The Testimonium

by Lewis Ben Smith

  She looked at him fondly. “It was the least I could do,” she said, “after the way you took care of me yesterday. Father MacDonald is waiting for you at the museum. He wants to talk about the press conference this afternoon, but also about Giuseppe’s funeral arrangements. They are talking about holding his service Monday afternoon, and Simone’s the next day.”

  Josh nodded. “Of course I want to attend,” he said, “but why would Duncan need to talk to me about the arrangements?”

  “Apparently Giuseppe’s son wants you and I both to speak,” she said.

  Josh was stunned. “I am deeply honored,” he said, “but I only knew the man for a couple of weeks! Why on earth does the family want to hear from me?”

  Isabella gave a gentle shrug. “Apparently you made a profound impression,” she said. “At least, that is what Giovanni, his son, told Father MacDonald.”

  Josh shook his head in wonder, and the four of them headed over to the museum together. “So what did you tell the press?” Josh asked Sforza as they walked toward the entrance.

  “I talked about Giuseppe and Simone,” she said. “I paid tribute to both of them, and said nothing that I regret.”

  He put his arm around her. “That couldn’t have been easy,” he whispered.

  “It wasn’t,” she said. “I was in tears by the time I was done. But I did it for them as much as I did it for you. The press has focused so much on us that both of them have not gotten the attention and credit they deserved. Giuseppe made the discovery, and Simone’s lab work, although cruelly interrupted, still established the authenticity of our finds to a great degree. I want them remembered as the true heroes of our story.”

  By now they were inside the Museum, and Josh started striding toward the back of the building to the door that led to the lab—and then caught himself. “I just realized I have no idea where to go,” he said softly.

  “This way, laddie!” said a familiar voice behind him. He turned to see Father MacDonald, smiling but looking older and sadder than Josh had ever seen him. He took the priest’s hand in his own and they embraced warmly.

  “I am glad that you are all right, Father,” Josh said.

  “Likewise, lad! I felt the blast deep in the service tunnel, and all I could think was that you and Isabella had been in there with the rest of the team when Sinisi and I walked out. I feared the worst,” confessed the Scotsman.

  “We were just walking over to the main building when the lab blew up behind us,” said Josh. “Both of us were picked up by the blast and hurled into the side of the building. We were lucky to escape with a few cuts and bruises, and rattled heads.”

  The priest nodded. “Giuseppe and the others were not so fortunate. I was able to speak with him before the end, and he—well, he was a good man. He died trusting God and doing what he loved. I will miss the old bugger a great deal, though. True friends are few and far between, and he and I have known each other for so many years. The others . . . well, they all died instantly. I have spent the night praying for their dear souls.”

  The group fell silent for a moment, and then Isabella took charge. “I take it we are now operating from the old lab?” she asked.

  “Indeed,” said MacDonald. “Lead the way, dear.”

  She took them down two or three side corridors in quick succession to a service elevator bank marked “Restricted Access.” An armed security guard checked their names against a list he held, and then nodded them through. The elevator buzzed down three levels, and they found themselves in a large but cluttered laboratory. Several tables had recently been cleared, and on one of them the Pilate scroll was resting in its plexiglass case. Dr. Guioccini and Dr. Castolfo were waiting for them, along with a very subdued Dr. Sinisi.

  “Joshua, Isabella,” Castolfo said. “I hope the two of you are somewhat better this morning?”

  “Functional,” said Josh, “but that’s about it. I feel like I lost a round with Rocky Balboa.”

  Isabella smiled. “Joshua protected me from the brunt of the blast,” she said. “I am sore but I will be ready to talk to the press this afternoon. I want the world to know that our friends did not die in vain.”

  Josh nodded. Then he looked over at the next table and gasped. Scabbard slightly blackened but still intact, there lay the sword of Julius Caesar! He walked over and stared. “How on earth did it survive?” he asked.

  Castolfo laughed. “After the blast, we were all focused on clearing the rubble and searching for survivors at first—then for bodies. Finally, about eight PM last night, I walked over to where my car was parked. The sword and scabbard had been hurled aloft by the blast and punched through my windshield when they came down—left sticking straight up like Excalibur!”

  Josh looked more closely and saw that there were indeed fragments of fresh glass imbedded in the ancient leather. “Remarkable,” he said. “After the Pilate scroll, I think that this was quite possibly the most wonderful find from the site. I am glad to see it survived.”

  He turned to the scroll itself next, studying the clear, flowing Latin script once more. “So what is the plan today?” he asked.

  “I think we start with a quick recap of the scroll’s discovery, a strong rebuttal of Dr. Tintoretto’s baseless accusations, and a tribute to our fallen friends,” said Isabella. “Then we hand out the copies of the scroll in Latin and in English, and read the translation to the press. Then we take their questions.”

  Castolfo nodded. “I think that is the best course of action to follow,” he said. “Before the events of yesterday, something more theatrical might have been in order. But given the death and destruction, your straightforward approach is much more appropriate.”

  Sinisi spoke up for the first time. “My friends,” he said. “I cannot express in words how sorry I am for this terrible loss. I know that my natural enthusiasm can be grating at times to you field scientists, but I will say I am profoundly thankful that I talked Professor MacDonald into taking the scroll over to the press room yesterday. Otherwise, four more of us would be dead, and this priceless treasure destroyed forever. Understand, I am not trying to take any kind of credit. Truth be told, I begin to think the Almighty is protecting this document! I just want you both to know how very glad I am that you are alive and unharmed. I’m even glad the Father here was with me and not in the lab.”

  MacDonald growled. “You are a pompous ass, Sinisi—but I owe my life to your ‘enthusiasm,’ as you call it, so I guess I will have to think better of you in the future. I canna tell you how much that annoys me!”

  Castolfo smiled at this. Despite the tragedy, there was still a bond between the team and the board members that could not be shaken. “I have asked the cafeteria to send down some sandwiches,” he said. “I personally don’t feel like eating, and I doubt that any of you do either, but the body must go on even when the spirit is crushed. After we are done, we will take the scroll up to the press room and begin setting the stage. Reporters will be allowed in at two thirty, and the briefing will begin promptly at three o’clock. Does anyone NOT want to speak?”

  The three surviving members of the team looked at one another. Not a one of them said a word. Castolfo and Guioccini looked at the three scientists for a moment, and then the board president nodded. “I cannot tell you how much I have come to respect and admire each of you,” he finally said. “You are a credit to your respective disciplines, and to your faith.”

  “What lies ahead after this afternoon?” Josh asked.

  “That is a good question,” said Guioccini. “Dr. Castolfo and I have been discussing it for some time now. Dr. Henderson, from the Smithsonian, will be arriving in Rome on Tuesday. We have decided to do the carbon-14 testing on the scroll itself at the new lab in the Palazzo Massimo in Rome. They have the newest spectrographic equipment, and it will only be necessary to remove a tiny fragment of the scroll to get an accurate date. Later next week we will transfer the scroll by automobile to the Palazzo and conduct the testing next Friday. The re
sults should silence Tintoretto once and for all. As for the scroll’s permanent residence, since it was found so close by, agreement has been reached that it will be permanently exhibited here in Naples.”

  “I would like to see it formally designated in all subsequent scholarly works as the Rossini Papyrus,” said Isabella.

  “That is a wonderful gesture, Isabella,” said Guioccini. “Dr. Castolfo and I have already discussed it, and agree—with one slight amendment. We propose to call it the Rossini-Sforza Papyrus.”

  She sighed. “I don’t really care,” she said. “Not about my name being on it, at least. As long as our friend is remembered, I am content.”

  “We have a large crew sifting through the rubble of the lab alongside law enforcement,” said Sinisi. “It is possible that some of the more durable relics from the chamber may have survived the blast, and if they did, we will make sure that they are displayed with the scroll here at the museum.”

  “Do you really expect to find anything?” asked Josh.

  “The flames were put out pretty quickly,” said Sinisi. “I doubt any papyrus survived, but there is a chance some of the other pieces did. Fortunately all the photographs taken at Capri, and in the lab, were downloaded to the museum’s hard drive and saved. We know what every last scrap of material from the chamber looks like!”

  About this time, a museum cafeteria worker arrived with a tray of sandwiches and sliced fruit, and the six scholars enjoyed a brief and mostly silent meal. Josh looked down the table at Father MacDonald, missing the familiar banter between him and Rossini. A thought occurred to him about his last conversation with Giuseppe.

  “Did anyone call Mrs. Bustamante?” he asked.

  The three team members looked at one another in dismay, while the board members looked puzzled. Finally Isabella spoke.

  “Let me go ahead and do it,” she said. “He asked us to speak to her, and we were just too stunned and exhausted last night to even think about it.”

  Josh stood, groaning as his sore muscles complained. “Would you like me to go with you?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I wasn’t going to ask, but I will not say no either,” she replied.

  They took the elevator up to her office, and she dialed out on the land line—the museum’s massive stone structure made cellular communication difficult. The phone rang twice on the other end before the familiar voice of the restaurant owner answered.

  “Bustamante’s Fine Dining,” she said. “We are closed for the day, due to the death of our friend Dr. Rossini.”

  “Antonia, this is Isabella Sforza. I was a good friend of Giuseppe’s,” she began.

  “I remember you, dear girl!” said the Spanish widow. “Giuseppe’s face always lit up when he talked about you. He was a dear, dear man.”

  “He thought very highly of you, too, Antonia,” said Isabella. “In fact, the last time I saw him, in the hospital after the blast, he asked me if I would speak to you.”

  “He thought of me? At the end?” she asked.

  “He told me to tell you—” Isabella began, then swallowed hard, choking back the tears. “He wanted you to know that he was very sorry he could not keep his date with you.”

  There was a muffled sob from the other end, and a long pause. “The old fool!” snapped Bustamante through her tears. “I had eyes for him these last five years, and he waits this long to ask! We could have had some good years together if he had not been so shy!”

  Isabella was crying now, the tears running down her face as she listened. “He loved his wife so much,” she said. “I don’t think he really thought he could ever be that happy again. Only here in the last two weeks did it seem to me he finally began to move on. I am sorry the two of you did not have a chance to find each other sooner, but I do know this much—they would have been very good years for both of you.”

  Bustamante nodded. “I cannot be angry with him, really,” she said. “Loyalty is so hard to find, how can I fault him for being faithful to her memory? But oh! dear girl, I will miss him so much. He was my favorite customer and a dear friend.”

  “I hope to see you at the memorial service on Monday,” Isabella said.

  “I will be there,” the Spanish restaurateur replied. “He loved you like a daughter, you know.”

  “I know,” said Isabella. “And I loved him as a second father. I am afraid I must go now, Mrs. Bustamante. I will see you on Monday.”

  “Goodbye, my dear, and thanks for calling,” said Bustamante.

  Isabella hung up and sat at her desk for a long time, staring at her hands. Josh put his own hands on her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.

  “That was a sweet thing to do,” he told her.

  “It was his request,” said Isabella. “How could I do otherwise?”

  “I guess it is time to go down to the lab,” he said. They left Isabella’s office and headed toward the elevators. When they got there, they found the scroll and its case already set on the rolling cart that had carried it from the other lab moments before the explosion on Friday. Sinisi smiled when he saw them.

  “I am glad you got here before we left,” he said. “Come along and I will show you the set-up.”

  The press conference was being held in the museum’s old ballroom to accommodate the huge crowd of journalists already gathering outside. There were chairs for over 300, and an elevated stage at the front, with a large black curtain drawn. Very carefully, the cart was wheeled from the elevator near the front of the room to a small ramp that led up to the stage. The beautiful mahogany table was set near the front of the stage, with six chairs arranged behind it. In the center of the table was a large sheet of clear plexiglass. MacDonald lifted the carrying tray off the cart with Sinisi’s assistance, and then the two of them donned acid-free gloves to raise the plexiglass top off the tray and then gingerly move the scroll onto the plexiglass stand prepared for it. The new base was very slightly angled to tilt the ancient scroll toward the audience. Once the scroll was centered on the new base, the clear plexiglass shield was placed back over it. The material was so transparent and non-reflective that the cover was barely visible.

  From beyond the curtain, they heard a mass of voices entering the room from all three doors at once. The press had been allowed in, and so the six of them quickly began preparing to face the cameras. There was a small lavatory backstage for last-minute grooming and calls of nature, and within a few minutes everyone had checked their hair and clothes in the mirror and situated themselves behind the table. The team sat in the middle seats, with Josh and Isabella at the center and Father MacDonald at his right. Sinisi sat at the end next to MacDonald, while Castolfo and Guioccini sat on the other side of Isabella. Josh glanced over at her, and saw how tired and pale she was. He was sure he looked no better, but he gave her hand a squeeze and smiled for her anyway.

  At three o’clock the curtains drew back, and a storm of flashbulbs exploded at the sight of the ancient scroll. Josh flinched reflexively, recalling the blast from the day before. Isabella shot him a quick smile, and then Sinisi rose up to speak.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the press, after the tragic events of yesterday, all of us felt that the best way to honor the sacrifice of those we lost was to show that the cowardly terrorist who murdered our friends failed in his goal of destroying what they discovered. As you can see, the Testimonium Pilatus is intact and undamaged. I have asked the surviving members of the team to present it to you today.” Sinisi finished his remarks and looked over to Isabella, who stood and looked at the assembled press corps.

  She looked pale but determined, and the bandage across her forehead was painfully obvious in the strong light. When she spoke, her voice was soft but very firm. “The scroll you see before you was found inside a locked cabinet which had been sealed inside the ‘Tiberius chamber’ of the Villa Jovis since 37 AD. My colleague and friend Dr. Apriceno had to excavate about six centimeters of dust to even reveal the cabinet itself. We carefully chronicled every step of o
ur excavation from start to finish, to show that there was no chance whatsoever that the chamber or the artifacts within it had been tampered with, despite the reckless comments by a disgruntled former board member.”

  She walked around to the front of the table, facing the press members directly, and lowered her voice to a quiet and conversational tone. “The ‘Tiberius chamber’ was discovered by my dear friend and mentor, Professor Giuseppe Rossini. I was the first person he called when he found the chamber revealed by an earthquake on Easter Sunday morning; I was, with him, the first person to enter it—he refrained from stepping inside from the time he found it until I could join him almost six hours later. Dr. Rossini was a friend and mentor to an entire generation of classical archeologists; he was a man of honor and decency, with a sense of professionalism that was tempered only by his warm and compassionate heart.”

  The assembled reporters were completely silent. Her raw grief, and the warmth in her voice as she spoke of her old friend, had turned a room full of eager, panting newshounds into a sympathetic audience that felt her pain and grieved with her. She looked around the room and saw their reaction, then continued.

  “As soon as it became evident that we had discovered a trove of untouched relics from the first century, I called my superior, Dr. Guioccini, who helped me assemble a team of brilliant archeologists to assist with their excavation and removal. The one whose work would be the most important in establishing the antiquity of the chamber and its contents was Dr. Simone Apriceno. She spent the better part of five days collecting samples of dust and pollen from every single surface in the chamber. Once we got back to the mainland, her work in analyzing the pollens and other botanical residue inside the chamber was almost nonstop. She spent more time in the lab than any of us, and although her work was cut cruelly short by the cowardly terror attack on this facility, the results that she was able to complete all show that the chamber was undisturbed and intact—other than some visiting rodents about five hundred years ago!”