The Lost Catacomb (12 page)
Nicola finished her coffee and placed the cup on a coaster on
the nearby table.
She reached for
the
Liber Pontificalus
and started reading.
After half an hour of close attention
both to the brief details mentioned and what could be read between the lines,
she tapped Bruno excitedly on his shoulder.
“
Maybe
I
’
m grasping at
straws, but I think I might have a possible candidate for our papal murder
victim,
”
she said,
pointing to one of the entries.
“
Look here.
“
According
to the
Liber
, Pope Sixtus II, along with all of his deacons, was
murdered and then buried in the catacomb of St. Calixtus on August 6, 258.
Maybe his body was exhumed at some
point and moved, especially if he'd offended a powerful group of bishops who
might have been forced to give him a public funeral, just to cover their
tracks.
Maybe they moved him later
to a more obscure location in order to punish him
—
even after death
—
by erasing his memory. Or maybe they wanted to
make sure no one would worship at the grave of a wayward pope who'd agreed to
restore the Temple treasures to the Jews.
“
Maybe
the other
loculi
in the crypt
,
which are anonymous and generic,
are his deacons
’
graves,
”
she continued
breathlessly.
“
You know, the catacomb
of Calixtus isn
’
t
that far from the Vigna Randanini, and maybe the scribe who wrote the scroll we
found, the friend of the pope, was one of the deacons who was murdered
too.
Maybe the bishops knocked off
all of the pope
’
s
friends, just in case he'd confided in them.
”
“
I
understand what you
’
re
saying,
”
Bruno replied
thoughtfully.
“
But
then we have no plausible explanation for all of the so-called clues that were
incorporated into the frescoes and gold glasses.
If the pope
’
s friend had been murdered, he couldn
’
t have arranged for the
ornate tomb decorations, could he?
It
’
s true
that there are many
loculi
with undifferentiated plaques near the two
graves, but they don
’
t
appear to be those of deacons or religious figures.
There
’
s nothing in the iconography to suggest it.
And don
’
t forget, the parchment mentions that the murdered
pope wasn
’
t buried
in the usual location designated for bishops of Rome.
So it doesn
’
t seem likely that he would have first been interred
in the crypt of St. Calixtus and then exhumed and moved.
”
“
I
see what you mean,
”
Nicola
said, as she twisted a lock of her hair absently.
“
But
speaking of possibilities,
”
Bruno continued rapidly, as if in stream-of-consciousness mode,
“
the more I think about
it, the figure of the woman in the fresco might not be sitting near a
sarcophagus, and the cherubs might not be pagan cherubs after all.
”
Nicola looked at him in surprise, listening attentively.
“
What
if the box that we think is a sarcophagus is really supposed to be the Ark of
the Covenant, and the cherubs are meant to represent the golden cherubim that
decorated it?
That would make
perfect sense in the context of the
Menorah
resting on the box.
And it would also provide a plausible
link to the Jewish symbols on the gold glass bases.
It would certainly validate the
information in the scroll
—
that
is, the implication that even mere knowledge of the Church
’
s possession of the
Temple treasures was dangerous, if not deadly.
”
“
You
could be right,
”
Nicola
replied.
“
Look, I
’
m
going to continue reading the
Liber
and see if there
’
s anything else I can
come up with
.
Do you mind
making me another cup of espresso?
”
“
Good
idea.
I could use one myself.
”
Bruno had just reentered the living room with two cups of
steaming espresso on a small tray, when Nicola called out suddenly.
“
Look
at this, Bruno!
”
she
exclaimed.
“
Here!
See this?
I can
’
t believe I nearly
overlooked it!
”
He put the tray down on the glass-topped coffee table and
joined her on the sofa.
“
The
twenty-second Pope was someone named Cornelius, who sat on the throne of St.
Peter from 251
–
253
AD.
He was buried near the cemetery
of Calixtus on the Via Appia Antica on the estate of Lucina, a martyr who
’
d been tortured and
beheaded.
”
“
Okay,
”
Bruno replied
carefully.
“
Where's this going?
”
“
Look
at the next line
—‘
The
bishopric was vacant 66 days.
’
That
’
s got to be the time frame for our missing
Pope!
The next pope, officially,
was Lucius, from June 26, 253 through March 5, 254.
Also a martyr and beheaded, and also buried
in the cemetery of Calixtus on the Via Appia.
“
We
haven
’
t seen any
other chronological gaps of this magnitude between the reigns of any other
popes listed in the
Liber
.
And by the way, this seems to be a very rare instance of precise dates,
with months and days, not just the usual global parameters of years.
“
So
maybe our missing pope, the murdered pope, was Bishop of Rome between Cornelius
and Lucius and was totally erased from the text.
”
Bruno considered the possibility for a moment and then
concurred.
“
You might be right, Nicola.
A 66-day gap is definitely
suspicious.
“
And
by the way, there's something else I just thought of that seems to validate the
information in the scroll and that makes Mariamne's identity as a spokesman for
her people even more plausible.
”
“
What
would that be?
”
she
asked.
“
Well,
”
Bruno explained,
“
there were thirteen
separate Jewish
synagogai
in Rome during the 3
rd
Century,
including the one in Ostia Antica, the port city just outside Rome.
Now what may be of relevance is the fact
that women played a very significant role in their communities.
“
They
could hold the position of
archisynagogus
, which was the head of the
synagogue; they could be the
mater synagogus
, or mother of the
synagogue; or they could be
archons
, for example.
Some of these titles were honorific, but
most were elected administrative positions.
”
Nicola nodded sadly, her eyes filling unexpectedly with
tears.
“
I guess that means that Mariamne Rufina must have
been a very special woman.
No
wonder the Pope fell in love with her.
Just imagine
—
she
was young, beautiful, intelligent, and her talents were obviously recognized by
the community in which she lived.
What a tragic story.
What a
terrible ending for them both.
”
“
Look,
Nicola,
”
Bruno
said.
“
I think we should write up a brief sketch of our
theory and present it to Father Benedetto, or at least use it to organize our
thoughts when we speak to him.
He
can then decide if Cardinal Rostoni needs to be told, or what he should be
told, on a need-to-know basis.
I
’
m going to put the
Liber
away and sit at the computer for a while.
Why don
’
t you curl up on the sofa and make yourself
comfortable until I
’
m
finished?
”
He picked up the volume and headed for his study, as Nicola
reached for a newspaper that lay in a wicker basket nearby and began to read.
Exhausted after all of this intense concentration, she closed
her eyes for a moment, and when she looked up, Bruno was standing over her, an
indulgent smile on his face.
She
leaned back into the soft pillows of the sofa, yawned, and stretched.
“
Bruno,
what time is it?
I think I dozed
off for a couple of minutes.
”
“
Actually,
you did.
And for more than a few
minutes.
I didn
’
t want to wake you.
”
He was now sitting beside her and gently pushed a long wisp
of hair off her forehead.
“
You looked quite
peaceful,
”
he
added.
She smiled sleepily at him
and then leaned forward, impulsively kissing him on the cheek.
“
You
are
sweet,
”
she
said.
He drank in the fresh scent of her shampoo and floral
perfume, and his lips softly brushed her hair.
Slowly and with infinite care he kissed
her forehead, her cheek, the tip of her nose, and then her lips, again and
again.
As she nestled into his arms, he began to massage her neck
and shoulders lightly with his fingertips.
As naturally as if this were not the first time for them together, Bruno
reached for the zipper at the back of her dress.
She loosened herself from his embrace
and helped him pull it down, almost to her waist.
He ran his fingers around the edge of the
pale violet lace of her bra, tracing the rise and swell of her breasts, and
then pushed the straps off her shoulders.
Nicola moaned and an almost orgasmic shudder of desire went
through her, as he loosened the clasp of her bra and flung it over the arm of
the sofa.
“
Hey,
”
she murmured,
“
be
careful with that.
It
’
s a La Perla.
”
He lay down beside her and slid his hands under her dress,
along her thighs and up towards her hips.
Lowering her thong, he stroked her slowly, teasing out the moment to the
point of unbearable expectation.
She fumbled at his belt and pants.
He was hard and ready for her.
Afterwards, cradled in his arms, she confessed somewhat
shyly,
“
I wasn
’
t expecting this to
happen, but I
’
m
glad it did.
Bruno, this wasn
’
t just casual for
me.
I
’
ve . . . I
’
ve
never really let go like this before, especially on such short acquaintance.
”
She blushed to think that, despite her age, she
’
d only slept with two
other men. One had been an upperclassman she
’
d dated during her freshman and sophomore years at
NYU, and she
’
d
known him for a year before she
’
d
finally relinquished her virginity to him. The other had been an up and coming
probate attorney whom she
’
d
met shortly after her grandfather
’
s
death, when she was still reeling from the aftershocks of her loss.
In fact, his firm had been the one to
handle Tom
’
s
estate.
In retrospect, she understood that he
’
d taken advantage of her vulnerability.
It had turned out that they
’
d had nothing in common
of any substance.
The relationship,
she'd quickly come to realize, was based mainly on physical attraction and her
own desperate emotional need immediately following her grandfather
’
s death.
All in all, it had lasted for little
more than a month.
And when she
looked back at that time in her life, it was with a certain degree of
embarrassment and, above all, self-reproach for her initial, all too glaring
failure to deal with her grief over Tom
’
s
death in a more suitable way
—
to
face it head on and draw strength from her memories of the bond they had
shared, rather than sublimating it in an inappropriate sexual relationship that
could not help her heal.
