terror, lay piled in a ghastly pyramid, an echo of the stone temple which had become not their treasure house, but their tomb.
Contreras stood before them, arms outstretched. A shaft of sunlight speared him from a hole carved from the ceiling, as if God had thrust down his judgment. It shone upon a man red with other men’s blood smeared upon his body. It shone upon a face mad with evil. It shone upon the magnificent golden Breastplate.
Salvatierra fell to his knees. Blinded by the Breastplate’s brilliance, he could not look away. “Lord, come to me in this den of evil,” he prayed. “Speak to me through the stones for I fear what I must do.”
The twelve sacred gemstones emblazoned the Breastplate, three across, four down. The sapphire, once worn by Saint Edward, encompassed the totality of blue in the heavens. Babur’s Diamond sparkled with the brilliance of all the stars that shine on a cloudless night. The red of the ruby known as Urim was the sunset, the golden topaz of its partner Thummim, the dawn. In the center, it was as if the eye of God watched through the green cat’s eye Emerald the natives named the Tear of the Moon. The Turquoise nearly sang of Turkish armies vanquished long ago. The jacinth glowed as if it imprisoned the flames of hell. The agate, amethyst, beryl, onyx and jasper—all magnificent, radiant.
Even as Salvatierra was sickened, elation seized him at seeing the Breastplate. This was indeed the sacred Breastplate of Aaron, thought lost long ago in the fall of the Temple of Solomon. The power to communicate with God lay within his grasp.
“ In God’s name, Captain Diaz,” said Salvatierra. “Do your duty.” The yearning to hold the Breastplate was unbearable.
“ In the name of His Majesty King Phillip the second,” said Diaz, the words strong but his voice dry and weak. “I arrest you, Alvaro Contreras, for treason. You will surrender all bounty and you will return to Spain in chains aboard the Espiritu Santo to stand trial for treason.” The crew’s eyes revealed their desire to seize the traitor, but their revulsion held them in check.
Contreras raised his bloodstained hand. It held his Bible. He pointed it to a dark recess of the chamber and the entrance of a passageway carved through the canyon wall. Salvatierra could see the wink of gold, silver and Emeralds in the torchlit cavity at its end. The chamber they were in, but for this side tunnel to the treasure room and the passage back to the clearing, was a dead end. If the temple had been a portal to a Garden of Eden and a river of life, or to a hell beyond imagining, a wall now blocked them from it.
The men, giddy with the thought of treasure, or simply desperate to escape this horrid tomb, raced down the stone passageway to the treasure. Salvatierra could hear their cheers, and the captain’s voice. “We are rich, men,” his voice echoed. “This bounty will fill the coffers of the San Salvador.” It was his flagship, sister ship to the Espiritu Santo .
Only Elias and the shaman stayed behind with Salvatierra, Contreras, and the corpses. “Remove the Breastplate,” Salvatierra said to Contreras, “and give it to me.” Even he dared not approach the madman.
Contreras merely smiled.
Elias targeted him with his blunderbuss. “Do what the Father says.”
Contreras removed the Breastplate. He flung it away. It landed on the pile of lifeless heads with a sickening clank, toppling over the topmost head, sending it tumbling to the dirt floor. Contreras laughed.
Salvatierra raced to the Breastplate, holding back the bile as he lifted it, the metal warmed from the sunbeam and heavy in his hands. The wonder of the stones chased away earthly sickness. They were magnificent, but more. God forgive his unworthiness, he could feel their power.
Contreras’s cackle faded and he spoke. “Go ahead, priest,” he said. “Put it on. Wear the Breastplate of Aaron and
Contreras stood before them, arms outstretched. A shaft of sunlight speared him from a hole carved from the ceiling, as if God had thrust down his judgment. It shone upon a man red with other men’s blood smeared upon his body. It shone upon a face mad with evil. It shone upon the magnificent golden Breastplate.
Salvatierra fell to his knees. Blinded by the Breastplate’s brilliance, he could not look away. “Lord, come to me in this den of evil,” he prayed. “Speak to me through the stones for I fear what I must do.”
The twelve sacred gemstones emblazoned the Breastplate, three across, four down. The sapphire, once worn by Saint Edward, encompassed the totality of blue in the heavens. Babur’s Diamond sparkled with the brilliance of all the stars that shine on a cloudless night. The red of the ruby known as Urim was the sunset, the golden topaz of its partner Thummim, the dawn. In the center, it was as if the eye of God watched through the green cat’s eye Emerald the natives named the Tear of the Moon. The Turquoise nearly sang of Turkish armies vanquished long ago. The jacinth glowed as if it imprisoned the flames of hell. The agate, amethyst, beryl, onyx and jasper—all magnificent, radiant.
Even as Salvatierra was sickened, elation seized him at seeing the Breastplate. This was indeed the sacred Breastplate of Aaron, thought lost long ago in the fall of the Temple of Solomon. The power to communicate with God lay within his grasp.
“ In God’s name, Captain Diaz,” said Salvatierra. “Do your duty.” The yearning to hold the Breastplate was unbearable.
“ In the name of His Majesty King Phillip the second,” said Diaz, the words strong but his voice dry and weak. “I arrest you, Alvaro Contreras, for treason. You will surrender all bounty and you will return to Spain in chains aboard the Espiritu Santo to stand trial for treason.” The crew’s eyes revealed their desire to seize the traitor, but their revulsion held them in check.
Contreras raised his bloodstained hand. It held his Bible. He pointed it to a dark recess of the chamber and the entrance of a passageway carved through the canyon wall. Salvatierra could see the wink of gold, silver and Emeralds in the torchlit cavity at its end. The chamber they were in, but for this side tunnel to the treasure room and the passage back to the clearing, was a dead end. If the temple had been a portal to a Garden of Eden and a river of life, or to a hell beyond imagining, a wall now blocked them from it.
The men, giddy with the thought of treasure, or simply desperate to escape this horrid tomb, raced down the stone passageway to the treasure. Salvatierra could hear their cheers, and the captain’s voice. “We are rich, men,” his voice echoed. “This bounty will fill the coffers of the San Salvador.” It was his flagship, sister ship to the Espiritu Santo .
Only Elias and the shaman stayed behind with Salvatierra, Contreras, and the corpses. “Remove the Breastplate,” Salvatierra said to Contreras, “and give it to me.” Even he dared not approach the madman.
Contreras merely smiled.
Elias targeted him with his blunderbuss. “Do what the Father says.”
Contreras removed the Breastplate. He flung it away. It landed on the pile of lifeless heads with a sickening clank, toppling over the topmost head, sending it tumbling to the dirt floor. Contreras laughed.
Salvatierra raced to the Breastplate, holding back the bile as he lifted it, the metal warmed from the sunbeam and heavy in his hands. The wonder of the stones chased away earthly sickness. They were magnificent, but more. God forgive his unworthiness, he could feel their power.
Contreras’s cackle faded and he spoke. “Go ahead, priest,” he said. “Put it on. Wear the Breastplate of Aaron and
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