The Testimonium

by Lewis Ben Smith

  “All right, Professor,” said Parker. “You hold the tray. The goal is to leave the drawer’s contents unsupported for the least amount of time possible. Bring it over here to my right—that’s good.”

  Rossini and Sforza leaned in to watch. This was the most delicate part of any archeological excavation—removing a fragile artifact from its original context. Done properly, it made a relic available for closer study and examination with no impact on its stability or condition. But if botched, the process could destroy a priceless piece of history in the blink of an eye. Both were holding their breath as Josh approached the tiny drawer that had remained hidden for two millennia.

  He carefully laid the plexiglass sheet flat on the bottom of the drawer, then used a flat, spatula-like blade to slowly lift one corner of the bottommost sheet of papyrus. He slowly eased the plexiglass underneath that edge, then carefully moved the blade across, lifting the ancient writing paper one inch at a time until the plexiglass had slid under its entire width. Then he slowly moved the spatula back to the center, gently lifting the entire stack a fraction of an inch and sliding the sheet in a bit further. Back and forth, across the sheet of papyrus he went, slowly sliding the plastic further underneath it until it reached more than two inches underneath the stack. “That’s as far as this tool can reach underneath without potentially tearing the edge of the papyrus,” he said. “Now I will use the sheet itself to lever the stack upward and slide back.” He set the spatula-like instrument aside, then carefully took the sheet and pressed down on the far end. The stack of papyrus, and the purse on top of it, slowly lifted up without resistance. He slid the sheet back an inch further, and then repeated the process until finally, the plexiglass bumped against the back of the drawer. The four archeologists breathed a collective sigh of relief.

  “Now then,” he said. “Stand by with that tray, Father MacDonald!” He took a deep breath and grabbed the plexiglass by each edge, slowly lifting and pulling it up and back. The stack of papyrus sheets and the leather drawstring bag on top of it emerged into the light with a tiny puff of dust and a few ancient cobwebs trailing behind them. The golden horse’s head glittered under the lab’s fluorescent lights, peeking out of the mouth of the purse as it had for so many centuries. Josh lifted it and looked at the jeweled eyes. “Time to tell us your story, little guy!” he said, and then placed the papyrus sheets onto the tray that Father MacDonald was holding. The priest/archeologist quickly placed the tray on a small rolling cart and wheeled it across the lab to the X-ray table. The XFA—or the Portable X-Ray Fluorescence Analyzer, to give it its proper name—was a small tabletop unit that put forth minimal radiation and was used in archeological field work all over the world. The images it produced were not nearly as refined as a large, laboratory-based X-Ray Analyzer, nor as clear as a CT-scan or MRI, but it was a very handy device for taking a quick look inside sealed containers, ancient wrappings, and mummified remains.

  Once the tray was set in place, the group came to take a closer look, seeing the entire surface of the ancient papyrus for the first time. It was completely blank, except for a small ink mark at the top corner of the top sheet. There was a large, brown stain surrounding the ancient drawstring bag, darkest directly under it and fading like a corona until it ended, about an inch away from point of contact where the bag rested on the papyrus. There was nothing else resting on the papyrus other than the ancient purse. Moving deftly, MacDonald set the parameters on the XFA and drew the lead-lined curtain around the tabletop. “Stand back, my colleagues, you know the protocol,” he said as he took the remote in hand. When everyone had scooted back the prescribed ten feet, he himself stepped back and pushed the buttons on the remote, adjusting the angle and taking several shots of the ancient coin purse. Then he stepped across the room to a monitor and they all waited as the images slowly downloaded onto the desktop file. Once the download was complete, he double-clicked on the file and pulled up the first image. Several objects showed on the first X-ray. A group of small metallic discs—most likely coins—were clumped together near the bottom of the purse. A narrow, pointed object lay on top of them, its wider end difficult to see from the angle of the shot.

  But the small item with the horse’s head on one end was at the opposite end of the small bag, apparently having been shoved in at the last possible moment. There was nothing overlapping or obscuring the unmistakable shape. Josh chuckled. “Well, that’s one mystery solved!” he said.

  “A key!” exclaimed Isabella.

  “I just wonder what it opens?” asked Dr. Rossini.

  At this point, most excellent Tiberius, I felt that I could not proceed any further without at least trying to find out what this Galilean holy man had to say for himself. My Aramaic is not the best, so I sent one of my Centurions into the crowd to find an interpreter. He returned a few moments later with a terrified-looking youth of about twenty years of age, whom he described as one of the Galilean’s disciples. I found myself admiring his courage, following a screaming mob that was howling for his master’s blood! The young fellow did not speak Latin very well, but his Greek was quite passable. Although the mob outside and their religious leaders had voiced many charges against the bloodied figure before me, I asked him about the only one that really mattered to me as a Roman magistrate. “Are you the King of the Jews?” I demanded, nodding at the youth to translate.

  My interpreter proved unnecessary. Jesus looked at me with a deep and curious gaze that I found quite unnerving, then spoke in clear, excellent Latin without a trace of an accent. “Do you say this of your own accord?” he asked. “Or did someone else tell you this about me?”

  “Am I a Jew?” I asked, more harshly than I intended. His intense stare was throwing me off balance. “Your own people—your own priests—have delivered you up to me as an evildoer. What do you say for yourself?”

  He was silent for a long moment, his lips moving as if he were speaking to someone I could not see. Finally, his eyes met mine again, and he spoke with incredible force and clarity. “My kingdom,” he said, “is not of this world!”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “That’s a good question,” Duncan MacDonald said as he studied the white-on-black image on the screen. “A logical guess would be that it fits the reliquary that we have yet to uncover. We may get a chance to find out fairly soon, once Simone is done clearing the dust from the chamber. In the meantime, we will have to content ourselves with beginning the process that will let us remove the contents from this leather purse for a closer examination.”

  He pulled the lead-lined curtains back, and took the tray with the purse and papyrus sheets on it across the lab to a small tank that looked for all the world like a terrarium. He set the tray inside and pulled the plexiglass door down, sealing the gasket along the bottom so that the tank was airtight. Then he set a series of controls at the top and punched in some commands. “The humidity is set at seventy-five percent,” he said. “A bit high for a papyrus document, but just about right for leather. There is enough antiseptic in the tank’s atmosphere to prevent the growth of any mold whose spores may be embedded in the leather or the papyrus. It should take about twenty-four to forty-eight hours for the material to be rehydrated enough to flex without crumbling. Unless Simone uncovers more small items that can be removed, our next object of study will be the lamp from the niche above the door.”

  Isabella spoke up. “Then it appears we may be in for a lull of about twenty-four hours or more,” she said. “Dr. Apriceno will not be done clearing the dust from the chamber till this evening, and then we will need to take a careful inventory of the chamber and any additional items uncovered by the removal of all the dust and debris. You and Dr. Parker are more than capable of doing that without me. I want to take Dr. Rossini back to Naples and confer with the Antiquities Bureau’s Director and Dr. Guioccini. I also want to get some security on-site, so that you can take a break from the tents this evening and spend the night in more comfortable quarters. We will need one archeologis
t to stay on-site at all times, of course, but there is simply no need for all five of us to be up here twenty-four hours a day.”

  Rossini spoke up. “There are two small villas and one larger hotel in Capri village,” he said. “However, I have a nice house with two large guest bedrooms, and plants in desperate need of watering! If you go down this evening, you are welcome to spend the night in my home—provided, Joshua, that you can keep this intemperate Scot from drinking all my good wine!”

  MacDonald guffawed and made a tippling gesture. Josh smiled and said, “Don’t worry, sir, I’ll make sure he only drinks the cheap stuff.”

  MacDonald replied, “Why not let Simone Apriceno go down with you, lad, and I’ll take the first night shift? Then Giuseppe’s precious wine cellar will be safe—for at least one more night.”

  “You can work that out among yourselves,” said Isabella. “I need to make some calls, and I want to go through my laptop and make sure I have plenty of photographs and video to show to the Director and Dr. Guioccini. Hopefully we can have some security on-site here by mid-afternoon.”

  “I am going to walk down to my home and get a change of clothes,” said Rossini. “Joshua, why don’t you accompany me and I will show you where my house is?” Josh nodded his assent and the two of them headed out the door of the lab toward the Via Tiberio.

  Dr. Sforza watched them leave with some affection. Giuseppe’s place in her heart was permanent—he was a friend, a mentor, and in many ways, a father figure to her, especially since her own father had passed away not long after her husband had died. As for the young American—she was having a hard time sorting out her emotions about him. Intrigued, perhaps, was the best description of how she felt about him. He was so focused and passionate about his religious beliefs that she would have a hard time taking him seriously as a scientist—were it not for the fact that he obviously possessed a first-class intellect and some impressive academic skills. Physically—well, Isabella thought to herself, she might as well be honest with herself. She found him very attractive. To a small degree, he reminded her of her dear, departed husband—but only to a small degree. He was taller than Marc had been, and his eyes were a deep brown as opposed Marc’s steady gray—but he was slender, powerfully built, and had a certain steadiness about him. You got the feeling that if the ground under you began to shake, he would be a solid anchor to cling to. She shook her head at the thought. She’d known him less than twenty-four hours, after all, and should be more focused on the ongoing excavation than on his considerable physical and emotional charms.

  “I see you and Isabella have hit it off rather well,” said Giuseppe as he and Josh began hiking down the trail toward Capri village.

  “I hope so,” admitted Josh. “Although I’ll admit I’m not sure what she thinks of me. We were having a normal breakfast conversation one minute, the next minute she had me mounted on a hobby horse and riding like there was no tomorrow.”

  Giuseppe looked at the young American with a furrowed brow. Although his conversational English was quite proficient, it pained him to admit that he had no idea what a “hobby horse” was. However, his pride was such that he didn’t really want to admit that to his companion. Josh saw his expression and chuckled. “Sorry, Professor,” he said. “Your English is so good I forget that cultural idioms don’t always translate smoothly. She asked me about a topic on which I have strong feelings—a ‘pet peeve,’ if you are familiar with that phrase. I became rather animated and fear I may have made a bit of a fool of myself.”

  “And what topic was that?” asked Rossini.

  “The way Evangelical Christians are portrayed in the American media,” replied Josh. “Every time I come to Europe I have to fight the stereotypes that have been fostered about us. But this time I found myself defending my beliefs to a person who I—” He paused and blushed, remembering Rossini’s earlier warning.

  The older man laughed. “Someone on whom you wish to make a good impression?” he asked. Josh nodded ruefully. “Listen, my young friend, Isabella is very dear to me, but I understand that she is beautiful, single, and very attractive. Nothing would make me happier than to see her wind up with a young man who would treasure her and love her as she deserves. I am not angry at you for being interested in her. I just was concerned that your interest might be—well, less than honorable. The more I get to know you, the more unlikely that seems.”

  Josh thought for a moment. “She fascinates me,” he said. “But I don’t want that fascination to get in the way of what we are doing here. This site, this find, is of tremendous significance, even if we find nothing beyond what we have already uncovered. But the potential is enormous. If we find the actual personal correspondence of a Roman emperor—not copies, but the original autographs—the whole history of the early Empire could be rewritten!”

  “Not to mention the history of the Church.” said Rossini. “You can’t tell me it’s not lurking in the back of your mind. Tiberius was Emperor during the actual life and ministry of Jesus of Nazareth. Any mention of Jesus, of the early Church, or early Christian doctrine would be the earliest such documentation ever found.”

  “You’re right,” said Joshua. “But how likely is it, after all? Tiberius died in 37 AD, only a few years after the crucifixion of Jesus. Christianity had not yet spread beyond Judea. The Apostle Paul had not even begun his ministry yet, and not a single book of the New Testament was written. I think that Christianity was still well below the Imperial radar at the time this chamber was sealed.”

  “You are probably right,” said the older man. “You know, like most Italians, I was baptized and raised in the Catholic Church. I embraced my parents’ faith as a young man, but I have moved away from it somewhat over the years. But I have always been curious as to whether the simple carpenter from Galilee was something more than just a mortal man. It would be nice to find out.”

  “Oh, I am certain He was more than a carpenter,” said Josh. “I have analyzed the Gospel narratives thoroughly, and studied every ancient source available. I am just as convinced that Jesus of Nazareth really was the Son of God as I am convinced that Caesar Augustus was the first Emperor of Rome.”

  Rossini looked at him with curiosity. “Perhaps when I return from the mainland, you shall explain to me why you are so sure,” he said. “But for now, here is my home up ahead. Let’s go in and get it ready for guests.”

  For the next hour they busied themselves with straightening up some items that Giuseppe had not had time to fix before climbing up to the Villa Jovis three days before. Then he showed Josh the linen closet and asked him to make the beds in the guest rooms while he took a long shower and put on some clean clothes. When he emerged, Dr. Rossini told Josh to use the shower while he walked down the street to the excellent restaurant where their food had come from the night before. As he ordered a full meal for three delivered to his home for 7 PM, the police chief came ambling in for his lunch break.

  “Giuseppe,” he boomed. “Descending from the mountain like Moses! Did you leave the Ten Commandments at your house so you could have some of Mrs. Bustamante’s excellent cooking?”

  “No, you fool; I left them in the Ark of the Covenant where Indiana Jones could keep an eye on them,” Rossini shot back. “Shouldn’t you be out arresting criminals somewhere?”

  “I have it on good authority that dangerous international terrorists are going to kidnap Mrs. Bustamante and force her to reveal her recipe for chicken Marsala,” said the chief. “I am here as part of a complex sting operation to bring them to justice, and protect excellent cooking from scoundrels and evildoers.”

  “And to take shameless advantage of my discount for police officer lunches,” said Antonia Bustamante over her shoulder as she bustled back into the kitchen. She was a middle-aged Spanish woman whose beauty had doubtless turned many heads in her day, and was still a handsome woman. Rossini had thought many times about asking her to go to the theater with him, but always held back at the last minute. She had been widow
ed for many years, far longer than him, but had never remarried. Every older, single man on the island had probably entertained the same thoughts that Giuseppe had about her at one time or another, but today he made up his mind that, when the business on top of the mountain was done, he would suck up his courage and invite her out for a night on the town in Naples.

  “So,” Chief Rosario said after the restaurant owner made her exit, “what of the excavation? What remarkable discovery have you made up there?”

  Rossini sighed. He hated to keep his friend in the dark any longer, and the Bureau of Antiquities would probably be announcing the discovery soon. As police chief over the entire island, Rosario had a right to know something, surely. “Well, old friend, I cannot tell you everything—not yet. But I think I can tell you something, provided you keep it in utmost confidence until the Bureau issues a press release. The earthquake opened a hidden chamber in the Villa Jovis. Inside we have found a cache of artifacts that date all the way back to the time of Tiberius. We are still cleaning and removing them, but you can appreciate the magnitude of such a discovery.”

  The police chief let out a low whistle of amazement. “Congratulations, old friend. That is truly a great discovery. Now I understand why you were being so secretive. Fear not, I shall not mention it to a soul. But I still want a guided tour as soon as you can give me one. I am very proud for you, Giuseppe. May I buy your lunch?”

  “Sadly, no, old friend. I am just gathering some personal effects and cleaning up so I can fly to the mainland in a little while. Isabella and I are meeting with our superiors to brief them on the discovery.” Rossini stood and tipped his hat to Mrs. Bustamante, who had just come out with a steaming plate of manicotti for Chief Rosario. “By the way, two members of the team will be staying in my home tonight, so don’t be surprised if you see the lights on this evening. Bon journo, Antonia.”