Wayward Son (54 page)

Before pressing on the raised scroll, he stepped back from the doors and savored the moment. Not only would he, Archibald Walker, receive most of the credit for this site’s historic discovery, he would also be hailed as a hero, teach Silvio a lesson, and impress Luc Renard—all with one touch of a button!

CHAPTER 73

On the Beach Near Herculaneum, AD 65

FALLING TO HIS KNEES, Cain trembled as he released the hilt of his weapon. Then he collapsed on the ground in racking sobs. “Oh, Quintus, forgive me, my son!” he wept.

“No, Marcus. It is
I
who need
your
forgiveness,” Rina pleaded, sobbing. “The deaths of Quintus and his family resulted from my setting fire to Rome. You cannot know the depth of my guilt and regret for the harm I have caused.”

Cain stared at her once more. With his calm returning for the first time in days, he stood up, took her hands, and raised her to her feet. Then he took his beautiful wife in his arms.

Rina, still weeping, tried to wriggle free from his embracing gesture of forgiveness. Yet he would not release her. Taking her head in his hands, he forced her to look at him, rather than the blade of his sword that now held the horses’ reins fast in the sand.

She returned his gaze with pleading eyes. “I always feared you would find out one day,” she told him, “but I was afraid to ever tell you the truth. I thought I would lose you. How could you not have killed me for what I did? It is the Roman way.”

Cain placed his fingers gently on her lips. “I have come to know the evil that anger brings. To take revenge on you would serve no purpose—I am not your judge.”

“But I have deceived you since the day we met!”

Reflecting on his own countless deceptions, Cain declared, “We must let go of the past, Rina.” Embracing her tightly, he whispered, “I love you.”

“Oh, Marcus, I never thought in a thousand years I would fall in love with a Roman man after they slaughtered my people,” Rina confessed to him. “But I do love you as well, with all my heart.”

Leaving the horses, the two strolled together in silence, each mulling the extraordinary series of events leading up to this fateful encounter. As the sun angled lower, they turned and faced the shimmering sea. Finally, they began a slow walk back to the horses. As the sun set, Rina tugged gently at Cain’s hand and he turned to face her once more.

“My life has been saddled with tremendous guilt over the fiery deaths of so many innocent people,” Rina said in a low voice. “I only meant for my brutal master to die. Sometimes I cannot breathe, the burden is so great. And at night, lying next to you, I see the terrified faces and hear the cries of Rome’s citizens in my nightmares.”

Cain held his wife close, pressing his chest against hers. He knew her memories would not fade easily, if ever.

Rina continued, “Lately, though, I’ve been having another set of dreams. A soothing voice talks to me. It encourages me to continue my revenge and set fire to all things Roman. Then, it torments me over and over with an incomprehensible saying.”

An eerie feeling came over Cain.

“What does this voice say to you?”

Rina replied, “The voice just keeps repeating,
‘Neither death nor time can turn a story’s truth to dust.’
”

Cain was stunned. The devil was no longer targeting him, but now both Rina and his life’s work were in jeopardy. He made a mental note to change the sequence of the combination code on the doors to his observatory. Then, he tried to reassure his wife, saying simply, “I used to hear a voice just like that in my dreams. I was finally able to silence it by listening to the advice of someone I met not long ago.”

“Who was this person?” Rina asked him eagerly.

“He was a carpenter from Judaea…”

CHAPTER 74

Herculaneum, AD 65–78

“HAVE YOU EVER CUT the umbilical cord, sir?” the midwife asked Cain.

An intriguing question to ask of the first person ever to have one, he mused.

“Yes, I have, but never for a girl,” he proudly answered.

“Well, you must be prepared. Because there are two girls, sir!”

Cain was elated—he was the father of twin daughters!

He and Rina named them Callista and Alexandria. Over the next few years, the twins became the jewels in the crown of their marriage. As a parent, Rina turned out to be practical and strict, while Cain, to his own surprise, proved malleable. The couple found that the joys of raising the twins only deepened their own relationship. Cain could not recall such happiness since his days long ago with Tanith on the outskirts of Athens.

Cain and Rina agreed that the girls would be educated by Greek tutors, and once the children had reached the age of six, they entered into a rigorous routine of classes at the villa. Such a regime was unconventional, since education for girls in Rome at the time was haphazard, at best. Nevertheless, the parents were not to be deterred. Astronomy, mathematics, history, and languages were core subjects for the girls’ curriculum, and Cain himself often outlined the lesson plans for their tutorials. When the twins were going on seven, the family also began frequenting the open-air theater at Herculaneum.

It was here that they first met their neighbors, Drusus Octavius Balbus and his wife, Tullia. Drusus was one of Herculaneum’s most generous benefactors, having contributed the funds for a major new extension of the local public baths. Tullia was a talented painter. After lunch at the villa one day, she suggested that it would be an honor if Cain would permit her to paint a mural of his observatory, the domed building on the grounds to the south of the villa, for display in the dining room of her house. Well aware that estate painting was an established genre of Roman art, he accorded Tullia permission.

Over the next few months, Tullia enjoyed the run of the villa for her mural project. Her husband sometimes accompanied her, especially when Rina had scheduled one of the monthly wine-tasting parties. Although Cain never allowed guests to enter the observatory, Drusus seemed inordinately curious about the building his wife was painting.

“Is there a special material on your ceiling in there?” he asked Cain at one wine tasting. “I can see something sparkling from my estate when the dome is open.”

“Only a field of stars painted on the inside of the dome, with an inset of glass crystals,” he responded, hoping that Drusus would drop the subject.

“That’s
what made it look like diamonds, then!” Drusus remarked knowledgeably.

“I’ll show it to you one day,” Cain reassured him. “There’s just a bit of additional work to do,” he fibbed.

***

In AD 78, when the girls were nearing thirteen, Cain decided it was time to show them the observatory. He was still in excellent health, but thoughts of the repository’s future had begun to occupy his mind. He wanted to formulate secure plans for the transmission of his legacy. When the project was initiated over a century ago, he thought he would remain immortal, but clearly his time of natural death was now approaching. Also, Cain and Rina had agreed that it was time to move the girls’ religious education beyond the instruction in mythology they’d received from their tutors, and what better way to start than with a visit to the repository.

Therefore, on an afternoon in early fall, Rina and the twins stood at the observatory entrance as Cain entered the code into the combination lock. After the bronze doors clicked open, the group entered the dry interior. He activated the dome mechanism, admitting rays of sunlight into the museum. Then he stepped on a floor section, inscribed with a diagram of a fish, triggering the counterweights that closed the great bronze doors.

The children were astonished at the scope of the collection. The huge circular room measured over 370 feet in circumference, with the domed ceiling ninety feet above the floor, sparkling with precious gemstones the size of small walnuts rather than the glass crystals he had mentioned to Drusus. In the center of the room stood a large telescope and a metal wheel that turned a gearing apparatus linked to the dome. Savoring his role, Cain guided them clockwise around his treasure trove of sculptures, paintings, marble reliefs, maps, and manuscripts.

The parents had discussed this moment in advance. They both wanted to ensure that the twins would be able to make the transition from the Greco-Roman heritage they had absorbed in their tutorials to the mysteries of ancient times and also to the teachings of contemporary Christianity.

“Now, girls,” Cain began as he led them to a life-size sculpture of a man and a woman depicted in a loving embrace. “These are your grandparents on my side of the family.”

“And what was our grandmother’s name?” asked Alexandria.

Cain glanced at Rina for a moment, but he found that her attention had been distracted by another display.

“Her name was Eve,” he proudly replied.

“Father, she is beautiful,” Callista chimed in. “But, did the sculptor complete this work?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, her navel seems to be missing.”

Cain paused the conversation, ostensibly studying the work as if to take his first notice of this omission. Then he turned back to Callista and said, “No, my dear daughter. The artist knew exactly what he was doing when he formed Eve.” He smiled slightly at the quizzical look that remained on Callista’s face as he led them to the next displays.

There were scale models of the Kingdom of Enoch, Noah’s ark, the Egyptian pyramids, the tomb of the First Emperor of China, and the Alexandrian Library. At each exhibit, the twins drew in an audible breath.

Callista pointed to another group of items at one end of the room. “What are those, Father?”

Cain led the girls through the artifacts. There was a collection of wooden ship models, a variety of blown-glass creations, and a bronze rendering of a device with the wings of a bird. There was a small working facsimile of the mechanical grain reaper, carved in silver. There were also two golden tablets with symbols in an eastern language the girls did not recognize.

Noting Alexandria’s interest in the tablets, Cain explained, “Those were given to me by a powerful ruler who lived in China long ago. He was obsessed with finding immortality.”

“Did he find it?” asked Callista while twirling her pigtails.

“Not exactly, young lady,” he said after a slight reflection. “But he did accomplish a great deal while he was alive. When we have more time, I will tell you his story.”

Alexandria drew their attention to the mathematical formulas carved on the lower walls. “Where did these come from?” she asked.

“Many of these formulas are the discoveries of Greek mathematicians and scientists,” Cain explained. “Look here, Alexandria,” he gestured to one of the diagrams. “You know this theorem very well. It is the Pythagorean formula for the dimensions of right triangles.”

As they sauntered along the outer edge of the repository inspecting the collection, the girls gazed upward to the enormous Circus Maximus mural.

“Father,” asked Callista, impatiently tugging on Cain’s toga, “who is that strange looking boy in the crowd near Quintas? He’s wearing a dark cloak and is standing in a shadow when everybody else is bathed in direct sunlight. He looks so…mean, like a demon.”

Cain studied the scene for a few seconds, reliving it in his mind. “He’s mean, yes, and also quite fiendish. He was part of my life for a time. Perhaps over supper tonight you shall learn more about all the wonderful things preserved in this repository.”

He motioned his family onward.

A few steps to the right, and they stood in front of a large cross. The girls shrank back as they viewed the agony of the condemned man’s figure, which had been sculpted in white marble and painted with startling realism.

“Is that the crucifixion of the gladiator Spartacus on the
Appian way
?” asked Callista.

“No, his name is Jesus. He was the Prince of Peace, not a warrior.”

“Oh, we’ve heard of Jesus,” said Alexandria.

Callista chimed in, “Yes, we’ve been told stories about him almost every time we go to Pompeii. There’s this man in the square who won’t stop talking about him.”

“Pompeii?”
Rina exclaimed. “What have you two been doing in such a shabby neighborhood?”

Feeling a bit sheepish, Alexandria explained, “Mother, Helvia likes to take us to the
macellum
there. She’s always complaining about the high prices in the local food market. We thought you knew.”

Cain stared at the girls in wide-eyed amazement. Apparently, their introduction to Christianity had already begun. He smiled at Rina, hoping to calm her obvious concerns over the girls’ safety, and then interjected, “Well, dear daughters, I am happy you have learned of Jesus already. Your mother and I have much more to share about him. But for now, let’s see the rest of the observatory while we still have light.”

Rina nodded and motioned them to the manuscript collection, located opposite the main entrance to the observatory. She wanted the twins to appreciate the complex system of labels that identified scrolls from so many different cultures: Egypt, Greece, Persia, China, and Rome.

In the center of the collection was a special case with an ornate wax seal. Within were a series of papyrus scrolls that told, in complete detail, the story of Cain’s life.

“This case may never be opened,” he told them. “Promise me that you will protect these scrolls above all others when I am gone!”

Cain’s emotion was unmistakable, and Rina and the girls pledged their assurance. After they turned away from the final exhibit, Cain walked to the perimeter of the rotunda and pulled a bronze lever, and the thick, heavy bronze doors of his museum swung open to welcome the warm rays of the setting sun.

Rina promptly excused herself and strode swiftly in the direction of the kitchen.

“Where’s mother going in such a hurry?” Callista asked her father.