Pierrot's Song

Chapter 2 - Hidden Depths-2

Intent on her task, Sofia paid scant attention to the recessed alcoves she passed between each bracket and the next. But Mina and Luka, walking further into the room as the growing light banished the forbidding darkness, were struck silent by the newly lit chamber.

It was a massive circular cave. Seven alcoves, at equal distance from each other, broke the curved line of the wall, well-lit now by the torches. In the centre of the room was a deep, wide circular bowl resting on a short pillar. A figure loomed over the bowl, startling them all—had someone been waiting in the chamber for them?—until they saw it was the grey of stone. Between the alcoves and the centre pillar, a circle of columns stretched from floor to ceiling, each one perfectly aligned at the same distance from the wall. There were far more columns than alcoves, though how many was hard to see at a glance.

Cautiously, Sofia made her way to the bowl at the centre and examined it. A liquid with an iridescent sheen reached to the brim. After a brief hesitation she nodded to herself and lowered her torch to the surface. It sprang into flame. Blue light with a flicker of green and silver played across the liquid. This well of fire gave off enough light for them to clearly see the floor of the cavern was marked with a large golden star, the points reaching to the alcoves in the walls. The flaming bowl in the centre was placed where the opal had been on the star that had just opened the way into this room. Closer examination revealed the star in the floor was made of metal embedded into the stone.

Silently, for the echoing space commanded silence, they moved from alcove to alcove. Close by, they could see a figure in each one. Life-sized, or perhaps a little larger, each was a three-dimensional model of a woman. They were embedded in the stone and so realistically carved it was as though the walls of the cavern had simply melted away to reveal them standing there.

Each wore a tunic in a simple style seen now only in old portraits. A second layer beyond the edges of sleeves and hem suggested an under-kirtle. Someone had taken the time to paint each item of garb, but the years had left the colours faded and worn away, so the statues wore only a mottled patchwork of paint over stone. Gold work picked out delicate, complicated filigree in bands around the wrists and hems of their overdresses, the lines still strong even after many years. Each figure had distinct features, yet there was a similarity to their faces suggestive of a family resemblance. And each carried something: a harp, a paintbrush, a book of music.

‘What are we looking at?’ Luka asked.

Sofia spun in a slow circle. ‘It’s a temple to the muses! The seven muses,’ she whispered. She need not have been quiet. Her voice carried through the chamber with ease. Looking up, she noticed a banner set above the alcove she stood in front of, carved from stone, and with writing in the same gold filigree as the dresses.

‘Their names are here. They are never given names in the stories. They are just called the muses. Calinda. I’ve never heard anyone with that name before …’

‘I have!’ Mina gasped. She raced to the next nearest statue. ‘Allegra, Lucina …’ She ran around the room, reading each engraving in turn. ‘Aria, Volante, Eulalia …’

Mina stopped still, back at the entrance of the cave. She proclaimed some strange words that could have come from another language. ‘Vol, egra, ucin, eula, calin. I didn’t realise they were names. Or parts of names.’

‘Where did you read those?’ Luka asked.

‘They were on the fountain at home. They’re almost completely worn away now, but when I was younger, I could make out some letters.’

Luka, still wandering, stopped in front of one of the alcoves. ‘This one is empty.’ He read the name above. ‘Eulalia.’

‘But that’s the story, isn’t it?’ Mina responded, standing in front of the next alcove. ‘The story of the princesses! The last one wasn’t destroyed by the minstrel. She lived … Sofia, you thought the muses might be the princesses. I think you’re right. Which means this isn’t a temple. It’s a tomb.’

Luka came to stand beside her. They stared at the statue of Calinda. She was slightly larger than life, looking down at them with a beatific smile. There was surprisingly little wearing of the stone, but in a cave these sculptures were protected from the weather.

‘Do you think they’re actually buried here?’ Luka asked.

Mina shrugged. ‘I think there’s a bigger question. Why is any of this even here? I mean, if Mourini wanted to obliterate all trace of them, why have this where people can find them again?’

Sofia joined them. ‘I don’t think he would. It doesn’t make sense. What we faced outside, the booby traps, I’d say that’s Mourini’s work, but this,’ she gestured in a sweeping arc, ‘this was done by someone who loved the muses … the princesses. Look at their faces. Their expressions.’

‘They’re beautiful,’ Luka whispered.

‘Kind,’ Mina added.

Sofia ran a hand over the statue’s cheek. ‘Someone who wanted to destroy them, wipe them from history, wouldn’t sculpt them like that.’

Mina nodded. ‘The last princess must have built this so her sisters would be remembered!’

They continued their circuit. Below the name Saveria the figure in the alcove was noticeably different to the others. The features were crude, the body shape roughly hewn. It was as if she had begun to emerge from the stone but had been unable to escape. Her arms faded back into the rock at the elbows and lower legs.

‘This one was made with love, but little skill,’ Sofia said.

‘It looks as though it was done by someone else,’ Mina agreed.

Behind them, Luka had wandered back to the empty alcove and was pressing his hands against parts of the wall.

‘The surviving princess was the storyteller,’ Sofia mused. ‘She wasn’t a sculptor. Perhaps every other carving was done by the princess who was. Then when she was gone, the last princess did the best she could.’ She looked up at the gilded name once more. ‘So Saveria would have been the sculptor.’

‘And Eulalia must have been the storyteller. She must have created the story of the princesses so there would be some memory of what happened, despite Mourini’s best efforts,’ Mina said. ‘Stories can live on long after their creators are gone.’

Luka let out a cry. The others hurried to his side.

‘What is it?’ Mina asked.

‘I thought I could see something.’ He pointed to a jagged crack high up at the back of the alcove. ‘I was right. It’s another carving.’ Extending his arms to full length, he traced the fissure with his spidery fingers.

‘Is that …?’ Mina whispered.

Sofia, standing further back, and taller than the others, saw the outline clearly. ‘The Fureys. Again. Why place them here? In Andon they were a clue about where to go, but we’re already here. Unless they have another purpose.’

Luka and Mina crowded into the alcove, reaching and searching with their fingers. There was not enough room for Sofia. Beneath their touch the stone was solid and unyielding. They extended their search, probing every part of the stone, low and high, but nothing shifted. Finally, defeated, they stepped back to stand beside Sofia, who was scanning the surface methodically. Aside from the crack there were no other obvious marks.

‘I thought there’d be something here,’ Luka said.

He wandered away and began circling the pillars, his hand trailing aimlessly over each one. Mina and Sofia remained at the alcove, peering at it closely. But if it had any secrets, it was not going to give them up. Exhausted by their endless journey and the trials they had faced to find this hidden shrine to the lost princesses, they soon gave up their seeking. After eating from their dwindling supplies, they huddled together for warmth. Sleep quickly overcame them.

~

Mina was the first to wake. The flickering torchlight gave no clue how much time had passed, but she felt refreshed. Leaving the others huddled in sleep, she trod softly over to the flaming bowl in the cave’s centre, which still burned brightly, and examined the statue standing beside it. Like the women in the alcoves, this one was slightly larger than life, a tall man, well built, with a confident, almost arrogant stance. One large hand gripped the edge of the bowl. The other appeared to be beckoning someone. He wore hose and a tunic, while a cloak hung casually off one shoulder, carved with a pattern that reminded Mina of feathers, or maybe leaves. The style of the statue seemed different to those in the alcoves, more angular. His face, as far as could be seen, was handsome, with a strong jaw and straight nose, the full lips curled in the slightest smile, but the upper half was concealed by a mask etched with fine swirls. Mina leaned in close. She had learned not all etchings were solely decorative. Sure enough, around the outer edge of the mask she could make out words, the letters crudely formed, as though the hand that made them had been in a hurry.

Heed this warning to the wise

Don’t trust a man who hides his eyes

Truth is lost behind a mask

To find it here must be your task

It seemed odd to Mina that the figure was sculpted in a way suggestive of admiration, yet the words read as a warning.

Examining the cloak swung across his shoulder, she saw a curious clasp, shaped like an eye, with a line of dots on the lower lid. Without thought, she reached for it, tracing its elongated oval shape. There was a dark stone in place of the iris. It appeared damaged. Fetching a torch, she peered at the stone. In the light, it glowed purple, an amethyst. A seven-pointed star was scratched crudely on its surface.

Mina reached to brush her thumb across the star and felt the stone shift slightly under the light pressure of her finger. She pressed harder. Instantly a rumble filled the room and the floor tremored beneath her feet, kicking clouds of dust into the smoky chamber. The sound was loud enough to wake Sofia and Luka.

‘What did you do?’ Sofia managed. Luka was too befuddled by sleep to speak.

Without answering, Mina strode to the empty alcove and let out a sigh. The impenetrable stone at the back was gone.

‘Over here,’ she called, and the others hurried to join her. Without hesitation she stepped into the darkness at the back of the alcove, holding the torch ahead of her. This space was much smaller than the main cavern. A quick scan of the walls suggested it was a natural cave with no additional carvings or decorations. It was so small, after only a few steps they had reached the back. A shape huddled against the wall, concealed beneath cloth.

‘Oh Creator,’ Mina gasped.

Sofia stepped into the tiny space with her. ‘Have we found the last princess?’ she asked, her voice low too. ‘How sad, that there was no one left to carve a memorial for her.’

The stillness of the cavern weighed on them both. Mina kneeled and reached for the fabric. It was rough under her fingers. She turned and met Sofia’s eyes, seeing her own fear reflected. What a terrible end to a story that had promised hope of escape and freedom. Sofia leaned forward, holding the torch close. With a quick breath, Mina took hold of the fabric and lifted it. It crumpled under her fingers, scattering like dead leaves across the floor, so her fingers held nothing. Closing her eyes, she reached again, and unexpectedly touched something cold and textured under her fingertips. Relieved that she had not found smooth bone, Mina opened her eyes. The torchlight caught the glint of metal.