Page 143 of The Secret of Secrets (Robert Langdon #6)
Having finished her steep climb up Castle Hill, Katherine needed a moment to catch her breath and also to absorb the sheer scale of the structure before her. Prague Castle was not a castle at all…but rather a sprawling walled city.
This hilltop fortress, according to Robert, enclosed more than fifteen acres, including four palaces, two gathering halls, a prison, an armory, a presidential residence, a monastery, and five distinct churches, including one of the largest in the world…St. Vitus Cathedral.
Two nights ago, when Katherine had come here to give her lecture, she had been delivered by car and ushered into Vladislav Hall through a modest columned entrance on the south side of the complex.
Probably so I wouldn’t be terrified, she concluded, eyeing the menacing gauntlet that now faced her at the main entrance.
Access to the castle was blocked by a colossal, five-story perimeter wall, which itself was shielded behind a towering spiked fence whose wrought-iron gate was guarded by two uniformed soldiers holding rifles.
The only opening in the fence was flanked by two giant statues of muscular men in the process of spearing, stabbing, and bludgeoning lesser men.
Message received, Katherine thought.
She slipped through the gate and made her way through a maze of courtyards and tunnels before emerging into a sprawling cobblestone plaza.
As she stepped into the open, her gaze turned immediately upward, climbing the facade of a building so large that she could scarcely believe it stood within the castle walls.
St. Vitus Cathedral.
All she knew about this cathedral was that Langdon considered it an architectural masterpiece.
His favorite feature was a hundred-meter bell tower that housed one of Europe’s largest bells—a seventeen-ton behemoth named Zikmund—which apparently rang so loudly that it was struck only on Christmas and Easter for fear its reverberations might damage the ancient tower.
Katherine took a few moments to gaze up at the massive bell tower before heading for the entrance, eager to locate the famous door that, according to a guard she had just asked, lay within the cathedral.
The door with the seven locks. She still had no idea what it was, but she hoped to find Langdon waiting there already. Her walk up the hill had taken far longer than expected, and Langdon had taken a cab, so with luck his paperwork had been sorted out quickly.
The interior of St. Vitus Cathedral was precisely as Katherine expected—cavernous, opulent, and imposing—just like every other European cathedral she’d ever visited.
She remained perplexed that humans had toiled for centuries to construct these shrines to an all-powerful, benevolent God…
during an era when plagues, wars, and famine were killing the faithful by the millions.
She wondered if their God was either indifferent to human suffering…
or powerless to stop it. Even so, it seemed obvious that the promise of “eternal life” was an irresistible balm that soothed the universal fear of death.
And remains so today, she thought as she moved deeper into the church, scanning for Langdon.
St. Vitus was nearly deserted at this hour, and when she asked the lone docent about the mysterious door, he pointed up the nave’s central aisle to an arched opening on the right, just off the center of the sanctuary.
“Wenceslas Chapel,” he whispered.
The empty chapel turned out to be a breathtakingly beautiful chamber with a gray marble floor and elaborately frescoed walls that climbed several stories to a vaulted ceiling.
In the center of the chapel stood an enormous rectangular box of multiple tiers, all inlaid with colorful gems and topped by a peaked canopy.
It was so unusual that Katherine had to read the sign before she realized what she was looking at.
A royal sarcophagus.
This box, as it turned out, entombed a famous “king” who was never actually king, but rather a good-hearted prince mistakenly immortalized as a king in a popular English Christmas carol.
Katherine was pleased to read that the resting place of Good King Wenceslas also served as the gateway to the priceless Bohemian Crown Jewels…
secured in a vault accessible only through a famous door with seven locks.
Katherine hurried over to the door, which stood in the corner.
It was an imposing slab of gray metal, crisscrossed with interlaced reinforcing bands riveted into place on the diagonals.
The resulting diamond pattern was embellished with rampant lions and eagles, both symbols from the Czech coat of arms. Running vertically down the left-hand side of the door was a series of ornate keyholes.
Katherine was not surprised to count seven of them, each surrounded by armored plating.
She glanced over her shoulder at the empty chapel and then, feeling foolish, tried the door.
Locked.
After waiting a few more minutes with no sign of Langdon, she finally exited back into the main sanctuary to rest her legs in a nearby pew. It felt good to be off her feet, but her concern about Langdon was increasing. Did something go wrong?
Forcing her mind elsewhere, she raised her eyes to the main altar—a towering framework of gold lattice spires against a backdrop of stained glass. There was no denying this building was an astonishing human achievement, a majestic work of art.
Even the pulpit is a masterpiece, she thought, admiring the intricately carved podium mounted on the column beside her.
Accessed by an elegant spiral staircase, the lofty hexagonal pulpit was crowned with a canopy of gilded cherubs.
The sacred perch had clearly been designed to imbue the speaker with almost deific authority.
“There you are!” a deep voice called across the church.
She turned to see Langdon exiting Wenceslas Chapel and rushing toward her, still bundled up in his Patagonia puffer. “I didn’t see you in there and was afraid you gave up on me,” he said, arriving breathless. “Did you find the door with the seven locks?”
“I did,” she said. “Shockingly, it was locked. ”
Langdon smiled, looking more relaxed now. “Well, if you want me to open it, I’ll need to make seven phone calls—the president, the prime minister, the archbishop, the administrator, the dean, the mayor, and the chamber chairperson.”
“I won’t even ask why you know that, Robert. Did you sort out your paperwork?”
“I did,” he said. “We’re all set.”
Katherine felt relieved. “Are you going to tell me what it was all about?”
“I will…” he said, seeming distracted by the nearby pulpit. “Hold on…” He glanced around the deserted cathedral and then back at Katherine. “Sit right here—I want to show you something.” He headed for the pulpit stairs and deftly stepped over a velvet swag that blocked them.
“Robert, what are—”
He bounded up the curling staircase. When he reached the top, only his head was visible as he peered down over an immense Bible that lay open on the lectern. “Katherine, I’d like to read a few passages to you,” he said, his tone earnest. “Just open your heart and listen.”
Bible passages? “I don’t underst—”
“Just listen,” he urged. “I believe these words will comfort your soul.”
Katherine gazed up in bewilderment as Robert got himself situated, removing his puffy coat, dropping it on the floor, and fumbling with the Bible. He seemed to be flipping pages as if searching for a specific passage.
Once settled, Langdon cleared his throat and made eye contact with her again before turning his eyes to the lectern.
When he spoke, his familiar baritone was clear and resonant.
“It has now been proven,” he orated dramatically, “that infants are capable of conscious experiences from birth…thereby undermining our current model that consciousness develops over time.”
I’m sorry? Katherine’s thoughts scrambled. What did he just say?!
Langdon flipped several pages and began reading again. “Most remarkably,” he continued, “we have now detected irrefutable evidence of intense gamma wave activity in the brain as it dies.”
Katherine leaped to her feet, now recognizing precisely what he was reading from. That’s impossible! She dashed toward the pulpit as Langdon began to read another section.
“GABA levels,” he intoned, “fell precipitously in the moments before death, and with it, the brain’s ability to filter out the broadest spectrums of human experience that are normally unknown.”
Katherine scrambled up the curved stairs, heart racing. “Robert!” she exclaimed, reaching the pulpit, coming to an abrupt stop, and staring in disbelief at the familiar stack of laser-printed pages sitting atop the massive bible. “Is that my manuscript ?!”
“Apparently so,” he said with a shrug and the lopsided grin she had come to love.
Katherine now realized he must have been carrying the manuscript beneath his coat. “But…” She fumbled for words. “I thought…you burned it!”
“Only your bibliography, my darling…” he said with a smile. “The rest of the manuscript I hid behind some ancient books on the library’s balcony shelves.”
Stunned, Katherine pictured the blaze Langdon had started on the metal stairs and the charred scraps of paper drifting down to the floor below. “But…the fire seemed so big. ”
“It was, ” Langdon said. “Leave it to you to cite forty-two double-spaced pages of sources. You do know your publisher lays that out for you at the end, right? Anyhow, I mixed in a handful of blank vellum pages from one of the old ledgers up there. Animal fat creates a lot of black smoke.”
Katherine fought back a torrent of emotions rushing through her. Relief, gratitude, disbelief, and also frustration. My manuscript was never lost?! “Why didn’t you tell me?!” she demanded. “I was devastated!!”
Langdon’s expression was sincerely remorseful.
“Believe me, Katherine, I desperately wanted to. It was agonizing to see you suffer, but we were surrounded by chaos and were on the verge of being arrested and interrogated. I didn’t want you to have to lie.
It was far safer for you not to know the manuscript existed until this was all sorted out—the last thing I wanted was to have it confiscated again by úZSI or worse. ”
Katherine was a lousy liar, and they both knew it…She realized he was probably right. Disinformation by deception, as Nagel had called it. Langdon had not even told Jonas on the phone.
“I’m hoping you’ll forgive me…” he entreated. “It was a tough secret to keep.”
Katherine stared at him indecipherably and then stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, melting into his body. “Paperwork…? Really?”
“Important paperwork,” he clarified. “Far too important to burn.”
She hugged him tighter. “There is one thing I just can’t believe—the esteemed Professor Langdon actually tore vellum pages out of an ancient book?”
“ Blank pages,” he retorted. “They will never be missed. And as my prep school English teacher Mr. Lelchuk used to tell us: ‘The right book at the right time can save your life.’?”
She laughed. “I’m fairly certain that’s not what he meant.”
“Probably not,” Langdon said, pulling her body closer to his.
Katherine had no idea how long they had been embracing on the pulpit of St. Vitus Cathedral when the cathedral bells overhead began to toll. She was lost in the joy of having her manuscript back…along with the waves of affection she was feeling for the man in her arms.
“I love you, Robert Langdon,” she whispered. “I’m sorry it took me so long to figure that out.”