14TH CENTURY RELIQUARY
A 14th Century Reliquary- the Journal of Discovery
Kent P. Streaver, Ph.D, FNAS, GAA, DMv
Forward:
Moving in the forefront of the Science of Archaeology requires great depth of knowledge and experience, and there are few archaeologists that can rise to the challenge of the innovative techniques of both research on field exploration required to make exciting new discoveries. As described in the journal of the Society of Colombian Archaeology, “Dr. Kent P Streaver is perhaps the most brilliant of modern archaeologists, building upon timeless traditions of scientists past to create new tools to enable discovery of artifacts that are ever more elusive in these modern times.” So it is with great amusement that Dr Streaver and I received this letter from the Journal of American Archaeological and Anthropological Science:
Dear Dr. Streaver,
It is with regret that we inform you we will not be able to publish the paper you submitted. Although the artifact you discovered is of interest and quite unique in the literature, the responses we received when your paper was sent out for peer review, with phrases such as “Nonsense!”, “A flight of drug induced fancy”, “Who does he think he’s kidding?!” precluded our ability to include your paper in our next issue of the Journal.
Yours truly,
Dr. Dora X. Plaurer
Senior Editor
When one reaches the elevated realm of scientists such as Dr. Streaver, such responses bring amusement. We marvel at the ignorance of people considering themselves scientists yet who are firmly captive in the mind prison of following past science without forging new paths.
The following account and analysis show what brilliant scientists are capable of when they depart the box of small thinking and find new ways to discover truth. I was fortunate to play a small part in this great discovery, and I hope you find it as fascinating as I do.
Dr. F. Rufer
Vice President, Client relations
Techicho Foundation
Part One – The Quest
One.
I didn’t see him coming. I sensed movement to my left, but before I could turn, the searing pain in my leg eclipsed all thought as I collapsed in agony. My attempts to fend off my attacker were futile, and consciousness fled.
Two weeks earlier: I had just finished delivering a highly anticipated and extremely well received lecture to the sponsors of my research into the Toltec Civilization. This research led me to Central Mexico, and the resulting archaeological artifacts that I was able to unearth validated many of the theories that my sponsors had engaged me to investigate. They were on hand to congratulate me, and the audience had formed a line to ask for my autograph on their programs and the requisite selfie. Through all of this, I noticed an elderly gentlemen keeping back but keenly observing me. I had not seen him in the company of my sponsors, and no one from the Foundation either acknowledged nor spoke to him. I was intrigued, and made a mental note to speak to him as soon as I was done taking care of the long line of my admirers. Finally the last autograph, the last selfies, and I turned to look for the elderly gentlemen. Before I could spot him, the Director of the Foundation requested my attendance at a lavish banquet they had prepared for me to celebrate my success. I could not in good conscience refuse, even though such opulent events were routine for a person of my renown.
After a final bit of caviar and the last toast with Dom Perignon, I bid my hosts and admirers farewell. I recalled the gentleman in the audience. But he was nowhere to be seen. I thought nothing more of it and started walking to the bus stop where I could catch the bus home. I saw others from my audience also departing, one of whom was hurrying away and carrying what appeared to be a video camera and tripod. I recalled that this gentleman had been videotaping my presentation, and made a mental note to ask my sponsors for a copy of the tape. It was a bit of a walk, and raining rather heavily, so I did not notice that someone was walking alongside me.
A voice: “Dr. Streaver? A word, please.”
I glanced up. It was the gentleman from my lecture.
A quite large automobile stopped next to us. An equally large man jumped out, and held the rear door open. The gentleman gestured to the door. I was intrigued. The rain was torrential and I was wet and cold. I got in the car. The gentleman was silent as he studied me, then seemed to come to a decision.
“I am Techicho Montoya. You found my fathers. Prepare to ….”
And then silence. Mr Montoya seemed at a loss for words as I waited to hear more. The driver stared ahead into the darkness, still as the streetlights around the car. My patience exhausted, I finally broke the silence.
“Mr. Montoya, you seem to know of me, but I do not know you. Is there something I can help you with?”
Silence, and that cool assessing gaze. Feeling the meeting was becoming unproductive, I did not want to miss my bus, and I reached for the door handle. The driver quickly turned his head to look at me, shaking his head while a faint smile formed on his lips. The door was locked.
“Mr. Montoya, I am afraid that I must take my leave. The sponsors of my previous expedition introduced me to some interesting groups that are in a bit of a bidding war for my involvement in their projects. I must be off to keep the peace amongst those wealthy foundations. Here is my calling card, feel free to call when you are ready.” And I handed him one of my cards.
The door remained locked.
“Dr. Streaver. I have created a foundation for the purpose of demonstrating the extraordinary worth of my namesake. My father, his father, and many generations of Montoyas have loved and learned from the Techichi. My foundation proposes to sponsor you on an expedition to document and prove the worth of Techicho to the world.”
He paused, then added:
“Although this may be meaningless to a scientist of your fame, we have set aside a budget for this venture, to be placed under your immediate control”
He then named a figure that caused me to forget about my bus. Gesturing to his driver to unlock the door, Mr. Montoya handed me a card, saying:
“If you are interested, call my assistant at this number in the morning, she will make travel arrangements for our next meeting in my foundation offices. I look forward to that meeting.”
Obviously dismissed, I opened the car door, continued my walk to the bus stop, thinking what an odd yet intriguing encounter that had been.
Two.
I awoke the next morning to a persistent knocking at my door. I put on my silk dressing gown, a gift from appreciative sponsors of a previous expedition in China, and walked through my spacious apartment to the entry vestibule. Glancing in the wall mirror, I saw a quite handsome fellow, straight dark hair in a bit of disarray from the unexpected awakening, piercing blue eyes sparkling above a perfect 106 degree nose and a generous mouth ready to greet. Opening the door, I saw before me a woman dressed impeccably in business attire, a small gold and ruby rose pinned to her lapel, with the air of one comfortable in her own skin. She had the air of someone on important business, saying:
“Dr. Streaver. I am Dr. Fuencanta Rufer, manager of the local office of the Techicho Foundation. Sr. Montoya has asked me to make travel arrangements and take care of any personal requirements you may have while preparing for your travels to our base of operations.”
I admit to being impressed – I had only just spoken to her boss late the night before, and already preparations were being made for I knew not what challenge lay before me. I invited her in.
“Dr. Rufer, it is a pleasure to meet you. But we are unevenly matched – you know why you are here – I know nothing but having met and held a brief conversation with Sr Techicho Montoya.”
Entering my home, she said,
“Of course, so sorry, but Sr Montoya will explain all once you arrive at his offices. Let us sit down and I will go over the transport and flights I have arranged, and any other personal matters that I can help take care of to clear the way for your visit to the Techicho Foundation. And I am sure we will be spending much time together on this project – please call me FooFoo.”
It took well into the day, but by late evening Dr. Rufer had demonstrated unusual skills and creativity, helping clear my schedule and take care of other matters in preparation for a flight booked the following afternoon. She parted with assurances that she would be picking me up in the morning and accompany me on my flight to be sure all my needs were met. I still knew little about the nature of my engagement with the Techicho Foundation, but I did now know that we were headed to a small town in Colombia, El Penol. I slept well that night, dreaming of adventure in search of knowledge.
The flight to El Penol in the Foundation jet was quite pleasant, and I found the company of Dr. Rufer interesting and educational. We soon discovered that we were members of the same private club of adventuring high flying aeronauts. My extensive travels around the world in search of archaeological truths and Dr. Rufer’s travels on behalf of the Techicho Foundation qualified us for membership, and we recounted and relived some of our more interesting flying experiences. The flight passed quickly, and in what seemed a moment we were landing at a small private airport outside El Penol.
Several cars awaited us to bring us to the Foundations offices. The driver of the central car was the same man whom I had met previously and we exchanged friendly nods of greeting, then our entourage set out. The ride was quick, and I marveled at the emptiness of the roads. Dr. Rufer explained that when the townspeople saw a Foundation car, they quickly left the road out of respect for Sr. Montoya. I did see one small child at the side of the road, staring at our cars, quickly snatched back into a doorway by a woman who appeared quite terrified. I suspect she feared the child might wander into the road. On arrival at the building housing the Foundation, I was escorted to a conference room where Sr. Montoya was awaiting my arrival. And that is when it all went sideways, and I was rendered unconscious by the fury of the unexpected attack.
Three.
“I am glad to see you two are getting along so nicely. Techi must have taken a liking to you, he usually isn’t so restrained in his greeting of strangers.”
I struggled to open my eyes, and managed to achieve a seated position on the floor. Sr. Montoya was looking down at me with the barest hint of a smile, and standing next to him was my attacker. I now knew his name, and it fit. I composed myself and said,
“You keep unusual company within the offices of your Foundation. I would have thought the day to day running of the business of your foundation would preclude the presence of such as Techi. I did not realize that you required a bodyguard within the premises.” And I quickly added, lest I offend my potential sponsor, “But I am of course pleased to make his acquaintance.”
A mild look of surprise on his face, Sr. Montoya said,
“But I thought Ms. Rufer would have explained, you must have been quite busy with other logistical matters on the flight. Techi is the reason the Foundation was established. He seems to have taken a liking to you.”
I had regained my feet, and looked down at Techi. He returned my gaze, unblinking, and began wagging his tail.
Four.
Sr Montoya continued.
“Several years ago a colleague in my Mexican branch presented me with a gift to celebrate our successes in establishing a branch in a city conveniently near to the US border. This gift you see standing before you.”
Did Techi take a bow, or was that my imagination?
“As I came to appreciate the qualities of Techi, I decided that I must work to enlighten the rest of the world as to the worth of this extraordinary breed of dog which too often is belittled and cast in undignified roles. I have endowed the Techicho Foundation, with a charter that calls for a celebration of the dignity of Techi’s ancestors, from the Techichi to the Chihuahua. It is hard for even me to believe, but this magnificent creature has captured my heart, and I want the world to join me in celebration of his distinguished ancestry. I have been successful in my business, successful enough to fund enterprises solely for my personal satisfaction without care for any financial return. One such is a project that I am hoping you will contribute to”
I was intrigued.
“It most certainly is a worthwhile endeavor. But how can I assist? I am an Archeaologist.”
Sr. Montoya looked at me steadily, then the barest hint of a smile crossed his lips.
“Dr. Streaver, I have made discreet enquiries through my global network of affiliates, and your name has come up more than once as an archaeologist and scholar who has on more than one occasion discovered heretofore hidden artifacts that have enlightened the world and given your sponsors cause to celebrate. Coupled with your last successful expedition researching the Toltecs you are the obvious choice of scholar to work with on this project.”
He mentioned several names. I was beginning to understand. He went on.
“The Techicho Foundation would like to fund an exploration into the history of Techi’s ancestors, and sponsor an expedition to discover an ancient artifact that demonstrates the significance of the breed. I am not interested in drawings or small baubles, but something large enough to catch the eye of the world.”
He thought a moment, and added:
“But it should not be too large, it must be of a size that allows for easy transport by one person to bring to important Archaeological conferences, scholarly meetings, and kennel club headquarters. If you think you might be interested in embarking on such a project, it might be helpful for you to have Dr. Rufer assist you in an advisory function. She is one of our most trusted couriers. As such a courier, she knows well what will be a suitable size for the artifact we are confident you will unearth.”
I was more than intrigued.
“Sr. Montoya, you offer a challenging and interesting project. I will make every attempt to clear my quite full schedule.”
“Dr. Streaver, thank you for your interest. We have a full schedule of conferences of our own, and we have one conference in particular that is important to us to attend that will occur in 6 months time. Perhaps you can find a way to clear your schedule. I have considered that the previous budget I had mentioned to you for this project might not cover your expenses, and I have put together this revised outline of my projected budget, to be under your direct control.”
I took the spreadsheet he offered, scanning line items until I came to the bottom line. It took a moment to count the zeros, and recount to be sure. Then I said:
“Sr. Montoya, if Dr Rufer will be available, I can begin this project one week from today.”
Five.
Dr. Rufer was indeed available. She accompanied me back to my offices, and was quite helpful in taking care of various logistical issues in preparation for our travels while I cleared my schedule with apologies to the many clients who were clamoring for my attention to their projects. They were sorely disappointed that their projects would be delayed, but understood both that such schedule changes happen and that I was worth waiting for.
A call from my private banker assured me that the complete funding for the project had been received and was safely in my account. I gave instructions to Dr. Rufer to arrange for a flight the next day to Chihuahua City, and we went out for an evening on the town to celebrate the start of the project.
The morning brought a sense of excitement that had only a little to do with waking to find the exquisite Dr. Rufer still asleep next to me. I brewed a pot of the special blend of coffee I was given by Sr Montoya at the Foundation offices, and that helped us focus on getting to the Foundation jet waiting for us. In what seemed a moment the pilot announced that we would be landing in Chihuahua momentarily, requesting everyone on board get dressed as the plane would be boarded for inspection by local customs officials.
Customs clearance was quick, and as we were descending the stairs from the plane a car pulled up, the driver got out and to my slight surprise it was the same driver that I had first met with Sr Montoya. Dr Rufer commented that it was quite an honor to have Sr. Montoya’s man taking care of us. As we had not previously been introduced, the man said simply that I should call him Parcero. As I had Dr Rufer arrange before flying down, Parcero drove us to the first destination in our quest – the Universidad des Chihuahua de Chihuahua. [1] There we were met by my friend and colleague , Dr. Embustero Timador, PhD. We had enjoyed an excellent working relationship during my previous expedition researching the Toltec civilization.
“Dr. Streaver, so good to see you again, and you bring a colleague to better interest
me in your current project. How can I be of assistance?”
”Dr Timador, allow me to present Dr Rufer, who will be assisting me throughout this expedition. As Dr Rufer explained when she called last week, the object of our research is to find archaeological evidence that enlightens the world about that most excellent breed of dog, the chihuahua. We are looking for information that will take us in a direction heretofore unexplored.”
Dr. Timador hesitated before speaking, carefully choosing his words:
“Dr Streaver, it is interesting that you approach me with this request. Throughout my career I have heard guarded whispers about an extraordinary dog from Casas Grandes who traveled the world at the turn of the 14th century. I have not taken the opportunity to follow those whispers to a proven conclusion, but I will be happy to help you do so. I am afraid those in possession of such knowledge will need convincing to talk to you. ”
Knowing the reluctance of locals to talk to famous Archaeologists from the north, I came prepared. Handing Dr. Timador a rather bulky envelope, I answered in the affirmative. After glancing inside the envelope, Dr. Timador said,
“Yes, this will do for a start. Please see the sights and enjoy Chihuahua with Dr Rufer for a few days , and I will contact you when I have found the right person for you to discuss the matter with. From what I understand, this information is closely guarded by a secret society, so tread lightly. We will talk soon.”
The meeting was at an end, we all had work to do.
Six.
Two days later, a knock at our hotel suite door. On opening the door, I saw a quite agitated and, could it be, terrified Dr Timador. He quickly entered the foyer of our suite and closed the door behind him.
“Dr. Streaver, this must never be traced back to me. The owners of this photograph will not be pleased when they discover it missing. Please, let no one know that you have it in your possession, or all of our lives will be forfeit. I am departing Chihuahua immediately, will send you the name of the person who can tell you the story of this extraordinary dog.”
And after a cautious look outside our suite, he ran out and disappeared down the hall.
This is what he gave me, a photo, appearing very old, of a pre-columbian artifact. It appears to depict a dog very similar to the Techichi, commanding a boat heading to the east. My extensive experience in working with archival photographs dates the photo to the 1920’s:
[1] The University of Chihuahuas of Chihuahua is known throughout the academic world for its deep insight into that remarkable breed of dog. Its research faculty of renowned cynologists has made everlasting contributions to the science.
Seven
One hour later, a knock at our hotel suite door. Half expecting it to be Dr Timador laughing at the idea I had taken him seriously, I was surprised to see a young boy, obviously a street urchin. He thrust an envelope into my hand and without a glance back ran to the exit door at the end of the hall. He was gone.
The sound of a yawn, and a voice in the room behind me.
“Dr. Streaver, we are almost to the end of the morning’s important research – what are these disturbances that are distracting you from our work?”
“Dr. Rufer, it is with great regret that I must postpone the happy ending to today’s research, but I have just received important information that may lead us to just the object that the Montoya Foundation seeks. We must go at once to see the person named in this message, a Professor at the University, a certain Dr. Perronymous Chucho. I will call for a hotel car.”
“Dr Streaver, it would be best to leave me here to finish what we started. I look forward to the continuation of our research when you return.”
Within the hour I was at the university office of Dr. Chucho. The sign on his door read “Estudios Chihuahuanos”. As I was about to knock, the door opened to reveal a short, slight gentleman of advanced years. He said,
“I have been expecting you. Please enter.”
I did so, and Dr Chucho closed the door behind me.
The office was small, containing a small desk, two chairs, and shelving on all available wall space. On the shelves were objects ranging from thousand year old Toltec artifacts to modern depictions of what seemed to be a common theme – the Chihuahua. It was an extraordinary collection, and I was lost in the wonder of seeing this timeline of Chihuahuan history laid out before me. I searched the shelves for the artifact in the Dr Timador’s photo, but did not immediately see it. Dr Chucho spoke”
“You seem to be looking for something. May I help you find it?”
Remembering Dr Timador’s warning, I replied,
“I am trying to verify information that I have received regarding the abandonment of Casas Grandes, and the possibility that the community took to the seas. The reason for the population of Casas Grandes to leave is of interest to me.”
Dr. Chucho looked long and hard at me, as if assessing my very existence. Finally, he said:
“Dr Timador said I could trust you, and made it well worth my while to discuss these matters with you. But I must stress that I will deny ever having spoken to you about such matters, and if word of this conversation gets to certain individuals, we will both be in grave danger.”
At the lowest shelf on one wall, effectively hidden behind his desk, he reached to the back and removed something from the shelf. It was the artifact in the photograph.
“A certain society to which I belong has used my expertise and contacts the in the field of Chihuahuan research to verify the this extraordinary sculpture describes an occurrence in the history of the Chihuahua of great import and significance. We have established without doubt that a Techichan dog of great intelligence and bravery travelled to the coast, commandeered a seaworthy ship, and sailed across the ocean to his destination in Europe. Our quest for information on this extraordinary dog is ongoing. My colleagues and I are close to proving divine intervention as cause for this dog’s successful journey. We are in touch with colleagues in Europe, who tell us they have found documentation to support this theory in Montpellier, France.
This is a closely guarded project, and my colleagues are very private people who do not want this information made public. We are a strong group, and guard our privacy well. I do have a file that will be of interest to you, you may review it here but cannot remove it. ”
Moving to his desk, he glanced out the small window in his office. Blood drained from his face, he dropped heavily on to his desk chair. Visibly shaken, his voice barely a whisper,
“I am regretting this conversation, and strongly suggest you drop your research. Our group will not hesitate to use strong measures to convince you to give up this avenue of research, and if they find that I talked to you, I fear that even my long association and friendship with the group will not help me survive the experience of their discovery.”
With that, he ushered me out of his office and firmly closed the door behind me. I heard the lock engaged. Thinking about what I just heard and seen, I discreetly looked about me as I called my car over. Across the street, I saw a small man staring intently at me, making no effort to conceal his scrutiny. I returned his gaze as I opened the car door and got in. He appeared amused. I was not. I made my way back to the hotel to see how far Dr Rufer had progressed in her own research into this matter.
Eight
The first thing I saw on entering our suite was the broken mirror in the foyer, and the furniture upturned. I called, “Foo Foo?” No answer. Fearing the worst, I quickly opened the door to the bedroom ready for whatever action would be required. I saw the same disarray of furniture scattered across the room, and an inert body on the floor just inside the room, partially covered with a blanket from the bed. I knew the worst was realized. Sinking to my knees beside the body, fighting back tears, I said,
“Foo Foo, are you OK? I am so sorry to have put you in such danger. I…”
“Dearest Kent, I am quite fine.”
The voice came from the other end of the room. In my shock at discovering the body on the floor, I had not even glanced around the room before rushing in. As I raised my eyes from the form on the floor, I saw Dr. Rufer calmly sitting in one of the chairs near the bed. In the other chair was Parcero. Dr Rufer explained.
“Shortly after you left, I had a visitor. I heard a key in the door and thought you must have forgotten something, but as I went to the door I found someone entering who was not you. He told me that he must search our rooms for something that was given to you by mistake. I told him that he should make an appointment with you to discuss it. He was not open to that suggestion and started to push his way inside.
I made another suggestion, that he should carefully reconsider his actions. He did not listen and continued pushing me out of his way.
He should have listened to me.
Behind him was Parcero.”
Parcero gave me a modest smile in acknowledgement. Dr. Rufer continued.
“Parcero is very protective of me. At Sr. Montoya’s request, he has been monitoring our safety, and when he saw this man push his way into our room he took decisive action. Unfortunately this fellow on the floor was not very sturdy, and he broke before we were able to question him as to his motives. He had no identification, but we did find an interesting coin in his pocket.”
She handed me the coin. From my extensive knowledge of pre-Columbian civilizations, I could immediately see that it resembled a coin from the 13th century Casas Grandas settlement in size and style, but one side had raised text in modern Spanish reading “Sociedad de Chihuahua”, the other an image of the head of a Chihuahua stamped in relief, eyes set with diamonds. She continued.
“This hotel is noted for it’s kitchen, so we ordered a few of their quite excellent pastries and a pot of coffee to enjoy while we awaited your return. And how was your morning? Did you have an interesting meeting with Dr. Chucho? And do try this pastry, it is quite delicious.”
After a glance at the body on the floor, I summarized my meeting with Dr. Chucho, then added:
“He looked out of his window and saw the man who was watching me as I left the building. He was quite frightened and almost forcibly ejected me from his office without giving the information which might have been critical to our research. I believe that this fellow…”
And I motioned to the body on the floor
“And the man who was watching me, were part of the same organization sent to stop us. My watcher must have thought his colleague could take care of the search of my rooms. They obviously did not plan on Parcero.”
Another modest smile from Parcero.
“It seems that we have disturbed some organization that does not want us to pursue our quest to glorify the Chihuahua. Rather than spend more time dealing with these people and exercising Parcero needlessly, I think we can move our research into other possibly more rewarding areas. Dr. Rufer, please arrange our travel to France. Montpellier to be precise.”
I took a bite of one of the pastries.
“Yes, quite good.”
Nine
Flying with Dr. Rufer is always educational, and her demonstrations illustrative of her extensive anthropological research were most thought provoking. Time passed quickly, and it was almost with regret that I heard the pilot of our Foundation jet advise that we were approaching the Aéroport de Montpellier–Méditerranée. I had not realized that the Techicho Foundation was held in such high respect in France, and this was apparent by the almost fearful attitude of the two customs officials who boarded our aircraft to welcome us to Montpellier. After they had quickly stamped our passports and asked if we had further need of them, I offhandedly said,
“Colleagues of mine are here on an important archaeological research project, and I was wondering if you might know where they are staying. It is professional courtesy to offer assistance to colleagues working in locations remote to their primary base of operation, and my colleagues are far from their University in Mexico.”
The two officials looked at each other as the blood ran from their faces, then both stared fixedly at the floor, as one asked,
“Monsieur le Professeur, what are the names of these colleagues of yours?”
“I do not know which of my colleagues were sent from the University, but they are working with friends of mine in the Sociedad de Chihuahuas. My friends thought I might be able to assist them while I am here in Montpellier.”
Neither of the officials would meet my eye, as one of them replied,
“We are sorry, we know nothing of such matters.”
And both left abruptly.
I smiled at Dr. Rufer, and said,
“I think we are on the right track.”
Ten
On the right track indeed, but exactly what track was it? Being a world renowned archaeologist has its advantages is such situations, and my global network of professionals in all aspects of scholarly pursuits was about to be exercised. I knew just the person who might be able to help us, and I began the process of finding his current location. It only took 5 calls, but I was given the address of the last place he had been known to have stayed for more than a few hours at a time. Sometimes old friends like a surprise visit, so I did not warn Dr. Truand that Dr. Rufer and I were about to visit.
We arrived at the address in la Mosson, and knocked politely on the door. My old friend Dr. Truand answered the door after a few moments, and appeared surprised and delighted to see me.
“Dr. Streaver, this is an unexpected pleasure. Do come in, excuse me for a moment as I have a roast in the oven that needs my attention.”
We entered the modest apartment and sat down on some convenient chairs. We heard a crash, sounds of someone hitting the floor – apparently Dr. Truand had tripped while on his way to the kitchen. A few minutes later, Dr. Truand joined us. Behind him was Parcero.
“Ah, Dr. Streaver, I was letting my cat in from the back door, and was surprised to meet your friend here. He graciously offered to take care of the cat so I could rejoin you. I understand you have some questions for me?”
“So kind of you to spare us some time. This is my colleague Dr. Rufer, and you have already met Parcero.”
Again, that modest smile from Parcero. He must use it often.
“We are on a research project for the employer of Dr. Rufer and Parcero, the Techicho Foundation. The project involves the search for an artifact or significant documentation of a dog from Casas Grandas in Mexico that may have ended up here in Montpellier. This would be around the turn of the 14th Century.”
Dr. Truand looked first at me, then Dr. Rufer, finally an averted glance towards Parcero.
“Dr. Streaver, I recall the last time we met. The research I assisted you with led me to an interesting project with the Department of Historical Law Enforcement that occupied several years of my time. Perhaps you and I should meet with them to discuss how you might enjoy the same project.”
He fixed me with a long stare. I thought a moment, and said,
“Dr. Truand, I appreciate your desire to share the project with me, but this current quest is quite important and must take priority. But I would like to help, so perhaps assisting with your funding could be useful?”
I named a figure, and after a moment, Dr Truand gave a slight nod of acceptance. Knowing my friend from our past work together, I had the envelope prepared, and handed it to him.
“Thank you Dr Streaver. I have heard through the academic grapevine that there have been some interesting conferences between a fringe religious group and a group of academics from some Mexican secret society.”
As I had previously instructed, Dr. Rufer was taking notes.
“This religious group seems to consist of, frankly, insane extremists whose raison d’etre involves the belief that holy men had unique bonds with animals. They jealously guard their secrets to the point of violence, and my contacts in the D.H.L.E have confided that lately there has been a larger than usual body count of religious extremists and Mexican nationals. “
Parcero nodded as if confirming information he already had. I made a mental note to ask him about this.
“I know nothing of what is behind this violence, but it seems to be taking place in the area of the cemetery that contains what these extremists believe is the crypt of St. Cloche.”
He wrote an address, and sketched a rough map with the approximate location of the crypt.
“It has been a pleasure spending this time with you, I must now bid you adieu.”
And he ushered us quickly out of his apartment, loudly bolting the door behind us.
Parcero already had the door to the car open.
Eleven
It was not a short drive, but an unevently hour later we arrived at the Cimitiere de Cave Chien. Parecero let us know that he would stay with the car to see if anyone was following us, and Dr. Rufer and I proceeded to follow Dr Truand’s hand drawn map to the Crypt of St. Cloche.
As we got close, the sound of voices reached us, and I drew Dr Rufer back behind some shielding shrubbery. We navigated closer to the sounds, remaining under cover of bushes, trees, gravestones, and ornate crypts. The voices were unmistakably in the midst of a serious dispute, and as we waited behind the cover of a particularly large gravestone, we heard several other voices join in. I carefully looked around the stone, and saw eight men, divided into two groups. Four of the men were wearing long hooded robes, holding wickedly pointed staves, and the folds of the hoods gave an impression of large protruding ears. The four men opposite were wearing casual dress. One had a t-shirt which read “Nuevo Casas Grandas” with an image of a small dog with writhing snake in its mouth. He was speaking:
“Senor, we are simply searching for the end of an old story. A small dog of our ancestors took to sea, and we have traced his journey to this continent, to this country, to this place. We would like to know what became of that brave dog.”
It was impossible to tell which of the robed figures answered.
“Go back to where you came from. We are the guardians who protect our sacred animals from those that would disturb their rest. Only the guardians of the
Ordre des Chiens Sacrés may visit this sacred place.”
Nuevo Casas Grandas smiled, a smile that I hoped would never be directed towards me.
“No hay problema.”
And he turned to his three companions.
I quickly pulled back behind the stone lest he see me. I heard a gunshot. Protecting Dr Rufer by keeping her well hidden behind the stone, I listened to ten more gunshots, the ensuing screams horrible to hear. Then silence.
Dr Rufer and I looked at each other. We both looked around the edge of the stone at the same time to see a devastating scene of carnage. The hooded men appeared to have all been shot multiple times, but that did not stop them from using their staves to inflict butchering cuts to their opponents. Stepping out from the shelter of the gravestone, we slowly moved the group of fallen men to see if we could help any of the wounded.
It seemed they were all beyond help. I turned to Dr Rufer.
“There is nothing we can do here. Let us investigate the crypt. I believe we…”
The sound of a scream, dying down to silence. I spun around and started to run, ready to defend Dr Rufer from more assassins. There, three feet away, was the Nuevo Casas Grandas man. He was on the ground with his arm outstretched in my direction, the gun gripped in his hand no longer aimed at me, a knife protruding from his back.
“Impressive accuracy Parcero. This fellow would have been quite grateful that you put the knife through the snake on his shirt without touching the dog.”
Retrieving his knife with a tug and wiping it on a rapidly diminishing blood free area of the fallen man’s shirt, Parcero met my eyes. And yes, that modest smile, this time a bit more enthusiastic in appreciation of my understanding his skill.
We walked to the entrance of the crypt.
Twelve
The crypt was smaller than I had expected, perhaps five meters across, with a low ivy covered roof whose edges were filled with ornate carvings that could almost be touched standing below them. The door was disproportionately massive, with an impressive lock guarding unauthorized entry. I said:
“We had best contact the authorities and the caretaker of this cemetery. It will take time and diplomacy, but it seems we have no other choice.”
Dr Rufer smiled.
“Dr. Streaver, perhaps I can find a better solution.”
She quickly moved back to the cooling bodies behind us, and proceeded to efficiently search through the garments of the men on the ground. It did not take long.
“Dr Streaver, allow me.”
And she used a large quite impressive key to open the impressive lock on the impressive door to the crypt. As we entered, I said:
“Although it is important to notify the proper authorities of the events that just took place outside, I feel we should safeguard any valuable artifacts that might otherwise be removed by thieves if we leave to contact the authorities. Let us first make sure all is secure before we do anything else.”
Dimly illuminated by two small skylights above, we saw a large space dominated by a marble sarcophagus in the center. Next to the sarcophagus was a large statue of presumably St Cloche himself, a bell shaped mitre atop his head, arm stretched up to the sky. Around the walls were numerous statues depicting holy men surrounded by marble dogs. As I inspected the statuary, my heart sank. All of the dogs were large. Not allowing my dismay to show, I inspected the sarcophagus.
I tried lifting the lid. Dr. Rufer, Parcero, and I tried lifting the lid. It would not budge. We tried moving the sarcophagus to see if it hid anything behind. We could not move it.
“Let us think a moment. There has been a serious confrontation in the courtyard in front of this crypt. We see nothing in here worth fighting and dying for, but there must be something. The guardians of the crypt would not leave anything of value so easily discovered, so let us try to think like them.”
I walked around the crypt. I carefully inspected each statue in turn from top to bottom, and the floor and walls around them. I saw nothing that would indicate a function other than decorative. I could find no secret latches or movement that would open a secret passage to treasure hidden in a secondary crypt below.
I stood before the statue of St Cloche, willing it to give me a sign to help me protect the precious artifacts in its care. Hoping that there actually were precious artifacts in its care.
The statue continued to stare, but from this angle it appeared the stare was upward, and the visage of St Cloche had a subtle smile that strangely reminded me of Parcero. I followed his gaze, to his arm and the hand pointing to a central part of the ceiling barely visible in the meager light from the skylights. There was nothing there, only a flat painted ceiling. I knew the answer was there, just out of my reach.
Dr Rufer cleared her throat.
“I’m sorry Dr. Streaver, but I must get out of this dank crypt and get a breath of fresh air.”
I looked at her, ran to her and joyously hugged her with gratitude.
“Dr. Rufer, you are brilliant. Let us enjoy some fresh air.”
Thirteen
Atop the crypt, running along the ridge line of the roof, was an array of bell shaped marble carvings, a shape whose origins have mostly been forgotten but whose name recalls its designer. I was sure those stone carvings held the secret that so far had eluded me. The low roof was beckoning.
“Parcero, a hand if you would be so kind.”
With a boost from Parcero, I was quickly on the roof, careful not to visit St Cloche by way of a skylight. There were twelve decorative carvings, the central four of which were in the shape of a bell. I carefully crept to the first. Engraved around the marble bell were the words “Honore le Chien Courageux Sacre”. I examined the marble bell, gently trying to move it in any way on its mount. It did not move.
I crept to the second bell shaped stone. This too, had words engraved around the stone. They read: “La Taille n’a pas d’Importance”. I felt a thrill of excitement, sure that I was close to a great discovery. This bell did not move when prodded.
The third bell shaped stone had no text engraved, and I felt a moment’s crushing disappointment that this trip had been for naught. I closed my eyes, reached out to touch the bell. I could feel some almost imperceptible movement as I gently pushed. The excitement back, I inspected this marble bell, and found hidden at its base a small lever. I pushed the lever and tried to move the bell – nothing. Not one to give up easily, I pulled the lever and tried to move the bell, and was rewarded with the heavy bell shaped marble carving turning and, with the creaking of an ancient spring, lifting itself away from the roof.
Where the bell had rested was a round lidded box , also carved from marble. I knew it contained an artifact of extraordinary importance, and with relief lifted the marble lid. Inside was what appeared to be an old rag. Had the Mexican group found what they were looking for after all? I must immediately search their bodies. But…
I looked carefully at the scrap of cloth. From my extensive knowledge of 14th century fashion I recognized it as a handkerchief from the year 1327. It had a monogram, reading “S C”. I picked it up, and felt something hard in its folds. With shaking hands, I unfolded the handkerchief, revealing an intricately carved silver seal ring with canine imagery. It was certainly of immense historical value, the canine images on the ring, and most likely St Cloche’s monogram on its cloth wrapping were an indication that I was very close to the end of this quest. But it was too small, it certainly would not satisfy my client. I do not give up.
I moved to the last marble bell. It too had a small lever at its base. I pulled. Nothing. I pushed. Nothing. I tried once again, and as I was pulling the small lever, from behind me Dr. Rufer said, “Have you seen this?” and started to push on a small marble carving that I had not noticed in my rush to inspect the central bell shaped ornaments. The carving was of a small dog in a small boat, and was part of a larger frieze almost hidden by ivy growing along the edge of the roof. The sun burst from the clouds, I could hear a heavenly choir in my head, as my marble bell lifted away from the roof. I turned to look at Dr Rufer, our eyes met, and we knew we had reached the successful end to our quest.
Fourteen
Dr. Rufer carefully crept over to me, and said,
“I didn’t want to let you have all the fun, so Parcero helped me up so I could join you. I think that was a fortuitous decision.”
I did not need to answer, the huge smile on my face was answer enough. We both turned to see what we had discovered. It was another marble box, this one much larger. On removing the lid, we found a large object wrapped in ancient black cloth. We both held our breaths, and I unwrapped the object. I was awestruck – I held in my hands what could only be a reliquary for a holy object. It had glass sides, but the sides were so dirty the contents could not be clearly seen. I turned over the reliquary, and our thoughts of success were confirmed. On the bottom of this reliquary was an engraved plaque depicting a small dog sailing a small boat.
“This is a priceless artifact of great importance to the world of Archaeology. We must protect it from theft or careless handling. Dr. Rufer, please take this wrapped discovery I found first, and I will take the reliquary. Let us get down from this roof. Parcero, if you please…”
Parcero helped us down from the roof. I continued:
“Our best course of action to protect these artifacts from harm will be to immediately bring them to a place of safety. Perhaps the safest place will be the secure headquarters of the Techicho Foundation. Dr Rufer, please have our aircraft ready to depart within the hour, and have our pilot make the proper arrangements with French customs so that we are not delayed by tedious matters such as searches and questions. We must get these artifacts to a place of safety quickly.”
As we prepared to leave, I took one last look inside the crypt, and froze. The arm of St. Cloche was no longer reaching up to the sky. It was pointing directly at us.
Parcero cleared his throat, and for the first time in our acquaintance I heard him speak.
“We have company.”
Fifteen
As I turned from the crypt, I heard them. It started as a single low growl, then multiplied as they all voiced their displeasure. A quick count – a dozen fierce animals, hate filled eyes staring at us. I recalled the engraving on the roof, “La Taille n’a pas d’Importance” and became a believer. The twelve chihuahuas started walking toward us, stopping to inspect their fallen human brethren. They looked up, growls turning to deadly snarls as they started running at us to tear and rend with their razor sharp teeth.
They stopped one meter away from us, staring, their mouths forming into what I knew were smiles of satisfaction that their bloodlust would soon be satisfied. They all looked toward the central dog, a larger animal who was obviously their leader. He looked left at his minions, held eye contact for a long moment, then looked right at the rest, with the same ominous eye contact. This powerful and intelligent animal then looked at Dr Rufer and I, with a savage intensity. He nodded his small but powerful head, I could see all twelve preparing to launch themselves at us. Just as I knew all was lost, the dogs about to spring, I heard Parcero’s voice from behind, one word that would stop the attack.
“Comida.”
All eyes, including my own, turned to Parcero. From a backpack that appeared in his hands, he slowly extracted a seemingly endless string of choripaisa sausages. The dogs looked to their leader, who was staring intently at Parcero’s hands. He started a low ominous growl. Then, almost imperceptibly, his tail twitched. His minions were motionless, waiting for instructions from their leader. His tail broke into a full wag as he raced to Parcero, with the rest of the dogs following. They launched themselves at Parcero, burying him under their weight. I ran to help Parcero.
I arrived in time to see the lead dog alternating savage bites of a choripaisa with loving licks of Parcero’s hand. The rest of the pack was doing the same – it was true love. Parcero looked at Dr Rufer, pleading in his eyes, as he said, “Can we take them home? Please?”
As Parcero drove, Dr Rufer made all the arrangements by telephone. Within the hour we were in the air, all fifteen of us, on our way to the Foundation offices in El Penol.
Sixteen
And the rest is Archaeological history. After an uneventful flight we arrived in El Penol, drove to Senor Montoya’s office. My client was delighted, not only with our extraordinary archaeological discovery, but with Parcero’s new friends as well. We made plans on how to reveal this discovery to the world. What follows is a detailed description of this significant Archaeological artifact.
Part Two – The discoveries
While in El Penol at the foundation’s offices, and later back at my own suite with its library, the size and relevancy the envy of the archaeological world, I worked diligently to understand the story of a dog and his beloved friend. Piecing together clues and fragments of stories scattered over years and continents, slowly the tale emerged.
The pre-Columbian artifact depicted in the photo from Dr. Timador previously reference in this paper tells the beginning of the story of a brave young dog. This dog had a calling, and following this calling, headed east from his home in the jungles of Chihuahua. He crossed the continent to arrive at the eastern shore, commandeered a small boat, and sailed across the ocean. On arriving on the shores of France, he followed his calling, leading him through a dense forest to find a man, dying of hunger and the plague. This dog, caring nothing for his own hunger, begged a loaf of bread from a nearby farmhouse, brought it to the starving man, and the dog’s divine presence cured the man of the plague. From that time onward, man and dog were inseparable. The man, later canonized as Saint Cloche, had a signet ring made to honor the dog. He always wore that ring, a symbol of an immeasurable love between man and dog.
This is the ring found at the Crypt of St. Cloche. The ring, with finely wrought sculptural canine heads and decorative crosses, is a seal which depicts the oft represented scene of a dog carrying a loaf of bread and attending to an ill man’s leg. One of my great skills is in research, and my experience and knowledge of artists working in Le Puy in the early 17th century often enables me to find archaeological clues missed by others in my field. In this project, my research has brought to light a previously unknown portrait of St. Cloche by Goy Francesco, an artist devoted to the church and saintly persons. This portrait shows an angel above offering grace, and lying at the Saint’s feet, the faithful, loving constant companion of St. Cloche, with a loaf of bread, ready to take care of his beloved friend.
On closer examination of this portrait, I saw with great interest that Saint Cloche depicted was wearing a ring. On yet closer examination, I saw with deep satisfaction that the ring in the portrait is the same ring I discovered at the Saint’s crypt. This does indeed help to explain why this ring was found near the second artifact I discovered. It is the ring St. Cloche wore to honor his friend.
The second, and arguably not more important, artifact is a beautifully wrought reliquary. Created by an artisan of great skill, it is crafted in silver, set with stones. The stones are agates, which were geologically native to the area of France where St. Cloche lived and helped his fellow man during those terrible plague years. Glass sides allowed a clear view of the relic for the pilgrims coming to see this marvelous symbol of grace. A sculpted portrait in silver with ruby eyes in the center of the reliquary showed a beautiful small dog, a chihuahua, the companion of St. Cloche. The relic so luxuriously housed is the tail of a small dog. It is well known that some relics from those early times may not truly be relics of the divine entities that are claimed, and although all evidence led me to believe that this was truly a relic from the divine four legged friend and lifelong companion of St. Cloche, there seemed to be no way to prove such a provenance. While pondering how it might be possible to find proof of this relic’s origins, I casually brought the seal ring close to the head of the dog to compare the dog portraits on the ring to the portrait on the reliquary.
As a renowned archaeologist, experienced in all realms and epochs of the archaeological world, I know for certainty that much in the past that I have studied so intensively, and much in the present where we live, can still surprise us and vindicate our existence. Such is the case of two friends, a dog and a man, whose love formed a bond that transcends time, space, and mortality. When the small portrait at the front of the reliquary sensed an object that was so closely associated with the man, the spirit of that divine dog, never far from its earthly relic, responded. And I knew then, with certainty, that both the relic housed in this beautiful reliquary and the ring discovered at the same time, that these were genuine and graced artifacts from the distant past.
end