James Rollins - Map of Bones

Galleries branched off from here, but Vigor knew the way and headed to the right. “Stay close,” he warned. “It’s easy to get lost in here.”

The way narrowed even more.

Gray turned. “Monk, keep a watch on our rear. Ten paces. Stay in sight.”

“Got it covered.” Monk freed his shotgun.

Ahead, a chamber opened. Its walls were pocked with larger loculi and elaborate arcsololia, arched gravesites.

“The Papal Crypt,” Vigor announced. “It is here sixteen popes were laid to rest, from Eutychianus to Zephyrinus.”

“From E to Z,” Gray mumbled.

“The bodies were removed,” Vigor said, delving deeper, passing through the Crypt of Cecelia. “From about the fifth century, the outskirts of Rome were plundered by a series of forces. Goths, Vandals, Lombards. Many of the most important personages buried here were moved into churches and chapels inside the city. In fact, the catacombs were so emptied out and abandoned that by the twelfth century they were completely forgotten, and were not rediscovered until the sixteenth century.”

Gray coughed. “It seems that timeline keeps crossing itself.”

Vigor glanced back.

“Twelfth century,” Gray explained. “That was also when the bones of the Magi were moved out of Italy into Germany. It’s also when you mentioned there was a resurgence in Gnostic belief, creating a schism between emperors and the papacy.”

Vigor slowly nodded, contemplating this angle. “It was a tumultuous time, with the papacy run out of Rome by the end of the thirteenth century. The alchemists may have sought to protect what they had learned, driven into deeper hiding as they were leaving behind clues in case of their demise, breadcrumbs for other Gnostic believers to follow.”

“Like this sect of the Dragon Court.”

“I don’t think they imagined such a perverse group to be enlightened enough to seek such higher truths. An unfortunate miscalculation. Either way, I think you’re right. You may have pegged the date when these clues were placed. I’d say sometime in the thirteenth century, during the height of the conflict. Few at that time knew about the catacombs. What better place to hide the clues to a secret society?”

Pondering this, Vigor piloted them through a successive series of galleries, crypts, and cubicula . “It’s not far. Just past the Sacramental Chapels.” He waved an arm to a gallery of six chambers. Peeling and faded frescoes displayed intricate biblical scenes interspersed with depictions of baptism and the celebration of Eucharistic meals. They were treasures of early Christian art.

After hiking through a few more galleries, their goal appeared ahead. A modest crypt. The ceiling was painted with a typical early Christian motif: the Good Shepherd, Christ with a lamb carried on his shoulders.

Turning from the ceiling, Vigor instead pointed to two neighboring walls. “Here is what we came to find.”

GRAY APPROACHED the nearest wall. A fresco of a fish had been painted against a green background. Above it, almost appearing to be carried on the back of the fish, was a basket of bread. He turned to the second wall. This fresco seemed a mirror image of the first, except the basket also bore a bottle of wine.

“It’s all symbolic of the first Eucharistic meal,” Vigor said. “Fish, bread, and wine. It also represents the miracle of the fishes, when Christ multiplied a single basket of fish and bread to feed the multitude of followers who had come to hear his sermon.”

“Again the multiplication symbolism,” Kat said. “Like the geometry of the Vesica Pisces .”

“But where do we go from here?” Monk asked. He stood with his shotgun on his shoulder, facing back into the crypt.

“Follow the riddle,” Gray answered. “The second stanza reads, ‘Where it drowns, it floats in darkness and stares to the lost king.’ We found where it floats in darkness, so we follow where it stares.” He pointed in the direction the first fish was facing.

It led further into the galleries.

Gray strode in that direction, searching around him. It did not take long to find a clear depiction of kings. Gray stopped before a fresco illustrating the adoration of the Magi. It was faded, but the details were plain enough. The Virgin Mary sat on a throne with the Christ child on her lap. Bowed before her were three robed figures, offering gifts.

“The Three Kings,” Kat said. “The Magi again.”

“We keep running into these guys,” Monk replied from a few paces down the passage.

Rachel frowned at the wall. “But what does it mean? Why lead us here? What did the Dragon Court learn?”

Gray let all the events of the past day trickle through his head. He didn’t fight for order, but simply let his mind roam. Connections formed, dissolved, reconfigured. Slowly he began to understand.

“The real question is, why did these ancient alchemists lead us here?” Gray said. “To this particular depiction of the Magi. As Monk mentioned, you can’t turn a corner in Italy without running into these kings. So why this fresco in particular?”

No one had an answer.

Rachel offered a possible avenue to pursue. “The Dragon Court went after the Magi bones. Maybe we need to look at it from that perspective.”

Gray nodded. He should’ve thought of that. They didn’t need to reinvent the wheel. The Dragon Court had already solved the riddle. All they had to do was backtrack. Gray considered this and found one possible answer.

“Maybe the fish is staring toward these particular kings because they are buried. In a graveyard. Under the earth, where a fish would drown. The answer to the clue is not living Magi, but dead and buried ones, in a crypt once filled with bones .”

Vigor made a small sound of surprise.

“So the Dragon Court went after the bones,” Rachel said.

“I think the Dragon Court already knew the bones were not bones,” Gray said. “They’ve had their nose to this trail for centuries. They must’ve known. Look what happened at the cathedral. They used the powder of white gold in some way to kill. They’re well ahead of the game.”

“And they want more power,” Rachel said. “The final solution of the Magi.”

Vigor’s eyes narrowed in concentration. “And if you’re right, Commander — about the significance of the Magi bones being taken out of Italy to Germany — maybe the transfer was not plunder as history attests, but was done by arrangement. To safeguard the amalgam.”

Gray nodded. “And the Dragon Court let them remain in Cologne…safely in sight. Knowing they were significant, but not knowing what to do with them.”

“Until now,” Monk said from a few paces away.

“But in the end,” Gray continued, “what do all these clues ultimately point to? Right now only to relics in a church. It doesn’t tell what to do with them, what they’re used for.”

“We’re forgetting,” Kat said. She had remained silent this entire time, focused on the fresco. “The stanza from the passage states the fish ‘stares to the lost king .’ Not ‘kings,’ plural. There are three kings here. I think we’re missing another layer of meaning or symbolism.” She turned to the others. “What ‘lost king’ is the clue hinting about?”

Gray struggled for an answer. There were riddles upon riddles.

Vigor had dropped his chin into his hand, concentrating. “There is a fresco in a neighboring catacomb. The Catacomb of Domatilla. The fresco is painted with not three Magi, but four . Because the Bible was never specific on the number of Magi, early Christian artists varied the number. The lost king could mean another Magi, the one missing here.”