"I assume he was also Siegfried's cloak of invisibility?" Remo asked.
"That is true," Chiun confirmed. "At that time, the ability to shield oneself in darkness was long known to Sinanju. So the two things for which the greatness of Siegfried's rule are improperly credited are in fact rightly attributable to Sinanju. All hail the House of Sinanju."
"Okay, you've given me the background," Remo said. "But how did Bal-Mung the Good become Bal-Mung the Not-So-Good?"
"Master Bal-Mung did labor in the service of King Siegfried for many years. So many, in fact, that Siegfried did come to think of him as a friend."
"Whoops," Remo said. "I'll bet that cost him a pretty penny."
Chiun nodded. "It is a mistake to assume friendship in a royal assassin," Chiun agreed. "And it is right to take advantage when a king relaxes his guard. If only to instruct future kings on the folly of this presumption."
"Bal-Mung shafted him big-time, didn't he?" Remo said knowingly.
"It was agreed upon as a final tribute to the greatness that is Sinanju, that the entire wealth of the Nibelungen Hoard be bequeathed to Sinanju upon Siegfried's death. With the provision that the death come late in life and be of causes not unnatural."
"I presume Bal-Mung somehow got the shit end of the stick," Remo offered.
"Siegfried was murdered by a knave named Hagan at the behest of the dalkyrie Brunhild. There is his battle helmet," Chiun said, indicating with a sweep of his hand the shelf behind him on which sat the ancient rusted headgear and its attendant falcon. "Found near his slain body."
"So we forfeited the loot," Remo said.
Chiun seemed genuinely surprised. "Why should we have?"
"Well, it's pretty obvious. You said natural causes late in life. The guy was murdered."
"And for kings, there is no more natural a cause for death than treachery," Chiun said with bland surprise.
"Oh, boy," Remo said warily. He knew where this was heading. "What about late in life?" he challenged.
"There is no later point in anyone's life than the point of death," Chiun replied simply.
"Bulldookey," Remo said. "Bal-Mung lost the booty fair and square. Case closed."
"While I do not agree with your childishly silly reasoning, your conclusion is one that would have served Bal-Mung. Would that he had considered this a closed case. He would not have squandered years in search of the lost Nibelungen Hoard."
"Lost?" Remo asked. "When did it get lost?"
"Before his murder, Siegfried sent Bal-Mung off on a pointless journey to Gaul. While he was away, Siegfried hid the gold in a secret treasure cave beneath a mighty river, thought by many to be the Danube. The precise location was known only to Siegfried. It was said that those who had constructed the tunnel and moved the gold were executed in order to forever preserve the secret."
"I guess old Siegfried wasn't as big a dope as Bal-Mung thought he was," Remo said. "He stashed it away as an insurance policy."
"It did him no good," Chiun noted. "When the Master returned, he found the body of the Nibelungen king. Had Sinanju been at his side, his death would have been avoided. Bal-Mung spent the remainder of his masterhood in search of the Nibelungen Hoard. He never found it." Chiun hung his head as if this was a personal disgrace.
"So what about the thing that was stolen from here? The puzzle piece-was it Siegfried's or Bal-Mung's?"
"It is believed that it was meant for Sinanju. Before his death, Siegfried commissioned a carver to make for him a four-piece map that detailed the resting place of the treasure. A quarter of this was found by Bal-Mung near the body of the king. It had fallen in water and was doubtless overlooked by his attacker."
"So where are the other three pieces?"
"Hagan-Siegfried's murderer-was believed to have one in his possession. One was thought to have been sent to the Burgundian king Gunther, who was brother-in-law to Siegfried. Another was said to have been passed down to Siegfried's own illegitimate son. None of this is known for certain, for each piece of the puzzle was guarded to the point of paranoia by its possessors. Each one coveted the prize. Several of the principal players vanished in their attempt to search for the Hoard themselves. Bal-Mung hunted for the Nibelungen Hoard for many years but never recovered it. He finally returned to Sinanju, where he died in disgrace."
"And no one could figure out from their own section where the dough was?"
Chiun shook his head. "Each piece of the map detailed only a portion of the Hoard's true location. It was designed in such a way that, without the other three, a single piece would be useless. When this room was constructed, the Sinanju piece was placed on that shelf as a reminder of the folly of BalMung." Chiun's eyes were sorrowful as he looked at the barren shelf.
After hearing the story, Remo found it difficult to work up much enthusiasm for going after a scrap of wood. However, Chiun meant more to him than anyone else in the world. If it was important to Chiun, it was important to Remo.
"I'm sorry, Chiun," Remo said, "but I think it could be a lot worse. But my promise still goes. If you want to find whoever did this, you can count me in."
Chiun nodded. "It is important to preserve our history," he concluded. "Future generations should not forget the lesson of the foolish Bal-Mung."
"Okay," Remo said, getting to his feet. "I'll give Smith a call and see if he has any ideas."
Chiun rose to his feet as well, revealing the square of stone he had been sitting on. The Master of Sinanju began padding to the door.
Remo craned his neck around to look at the spot where Chiun had been sitting.
"There's been something I've meant to ask for a long time," Remo said suddenly. "What are these?" He nodded at the two stone tablets on which they had been sitting. There was some kind of ancient writing burned into the surface of each. The tablets appeared to have been shattered at one time and fastened back together. Ancient fissures crisscrossed the stone.
Chiun shrugged. "They were of some significance to the Hebrews at one time. A Babylonian prince awarded them to the House as a bonus after a relatively easy assignment. More worthless junk. My grandfather used them as bookends." With that, Chiun left the room.
Remo peered at the inscriptions in the rock. There were five separate lines on each. Ten in all.
He remembered Charlton Heston smashing similar tablets in an old movie.
Not wishing to think about the possible significance of what he and Chiun had been using as stools, Remo quickly exited the Sinanju library.
Chapter 14
A good night's sleep had done nothing for Smith's persistent headache. It had, however, beaten back the fatigue he had been feeling for more than two weeks.
He arrived at Folcroft late, coming in at the lazy hour of 7:00 a.m. He had just taken his seat behind his desk and was opening his drawer for the morning's first dose of aspirin when the blue phone rang.
He tucked the receiver between shoulder and ear. "Yes," he said crisply as he twisted the aspirin bottle cover.
"Only me, Smitty," Remo's voice announced. "Chiun and I need a little favor."
"What is it?" Smith asked. He tossed two pills back into his dry throat. Quickly he picked up a glass from his desk and swallowed a mouthful of tap water.
Remo hurriedly explained the Sinanju legend of Bal-Mung and the objects taken from Chiun's home. In conclusion, he said, "So I guess what we need to know is if there's some way you can track either the coins or the wood carving."
"That might be possible," Smith said. He turned on his computer, quickly logging on. He continued to talk even as he typed. "Do you believe there might be a connection between this and Four?"