Josh recognized the polymer as one he had read about but not tried yet in the field. “It’s supposed to soak up and set in very quickly—does it?” he asked.
“In less than five minutes,” said MacDonald. “In fact, I am about to move the viewer over the document so we can begin to decipher the writing. Why don’t you grab pen and paper and parallel with me?” Parallel inscribing was a common way to double check the exact wording of ancient handwritten manuscripts. Two archeologists or historians would sit side by side, without exchanging a word, to copy and translate what they thought was the exact wording of the manuscript they were studying. Then they would compare notes and see what, if any, words or phrases they did not agree on. Josh took the proffered notebook and sat on a stool beside MacDonald, looking through the illuminated magnifying glass. The handwriting was small and a bit shaky, but not nearly as indecipherable now that the dust of the ages had been removed. After about ten minutes, MacDonald set his pen down. Joshua was done a moment later. “Read yours first,” said MacDonald, so Josh complied, reading his rendition of the note from Tiberius Caesar:
Tiberius Caesar ad Mencius Marcellus, senescallus Villa Jovis
Ego sum Romam—aliquid iuravi numquam, sed politica relinquere me paulo electio. Occasio est nolle redire mihi—septuaginta octo sum tamen, et insolentia itineris. In procinctu reditus villam custodiendam et dimittere extra culinam virgam redde choros mittere domo mea ob parentum. Tu suscipe verba non revertar—videlicet quod mortuus fuit itineris mei—conscripsi cubiculum velit signa sua. Non opus puer serpens Gaius ad pawing per privatas litteras! Ut scilicet ponat in cubiculo Capsula—Proin transtulit ad annos funere imaginum, sed etiam usu congregem correspondentia nolo aliis legi. Illud in latere et caemento, ut omne tempus quieta foret! Tibi serviet mihi etiam amicum. Hoc mihi operae pretium et loculos a mensa. Deos ora pro nobis—redeo ad nidum serpentium!
Tiberius Julius Caesar Augustus
“Excellent!” said MacDonald. “I only have one word different—I had ‘conscripsus’ instead of ‘conscripsi.’ But looking at the original again, I think you got it right. So let me correct that, and then I will translate yours and you can translate mine. Hopefully we will agree just as fully.”
The two scholars exchanged tablets and retreated to opposite ends of the mobile lab. Josh sat on a folding chair with the notebook balanced on his lap, while the Vatican archeologist sat on a small couch. Isabella satisfied herself with carefully examining the table on which the document had rested for so long. Something about it simply did not look right. She puzzled over it while the two translators worked. After a few moments she realized what she was seeing, but decided to wait until they were done to say anything.
Josh took his time, trying his best to match up the Latin words to their nearest possible English equivalent. Translation was always a bit of a tricky business, as the many different versions of the Bible from the Greek and Hebrew originals clearly demonstrated. After about thirty minutes, he looked up and found MacDonald looking at him serenely. “Why don’t you read your version first, Father?” he asked.
“Fair enough, laddie,” replied the priest. “This is what I came up with:
Tiberius Caesar to Mencius Marcellus, Steward of Villa Jovis
I am returning to Rome—something I swore never to do, but politics leave me little choice. There is a good chance that I will not return—I am seventy-eight, after all, and unaccustomed to travel. Keep the villa in readiness for my return, but dismiss the extra kitchen staff, and pay off the dancers and send them home, with my thanks to their parents. Should you receive word that I will not return—in other words, that I have died on my journey—please seal up my writing chamber and its contents. No need for that young serpent Gaius to go pawing through my private letters! Be sure to place the reliquary in the chamber as well—I transferred the funerary masks to a new cabinet years ago, but I still use it to store correspondence that I don’t want others reading, and mementos that are mine alone. Brick it up and mortar it in, that it may be undisturbed for all time! You have served me well, old friend. Do me this last service, and take the purse from the table as payment. Entreat the gods on my behalf—I return to a nest of serpents!
Tiberius Julius Caesar Augustus
As the Scottish antiquarian read, Josh compared notes. He quickly realized that they had gotten the identical meaning from the passage, with only a few minor synonyms deviating in their translations. He noted that MacDonald had left the Latin “Imaginum” where he had gone ahead and translated it to “masks,” but the meaning was clear. All noble Roman families kept a small cabinet of wax masks and wigs, made from the death masks of their famous ancestors, so that during their funeral rites, actors could be hired to march in the procession, impersonating those illustrious Romans and illustrating the high public standing of the deceased. These masks were usually kept in a portable wooden cabinet, or reliquary, along with other precious possessions, which could be moved from one villa to another.
After they had each read their translations, there was silence for a few moments. Then Father MacDonald let out a low laugh. “Dancers!” he said. “And all this time Suetonius would have us believe that Tiberius was luring children up here to take obscene advantage of their innocence!”
“Well, ‘dancers’ could be a euphemism,” said Josh. “But I agree that the tone makes it sound a lot more innocent than those old histories did! But the cabinet—the reliquary he described—do you think he is referring to the box at the rear of the chamber?”
“Certainly could be,” said MacDonald. “Which means if old Mincius Marcellus obeyed instructions, this may be the first of many documents we translate from this site!”
“Gentlemen, I hate to interrupt your work,” said Isabella, “but I think I may have found something.” They both looked at her with curiosity, since she had not left the lab the whole time they had been translating. She met their confused glances, and then laughed. “Not something else in the chamber,” she said. “Something about this writing table.”
“What?” they both said at the same time.
“Look,” she said. “You have focused entirely on the top of the table, where the document was—have either of you ever looked underneath it?” A rueful glance between them showed that they had not. She gestured them over to the table. “See here,” she said. “The tabletop is obviously solid all the way around, and there is about ten or twelve centimeters of ornately carved paneling directly underneath it on each side before the legs of the table begin. But there is a solid bottom here that is level with the tops of the table legs. That means that there must be a drawer or space beneath the tabletop!”
They carefully surveyed each side of the paneling. There was no visible handle or lock anywhere. The front side of the table that would have faced the writer had an ornately carved Roman eagle with “SPQR” on a small gold blazon across its breast, while the other sides simply had geometric designs carved into the solid wood.
“There is nothing that looks remotely like a keyhole or handle,” said Isabella. “So the only thing left is—this!” She firmly pressed the golden blazon on the eagle with her index finger. It resisted briefly, and then sank in about a half inch or so. There was an audible click, and the entire front panel popped outward from the top down. The ancient hinges shrieked slightly as the weight of the panel gradually caused it to drop forward, revealing the hidden recess inside.
“Don’t touch anything,” Dr. Sforza said. “I want to get the rest of the team in here to document this.” She left the Scottish antiquarian and the young archeologist staring at each other as she stepped out of the mobile lab and began calling the other two scientists. Moments later Rossini and Apriceno followed Dr. Sforza into the lab. She had her digital camera out and snapped several still shots of the table and the drawer, and then had Josh lift the front panel back up so she could photograph the eagle and the golden blazon that had unlocked the panel.
“I’m going to switch to video now,�
�� she said. “I want to record this discovery before we go any further.” She began narrating again. “April 9, 19:30 hours: As Doctors MacDonald and Parker worked at translating the papyrus which is cemented to the top of the small writing table from inside the chamber, I began to record the dimensions of the table now that it was cleaned of dust and inside the mobile lab. As I did so, I noticed that there was a space between the top and bottom of the table approximately fifteen centimeters in height that could only be a drawer or storage nook of some sort. When they were done with their initial translation, I called their attention to the anomaly and we examined the table more closely. The only possible latch was the golden blazon on the Roman eagle decorating the paneling on the front of the table. I pressed it and the front panel dropped open to reveal a hidden drawer beneath the table. Now we are going to look inside the drawer and see if anything is stored inside it. Dr. Parker, would you shine the light inside for us?”
Josh moved closer and shone the powerful halogen light into the recess. It was not as dusty as the top of the table had been, but there were a few ancient cobwebs visible inside. There were two or three sheets of papyrus laid flat across the bottom of the drawer, and on top of them rested a small leather bag. It had a drawstring top, and was lying open with the mouth facing toward them. A small golden figure of a horse’s head was sticking out of it.
Isabella continued her narration. “We appear to have a small leather purse with a drawstring top, partly open, containing a very small equine sculpture or toy which is facing towards us. It is lying on top of several sheets of papyrus. Dr. Parker, can you see any writing on the papyrus?”
Josh did his best to sound professional, although the discovery of this new treasure had him very excited. “I can only see part of the top sheet, but it appears to be clean and blank except for some staining around the leather,” he said. “If the leather were oiled at one time to keep it supple, then there is a good chance that the oils soaked in as the purse dried out and stained all the papyrus in the drawer.”
“Shall we try to remove these objects?” asked Rossini.
Isabella shook her head. “No,” she finally said. “We have rushed a great deal already, and it has been a very long day. Dr. Apriceno, how are you progressing in the chamber with your sample collections?”
The archeobotanist coughed. “Well, I have taken copious samples with both my hands and my lungs,” she said. “But I have collected dust from virtually every surface and item in the chamber. I have one or two small areas left to go, and then tomorrow I shall put every specimen under the microscope. My gut reaction, from what I have seen thus far, is that the chamber has been sealed tight for a very, very long time. I imagine my initial pollen analysis will confirm that. After that is done, I will send all my samples to the mainland for a more thorough analysis. However, once all the samples are collected, we can proceed with cleaning the dust from all the remaining objects and surfaces in the chamber so that the excavation can continue.”
Dr. Sforza listened carefully. “Well, I know that our scholars have completed their initial translation of the Tiberius document—I’m going to be optimistic and say the FIRST Tiberius document. Dr. Apriceno, go ahead and finish collecting your last few samples and return them to the lab. Then you and Dr. Rossini can seal up the chamber for the night. Father MacDonald, you and Dr. Parker go ahead and begin pitching the tents. Once the public announcement has been made, we can begin staying down in the village at the inn, but in the meantime we are all up here on the mountaintop together—so hopefully no one snores TOO loudly!”
The group had a good laugh at that. “Once the tents are pitched and the chamber sealed up for the night, we can gather in the lab and listen as our linguists share their translation with the whole team,” she continued. “And after that, supper!”
“Actually, I think supper had better come first,” said Rossini. “I don’t know about everyone else, but I am famished, and I told Signora Bustamante to have a supper for five ready this evening. Ancient Latin documents are always more entertaining on a full stomach.”
“You know, I think you’re right,” she agreed. “Go ahead and call down as soon as you get the chamber sealed up.”
The scholars all set about their appointed tasks as soon as she finished. Isabella started to follow Parker and MacDonald out the door, but paused for just a moment to shine the light into that drawer one more time. The tiny golden horse glittered in the glare of the halogen bulb, as bright as it had been when the Emperor of Rome had placed it there twenty centuries ago. Was it a toy that Caligula had once played with? Or an ornament that had graced the neck of some highborn Roman matron? The tiny mouth seemed twisted in a mysterious equine smile. Sforza shook her head and walked out of the lab. It was a mystery that could wait till tomorrow.
An hour later, the archeologists sat in a circle. Rossini had called down into the village earlier in the day and placed a supper order from the same delightful restaurant that had served him and Sforza the night before, and Chief Rosario had driven up the Via Tiberio in his golf cart to bring it to them. He wagged his head as Giuseppe had come down the trail to meet him. “From dinner for two to dinner for five?” he asked. “And helicopters coming and going all day? What on earth have you dug out of the old villa, my friend—the mummy of Tiberius himself?”
“You know I would tell you if I could,” said Rossini. “But I am going to have to ask you to contain your curiosity a little while longer.”
“Nonsense!” said the policeman. “This is just some plot you cooked up to impress that beautiful young scholar who you are up here hobnobbing with!”
Rossini laughed and shook his head as he waved goodbye to his friend. He saw the young American coming down the ancient trail toward him. “I thought you might need a little help carrying up the munchables,” said Josh. “So I just followed my nose. Good grief, that stuff smells wonderful!”
“Jet travel always leaves one hungry, does it not?” asked Giuseppe. “Listen, my young friend, I would like a word with you before we rejoin the others.”
“By all means,” Josh replied. “What can I do for you?”
“Isabella is a remarkable woman in every way,” replied the old scholar. “But she also lost someone she cared very deeply for when her husband died. I have watched her bury herself in her work for years now to avoid dealing with her grief. Now, today, I see her looking at you as she has not looked at any man in a very long time. I don’t know you, other than your professional reputation, Dr. Parker. You seem a decent enough young man. But if you do anything to hurt her—well, you will have made a bitter and cunning enemy. So tread softly!”
Josh was stunned. She was looking at him? That simple statement blew his mind so thoroughly that it took him a minute to process the rest of what the older archeologist had said. But as the man’s concern sunk in, he thought for a moment before replying. “Dr. Rossini—Giuseppe, if I may—you are quite right when you say you do not know me. And frankly, the way Americans are portrayed in pop culture probably doesn’t give you much ground for trust. But I will tell you this—I was raised by a very devout Southern Baptist minister who taught me to live by the Golden Rule. And if I ever did anything dishonorable or unchristian to any young lady, he wouldn’t leave enough hide on my bones for you to come after!”
Rossini threw his head back and laughed. “Someday you must introduce me to this father of yours,” he said. “I think I would like him a great deal!”
An hour later, after a delicious meal of tortellini and chicken Marsala, the team listened as MacDonald and Parker shared their translation of the letter from the tabletop. There was a lively discussion of what impact this would have on the scholarship of the Tiberian era, but then Rossini picked up on the significance that Josh and Father MacDonald had already discussed. “The large square box at the back of the chamber—you think it is the reliquary, don’t you?” he said.
“That seems the most logical assumption,” said Parker. “And if that
is indeed the case, we may well have a treasure trove of Imperial Roman correspondence from the first century AD. Dr. Apriceno, you are the only one who has ventured to the back of the chamber. Any observations on the objects you observed?”
“All I have done is removed a small core sample of dust from every wall, every part of the floor, and every object,” she said. “The big square in the back of the chamber is very heavily coated—there are about six or eight centimeters of dust on top of it, and it was partially buried in a dirt slide long ago, so its dimensions are hard to determine with certainty. But I can confirm that it is made of wood, since I went all the way down to the original surface in collecting my sample. It will take several days to clean it off so we can actually see what it is.”
At this point they all retired to their tents. Josh broke out his old journal—he still kept it the old-fashioned way, with pen and ink—and recorded his thoughts on the day’s events. But despite the excitement of the discovery, his mind kept going back to what Rossini had said about Dr. Sforza. She was looking at him! With Isabella’s face floating in his mind, it was a long time before he went to sleep.
This I was reluctant to do. First and foremost, I believed and still believe that the man was innocent of any offense against Roman law. The second reason is more personal, but you of all people should understand it. For each of the three previous nights, my wife had woken me with her screams. She was not entirely coherent, but one thing she said on each occasion was, ‘Do not kill the Galilean! He is innocent! You will be damned forever if you do!’ These statements troubled me deeply. Every Roman knows the story of how the noble Calpurnia sought to dissuade the Divus Julius from going to the forum on the Ides of March. Dreams are powerful things, and sometimes the gods use them to speak to us. Even as I stood before this angry mob, trying to make sense of their accusations, she sent me a note that read “Have nothing to do with the death of this innocent man.” At this moment, I realized that Jesus was actually a subject of King Herod Antipas, since he was from Galilee rather than Judea, so I sent him to stand trial before Herod. Unfortunately, Herod was unwilling to pronounce judgment on him, and two hours later Jesus was brought before me once more. The only positive development from this incident was that Herod, who had been quite hostile to me for some time, has become friendlier ever since—although given his mercurial nature, I have no confidence the improvement in our relations will be permanent.
The Testimonium Page 7
