The Testimonium (17 page)

“That sucks indeed, my young friend!” he finally said.

The cabinet had been divided into numerous compartments and cubbies, and it looked as if all of them, at one time, had held scrolls and ancient documents. But the wooden partitions between them had been chewed through, and the priceless trove of information had been shredded to line the two large rat’s nests that occupied each lower corner of the reliquary. Isabella stooped and scooped up the mummified carcass of one of the offending beasts. “
Stupid, roditore meno male!!!!
” she screamed, and flung it against the back wall of the chamber, where it broke into pieces and settled to the floor in a cloud of dust.

Father MacDonald finally spoke. “They are stupid, evil little rodents,” he said. “But all is not lost. I have retrieved substantial content from documents in far worse shape than these,” he said. “There is still a great deal of information here, but it will be the work of years to piece it together and decipher it. What a sad disappointment!”

Josh spoke up. “Well, I see where the key fits in,” he said, pointing. All four of them looked to see the small compartment, lined on the sides with dull metal, which occupied about half of the space at the top right hand side of the reliquary. Its ornately carved, bronze-plated door was intact and firmly shut. There was a keyhole in the center of it.

“Thank God!” Isabella said. “It looks as if the rats did not get into it. Unless . . .” For a moment she forgot proper field techniques. She handed her camera to Josh, grabbed the ancient cabinet with both hands, and slid it out from the wall about a foot. She shone her light on the solid wood back. There were two holes gnawed into the paneling near the bottom, showing where the rodents had gained entrance—but neither was directly behind the locked compartment. She gave a huge sigh of relief. The others stared at her, speechless. Finally she laughed. “All right,” she said, “that was one small breach of professional field procedure! Let’s do it right from here on out! I am going to suggest that we carefully remove all the shredded documents first. We’ll search for any metal or non-perishable artifacts that might have gotten buried in the rat’s nests. After the cabinet is completely cleaned out except for the locked compartment, we will transfer the cabinet to the mobile lab and see if the key still works. Hopefully the key we have actually fits that lock and not some other long-lost treasure chest from elsewhere in the Villa Jovis!”

Over the next few hours, the three archeologists brought several acid-free cardboard boxes over from the lab and carefully lifted out the shredded ancient texts, separating papyrus and parchment fragments from wood chips, bits of straw, and the other odds and ends the rats had dragged into their nest. Their spirits lifted a bit when they saw that there were still a few decent-sized pieces of scroll amid the more finely shredded fragments. MacDonald paused as he studied a piece about three inches across. It was written in a clear, strong hand that was a marked contrast to the shaky, almost illegible Latin of the Tiberius manuscript.

“It appears to be part of a letter to Tiberius,” he said. “Judging from context, it is from Augustus himself. It says:
‘Meum filium, meis est quod assistere Agrippa in vitali labore . . . Romani aquilae perdidit ad Parthos per Crassus, Saxa, et Antonius. Eorum damnum est ictu ad Romae dignitas quod . . . An bello aut agere, debent reversus!
’ One end of the fragment is rather chewed up, but a rough translation would be ‘My son, my command is that you assist Agrippa in his vital effort’ . . . there’s a bit missing here . . . ‘Roman eagles lost to the Parthians by Crassus, Saxa, and Antony. Their loss is a blow to Rome’s dignitas that . . .’ Rats ate a few words here too . . . ‘whether by battle or negotiation, they must be returned!’ One of Tiberius’ earliest military assignments was the expedition into Armenia, where he was second in command to Marcus Agrippa, in an effort to recover the lost standards of the legions that had been defeated in Rome’s earlier conflicts with the Parthians. These were his marching orders!”

“What a treasury of history those rats destroyed!” said Josh. “That is the one thing that none of us suspected!”

“Years ago, I did a restoration project for a monastery in Spain,” said MacDonald. “They had a cabinet full of beautiful medieval books, laboriously copied in Carolingian minuscule during the ninth century, that had been destroyed by rats, just like these scrolls. Yet, amazingly, within ten years, eighty percent of the writing was recovered.”

“I know that is true,” said Isabella. “But the pristine nature of the other finds in the chamber let us get our hopes up so high! I envy you your optimism. I can’t look at this shredded parchment without feeling sick to my stomach.”

Josh studied a fragment he had recovered, slightly larger than the one MacDonald had read. It was in the same hand as the Tiberius letter, but clearer and less shaky. He read aloud:
“‘Non curare quod senatus dicit, Seiani, Sit maiestatis iudiciis permanere! At Romae in putredinem et purgare intendo tantum de putredine possum antequam moriar, ut non pudeat coram Divus Iulius—Si ad illum senem triumphalem vere Dei esse!’
Hmm. This one is actually a complete paragraph from a letter Tiberius wrote. It reads something like ‘I do not care what the Senate says, Sejanus, let the treason trials continue! Rome is rotten to the core, and I intend to purge as much of the rot as I can before I die, that I may not be ashamed to stand before the Divus Julius—if the old triumphator is truly the God we make him out to be!’ It appears that Tiberius’ reputation as a tyrant may not have been an exaggeration!”

Over the course of the afternoon, they filled three boxes with papyrus fragments and one with pieces of a parchment document. This last one was badly shredded, but the few words they were able to read appeared to be bits of erotic poetry in Greek. They also filled another box with various other scraps and pieces—some gnawed leather, two coins, and a fair amount of fabric that appeared to have been part of a woman’s gown at one time. In the heart of one of the nests was a golden chain with a cameo portrait of a Roman woman in marble, on a background of black onyx or obsidian. It was housed in a golden mount that was inscribed on the reverse side with the name “Vipsania Agrippina.”

Isabella looked at it sadly. “I remember reading in Suetonius’ biography of Tiberius,” she said. “He married Vipsania, the daughter of Augustus Caesar’s most trusted advisor, Marcus Agrippa, and was deeply in love with her. But when Agrippa died, Caesar ordered young Tiberius to divorce his bride and marry Agrippa’s widow Julia—the only daughter of Caesar Augustus, and the young stepmother of Tiberius’ first wife! It was a miserable marriage, and according to Suetonius, Tiberius pined for Vipsania for the rest of his days and never forgave Augustus.” She gave Rossini a dark look. “That’s what old men get for meddling in the romantic affairs of their juniors!” she said.

He laughed out loud, and Josh looked at both of them in puzzlement. They laughed at his bewilderment. “It is, how would you say in America, an inside joke!” Isabella told him.

By the end of the day, the ancient cabinet had been carefully cleaned out and all the fragments of history boxed up for reconstruction. As near as they could tell, there had once been at least five papyrus scrolls in the reliquary, plus the parchment one, at least two garments, a few coins, and the necklace. There were also some pieces of grain and seeds that the rats had brought in at some point. These were bagged separately and turned over to Dr. Apriceno.

When they were done, Isabella addressed the team back in the mobile lab. “I think we are done for the day,” she said. “I suggest we repair to the village for supper and then retire for the night.”

“Who spends the night on the mountain this time?” said Josh. “I certainly don’t mind.”

Rossini spoke up. “I slept in a five-star hotel last night,” he said, “with the most amazing room service! I feel I need to sleep in a tent to atone for such luxury! But I will join all of you at Mrs. Bustamante’s for dinner first.”

Closing up the chamber and weighing down the tarp that covered the entrance, the four were joined by Simone Apriceno as they ambled down the trail together. She commiserated with them over the loss of the scrolls from the reliquary. But she waxed eloquent about her initial findings. “I found a very few modern spores on top of the dust deposits near the door,” she said. “Those doubtless blew in there within twenty-four hours of the chamber being torn open. But all the core samples show nothing but stone dust, soil, and a perfectly stratified series of pollen deposits scattered throughout. All the deepest samples are pure first century flora—not a bit of contamination!”

“What about the rat’s nest?” asked Josh.

“Those samples appear to be a bit more recent than the rest, but still pretty old,” said Apriceno. “The seeds from the nest appear to be consistent with early medieval agricultural crops. But we will be able to carbon date the rat carcass itself, despite its being flung against a stone wall and broken into several pieces!”

“Hey!” said Dr. Sforza. “I was provoked!”

They made their way down the trail to Dr. Rossini’s house and took turns showering in the two bathrooms. Josh turned on the American ESPN satellite feed on the living room television while the two ladies were still getting cleaned up, just to see what was happening in the world of sports. The Rangers were opening their season with a nice winning streak, thanks to improved pitching, but the Mavs were barely above .500 as they stumbled toward the playoff season with hopes dimming. As for the Cowboys—well, Josh had not had his hopes up since the mid-90s, and reports from the upcoming draft gave him no reason to change that assessment.

Rossini came in, his hair still damp, and glanced at the screen. “I don’t know why I even get that channel,” he said. “I don’t even care for our European sports that much, and as for your American games—well!” He gave a hearty snort.

Josh laughed. “I’m a one-town fan,” he said. “My dad’s pastorates always seemed to orbit the North Texas area, so the Mavs, the Cowboys, and the Rangers are my teams. I have tried watching hockey, but I just can’t seem to get into it at all. Mind if I catch some real home news?” He switched the TV over to the American CNN feed. The President, sincere and eloquent seeming as always, was pledging to reduce the deficit in a responsible manner, if only Congress would start acting in a more bipartisan manner and support his agenda. Funny, coming from a man who had borrowed five trillion dollars in his first four years, and seemed determine to pass that mark in his second administration! Josh turned the TV off. “Sorry,” he said to Rossini. “It was spoiling my appetite!”

“Not a fan of your country’s Democratic Party, are you?” asked Rossini.

“Not in its current incarnation,” Josh said. “They’ve had some good ideas in the past, but here lately all they seem to know how to do is tax, spend, and borrow. And some Republicans aren’t much better!”

“Count yourself fortunate,” the Italian archeologist said. “My country has been through nearly seventy governments since World War II!”

Josh looked at him. “Maybe you can borrow our Constitution,” he said. “We don’t use it much anymore!”

They laughed together, and then rose to greet the two ladies as they emerged, freshly changed, from the guest room. Moments later, Father MacDonald joined them from the main bedroom. Rossini beamed at the group. “It has been entirely too long since I have entertained this many guests!” he exclaimed. “Let us go dine together and be merry!” He offered Dr. Apriceno his arm and escorted her out the door. Josh looked at Isabella and did likewise. Father MacDonald shook his head in amusement and brought up the rear as they walked down the street to Mrs. Bustamante’s restaurant.

The dinner was superb, both due to the excellent food and the fact that they had skipped lunch in their focus on the contents of the reliquary. The friendly Spanish restaurateur seemed to think that all of them were suffering from chronic malnutrition, and kept bringing out additional side dishes that they had not even ordered. When Dr. Rossini gently protested, she blushed and fled to the kitchen.

Isabella looked at her mentor and grinned. “Something you are not telling me, Giuseppe?” she asked.

“No!” he snapped. Then he arched his eyebrows ever so slightly. “Not yet, at least.”

She threw her head back and laughed, and Josh joined in. She looked at him intently for a moment. What if both she and her old friend were finding a second chance at love at the same time? Josh suddenly glanced her way, and it was her turn to blush and avert her gaze. She was somewhat excited and angry with herself at the same time. How could she develop such strong feelings so quickly, about a man she barely even knew? She decided then and there that she wanted to find out more about this man before her heart ran away with her any further.

They sat at the table for two hours, excitedly discussing the chamber and their discoveries. So intent were they on their conversation that they did not notice the man in the white suit, two tables down, who intently listened to their every word. They only saw him when he gave them a friendly nod and smile as they left.

After supper, they walked back to Rossini’s house. He bade them a cheerful good night and headed up the Via Tiberio a short time later. Josh had paused on the way back to the house to buy a Coke at the gift shop he’d discovered the night before, and he arrived at the villa just as Rossini was leaving. He watched the older man go with affection. Rossini was intelligent, articulate, funny, and also wise. Josh imagined that he would be a wonderful grandfather, and that made him think of his own grandfather, some ten years gone now. But thinking of Granddad Parker made him think of the impulse purchase he had made with his sodas, and he walked into the villa as the others stood in the den talking.

“Ladies, and most reverent Father MacDonald,” he said. “Our evening just got booked!”

Three pairs of eyes regarded him quizzically as he reached into the sack from the souvenir shop, bringing out a box of double six dominoes. “I am going to introduce you to the true sport of kings—Forty-Two!”