The lost symphony, p.34
The Lost Symphony, page 34
That’s it for now, thought Aldar, realising that any further surveillance was pointless. Luckily, he writes everything down. Aldar lit a cigarette, turned around and began to walk back to the hotel.
Just before they reached the bottom of the stairs, Jack could hear chanting, the ethereal harmonies making the fine hairs on the back of his neck tingle. The abbot stopped at the bottom and turned around. ‘We are almost there,’ he said, and held up his lantern. ‘The one wearing the red hat is the Seeker, the others are the Guardians. Come.’
As they moved deeper into a large, vaulted chamber opening up in front of them like a cave, the chanting grew louder and Jack could see candlelight. Six monks, all dressed in black, their faces concealed behind black veils attached to their kamilavkas – the traditional cylindrical flat-topped hat – stood in a semicircle in the middle of the chamber. Illuminated entirely by candles sending crazy shadows dancing up the wet, moss-covered walls to the lofty ceiling above, the chamber looked like the gateway to a strange underworld guarded by a contingent of pious monks. Mesmerised, Jack watched the abbot take a bow. The chanting stopped, and the monks bowed in silent reply. The one wearing the red hat – the Seeker – stepped forward and turned towards Jack.
‘Welcome,’ he said in broken English. ‘We have been expecting you. It has been foretold, and now it has come to pass. This is a day of great joy, because it heralds the return of Kazanskaya Bogomater.’ The monk paused and took a bow.
‘You must forgive me, but I don’t follow,’ said Jack, also taking a bow.
The Seeker pointed to the abbot. ‘Would you please tell our friend here the legend of Kazanskaya Bogomater and what it means to us.’
The abbot nodded and turned to face Jack. ‘Kazanskaya Bogomater – Mother of God of Kazan, or Our Lady of Kazan in English – is a precious, holy icon that was brought to Russia from Constantinople in the thirteenth century. It soon rose to prominence within the Russian Orthodox Church and became the much-revered protector of the city of Kazan.’
The abbot paused, looked at the Seeker and nodded. The Seeker raised his right hand and the chanting continued, only softer this time, and merged with the abbot’s deep voice as he continued to tell the story. To Jack, it sounded like some eerie Gregorian chant, reaching out of a distant past.
‘In 1438, the icon disappeared from the pages of history, and was miraculously recovered unharmed one hundred and forty years later, after a fire had destroyed most of Kazan. According to legend, the Virgin appeared to a girl named Matrona in a dream, and showed her where the icon had been hidden to save it from the Tartars. The icon was recovered, and for the next three hundred and twenty years it resided in the Convent of the Theotokos in Kazan. During this period, a number of miracles were attributed to Our Lady of Kazan, which included protecting Russia from invasions. After that, she became known as the Holy Protectress of Russia and was revered throughout the country.’
The abbot paused again and looked at the Seeker. ‘I think the rest of the story should be told by you, Seeker, as you know it much better than I.’ The abbot bowed again and stepped back.
‘During the night of twenty-nine June 1904, thieves broke into the convent and stole the icon,’ began the Seeker slowly. ‘The thieves were eventually caught and initially maintained that the icon had been destroyed and its precious frame sold. However, one of the thieves told a different story. When he was about to throw the icon into the fire, he noticed that the Virgin had changed her appearance: she was weeping. Overcome by remorse, he could no longer destroy the icon and instead took it to a remote convent in Siberia. The authorities didn’t believe him, declared that the icon had been destroyed and refused to investigate the matter further.’
The Seeker stared into the distance for a moment, then resumed.
‘The alleged destruction of the icon was considered a sign by the Orthodox Church that great calamities were about to befall Russia. Sadly, that is exactly what happened. Revolutions tore the country apart, cities were destroyed and a devastating war killed millions. All of these disasters were attributed to the wanton destruction of the Holy Protectress of Russia.’
The Seeker paused again and looked at Jack. ‘You must be wondering what all this has to do with you, and why we’ve brought you here and are telling you this.’
Jack nodded.
‘You will why see in a moment,’ continued the Seeker. ‘This is where the matter rested until nineteen June 1918, the day after the tsar and his family were murdered in the Ipatiev House not far from here. On that day, Sister Natalya – a nun from this convent here who had taken food to the Imperial family during their incarceration – approached the abbot and showed him an icon entrusted to her care by Empress Alexandra, and asked for his advice. The abbot recognised it at once as Kazanskaya Bogomater, stolen from the Convent of the Theotokos in Kazan in 1904. When he examined the icon more closely, he noticed that the Virgin appeared to be weeping. For the next two years, the holy icon was on display here in the cathedral. Just before the convent and the cathedral were closed down by the Soviets in 1920, the icon was taken to the Tikhvin Assumption Monastery near St Petersburg for safekeeping. It remained there until 1941, when the Germans occupied Tikhvin for a month during World War II and looted the monastery. Kazanskaya Bogomater, now known as the Weeping Madonna of Kazan, was taken back to Germany together with other treasures, and disappeared. The Guardians and I have been looking for it ever since.’
The Seeker looked in Jack’s direction.
‘That’s quite a story,’ said Jack once the chanting had stopped. ‘I would like to ask you some questions, if I may.’
‘Please, go ahead,’ said the Seeker.
‘You said earlier that you had been expecting me for a long time. What did you mean by that?’
‘Do you believe in destiny, Mr Rogan?’
‘Is this question part of your answer?’ said Jack, finding it difficult not to smile.
‘Yes, it is, because certain things are preordained and will happen regardless of our actions.’
‘You are right. And are you suggesting that what has brought me here, is just such a case—?’
‘We know it is! The Seeker before me was a hundred and two when he died. Many years ago, he had a vision: Kazanskaya Bogomater was taken by a stranger out of her beloved country, and a stranger would bring her back, and we believe, Mr Rogan, that you are that stranger.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘You are here, are you not? You are a seeker just like me, following the trail of Kazanskaya Bogomater. Isn’t that enough? But, of course, there is more.’
‘Can you tell me?’
The Seeker nodded. ‘We know that Rasputin retrieved the icon from the monastery in Siberia and gave it to Alexandra, so that Kazanskaya Bogomater could watch over the tsarevich and keep him safe. We also know about the Yusupov letter and Yusupov’s extraordinary claim, and your interest in that matter ...’
The Seeker waited to let this sink in and show Jack just how well informed he was.
‘All of us here standing before you are scholars who have dedicated our lives to investigating every possible lead, every clue, anything that could help us find the icon,’ continued the Seeker, ‘and return it to Russia. The main reason we have been unsuccessful so far is due to an unfortunate mishap of history: no-one knows what the original icon actually looks like. Strange, don’t you think? There are many descriptions and much speculation, but not a single, reliable image has survived. There are many copies out there – clumsy imitations would be a better way to put it – created by charlatans both here in Russia and abroad, claiming to be the real thing. Can you see the dilemma?’
‘I can. And you believe that I can help here?’
‘Yes, I do; we all do,’ replied the Seeker without hesitation. ‘If somehow we could find out exactly what the original icon looks like, find an image, a copy that is true to the original to guide us, then I have no doubt that this would lead us to the holy icon because as sure as night follows day, Kazanskaya Bogomater is somewhere out there, just waiting to return home.’
‘What makes you so sure?’
‘Faith.’
The Seeker raised his hand again, and the eerie chanting resumed. To Jack, it sounded like a prayer this time. He closed his eyes and let the stirring melodies carry him away. ‘If we could somehow find out exactly what the original looks like,’ Jack heard the Seeker say over and over, ‘this would lead us to the holy icon.’
Then something happened: a flash of inspiration exploded in Jack’s brain. He remembered a certain passage in one of Alexandra’s letters he had discovered in the Amber Safe. Jack opened his eyes, reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his little notebook.
The Seeker watched Jack intently as he opened the notebook and began to look for something. Here it is, thought Jack and quickly ran his eyes over the passage he had remembered.
Jack looked at the Seeker and smiled. ‘Speaking of destiny and faith,’ he said, ‘something you said just a moment ago, may have just shown us the way. I just remembered something that could help us find the holy icon.’
‘What have you remembered?’ asked the Seeker, surprised.
‘A passage from a recently discovered letter written by Empress Alexandra to her friend, Countess Bezukhova. It was sent from Tobolsk in October 1917. Allow me to read the passage to you.’
The chanting stopped and all eyes were on Jack.
‘I pray daily to Kazanskaya Bogomater,’ Jack began to read, ‘and she gives me comfort and strength. You, too, can of course do the same, as her image is the wonderful surprise waiting below Faberge’s ingenious Easter cross.’
For a while there was silence in the chamber. Then the Seeker asked, ‘Do you know what this means, Mr Rogan? Could you please explain it to us?’
Jack ran his fingers through his hair and took his time before replying. The storyteller in him was trying to find the best way to articulate something that he himself was having trouble coming to grips with.
‘I believe an image of the Weeping Madonna of Kazan does exist. It is to be found inside an Imperial Fabergé Easter egg commissioned by Tsar Nicholas and given to his wife in 1917.’
‘How do you know this?’
‘I have seen the Fabergé egg. Just recently.’
‘You have seen the image of …?’ said the Seeker.
‘No, but I am sure it’s there.’
‘How can you be sure?’
‘Because of this letter, and because certain things are preordained and will happen regardless of our actions.’ Jack looked at the Seeker. ‘And because like you, I too believe in destiny,’ he added softly.
‘Do you know where to find this mysterious Fabergé egg with the surprise under the Easter cross?’
‘The journey is far from over, but after what I’ve just witnessed here tonight, everything seems possible. Yes, I believe I do.’
‘And should you find this image, what will you do?’ asked the Seeker.
‘I will keep searching for the icon.’
‘And if you should find it, what will you do with it?’
‘I will return it to where it belongs. The Weeping Madonna of Kazan will come home, and that pedestal in your cathedral will be empty no more. That, I promise.’
‘I have no reason to doubt your words, Mr Rogan,’ said the Seeker. ‘After all, it was foretold.’
By the time Jack made it back to his hotel, it was quite late and Anielka was already in bed, asleep. For the next two hours, Jack wrote down everything he had witnessed that evening while the impressions were still fresh in his mind, and his memory clear. He was afraid that by the morning, he would cast most of it aside as something he must have experienced in a dream.
59
Tikhvin Assumption Monastery, Tikhvin: 1941
SS Major Axel Wolfbauer was on a mission. Tall, blue-eyed, with wavy blond hair, he was the pin-up boy of classic Aryan good looks and arrogant Nazi superiority. When he heard that the town of Tikhvin – two hundred kilometres east of St Petersburg – had been taken, he immediately called one of Hitler’s adjutants at the Berghof on the Obersalzberg, Hitler’s Alpine fortress-villa near Berchtesgaden. The purpose of the call was to advise the Fuehrer that he was making arrangements to go to the Tikhvin monastery as soon as possible, to investigate something they had discussed on numerous occasions.
The reason for this urgency had nothing to do with military or strategic considerations, but touched on something quite different. Something personal and secret: Hitler’s fascination with the occult.
To a scholar like Wolfbauer, who was an acclaimed expert on esotericism and the paranormal, the Tikhvin Monastery of the Dormition of the Mother of God had special significance. It was generally believed that this was the place where the famous icon of the Theotokos of Tikhvin was being kept after the Soviets had closed down the monastery. Always on the lookout for significant artefacts, Wolfbauer was eager to find out if that was in fact the case and, if possible, bring it back to Germany.
But that wasn’t all. There was another, more important reason for the hasty visit. Rumours had circulated for years that another, even more important icon was being kept at the monastery. It was the precious Kazanskaya Bogomater, transferred to the Tikhvin monastery for safekeeping just before the Novo-Tikhvinsky Convent in Yekaterinburg was closed down in 1920. The reason Wolfbauer was so interested in that icon was not because of historic or spiritual reasons, but because it was reputed to have occult powers that had protected Russia from invasions in the past.
According to legend, military commanders through the ages had successfully invoked the help and protection of the Virgin Mary through this icon. Hitler, who was a great admirer of past military commanders like Pozharsky and Kutuzov, was eager to get his hands on that icon. He believed this would weaken Russian resistance and morale, and enhance the strength of his own forces to help him conquer Russia.
For these reasons, Wolfbauer realised that securing the icon and presenting it to Hitler would be a major coup, especially during such a critical time in the Russian campaign. If successful, this would further enhance his already considerable influence and standing within the Fuehrer’s inner circle.
Wolfbauer had risen to prominence within the SS with the publication of his book, Dawn of the Superman, which almost overnight became the Aryan Nazi bible. Himmler embraced the book and made it compulsory reading for every member of the SS. He also introduced the handsome young officer to Hitler, who saw in him the personification of the Aryan male discussed in the book.
Because the arguments put forward by Wolfbauer echoed Hitler’s own personal views and obsession with the occult, in particular astrology, Hitler and the young major had many discussions about this subject. Hitler had shrewdly appropriated Christian ideas and symbolism, like the Holy Grail and the Spear of Destiny, and openly spoke of the coming of a new Messiah. The Nazi propaganda machine then took over and carefully planted the idea that Hitler could be the chosen one, who would lead the German people into a glorious future and forge a Reich that would dominate the world, and last a thousand years. This was enthusiastically embraced by the masses, and the cult of the Fuehrer was born.
Soon Wolfbauer became Hitler’s confidant, with special powers and permits that allowed him to roam freely through occupied territories in search of artefacts of spiritual importance and with mystical powers that could be used to further Hitler’s plans and standing.
This opened doors for Wolfbauer wherever he went, without too many questions being asked, and ensured the cooperation of those in charge. He was often compared to Albert Speer, Hitler’s architect, who translated Hitler’s vision into monumental buildings on a scale never seen before. In a way, Wolfbauer was doing the same, but in a more subtle way, using the occult to spread and refine Hitler’s ideology and cult.
The monastery had seen better days. Years of neglect, especially after the Soviets had closed it down in 1920, had taken their toll. Founded in 1560 and constructed as a fortress because it was close to the Swedish border, it had endured several wars and was looted by Polish troops in 1610, and subsequently occupied by Swedish forces.
The only inhabitants now were a small group of monks who acted as caretakers and lived in the ancient cells of the monastery next to the belfry, and depended on the charity of peasants living nearby to survive. It was this group Wolfbauer went to see as soon as he arrived. A captured Russian officer who spoke German acted as translator.
Wolfbauer looked like a conquering god as he strutted arrogantly into the refectory in his imposing black SS uniform, radiating authority and instilling fear. Two heavily armed soldiers walked behind him and stood guard in the doorway. The bearded monks, many of them wearing rags instead of habits, watched with apprehension as Wolfbauer stopped in front of them, lit a cigarette, and let the tension grow.
Used to conducting interrogations and overcoming resistance and lack of cooperation, he decided to come straight to the point.
‘I understand that the icon of the Theotokos of Tikhvin is kept here in the monastery,’ said Wolfbauer. He paused for effect and let the cigarette smoke curl towards the vaulted ceiling. ‘I would like to see it,’ he added quietly. ‘Now!’
One of the monks, apparently the eldest, stepped forward and took a bow. Realising that resisting the young officer was pointless, he decided that subservient cooperation was the safest option. ‘The holy icon is kept in a crypt under the altar of the Church of the Dormition,’ said the monk.
‘Is that the large five-domed church I passed on the way here?’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘Take me to it!’
The old monk nodded and began to walk towards the exit. The other monks fell in behind him and followed him outside.
This was easy, thought Wolfbauer. He dropped his cigarette on the stone floor and stubbed it out with the tip of his boot. The next part may not be.
