“Is it possible there had been such an area a long time ago but it was filled in to build on?” Sebastian asked. “I remember one commission my father had. In the process of tearing down a house, they found an ancient Roman cistern underneath. Someone at some point had just wanted a house there, and they built over it.”
“Yes, anything is possible,” Madame said hopefully. “We’ll leave the basement for tomorrow. This afternoon, let’s find our fireplace and cauldron. Inside an iron pot would be a clever place to put an alchemical treatise. Now, look here . . .” Madame Calvé pointed to the most current floor plan, dated 1893. “When I bought the castle, I’d hoped to find the book while in the process of renovating. Some rooms were pristine and only required minor repairs. Others were in dire need of a total overhaul. The kitchen, which is here now, was a sitting room at that time. And . . .” She unrolled another floor plan, which was slightly aged and from 1824. “The original kitchen was here.” She indicated a rectangle on the lower elevation. “One story below the front of the chateau but flush with the back of it.”
“Before we start searching, we should make sure the kitchen was always there. It might have been relocated more than once. What about before 1824?” Sebastian asked.
“I don’t know. But let’s look. Some of these older plans should tell us.”
We all began inspecting other blueprints. We found the kitchen in that same place going all the way to the earliest drawings done in 1658.
“What did you do with the old kitchen?” Sebastian asked.
“Nothing. It’s just empty. Other than the wine cellar, we don’t use any of the rooms on that level.”
“Then I guess we have our work cut out for us,” Sebastian said, standing.
As we walked out of the room, Gaspard caught up to me. “I didn’t realize when you described what you were doing here what you meant about painting the house’s portrait. It’s very impressive. How do you do these drawings?”
I briefly described the process.
“How long have you had this gift?”
“Since I was almost ten.”
“Did it come upon you suddenly or develop over time?”
Any mixed messages from before were gone now. He seemed genuinely interested in my ability.
Now I, not my brother, was more forthcoming than usual. But there was something about Gaspard that told me I could trust him. That he would understand.
“I was blinded in an accident. During my recovery, the scrying began.” I looked at him. “Do you know the word?”
“I do, yes.”
“After I regained my sight, I retained the ability to see from behind the blindfold, but I don’t use it very much anymore.”
“Well, I’m very glad your sight was restored. And it’s good to know that if I ever lose anything, I’ll know where to turn.” He smiled.
“Don’t give me any credit yet. So far, we haven’t found what we’re looking for.”
“True. But we have discovered a painting that belongs in the Louvre. And a small fortune in opium. Maybe in the old kitchen, we’ll find some pirated gold bars from Spain.”
For the second time, I had the distinct impression that Gaspard was certain that no matter what we might find, it wasn’t going to be the Book of Abraham.
Chapter 31
It only took a few minutes of inspecting and examining the old kitchen to find enough carbon residue on one wall suggesting where the cauldron had once hung. Luckily, the mortar between the stones was old and easy enough to remove. Within an hour, Sebastian and Gaspard and I had cleared away enough of the wall for Madame—who had been watching us work—to step inside.
Like the room off the library, this one offered a surprise. But instead of an opium den, we found a medieval torture chamber.
No one spoke for several minutes as we examined the horrible scene, taking in the gruesome-looking utensils and mechanisms.
“These are the instruments they used, aren’t they?” I asked.
Madame was silent.
“Yes,” Gaspard said, his voice almost a whisper.
I knew why he was keeping his voice low. I felt it, too. The pain of the victims still vibrated in the air. It was a cruel and holy place.
“Did they make people sit in this?” Madame asked, pointing to a wooden chair covered with spikes on every surface—the back, the seat, and the armrests. Old worn leather straps that showed use hung down from each side.
Gaspard nodded. “That’s a Judas chair. People bled to death on those spikes.”
“And this?” I pointed to a clawlike handheld device.
“An iron spider. They used it on women who had given themselves abortions or were adulterous.”
“What did it do?” Sebastian asked.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear.
“They used the claws to rip off their breasts.”
The implement was covered with rust . . . or dried blood.
“I’m not sure I really want to know this, either, but what are these horrible things?” Madame pointed to a pair of scissors.
“A tongue tearer,” Gaspard answered.
“And this?” Madame asked, as she reached out and opened a cabinet. Inside, the walls and door were lined with long, sharp spikes.
“The iron maiden,” Gaspard said.
“How do you know about all this?” Sebastian asked suspiciously.
“From stories passed down from generation to generation in my family.”
“So you haven’t seen it all before?” I asked. He’d been so knowledgeable, with answers to all our questions at the ready.
He didn’t answer me but instead said, “You’re shivering. I think the atmosphere here is too disturbing?”
“I’m fine,” I said, but I wasn’t. How had he known?
“We should go, Madame,” Gaspard said. “There’s nothing here.”
“How can you be sure?” she asked.
“I can’t, but . . .”
“Gaspard’s right,” I said. “I don’t know how I know, but I can feel it. There’s nothing here but screams soaked into the dirt on the floor and the stones.”
“Go upstairs, dear,” Madame said to me. “We need to be thorough, but you don’t have to stay. We’ll meet for lunch.”
I hesitated. I wanted to stop them from disturbing this horrific place. The people who had lost their lives here had left something of their pain and sorrow behind. It needed to be respected and not agitated.
“Go ahead,” Sebastian urged. “You did your part helping us find this place. We’ll meet you upstairs.”
I looked at Gaspard, for some reason waiting for him to give me permission.
“Your brother is right,” he said. “And maybe put on a sweater.” He smiled.
An hour later, Sebastian knocked on my door. “It’s time for lunch,” he said, as I opened it.
“Did you find anything in that awful room?”
“Not the book, no.”
“What, then?”
“I don’t think you want to know.” He looked shaken.
“That bad?”
He nodded. “All that matters is that we are done with that section of the house.”
I needed to know what they’d found. To understand my reaction to being in the room. “No details, but what did you find?”
“Remains of someone who’d been tortured there.”
“Oh, how horrible. How is Madame? Shaken?”
“Not as badly as I was.”
“And Gaspard?”
“He’s a curious one, isn’t he? Very quiet, keeps to himself, but he has a look in his eye as if he knows all.”
“So you noticed it, too?” I asked.
Sebastian nodded. “And that he seems to have taken a liking to you. But not to me.”