or I’ll have to shoot him.” Eric smirked.
***
“HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE ride,” Eric told Floriana as he gently put her down on the passenger’s seat of his car. Then he turned to the young man who was following them and handed him a fifty euros banknote.
“This girl is a movie star who travels incognito in Malta. Thank you for your assistance, and we hope for your discretion.” Eric winked at him as he took Floriana’s rolling suitcase in his hand. The young man smiled collusively; they could count on his discretion.
“You really have your way with people.” Floriana laughed as Eric unzipped her suitcase in front of the passenger’s seat open door.
“I thought you already knew that.” He gave a roguish smile.
“Oh, I know that first hand. I can’t forget how we met,” said Floriana.
“Now, where are your shoes?” he asked.
“There, in that plastic bag, there is a pair of flat sandals.”
As a hot wind blew, Eric kneeled, took Floriana’s bare feet in his hands, one at a time, and put the flat striped sandals on.
“Just like Cinderella.” He beamed. Then he put the suitcase in the trunk, and after he took his place behind the wheel, he started the engine.
“It’s already been two years. Can you imagine?” Floriana asked with nostalgia.
“Time passes quickly.”
“And it heals all wounds.”
“Time heals all wounds, but it’s a slow process.” His face became shadowed. “Anyway, we’ll have plenty of time to talk about what happened in the past.” He gave a brittle smile. “Your grandfather is very sorry he couldn’t be here. He has an urgent meeting at the House of the Rose, and he asked me to pick you up from the airport.”
“I hope it isn’t anything serious,” said Floriana, and the events of near past flashed into her mind.
“I don’t know what it’s about, but he seemed quite calm.”
“Where is my brother? I was expecting to see him at the airport. At least, that was what he wrote me in his last email about a month ago.”
“Vittor travelled to the USA two weeks ago. I thought he would have told you.”
“It’s weird that he didn’t.” Floriana frowned.
“How has your relationship been since you left Malta?”
“It’s been quite good for two siblings who weren’t aware of each other’s existence until two years ago. I guess it would have been even better if we had met a few more times since then. But my studies in London didn’t allow me to visit Malta often. Now that I’ve graduated, I’ll be here more often. I even think of moving to Valletta.”
“Why would you want to leave London, the metropolis of arts?” Eric sounded surprised.
“Malta is full of historical monuments and amazing artifacts. Besides, I’d like to get a better knowledge about my birthplace. I was only two years old when my mother decided that we should move to London.”
“And leave her own son, your brother, behind to live with his grandfather. You know, I never did understand her decision. Why would any mother choose between her children? No one forced her to make this decision. It was her call. She chose to live with you, abandon her son, and let him think she was dead; until she died for real. I don’t think that Vittor will ever get over that.”
Floriana’s expression clouded over. Eric tried to ease her agitation. “It’s not your fault. You are not responsible for your mother’s decisions and actions. And I’m sorry I brought it up. But, you see, I’m concerned about Vittor. He hadn’t been himself lately.”
“Why? What happened?” she asked, surprised.
“I’m not sure if anything happened. But the last month, Vittor seemed to become troubled and gloomy, as if something was bothering him. I hoped he had shared any concerns he might have with you.”
“I didn’t notice any change in his behavior. His messages were always cheerful, but we haven’t skyped lately, so I haven’t seen him either. However, I never felt we had a typical brother and sister relationship, that strong sibling bond.”
“How could you after what happened to you both?”
They both remained silent for a moment until Eric broke the silence.
“You know, we don’t have to go straight to the House of the Rose. Your grandfather suggested that we take a ride after you landed since he’s being busy and won’t be able to welcome you. Unless you’re feeling tired and you would prefer to get some rest, we could go to this place I love.”
“I think it’s a great idea.” She smiled.
“Brace yourself, little lady, we are going to Mdina,” Eric said and turned the wheel abruptly.
***
“HERE WE ARE. WELCOME to Mdina.”
With her hand raised to block the sun, Floriana looked at Eric who was standing in front of a vaulted limestone gate with a wide welcoming smile on his face.
Amazed by the beauty of the sand-colored structure, Floriana followed Eric across the domed passageway, which led to a less impressive gateway decorated by a pointed wooden arch.
“This is the Greek Gate; the old medieval entrance which led down into a ditch that is no longer visible. Look at that beautiful mural representing Virgin Mary and the child Jesus,” Eric said amazed.
Floriana raised her eyebrows. “I’ve never seen you so excited before” she said.
“I love this place,” he explained. “I wish I lived in the medieval times. But you haven’t seen anything from this place yet. Let’s go for a walk back in time.”
She gave him her hand and let him lead her through a maze made of narrow streets that gave her the sense that nothing had changed in the city since the Middle Ages. Plain limestone walls rose around them, dropping their shadows on the clinker brick alleys, creating a claustrophobic feel. All streets seemed to lead to nowhere; Floriana felt as if they were trapped and there would be no escape in case of danger.
“Mdina used to be the capital city of Malta until the Order of Saint John took over in Malta.”
“The Order of Saint John? Our ancestors?”
“Exactly. As you know, the Order of the Black Rose comes from the remains of Knights Hospitaller, and Mdina was their first home. The Order of Knights Hospitaller settled in Birgu after Mdina lost its status as the capital city. So, when the Ottomans attacked Malta, Mdina had a small group of local soldiers to defend it.”
“What happened then?”
“Legend has it that a nun called everyone in the sieged city to a procession praising God. Responding to her call, every person in the town paraded around the top of the walls for hours, giving the impression to the Turks that Mdina was full of armed defenders. The city fired its cannon, and the Turks abandoned their plans and went back to Birgu. It was when the Ottomans breached the main gate of Birgu that a small band of Maltese rode down from Mdina and torched the Turks deserted camp, causing them to retreat in a panic.”
“What a story,” Floriana said amazed.
They took a turn onto another empty alley.
“After that, the importance of Mdina faded rapidly, until it became the 'silent city' with only 400 inhabitants left.”
He stopped walking and turned towards her.
“I have a secret to share with you. Something no one else knows.” His eyes sparkled as he smiled broadly. “It seems that my family tree has its roots here in Mdina.”
“I thought you were of German origins.”
“I still am,” he laughed. “However, there is evidence that my family descends from the original branch of the Order of the Black Rose, as does yours.”
Floriana brought back to mind the story of the Order of the Black Rose’s founding.
It all started on this island country in the Mediterranean Sea, Malta.
It was after the conquest of Jerusalem in 1099 during the First Crusade that the Order of Saint John, a chivalric religious and military order, rose to great power and was charged with the defense of the Holy Land. Following the conquest of Jerusalem by Islamic forces, the Knights moved to the Greek island of Rhodes and then to Malta. The Order of Saint John, also known as Knights Hospitaller, took advantage of the strategic location of Malta and rose up to become a great military and economic power. They managed to arrange important alliances with major European royal houses. But all came to an end when Napoleon Bonaparte and his French forces invaded Malta in 1798, forcing the members of the Order to seek refuge in other European countries. A century later, Pope Leo XIII restored the Grand Master of Malta, but things would never again be the same for the Knights. A split had occurred, and it was definitive. Many scattered to England, France, Russia, Germany, and Spain, according to the Auberge they represented. Others returned to Malta and became part of the island’s modern history. Some, however, chose to remain in obscurity and were absorbed by the esoteric movements of the 18th century. After King Philip IV of France threw the Knights Templar leaders to the stake on charges of blasphemy and the practice of satanic rituals, interest in their legacy rose sharply in many European culture salons. Their system of organization provided a model for the Masonic Lodge’s structure around Europe and North America. It was also the inspiration for the founding of Theosophical Communities, such as the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, whose members studied Christian mysticism, Kabbalah, the ancient Egyptian religion, and Theosophy.
Toward the end of the 18th century, disputes broke out within the Golden Dawn, and a few years later, a split occurred. From London, where the headquarters were, branches spread across the world, from New Zealand to the USA. The Order of the Black Rose was one of them and returned to Malta, where it all had started. However, some of its members decided to stay at their adoptive countries. Floriana’s ancestors had immigrated to Germany, where her grandfather had been born and lived before he moved to Malta and became Grand Master of the Order of the Black Rose.
“What makes you think that your family originates from Mdina?” she asked.
“Actually, the only solid evidence I found was that two centuries ago my ancestors moved from Malta to Sweden. My parents moved to Germany before I was born. My only lead is that the ‘silent city’ is where my family comes from.”
He took her hands in his. “And here is where I need your help.” The corners of his lips curled up playfully. “I want you to help me build my family tree.”
“Is that it? I thought it would be some more difficult.” She grinned.
“It is difficult as the archives are hidden in a place known only to your grandfather.”
“Do you want me to spy on my grandfather? Why wouldn’t you ask him yourself to give you access to those archives?” She dropped his hands.
“Because I’ve already asked him, and he refused.”
“I don’t understand why he would refuse. He’s your mentor, and you have always been his favorite.”
“That’s what I thought as well, so that’s why I asked him directly. He refused to give any explanation. He only said that truth is stranger than fiction, whatever that means.”
“So, you want me to steal my grandfather’s secret archives.” She paused. “Do you remember the conversation we had two years ago during my homecoming? I asked you if I could be your agent partner and you were reluctant to accept because you said I’m the Master’s granddaughter. I still am, in case you haven’t noticed.”
Eric’s eyes darkened. “I didn’t want to take advantage of your kinship with the Master. Although, it seems I just tried to.” He sighed. “Okay, I don’t want to sweeten the pill, but I thought it would be a good chance for you to practice the whole spying thing.”
“That means you want me as your partner?” She gave him a suspicious look.
“Yes.” He nodded. “You don’t have to be a field agent. You could become an Intelligence Analyst, for example. You’re smart, you’re good at solving riddles, and you’re a history buff; you’ll learn the job quickly.”
“I want to be an operative agent, like you.” She frowned.
“It’s a dangerous job, and I don’t want you to get yourself exposed to any kind of danger again.”
“But it is not your decision to make.”
“Okay, being a field agent requires extreme physical condition. You’ll need to practice hard and train in martial arts.”
“I have taken a few singlestick classes in London.” She winked.
“Singlestick? Sherlock Holmes called, he wants his singlestick back,” he burst out laughing.
“Hey, it’s a purely British form of martial arts. Don’t laugh at it; I’m getting patriotic,” she said with the thickest Cockney accent she could fake.
“Okay, don’t get pissed off. But you must admit, it’s quite old-fashioned.”
“Which is coming very much in fashion again, thank you very much.” They laughed. “I could show you some moves, but I don’t have my stick with me.”
“You don’t need one,” Eric said, and with an unexpected movement, he grabbed Floriana’s waist with both hands and pushed her down onto the ground.
“Am I hurting you?” he asked as he got on top of her and pinned her hands over her belly.
“You are a crazy bastard,” she uttered a shout. “Let me go!”
“You said you want to become a field agent. So, a field agent you are. Act as one,” he said as he locked her legs between his thighs.
She tried to get free of his strong grip, but it was in vain; he was pushing her down with all the strength in his muscled body.
“Are you really doing this in the middle of the road?” She could hardly breathe.
“It’s an empty, isolated alley in the ‘silent city’. No one passes by from here. You are a field agent; these things happen to you all the time, no matter the place.” He grinned.
“Good Lord, you are freaking crazy indeed.” She scowled at him.
“Stop talking and start fighting,” he said, pushing her down with his chest.
“I’m trying.” She was suffocating under the weight of his toned body.
“Try harder,” he whispered in her ear. His face was now so close to hers that their noses almost touched. Her heart was pounding out of her chest and tried to take a deep breath to make her heart rates slow down. She felt his heart beating fast too. The way he was looking at her was so intense, surprisingly intense, as he had never seen her before. She tried to utter a word, but not a single noise came out of her mouth. The heat of his breath fanned across her skin.
“This ... This is wrong. We ... We shouldn’t be doing this,” he stammered as he drew his head away from hers. Avoiding her gaze, he helped her get back on her feet. Hands shaking, Floriana dusted her clothes off and combed her disheveled red hair with her fingers.
“Come on, Floriana, let’s go home,” he said softly and took her by her hand gently.
They walked hurriedly towards the city’s exit. The streets were still empty, and the quietness wasn’t comforting in that awkward moment. Floriana decided to break the silence.
“Can you explain to me what just happened?”
“I’m not sure I can.”
“What is that you think is wrong? Us being partners?”
“You are the Grand Master’s granddaughter, Floriana.”
“And what’s wrong with that?” Floriana felt her face getting red as Eric remained silent. He was still holding her hand firmly when they reached the Greek gate.
They walked quickly under the hot sun. A hot air disheveled Floriana’s curly red hair as she tried to keep pace with his speed; he was still holding her hand tightly. When they reached his parked car, he unlocked the passenger’s seat door and, putting his hand gently behind her back, helped her to get in. Silent, he took his place behind the wheel and started driving to Valletta, the capital city of Mata, where the House of the Rose was located.
Floriana stayed silent during the ride, still trying to process what had just happened on that empty alley in Mdina.