PART FOUR - BODRUM
- 2 -
After the grand international museums that Gabe and Saphy's mysteries had taken them to in London and Paris, the Halicarnassus Mausoleum Museum seemed inordinately small. In reality it was just a few rooms with what little statuary could be salvaged from the rubble outside and had not been taken away to somewhere like London's British Museum, along with lots of information and reconstructive images of what the Mausoleum may once have looked like. In all, they were able to look around the whole museum in about half an hour.
"'When the crusading knights built the Castle, they took stone from the Mausoleum ruins to fortify it,'" Saphy read in one of the displays, happy to note that this Turkish museum was more willing to write explanations in English than the museums in England were to use any other languages, "'In 1522, further fortifications at the Castle came as a result of a rumoured invasion from the Turkish sultan Suleiman the Magnificent. The Crusaders broke up what remained of the tomb and built it into their walls. The Mausoleum's polished marble can still be seen today in the Castle towers.'"
"So, I guess if there's anything for the stones to tell us, then maybe we shouldn't be looking in the ruins here," Gabe suggested.
"Right, there's actually more parts of the Mausoleum at the Castle than there is here," she confirmed, "So that's where we're headed."
They walked back down towards the sea through Bodrum town, heading for the obvious focal point of the historic settlement. For a building some of which was over five hundred years old, Bodrum Castle remains remarkably in tact and unchanged and, as the two amateur mystery solvers arrived at the curve of the high grey curtain wall and looked up at the imposing perfect battlements and crenellations, they could well imagine what stern defensive deterrent the fort offered for any mediaeval warrior foolish enough to lay siege to it.
They walked in through one of the many gates in this outer wall and were confronted by the interior of the castle, still almost as well preserved as it appeared from the outside. Red and white crosses were still visible in the glass of the windows, cannons still stood in their places along the ramparts, pointing out to sea. A number of square grey towers stood around the castle site, seemingly arranged in an almost random assembly, some much closer and at different angles to the others. Each tower was designed in a slightly different style. Around the walls, the carved designs, coats of arms and relief images, were still clearly outlined. Amongst all of this, the marble of the former Mausoleum was obvious, its images of centaurs and amazons now forming part of the Castle's decorations.
They approached one of the towers. It was about three storeys high and featured a simple set of carved designs part way up. Close to the top of the tower, they could see the long reclining figure of a white lion beneath another coat of arms. However, their attention was distracted by another carving, closer to the ground, something disturbingly familiar. It was a cross, with the four points narrow at the centre and growing wider at the ends like inverted triangle shapes. It was a symbol that Gabe had seen on the robes of the men that had captured and locked him up in Cambridge, the ones who had ties to the creepy hissing voiced bald assassins, the ones who had been responsible for the death of Professor Cavendish.
"Look," Saphy pointed, "Recognise that?"
"All too well," Gabe agreed, "But what does it mean?"
"It's a Maltese cross," came the interjection of another voice, a precise, pronounced accent speaking clipped if perfect English, "Symbol of the Sovereign Order of Saint John of Jerusalem, the Knights Hospitaller."
They turned in surprise to see the figure standing beside them, dressed in casual slacks and a polo neck shirt, the sun glinting off his high forehead with beads of sweat on his thinning grey hair. His eyes studied them with a close scrutiny, as if he was equally surprised to see them in front of him and was trying to figure out quite how they had got there. It was Dr. Raymond Gerard, the classics professor from Pembroke College, Cambridge.
"Dr. Gerard?" said Gabe with an expression of confusion on his face, "Aren't you supposed to be in England? What are you doing here?"