The Prophecy

find an artefact that had been dubbed ‘the lost throne’ by the media, or that they had appeared on magazine covers round the globe. His grandfather had taught him about humility at a very early age, and it had left a lasting impression. About the only time he ever bragged was when he was talking trash with Jones, and that was done out of self-defence.

‘Although we possess expertise in some areas,’ Payne said, ‘I think it would be misleading to claim that we’re experts in archaeology. And even if we were, how does that relate to your letter? We’re certainly not experts in French.’

‘That’s okay,’ Ashley assured them. ‘The letter wasn’t written in French.’

‘Hold up,’ Jones blurted. ‘You just told us it was written in French.’

thought it was written in French. I even took it to a French teacher in my school, hoping he could translate it for me, but the best he could do was help me with a few words. Even then, it was still a struggle.’

‘Why? Is he a shitty teacher?’

‘No, the letter was written in Middle French, not modern French.’

Payne grimaced. ‘What’s the difference?’

Jones answered for her. ‘Middle French is an early form of the language, one that hasn’t been used in over four hundred years. As you know, all languages evolve. During the past millennium, French has undergone some radical changes. Although it’s still considered a Romance language — like Latin, Spanish, and Italian — its basic syntax has been drastically altered over the years. Word order and sentence structure are much more important than they were in the past. In addition, thousands of foreign words have entered the French lexicon, replacing older terms that were used during the Middle Ages but are now extinct.’

‘No wonder your friend couldn’t understand it.’

Jones stared at Payne. ‘By the way, what were you saying about my expertise in French?’

speak French?’

‘Not really, but—’

‘Then you’re not an expert in French.’

Jones was tempted to defend himself, then decided against it. Instead, he turned towards Ashley and changed the subject. ‘So, the entire letter was written in Middle French?’

‘Not all of it,’ she said as she handed the copy to Jones. ‘That’s the weird part. As far as my friend could tell, it’s a mixture of several languages. And none of them are modern.’

Intrigued, Jones glanced at the document and tried to read it, but quickly realized it was beyond his comprehension. ‘Damn, this thing is confusing.’ He ran his finger over the handwritten text, searching for clues of any kind. ‘I recognize a few prefixes here and there, but other than that, this letter is, well, puzzling.’

‘See,’ she said, laughing, ‘I told you so.’

‘And you’re sure you don’t know who sent it to you?’

‘I’m positive.’

Jones paused in thought. ‘Would it bother you if we showed it to some linguists?’

‘Not at all. In fact, I was hoping…’

‘You were hoping, what?’

Payne grimaced. ‘Our friends?’

She nodded. ‘Right now your party is filled with experts from all over the world. I thought maybe you could ask some of them to help us translate the letter.’

‘Hold up,’ Payne said. ‘How long have you been thinking that?’

She smiled. ‘Honestly? Ever since I read the article.’

‘If that’s the case, why didn’t you approach us inside the Cathedral?’

‘I told you, I got flustered. I wasn’t expecting everyone to be so formal. I mean, you guys are in tuxedos, and I’m wearing jeans. For some reason, I didn’t think that would go over so well.’

‘Like I told you before, it’s not a problem.’

‘Trust me,’ Jones assured her, ‘I’d rather be wearing jeans. I feel like a maitre d’ in this getup.’

She reached out and touched his sleeve. ‘Well, you look great.’

‘I know I do, but I feel like I should be describing the soupe du jour.’

‘Anyway,’ Payne said, trying to get back on task, ‘if we decided to help, what would be our

‘Well,’ she said, ‘I gave that some thought on my drive over here and came up with a good idea. During the school year, I sometimes coordinate my lesson plans with teachers from other subjects. It’s called cross-curricular teaching. I figured we could do something like that. Maybe call it an academic experiment, or a cultural riddle. You could say it’s designed to promote unity among the people of the world. I’m sure your experts would eat that up.’

Payne smiled at the concept. It was a brilliant idea, one they could pull off with very little deception. All they needed to do was make some copies, then they could sit back and relax while some of the best academics in the world went to work. ‘What do you think, DJ?’

‘What do I think? I’m kind of pissed I didn’t think of it myself.’

‘So, you’re willing to help?’

‘Of course I’m willing to help. However, I’d like to make a small suggestion. I think it would be best if we compartmentalized the data. Instead of passing out the full document, I think we should attack this in much smaller chunks. Maybe break it down, line by line.’

Ashley nodded in agreement. ‘So, what should we do first?’

Payne glanced at his watch. ‘My event will last another two hours. The first thing we need to do is make some copies. If I remember correctly, we can do that in the Cathedral basement. Let’s go down there and figure out how to break up the document.’

‘Actually,’ Jones suggested, ‘why don’t Ashley and I take care of that? You should probably go back to your party. I’m sure your guests are missing you by now. The last thing we want is for everyone to leave early.’

‘Yeah, you’re probably right,’ Payne said as he helped Ashley with her coat. ‘Is that okay with you?’

‘Of course it’s okay. I’m just thrilled you’re willing to help. It means a lot to me.’

The three of them walked towards the rear of the chapel. Jones led the way, followed by Ashley, then Payne. ‘As soon as we’re done,’ Jones said, ‘I’ll

Payne nodded. ‘I’m sure they’d be willing.’

‘Here,’ Jones said, opening the door for Ashley, ‘let me get that for you.’

‘Thank you. In fact, thanks for everything. I appreciate it.’

As she stepped into the cold night, rock salt crunched under the heels of her leather boots. She lingered on the stone steps for just a second, slowly tilting her head back to admire the falling snow as it danced in the swirling wind.

It was a simple act, completely innocuous, but one that led to her death.

10

One moment she was standing there, enjoying the winter scenery. An instant later, her head erupted in a burst of pink mist.

The gunman’s shot had been perfectly placed, just under her chin at a slight upward angle. The bullet tore through her throat, the roof of her mouth, and finally her brain, before it blew out the top of her skull and imbedded itself in the chapel door.

Death was instantaneous and completely unexpected.

Her heart stopped, her knees buckled, and she toppled into Jones, who managed to catch her before she hit the ground. His dress shirt, which had been crisp and white, was now stained with blood and chunks of her hair.