Over the centuries, the power of his sect had waned, as the dominion of the Church grew more formidable.  Santino could feel the balance of power slipping.  He prayed to his dark masters for a way of reclaiming the force his forbearer had once wielded.  His prayers were answered in a vision.  The coming of LeMarchand had been foretold in a dream weeks prior to his arrival from France.  The vision had whispered of a dark strength and responsibility handed over to him by the man possessing many keys.  Shortly after the dream, he received a letter from Monsieur LeMarchand requesting a temporary seclusion from the eyes of the law.  “All is in readiness” he mused.  Now, how to keep the toy maker without him feeling kept...

By the time LeMarchand had arrived from France, Santino knew all he needed.  The Grand Padrone had planned to put the artisan’s skill to use and commissioned four specific “Pandoric's” as he called them, for his Order.  The puzzles each had been requested with certain features.  Every box had an end to achieve that was for the good of his brotherhood, each with a specific ulterior task that even LeMarchand may not have known.  When his pupils had mastered the Pandoric's, they would unleash them upon specific high ranking members of the Church, and ransom them their freedom.  Was not the Pontiff’s treasury as vast as his Order’s library?

Santino used LeMarchand’s talent to play a very dangerous game, and far reaching were his goals.  Had it not been for one minor flaw, he would have been able to blackmail Rome.  Santino was not a stupid man, nor was he one to be outfoxed.  He played a deliberate game with LeMarchand, pretending not to notice the goings on of his house.  LeMarchand had been manipulated from the beginning, and with the last box completed, Santino was ready to play his endgame with his guest.  Or so he thought.

He entered LeMarchand’s makeshift workshop to find much of it packed up and crated.  “What’s this? Are you leaving us so soon?” he asked in mock surprise.

LeMarchand, finishing packing a crate, looked up.  “My time is not my own, Senor De Torma.  I have many things my master bids me to do.”

“That is a pity” Santino said dryly.  “It would be a shame to lose one so suited for our purposes.  Even more if he were…say…lost to the authorities” he finished, catching his guest's stare.

“After all, now you have the Church of Spain to worry about, after that massacre taking place during our high mass. A man such as you needs the protection we can offer.  Why, outside these walls…”  LeMarchand straightened up at this, and crossed the room toward the Grand Padrone.  "So it seems, you’ve had this all thought out from the beginning, haven’t you?  We had a contract, and I am a man who keeps his bargains.  Are these terms now to be renegotiated?  Or did you already anticipate that as well?”

“Calmly, Monsieur. Leaving now is not practical.  I have many things in motion, and I would see you protected to your next port of call.  Right now my resources are spread thin.  If you leave now, I cannot guarantee you safety. Rest a fortnight, and I shall secure you safe passage to the New World”, he said patiently.  LeMarchand seemed uneasy a moment, then nodded his head in agreement.  “Now that it’s settled, perhaps you can tell me what this little trinket of yours does?"  The Grand Padrone turned to point to the table, and knocked over a stack of papers and books.  Santino noticed that among the papers were maps and site plans, a few leather bound volumes so ancient and cracked they almost fell apart, as well as a few modern books he did not recognize. “What is all this?”

“I’ve been looking into how the order was started, legends and such.  I began to research the House, the Library, the foundation, the architect, and the site on which it was built. I was thinking...” LeMarchand was saying as Santino finished his sentence, “…That there must be a hidden library of the Order’s most prized possessions?”

LeMarchand nodded.

“Yes, there is a private library even you have not access to, Monsieur.  Would you like to visit it sometime, rather than find your own way in, as a surprise to me?” 

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“No…you misunderstand”, LeMarchand said seriously.  “After studying the design of the House, I believe there is another library contained within these walls.  There are clues and references all over, that is what first piqued my investigation.”

Santino eyed him cautiously for a long moment before speaking.  “Philip, there are always rumors in houses such as these, doubtless started by my ancestors, to keep the weak minded in check.  Don’t tell me you actually believe this tale?  If there was another library, do you think I would not know about it?”

LeMarchand reached for one of the tome’s that had been put back on the table, and handed it to Santino.  “Yes, yes, the history of the Order of Saint Salamanca, I’ve read it.” Santino said curtly.  LeMarchand opened the book to an entry and read “Nullum esse librum tam malum ut non aliqua parte prodesset.”

“No book is so bad that no part of it is useful.  Yes, I understand that.  What of it?” asked Santino impatiently.

“It’s also engraved on an arch in the library”, LeMarchand said waiting.

“And…?”

“Spelled incorrectly in the library, and in the book.”

“Philip…do you think you are the first person who professed…” and was cut off by LeMarchand reaching for another book from the stack, opening it, and handing it to him.

“Taceant colloquia. Effugiat risus.  Hic locus est ubi mors gewdet succiurrere vitae.  Let idle talk be silenced.  Let laughter be banished.  Here is the place where Death delights to succor life… I don’t follow you, Monsieur.  This too is misspelled.  Are you now to point out all the mistakes of the library?”

LeMarchand looked at him for a moment, and then responded, “Santino, these are the only works I have come across that have any misspellings.  They are clues.  They pertain to the library itself.  Each book has one misspelled phrase.  Each phrase is carved into an arch in the library.  Each book was on a shelf situated under the misspelled letter in the arch..”

Santino raised his eyebrows a little pondering this.

“The books were not of the original plunder, but written after the completion of the House.  The pages are numbered.  I’ve looked at the numbers, and checked against the measurements of the library.”

Santino’s eyes widened in the realization of what LeMarchand implied. “You think you found the vault of Torquemada?”

LeMarchand reached for yet another book off the stack, and showed how the cover was peeling away at an edge. He pulled the leather away to reveal a small piece of parchment.  “I found the book after following the clues.  I had only just returned to the workshop twenty minutes earlier.  I hadn’t had time to check or verify anything.

He handed Santino the parchment.

Santino looked at the faded script and its diagram.  The writing was that of his forbearer.  Of that he was certain, he had seen his writings many times from his own private books.

“Philip, had I wronged you I implore your forgiveness.  This is the key my dream has foretold!  Tonight, after the feast, we shall unearth the vault!”  Santino left to rally his pupils.  There was much that needed to be done before the evening meal.

Late into the night, the library had been categorically searched for any more clues.  Instructions were given that members pair off for speed.  Arches were to be checked for misspelled words.  Everything proceeded slowly. 

The Grand Padrone situated himself so that he could oversee the work, and constantly refer to his diagrams.  Books were stacked in neatly arranged piles of varying sizes.  Some cleared the piles, while others replaced them with new ones.  Every one was eager and busy.  Even LeMarchand was present to witness.

The hours passed, more and more clues were turning up.  Finally one of the brothers called out.  He had found a faux wall.  Everyone hurried between the stacks to get to the site.  The Grand Padrone walked slowly through the rows of books to the spot everyone huddled around. 

The niche now barren of books revealed it was in fact a sealed doorway.  An inscription on one of the stones read lucare in verba ngistri, “swear on the master’s words”, he said, “Misspelled, of course.”  Clearing his throat, he sensed this was a momentous occasion.  All eyes were on him.

“I, Santino Raphael De Torma, Grand Padron of the Order of Saint Salamanca” he licked his lips nervously. “Of the Order De La Necros Negro Biblious, swear on my lineage, and swear on my master’s words to guard and preserve, to add and use this knowledge wisely and true. So mote it be.”

“Amen” chanted the gathered, in solemn tones.

Stone by stone was removed until the entrance lay gaping wide like an open mouth.  Slowly by torchlight, they entered the vault.  They descended a long, spiral staircase deep into the earth that finished at a portcullis set in a wall.  Along the wall, were rows of chains of different length. 

Raising the gate was accomplished by pulling different chains in combinations.  Beyond lay a vast chamber, lined with volumes as far and as high as the eye could see.  The dust filtering through the torchlight made it hard to guess how big the chamber truly was. 

Santino entered, truly awed by it’s enormity.  His Order followed quietly behind, at a respectful distance.  A faint sound was heard, as if nails on slate, or maybe it was writing?

Santino’s eyes widened as the horror of the situation and his greed finally and fatefully sunk in.  He turned, they must go back now!  When he spun around, he was alone. His followers, nowhere to be seen. 

All was quiet, except for that scratching noise.  He tried to follow it.  Never getting a sense of where it was coming from, always out of reach.  Then his anger at his predicament took hold of him, and he screamed “LeMarchand!”

There was an immediate “Ssshhhhh!” behind him, and he was jerked around to face a creature whose every inch of visible flesh was carved with writing.  Strange spectacles made its eyes appear so large only the pupils rimed by a thin red cornea were visible.  It's teeth were replaced by daggers of metal, and it's fingers had been stripped of flesh to the bone that were shaped into writing nibs.  “You have been expected,” stated the hushed monotone.

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Epilogue

Early the next morning, LeMarchand was packed and ready for his next destination.  All his crates had been loaded into a coach, and sent on ahead by driver to a port in Granada, while he attended to one last piece of unfinished business.  He dressed in his Paris finery, and strolled out the main doors of the Mother House, not bothering to shut them behind him.  He was it's sole occupant.  He strolled into town whistling a simple tune, smiling and tipping his hat to all he chanced to pass.  He walked up to a vast cathedral, made and inquiry, and went around the back to the cloistered garden.  There, sitting at his morning coffee, was Cardinal Bartolus.

“Ah!  Buena Sera, Monsieur LeMarchand!  I’ve been expecting you.  Come sit by me.  Join me for breakfast.” LeMarchand smiled, and was seated.  The two talked over many pleasantries while enjoying their morning meal for the better part of an hour.  When the remnants were cleared away by the servants, the Cardinal bade them all leave him and the Toymaker alone for a while.

“So, I gather you’re here with good news?” Cardinal Bartous asked.

“Everything you have requested of me has been carried out to the last”, mused LeMarchand.

“And the Order? Their fortress of a house?” Queeried the man.

“What Order would that be, Monsignor? And as for the vacant house I have been staying at, it seems to me someone should be looking after it, with all those priceless heirlooms.”

“Vacant?” said the Cardinal in surprise.

“Do you think, maybe just this once, the Church could extend its good graces and look after the house and it's contents?  That is, until the owner’s return.”  He said. getting his point across.

“Ah my son, that is a most excellent notion!” the Cardinal said, taking LeMarchand’s hands.

“Your Mother is doing well Philip, she asks about you constantly. Why don’t you go see her before you leave?”

“I plan to, but I am afraid that I cannot stay too long.  You’ll explain to her after I’ve departed, Uncle?  After all, a servant is always at his master’s bidding.”  The Cardinal reached inside his robes, and produced a large envelope with a wax seal bearing the mark of the Pontiff.

“In recognition for removing the Order of Saint Salamanca, on behest of the Church.  His holiness, Pope Benedict XIV, gives his thanks and gratitude.  He also, at my suggestion, gives this letter absolving you of any past crimes you may have committed in the name of such service.”

LeMarchand left after their business was concluded, and made his way back to town to find transport to the ship in Granada.  He smiled, squinting in the sunlight.  The beginning of a beautiful day.

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LeMarchand's Portfolio: A Digital Work of Art

A beautifully compiled DVD of the artwork of Eric Gross.
One hour of animations with menus and extra bonus footage.
Here is the steller review that the dvd received from José Leitão.
To purchase, contact Eric Gross at: godslittleglitch064@yahoo.com