Castro had spoken with a priest whose English was only just adequate. The young man had explained that he knew very little about the church history or its works of art but would ask one of his seniors to call him if Castro left his number.
About three hours later the phone rang.
‘ Yeah,’ Castro said on picking up.
‘ Mr Castro,’ said a shaky voice, ‘I understand you are interested in a portrait of Alfonso de Morillo.’ The man sounded extremely elderly but his speech was clear and precise. His Italian accent could hardly be detected.
‘ That’s right – whatever you can tell me about him would be very helpful.’
The old man paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. ‘The portrait of de Morillo used to hang in the apse of our church here in Gorlago; until the end of the 1930s. I think Georgio Moscadelli, an important businessman in this region, eventually bought it. It is a long time ago now, but I can remember the painting on the wall when I was a novice. It was very striking. As far as I know, de Morillo was a Spanish Dominican who came to serve in the monastery of Santo Stefano e Domenico . That was in Bergamo. I understand de Morillo may have had some previous association with the Inquisition in Spain, but I don’t know anything about his career before coming to Italy.’
‘ What about his career in Bergamo? Are there any facts about him?’
‘ Not really,’ replied the old man, apologetically. ‘He served at the church and monastery in Bergamo. He didn’t have any significant achievements, certainly none to warrant a portrait by the great Giovanni Bellini. I remember the curate saying it was strange that the obscure monk should ornament our church walls, and even stranger that the portrait was by such a renowned artist.’
‘ There’s nothing else of note about this man?’
‘ No, I don’t think so,’ the old priest responded, ‘except that his name is sometimes associated with a local legend remembered here.’
‘ A legend?’
‘ Yes, a story about the monastery in Bergamo that’s been handed down over the years. I should point out that the monastery no longer exists. It was destroyed in 1561 to make way for new city walls. So, it’s difficult to say what truth there is in the stories about the monks of Santo Stefano . It’s not important really, just a story.’
‘ What happened? I’d really like to know.’
The old man cleared his throat gently. ‘Well, at the end of the fifteenth century, a group of monks went missing from the monastery.’
Castro’s forehead folded into a frown. He couldn’t help thinking the impossible. ‘Went missing?’
‘ Yes, they just disappeared. Alfonso de Morillo was one of them. They left no clues about where they’d gone and no trace of them was ever found. It seems the Abbott concluded they’d gone into the wilderness to contemplate the Lord, but no one really knows what happened. It was a mystery. The story is sometimes still told by our brothers in Bergamo.’
‘ These monks – they were never tracked down?’
‘ No, never.’
Castro paused for a moment. This was unbelievable. Suddenly, the doubt evaporated. He glanced over at the book. It lay on the desk beside him, open at de Morillo’s portrait. The cleric’s cold eyes bore into him again, daring him to conclude the inevitable. Speak , thought Castro, speak to me Alfonso . What happened to you? His gaze dropped down to the silver pendant on the monk’s chest.
‘ de Morillo was wearing a pendant in the portrait,’ Castro said. ‘A very peculiar kind of pendant.’
The old man listened intently, but gave a gentle sigh. ‘I’m afraid I can’t recall that much detail; it was many years ago.’
‘ It’s a strange symbol. I’ve been trying to find out what it means but no one has been able to help me. I’ve asked several experts but I’ve drawn a blank. Perhaps you know what the symbol is for?’
‘ I can’t remember a symbol. Can you describe it?’ the old
About three hours later the phone rang.
‘ Yeah,’ Castro said on picking up.
‘ Mr Castro,’ said a shaky voice, ‘I understand you are interested in a portrait of Alfonso de Morillo.’ The man sounded extremely elderly but his speech was clear and precise. His Italian accent could hardly be detected.
‘ That’s right – whatever you can tell me about him would be very helpful.’
The old man paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. ‘The portrait of de Morillo used to hang in the apse of our church here in Gorlago; until the end of the 1930s. I think Georgio Moscadelli, an important businessman in this region, eventually bought it. It is a long time ago now, but I can remember the painting on the wall when I was a novice. It was very striking. As far as I know, de Morillo was a Spanish Dominican who came to serve in the monastery of Santo Stefano e Domenico . That was in Bergamo. I understand de Morillo may have had some previous association with the Inquisition in Spain, but I don’t know anything about his career before coming to Italy.’
‘ What about his career in Bergamo? Are there any facts about him?’
‘ Not really,’ replied the old man, apologetically. ‘He served at the church and monastery in Bergamo. He didn’t have any significant achievements, certainly none to warrant a portrait by the great Giovanni Bellini. I remember the curate saying it was strange that the obscure monk should ornament our church walls, and even stranger that the portrait was by such a renowned artist.’
‘ There’s nothing else of note about this man?’
‘ No, I don’t think so,’ the old priest responded, ‘except that his name is sometimes associated with a local legend remembered here.’
‘ A legend?’
‘ Yes, a story about the monastery in Bergamo that’s been handed down over the years. I should point out that the monastery no longer exists. It was destroyed in 1561 to make way for new city walls. So, it’s difficult to say what truth there is in the stories about the monks of Santo Stefano . It’s not important really, just a story.’
‘ What happened? I’d really like to know.’
The old man cleared his throat gently. ‘Well, at the end of the fifteenth century, a group of monks went missing from the monastery.’
Castro’s forehead folded into a frown. He couldn’t help thinking the impossible. ‘Went missing?’
‘ Yes, they just disappeared. Alfonso de Morillo was one of them. They left no clues about where they’d gone and no trace of them was ever found. It seems the Abbott concluded they’d gone into the wilderness to contemplate the Lord, but no one really knows what happened. It was a mystery. The story is sometimes still told by our brothers in Bergamo.’
‘ These monks – they were never tracked down?’
‘ No, never.’
Castro paused for a moment. This was unbelievable. Suddenly, the doubt evaporated. He glanced over at the book. It lay on the desk beside him, open at de Morillo’s portrait. The cleric’s cold eyes bore into him again, daring him to conclude the inevitable. Speak , thought Castro, speak to me Alfonso . What happened to you? His gaze dropped down to the silver pendant on the monk’s chest.
‘ de Morillo was wearing a pendant in the portrait,’ Castro said. ‘A very peculiar kind of pendant.’
The old man listened intently, but gave a gentle sigh. ‘I’m afraid I can’t recall that much detail; it was many years ago.’
‘ It’s a strange symbol. I’ve been trying to find out what it means but no one has been able to help me. I’ve asked several experts but I’ve drawn a blank. Perhaps you know what the symbol is for?’
‘ I can’t remember a symbol. Can you describe it?’ the old
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