treasure or pleasure

chapter 11

"So, uhm," Jenna begins, "we need to find the place where, uh, what did your dad say?" she asks me.

"The place where the first queen of Spain met with Saint Jerome and passed notes," I replied.

"That's impossible," Billie says. "They never met. Saint Jerome died in a monastery in Bethlehem in 420 CE, and Queen Isabella wasn't born until years later."

"Okay, hear me out," Thomas says. "What if the two names are an anagram?"

"Thomas is right," I say. "Not about the anagram, but my dad was probably talking in code because the guards could hear us. So... he didn't mean Queen Isabella and Saint Jerome actually met. 'Met' means something else."

"'Met'... meet, connect, intersect?" Billie suggests.
"Intersect. Yes, that's something," I say. "An intersection, a place where two streets meet."

"And Mexico City has a street named after Queen Isabella," Thomas points out.
"What about Saint Jerome?" Jenna asks.
"No," Thomas replies. "Try 'San Jerónimo.' That's how he's known in Mexico," Billie adds.
"Bingo!" Jenna exclaims. "And the two streets intersect."

"What is that building on the corner?" I inquire.

"That is the University of the Cloister of Sor Juana, formerly the San Jerónimo Convent, best known for having been the home of a nun named Sor Juana in the 1600s," Thomas explains.

"Sor Juana was not only a nun. She was also an accomplished playwright and poet, hailed by modern scholars as the first feminist in the New World," Liz adds.

"Perhaps she was a Daughter of the Plumed Serpent," I suggest, finishing Liz's thought. "This must be the place my father mentioned."

"Hiding a relic in a convent would be the perfect hiding place," Billie remarks.
"Indeed, and all of the treasure-hunting conquistadors were men," Jenna says. "No men were allowed in convents."

"My dad said, 'Go to the place where they met and passed notes,'" I mention as we all walk together towards the convent. "Like secret notes, saying where Sor Juana hid the relic?" Thomas speculates. "I don't think my dad was being literal," I laugh.

"Good point. 'Passed notes' could be a code for something else," Liz adds. We join a tour through the convent, listening to the head nun speak.

"As a child, Sor Juana spent most of her time in the library. She taught herself Greek and Latin and was even rumored to have corresponded with Sir Isaac Newton," the nun explains.

"Almost everything in here could be a clue," Billie remarks nonchalantly.

"But by age seventeen," the head nun continues, "Sor Juana was given a choice. Marry a man or become a nun. She chose God and spent most of the remainder of her life in the convent. She eventually created the biggest library in all of Spanish America."

"She had a library. It's the perfect place to hide a note," I muse.

"But Sor Juana's feminist writings became a threat to the Church. She was ultimately exiled, and her writings were burned. Fortunately, scholars have managed to recover some of her writings, as well as some of the instruments she played, including the old organ in this chapel, which was refurbished in the 1970s. Now, if you would follow me," the nun continues.

We exchange looks, while the rest of the group walks away we secretly stay behind.

"Sor Juana played music," I say, the realization dawning on me. "Passed notes,'" Billie and I say together. "Like, musical notes," I add.

"Secret societies like the Masons hid clues in plain sight," Billie says, her voice thoughtful. "But maybe the Daughters of the Plumed Serpent hid a clue in plain sound?"