placed round his feet and tighteneduntil the bones broke. He still did not recant.
The next morning, the nun reported that the heretic's feet had nothealed and that Father Orlando's bones remained broken. There was nomore sorcery. After examining the priest, His Excellency concluded thatthe Devil had been driven from him. The heretic was again handed thedocument and again His Excellency asked him, 'Now, Father Orlando,will you sign the confession and recant your heresy?'
He again refused and was imprisoned for many months. After thistime a manuscript was found in Father Orlando's cell, written in theDevil's language, bearing images of a perverted Eden. The heretic wascondemned to death. Even at the end, moments before his execution, hestill refused to recant. His book of the Devil was ordered burnt . . .
Torino read the last lines again: . . . a manuscript was found inFather Orlando's cell, written in the Devil's language, bearing images ofa perverted Eden. The current Church authorities had long since forgotten Falcon's forbidden volume, but less than a hundred years ago the Curia had recorded its suspicions that it might be the document the world now knew as the Voynich Cipher Manuscript. Yesterday, in New York, he had stolen away to the Beinecke Library to see the original and hear Lauren Kelly's talk. The pre-publicity, including the sub-title of her presentation, 'A Doomed Quest For Eldorado?' had been enough to pique his interest and, having listened to her, he was now convinced that Falcon's Devil's book was indeed the Voynich.
He reached for his notes and felt again the bitter frustration he had experienced when Dr Kelly had refused to collaborate with him on completing her research. Apparently she would take a three-week vacation, then finish the translation. He powered up his laptop. The Internet was infested with individuals and communities obsessed with unravelling the manuscript's secrets. Any Google search of 'Voynich' threw up thousands of websites, forums and chat rooms dedicated to the document. Most were hosted by crackpots, amateur sleuths, writers and researchers selling their own particular theory about it. When the Beinecke homepage appeared on screen he clicked on Voynich Synopsis, laid the Inquisition Archives document next to the screen and again compared the story in both sources. The parallels were uncanny.
Despite the still-enciphered astrological section, the translation was a towering achievement. There had been some journalists at the Beinecke, but he was surprised and relieved that she had chosen to reveal her findings in an obscure open lecture on linguistics rather than a full-blown press conference. Then he reminded himself that Dr Lauren Kelly hadn't yet proved what she had accomplished. In academic terms, until she completed the translation and published her findings in full, her work would be classed only as a theory - one in a long line. There was no doubt in Torino's mind, however, that her translation was accurate.
Understandably, she assumed that the fantastical story was an allegorical fantasy, but the Church's hierarchy had once viewed it as a blasphemous attempt to rewrite Genesis and a threat to everything they stood for. Their ruthless response proved nothing, but it raised a question. Why had Father Orlando Falcon not only created the incredibly complex Voynich but endured torture and a hideous death rather than recant his story if it was fiction?
Might his miraculous garden exist?
Torino stood, stretched his tired muscles and limped to the open window. As a child at the orphanage, he had been small, conscientious and clever, the priests' favourite but an easy target for the other boys. One particularly vicious beating had crushed his sciatic nerve, permanently disabling him.
As he breathed in the evening air, the mighty dome of St Peter's before him, he was convinced that God had entrusted him with unravelling the enigma of Falcon's garden. He thought again of Dr Lauren