“I have an idea, but since she has called a press conference, I think it would be better to let her answer that question,” said Isabella.
“Does it have anything to do with her hostility to Christianity and the Church?” shouted Tyler Patterson.
“No comment!” she replied.
“Are you and Dr. Parker romantically involved?” asked Valeria Witherspoon, a correspondent for a popular British tabloid.
Isabella sighed. At some point, this would have to be dealt with, but she hated having her personal life under the media’s microscope. “You folks have caught us holding hands twice,” she finally said. “You may draw your own conclusions!”
“Dr. Parker.” Witherspoon aimed her next question at Josh. “How does your pastor father feel about your having a Catholic girlfriend?”
“You’ll have to ask him about that!” said Josh. “Now no further questions!”
With that they hailed a cab, even though Josh’s hotel was only a few hundred yards away, and got in quickly and slammed the doors. “The Ambassador Suites,” she said to the driver. He pulled away from the curb, down the block, around the corner, and under the awning.
“Buy you supper?” Josh offered.
“That sounds splendid,” said Isabella, “but something light, please, after that huge feast last night! I am fond of Simone Apriceno, but I have no desire to wind up looking like her!”
“There is a little salad and sushi bar up on the penthouse level,” said Josh. “It’s great for a quiet dinner together. And afterward, there is an excellent business center where we can link up to the Internet and talk to my family!”
“Why not go to your room?” she asked. “Don’t you trust me?”
Josh leaned over and kissed her. “Maybe it’s myself I don’t trust,” he said softly in her ear. “Besides, do you want the press reporting that you spent the evening alone with me in my room?”
She sighed. “Why on earth are they so interested in whether or not you and I are romantically involved?”
He laughed. “That, my dear lady, is the price of celebrity! And of course, the fact that you are absolutely gorgeous only adds to the interest.”
She slapped his arm lightly. “You Americans and your flattery!” she laughed.
The sushi bar was good, and since it was on the penthouse level, they didn’t have to worry about gawkers from the street wandering in. Josh enjoyed the smoked eel, shrimp, and octopus, while Isabella favored the crab, scallop, and tuna rolls. After a light meal, they made their way to the business center, where there were individual carrels with laptop hookups. Josh quickly plugged in, and then placed a call to his folks on his cell phone. It was mid-morning in Oklahoma when his mother picked up on the other end.
“Hello, Joshua!” she said.
“Hi, Mom!” he replied. “Can you and Dad get on the computer? I want to chat with you both.”
“Certainly, dear,” she answered. He heard her voice call out, “Ben! Josh wants to talk to us on the computer. How do I connect to that movie talking channel again?”
He repressed a smile. His dad had taken to the digital age like a fish to water, hosting video conferences for area pastors and teaching online courses. His mother, on the other hand, regarded the laptop solely as a device for playing solitaire. He heard over the cell as his dad came to the computer, and moments later their familiar faces were looking at him from the screen of his laptop.
“Hi, Dad! Good to see you guys again!” Josh greeted them.
“Hello there, son! You seem to have become quite the celebrity,” his dad said. “We’ve had all kinds of calls to the church office from reporters and TV folks, wanting to know all about you.”
“Yeah, our little dig has become big news,” Josh answered. “I hope the publicity is not too much trouble.”
“It’s increased interest in our church, that’s for sure!” his dad said. “I told everyone that has called that I will give an interview only if they attend Sunday services first. We should have a dozen or so by this weekend!”
Josh grinned. “It may be a lot more than that, after Friday,” he said.
“What do you mean, son?” his dad asked.
“We translated the Pilate scroll,” said Josh. “Our press conference is Friday at eleven AM local time. That will be about one AM in Oklahoma. You’re going to want to stay up, Dad, that’s all I can say!”
His father beamed. “I’m so proud of you, son! Is it what we thought it might be?” he asked.
“Er, I can’t really say, Dad,” Josh replied. “All I can tell you is that you will definitely want to be watching when we read the translation!”
“Not even a clue for your old man, eh?” the silver-haired pastor asked.
“Sorry, Dad, not with my boss standing right here!” Josh replied. “But I do want you to meet her. Mom, Dad, this is Dr. Isabella Sforza, the supervisor of the dig I’ve been working on. Isabella, these are my parents—Dr. Ben Parker and his wife Louise.”
Isabella sat down next to Josh and leaned toward him, where they could see her clearly. “Hello,” she said. “I have been looking forward to meeting you both. This isn’t as nice as being there, but it is better than a phone call!”
“So you’re the Italian beauty who can’t seem to let go my son’s hand, eh?” asked Brother Ben. “You have no idea how long we have been waiting for him to get interested in girls!”
“Dad!” said Josh.
Isabella laughed. “Your son is a delightful young man, and a perfect gentleman. I have been enjoying my time with him greatly.”
Josh’s mother smiled sweetly at Isabella. “May I ask you something, dear girl?” she queried.
“Why of course, Mrs. Parker!” Isabella replied.
“Do you love him?” she asked.
Isabella was taken aback by the forthrightness of the question, but she answered as best she could. “You know,” she replied, “I believe I do!”
“Then please marry him!” Louise Parker said. “I would like to have grandchildren before I am ninety!”
Josh thought he would sink through the floor in embarrassment, but his dad came to his rescue. “Now Louise,” he said, “let’s not scare her off! So Josh, how do you like Naples?”
“It is a beautiful city,” he said. “I haven’t had much time to take in many of the sights, but the museum that I am working in is simply amazing! Isabella gave me the grand tour last weekend. Hopefully, before I am done here, I can fly you and Mom out for a visit. I’d like to show you Capri as well!”
They talked for another fifteen minutes or so, and then Josh said his farewells and severed the connection. He looked at Isabella, who was grinning at him. “Sorry about Mom,” he said. “She can be a bit—well, a bit direct sometimes!”
Isabella laughed out loud. “You have never met my mother!” she said. “She would already be asking what we want to name the first child!”
“I think I would like to meet your parents sometime soon,” he said.
Her expression softened. “I am afraid you won’t be able to meet my papa,” she said. “He died two years after Marc did. But soon I will take you to meet my mother, and then we can compare notes on which of us has the most ‘direct’ mama!”
“I guess I had better head to my room soon,” he said. “Morning comes early, and tomorrow is a very busy day.”
Isabella looked at him fondly. She was tempted to ask if she could tuck him in for the night, but she had decided that embarrassing him wasn’t as much fun as it had seemed at first. Still, she wished that her apartment wasn’t so empty. Josh’s presence seemed to fill the room all around her, and she didn’t want to leave him yet.
“Shall we take a walk on the observation deck first?” she asked him.
“That sounds fun,” he replied. There was an elevator from the penthouse level that opened on a small rooftop garden overlooking the Mediterranean. As they stood at the rail, they could see the dark silhouette of the isle of Capri in the distance. The
waning half-moon was hanging in the sky like a silver spotlight, and the quicksilver reflections sparkled on the water’s surface.
“It is beautiful, isn’t it?” she said.
“Not as beautiful as you,” he replied, slipping his arm around her shoulders. She leaned her head against him and they stood like that for a long time.
* * *
The next morning, as the archeologists assembled and began planning how to present their findings to the press, a ferry boat left the island of Capri for the mainland. Among the smiling tourists and businesslike locals, the mild-mannered Imam Muhammad al-Medina blended in perfectly. He chatted for a while with a Catholic fisherman, Antonio Ginovese, who lived a few doors down from him, about the weather and the general state of the Italian economy.
“Imam Muhammad,” the man said as they neared the mainland, “I would like to thank you.”
“Whatever for?” the Muslim cleric replied.
“I had such a terrible view of Muslims before you came to our island,” he replied. “All I ever saw on the news was the violence and carnage that seem to follow Islam everywhere. I thought everyone who prayed to Allah was a potential Osama bin Laden. But you have shown me that a Muslim cleric can be a kind-hearted, god-fearing, neighborly friend. I am glad you helped me overcome my prejudices against your people.”
Muhammad al-Medina—the mild mannered, moderate Muslim cleric who lived in peace with his Catholic neighbors—regarded him with a curious expression. Ali bin-Hassan, the relentless jihadist who was on his way to pick up a car bomb, smirked behind the false identity he had so carefully crafted. The infidels were so trusting, so easy to deceive! “Antonio,” he said, “I just hope you remember, that when you see me, you are looking at the true face of Islam!”
Hassan turned and walked away, and the Italian fisherman shuddered. He genuinely liked the moderate cleric, but that look in his eyes as the Imam delivered that parting shot had sure seemed hateful. Oh well, he thought. It was just his old prejudices trying to re-assert themselves. By the time he crossed the gangplank to shore, he had completely forgotten about the conversation. He would remember it vividly, however, after the next day’s newscasts.
* * *
That morning, the outside experts had begun to arrive at the museum. Cardinal Heinrich Klein, renowned antiquarian and longtime friend of Benedict XVI, had come in early and asked to study the scroll. He had gone over the entire document with a powerful, illuminated loupe, occasionally switching to black light to see how the ancient ink looked under UV illumination. After about an hour’s examination, he sat at the workstation and began carefully translating the manuscript for himself, referencing the blown-up photographs MacDonald had taken, and never once looking at any of the translations that the team had already completed.
When he was completely finished, he called for the original, handwritten versions prepared by Josh and Father MacDonald. He read each of them carefully, and then read the reconciled version that they had come up with and prepared to hand to the press the next day. Only then did he speak to them.
“Excellent work, gentlemen!” he told them in his strong German accent. “You were careful and deliberate, and I can find no errors in anything that you did. As for the contents—mein Gott!—this is a truly amazing discovery! The enemies of the Cross will truly be put to shame!”
Josh smiled. This man was a legend in Biblical textual studies, and coming from him, such remarks were high praise indeed. “Thank you, Your Eminence,” he said. “Father MacDonald made it a very easy task! He is a consummate professional and a great archeologist.”
“The lad is too modest,” the Scots priest replied. “He knows twice as much as I did at his age, and in another decade or two he’ll be giving me a run for my money!”
They stood and excitedly discussed the ramifications of Pilate’s testimony. Worldwide, the twenty-first century had not been kind to the Church, with one expert after another emerging every few months with a discovery—usually dubious but always well-publicized—that called another aspect of New Testament history into question. Traditional scholars were always quick to reply, but they seemed to be constantly on the defensive. There was no doubt the Pilate scroll would give the Church some ammunition to go on the intellectual offensive, and all of them looked forward to the consternation among the anti-Christian intelligentsia with some relish.
Later that afternoon, Josh was sent to the Naples airport to meet his mentor Dr. Martens. The flight was to arrive at 3 PM local time, and it appeared as if it might even be a little ahead of schedule. Josh had the limo driver wait outside and walked over to the reception area, holding up a cardboard sign he had made at the lab. He had written in Latin: “Doctoris Luke Martens, aestimetur professore antiquitatum,” as a joke. That was the title that Dr. Martens had demanded all first-year grad students call him.
Since he was on crutches, Martens was one of the first passengers to disembark, with Alicia by his side. Blonde, leggy, and as beautiful as ever, her face lit up when she saw Josh, as did her husband’s. Josh made his way to the rope line and embraced his old mentor, and accepted an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek from Martens’ young bride.
“All right, Dr. Parker,” she said. “I want to meet this Italian hottie who has succeeded where all the girls at college failed!”
Josh laughed. “I had no idea they were trying so hard!” he said.
“That is because you were too afraid to talk to any of them, my boy,” said Martens. “You were the shyest young man I have ever taught! But it is good to see you again and good to be on terra firma! You have no idea how glad I am to be out of that infernal aircraft! Even in first class, the seats are NOT made to accommodate a full-length leg cast! Now, how far is it to the museum from here?” he asked.
“About twenty minutes across town,” Josh replied. “We have a limo waiting for you.”
“You have to hand it to the Italians,” the older archeologist said. “They do know how to roll out the red carpet!”
Josh grabbed their luggage and carried it for them to where the car waited. Alicia, who had never traveled outside the States except for mission trips to the Dominican Republic and Mexico, was agog at the beautiful Renaissance architecture, and the occasional Roman-era structure that peeked out from the twenty-first-century clutter. “I cannot imagine what it would be like to live surrounded by so much history,” she breathed.
“And here I thought all you cared about was fish and extreme sports!” her husband said.
“I can’t be married to you and not appreciate days gone by,” she said. “And I just adore beautiful architecture—and Italy seems to be the global headquarters of the insanely talented builders’ society! Look at that cathedral! Those spires must be two hundred feet tall!”
The two antiquarians sat together and quietly enjoyed her fascination with the historic surroundings. In a matter of minutes they arrived at the museum’s front doors. Isabella was waiting for them, and Luke and Alicia helped the American professor get out of the limo and levered up onto his crutches. He accepted their help with good grace, but both knew how much it grated on him to be limited in his mobility when there was such exciting work ahead.
“Welcome back to Italy, Dr. Martens,” said Isabella.
“Dr. Sforza!” he replied. “It is so nice to finally meet you in person. I loved your paper on that Roman temple of Minerva you excavated. You managed to pull an impressive amount of data from a very limited number of remaining artifacts!”
“Limited! More like nonexistent!” she laughed. “But the architecture of the place was interesting, to say the least. Is this your lovely wife?”
“Alicia Martens,” said the American, holding out her hand. “I hear you and Josh here have become something of an item!”
Isabella rolled her eyes. “You can’t keep anything out of the papers these days,” she laughed. “But I must say I have become rather fond of your friend here.”
Alicia nodded. “If the feeling is mutual,
then you have succeeded where half the girls in Texas and Oklahoma failed,” she said.
“Oh please!” said Josh. “She makes me sound like some sort of OSU Romeo. I was just trying to pass her husband’s insanely demanding grad courses when I allegedly attracted all this female attention. Personally, I don’t remember any of it.”
“Really?” said Alicia. “What about the time that Larissa Sorrells asked you to come up to her dorm room for an all-night study session?”
“She was taking advanced calculus, and I was studying Latin grammar and Roman government,” said Josh. “I figured it was some sort of practical joke, and stayed away.”
Alicia rolled her eyes. “See?” she said to Isabella. “He is impossible!”
Sforza laughed in turn, and then looked over at Josh. “I think I like your friend here,” she said. “Now, Alicia, until after the press conference tomorrow, no one but the team members and our visiting experts are allowed back into the lab. I am going to ask Josh to take your husband on back to the lab, and I will show you to your hotel rooms, if that is OK.”
“Sounds fine to me,” Alicia replied. “Any place around here a girl can go for a swim?”
“Josh assures me the hotel pool is excellent, and it’s not a long cab ride to some of our public beaches—however, they are starting to get rather crowded as the weather warms up,” said Isabella. “What is it with you Americans and your obsession with water?”
* * *
Josh helped Dr. Martens navigate the corridors to the back of the museum, and then across the courtyard to the research lab. Bernardo Guioccini was waiting for them, and his face broke into a smile at the sight of his old friend.
“Luke! What a delight to see you again!” he boomed. “My word, man, what has this child bride of yours done to you?”
“I did it to myself, you old misanthrope!” Martens replied. “Tried to dodge a little snow brat on an easy slope and hit a tree! Now I want to see the discovery my young friend here has made.”
“But of course,” said Guioccini. “Come on back to the lab. Cardinal Klein just translated it earlier today and has been comparing his version to that of your young protégé, and his student Father MacDonald. Happily, they both passed muster. But I am sure you want to see the original and make your own notations before seeing theirs.”
The Testimonium Page 28
