“Is it possible for me to visit his office with you? I would like to pay my respects to him there, if possible. Professor Charpentier was a great admirer, and I would like to tell him I visited his office.”
“Si. I have the key. Let us go.” Signore Batista stood up from behind his desk and walked around it. They then walked across the hall to the late Signore Rozzi’s office. He turned the key and they entered.
The room had been severely disturbed.
Papers and books were strewn everywhere. It seemed like a storm had passed through the room.
Signore Batista exclaimed with shock. “Santo Cielo! What is this? This is not how it was when we removed the body and locked the room! Someone has visited again!”
Holmes sprang across the room. It was clear that the intruder had come in through the window that faced the road outside. It was a very easy task for a professional burglar.
“What did he have of value, Signore Batista?”
“He was just a scholar. He had manuscripts that he would borrow from the archives for detailed study. Then he would return them. There was nothing else. I cannot understand why someone would do this!”
“What was he studying recently?”
“The Old Nubian and Meroitic scripts. He did not discuss the matter with me. but that was not unusual. It is not necessary to share all aspects of one’s research all the time. For that matter, he did not know the details of my own research, either. I have a vague idea that he visited the patriarch of the Catholic Church here in Venice a few times in connection with a new manuscript. But I have been occupied by other matters and did not pay attention.”
“Did you have any books on that subject?” asked Holmes.
“Si. And I see that they are here.” He waved his hands in an expansive gesture. “So that was not what the thief wanted! And what possible value could they have anyway?”
Holmes walked around the room. He knew quite well what the burglar had been looking for. And he had it with him!
“Should we call the polizia?” he asked.
Signore Batista snorted in exasperation. “Our polizia? They are useless! Useless! Let them find the murderer; that is enough! But they are fools!”
His opinion of the abilities of the local constabulary was clear.
“Anything else unusual here, Signore Batista?”
“Hmm, I see a map of Africa here, perhaps nothing unusual. Except that he has marked a few places, do you see?”
Holmes looked at the map along with Signore Batista. “Yes, he has marked Tangier, Cairo, Khartoum, Gao, Timbuktu…I wonder what it means. And what do these markings suggest?”
Signore Batista shrugged. “I have no idea. Was he planning to travel there? I doubt it. He was not a strong man and could not have survived the journey. I just cannot understand it! The markings are probably Old Nubian or Aramaic, I do not know. It is not my field of research.”
“Would you have any objection if I took the map to Professor Charpentier at Grenoble? Perhaps he could express a view, given his knowledge of Signore Rozzi’s recent research.”
“I have no objection. It is just a standard map of Africa. You may take it. We have hundreds of them.”
But not one with these places so conveniently marked, thought Holmes, as he carefully folded the map and put it in his pocket.
“Shall we lock the windows and door?”
“Yes, and I shall ask our polizia friends to walk about outside. They cannot be bothered! They would prefer to sleep all day, crime or no crime! We had one such incident in the museum in January when a guard was killed. But the killer was never found.”
“What happened?”
“Someone tried to steal something from the Chinese antiquities section and was surprised by the guard before he could proceed. However, he managed to wound the guard fatally. And now looking at the murder of Signore Rozzi, I would not be surprised if people wondered whether this were a museum or a house of criminals! Two murders in less than a year! In a museum of all places! Cielo!”
“By the way, did Antonio Rozzi smoke?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
Holmes bent down and picked up a cigarette butt. He carefully collected a small amount of residual ash. He also sniffed.
“Something distinctive…when did I last come across this…” he murmured softly. “The cigarette ash…hmm …”
As they walked back to his office, Holmes asked Signore Batista about the manner in which Signore Rozzi had been set upon.
“A blow to the head.”
“Which side?”
“His left side.” Signore Batista pointed at his own head at the place of impact.
“Did he fall forward or backward?”
“Hmm. Yes. On his desk. Blood was all over his papers. There are a few spots on that map, too.”
“Professor Charpentier had mentioned casually that Signore Rozzi had been receiving anonymous letters.”
“We all do. We ignore them most of the time.” Signore Batista rolled his eyes.
“I shall take leave then. Professor Charpentier will be greatly saddened by this news. I sincerely hope the perpetrators are apprehended.”
Holmes bid good-bye to Signore Batista and left the museum. He spent some time with the guards making a few inquiries. He also asked them for directions to the Church of San Lorenzo.
He sat on a wrought-iron seat in a nearby park for about half an hour looking over the map, trying to commit to memory the names of the towns that the late Signore Rozzi had written.
Then he went to the Church of San Lorenzo, one of the oldest in Venice.
It was late. A quiet evening mass was on. Holmes went inside and sat discreetly in the last row, waiting for the mass to conclude and the worshippers to leave. The church was certainly very old and grand, though not large by the standards of others he had seen.
The last of the worshippers had left and Holmes slowly walked up to the priest who was busy cleaning up and bidding good-bye to an altar boy.
“Father Agnelli?”
“Si. And you are…?”
“Professor Olivier Picart from Grenoble. I have just come from the museum.”
Father Agnelli looked up sharply.
“I see. And how may I help you?”
“May we sit down?
“Yes.”
They walked together to the side of the church where there were a couple of chairs.
“A beautiful church. Very old, I imagine.”
“Yes. Possibly thirteen hundred years old, but rebuilt a few times.”
“You knew Signore Rozzi.”
“Yes. We were close friends.”
“I met him on his trip to France and England,” said Holmes.
“I guessed. And I think you are not Olivier Picart but Mr. Sherlock Holmes.”
“Correct. Thank you.”
“Antonio told me about you.”
Father Agnelli was an unsmiling, heavyset man, about sixty with white hair and rimless spectacles. He looked at Holmes for a long moment.
“His funeral will be held in a few days. I am greatly saddened by his violent death. But somehow, I was not surprised. When I saw the manuscript and read the notes in Arabic, I knew it was of great importance. I took him to meet the patriarch of Venice who then took Antonio to Rome to meet the Pope. I will tell you whatever you would like to know. Please ask.”
“First, be assured that the manuscript—or rather, the half— is safe.”
“Good.”
“The translation is with me, but those hostile to us also seek it.”
“I am again not surprised. I know it is of great importance. I had warned Antonio. He did not listen. Well, at least he did not travel to London a second time. I told him to avoid travel. So he wrote to his friend in April saying he was unwell. He hoped to get the translation thr
ough the hands of someone else. Even though you have it now, it is too late.” Father Agnelli sighed and looked dejected.
“What can you tell me about the parchment?”
“I am not sure I know much, but I can certainly guess it is of great importance. Come, let us take a stroll outside and I will show you something.”
It was not yet dark. We walked through the lawns and past many headstones of long departed Venetians. We stopped at a plain, unmarked one.
“Some people think this is where Marco Polo is buried.”
“Is he?”
“He was buried at the church, yes. We have records. But his body vanished during a period of renovation. In 1592. We like to believe he is here. But who really knows? Some say he is buried in Spain!”
“However, the point is, we take all matters pertaining to Marco Polo with utmost seriousness. He was the ambassador of the Pope, in a manner of speaking, to the court of Kublai Khan. He was judged to be an individual with great credibility with the Catholic Church, even though some records seem to show otherwise, as concerns his relationship with the citizens of Venice. He himself despaired of the ignorance of his fellow men. But let us remember that that was a different time and we must be forgiving.”
“Of course.”
“Therefore,” continued Father Agnelli, “even if we do not understand the nature of that manuscript, we, by default, believe it must be of great importance, since Marco Polo said so in his letter, which was with the parchment. The Pope was informed, and he took the advice of the prefect of the archives, and determined that it was of paramount importance that the entire manuscript be put together, fully absorbed, and then hidden away in the archives, where we store many thousands of very sensitive parchments, as you can guess.
“It is my belief that Antonio was very close to determining the meaning of the words. The language is dead, he said, and he could only pronounce some of the words but did not fully know their meaning. This parchment was before the time of Christ and originated in the lower Nile Valley, he said. He was the expert, not I, and I know he had the virtue of patience.”
“I see.”
Father Agnelli leaned forward. “Yet, when he received those anonymous notes in Arabic, I became alarmed. It was easy to conclude that it was somehow related to the parchment. But what triggered this sudden interest almost six hundred years after the death of Marco Polo? Something had happened somewhere.
“My belief is that the other half of the parchment has been discovered, perhaps by chance, and those in possession have come to an independent conclusion about the matter. Perhaps it is of great spiritual significance. Whatever the case, they are prepared to kill. We think it could be Arabs from the Maghreb, specifically Morocco, but that is based only on superficial evidence.
“That is why the Pope, after consulting his aides, asked your ambassador in Rome, whom he knows well, to suggest the name of an individual who could take care of this problem in a discreet manner. We sent Antonio to meet you and ask you to come to Rome, which you did not, as you could not.”
Father Agnelli sat back abruptly. He was suddenly bathed in sunlight that emerged from behind some trees and onto the bench where we sat. Then he extended his arm and touched Holmes gently on his shoulder.
“Stay in our monastery tonight as our guest,” he said. “Let us leave for Rome tomorrow morning.”
***
Father Agnelli and Holmes travelled to Rome the next morning after having sent advance word that they were to be expected. The journey was uneventful, with both men not inclined to converse. Holmes had managed to get a copy of an English newspaper published in Italy that spoke of his deeply regretted passage at Reichenbach.
***
Holmes and Father Agnelli were welcomed at the Vatican with great respect by the Pope’s secretary. Pope Leo XIII was anxious to meet Holmes, they were told, and so they were quickly escorted to his official chambers where he sat on a comfortable chair with armrests. On an adjacent chair sat another priest.
The Pope had achieved some renown for his forward thinking and was considered liberal and approachable. He greeted Holmes warmly, while Father Agnelli bowed and kissed his hand.
“I welcome you, Mr. Holmes. You are famous here, did you know?”
Holmes bowed in acknowledgement. “I thank you.”
“This is the prefect of the Vatican Secret Archives, Father Agostino Ciasca. He is very knowledgeable about what we have in the archives and has some opinion about the matter, though he has been hesitant about bringing in outside experts.”
Holmes bowed briefly in the direction of the other priest, a man of short stature with intense eyes.
“I have also invited the British ambassador to join us. He should be here very shortly.”
Lord Dufferin was ushered in at that point and after a round of pleasantries, Father Agnelli raised the issue.
“Your Holiness, we have suffered the loss of the eminent scholar Antonio Rozzi two days ago at the museum.”
“Very tragic.” The Pope closed his eyes and mouthed a prayer.
“We think the time for action has come and seek your advice.”
“What is your view of the parchment, Your Holiness?” asked Holmes, coming quickly to the point.
“It predates Christ and is from the lower Nile Valley and the Nubian Kingdom, I am told,” responded the Pope. “But I am not an expert. It may be best for us to listen to the views of Father Agostino Ciasca. He is a good storyteller!”
“Please.”
“Before I answer your question, Signore Holmes,” said Father Ciasca in an unusually gentle and melodious voice, “I must give you a little background. We have many thousands of parchments in the archives. They are not really secret—they are simply the property of the Pope and are private. It is not possible for us to know the details of everything we have. While the vast majority of documents were added after the eighth century, from the time of Pope Innocent III, there are several that are preserved simply because they are old. A few may be innocuous documents about commerce or letters from one person to another or letters of appointment. Or they may be incantations, spells, procedures for worship, procedures for exorcisms, and so on. Unless you have all the time in the world, there is no possibility of reading all that exists in the archives. We do merely two things: one, work on preservation and cataloguing, and two: guide scholars to the specific manuscripts they seek, without necessarily having an idea of the meaning of what lies within.”
“I see.”
“It follows that the documents we possess are often in languages that are rare or even dead. Aramaic, Hebrew, Meroitic, Greek—ah, there are so many! And, as I have mentioned, many predate Christ. Please understand that we distinguish between customs and religious thought. If you wish to follow a train of inquiry on practically any field of human endeavour, it is entirely possible to do so here, though it is true that the popes of the past were principally occupied with theological issues.
“Many are surprised that documents about China are in the archives. But there were travellers even before Marco Polo. However, none had his flair for capturing the details of his travels and did not wish to think beyond their trip. Objects have moved between civilizations across thousands of miles. Therefore our archives also have material from China, which may or may not have theological significance. Similarly, we have material in Arabic, too—I myself am considered a scholar in Arabic.
“Perhaps you are aware that Christianity flourished in Abyssinia much before it reached Europe. The language in which the Bible was first written was a combination of Greek, Hebrew, and Aramaic, which I think you know. Biblical history, parables, stories…many have their origin in the Nile Valley. Let us also remember that many myths referred to magic, which included physical phenomena not adequately understood at that time. We have been guilty of mistreatment of scientists and we are making amends.”
The Pope clicked his tongue and nodded in solemn agreement.
“With the spread of Islam, an entirely new dimension of documents started entering the archives. Whether of the Crusades, the depredations wreaked by the Ottoman Turks in Bulgaria and Romania, the question of the Armenian Church, Constantinople, the Moors in Andalusia—ah, there is much to find, provided you know what you seek!
“Again this should not be a surprise. What, after all, separates us from Africa? Just a modest body of water that we call the Mediterranean Sea. It is inconceivable that people could have been insular simply because of the sea. There was trade, there were raids and conquests, and there was the exchange of theological thought. You certainly know this. It is simply that we do not think about this every day and therefore find the very question something unusual. So we have parchments in Arabic as well, and they are of great value, too.
“Let us come to the point of this discussion. In our archives, there are several parchments that use veiled language to convey ideas and thoughts. In some, you will find spells to deal with ghosts, demons, the devil, et cetera. There are procedures for exorcisms. I am not discussing the theological questions here; merely stating what lies in the archives, of which I am the custodian.”
Holmes nodded.
“The question of eternal life has occupied the thinking of many scholars since the dawn of time. Why do people want to live forever? There can be a number of reasons. To continue to do good, to continue to do evil, to earn more and more, a fear of death, a desire to enjoy the pleasures of life…Who can say why? Yet it consumes everyone. Many people would give all their wealth to attain immortality.”
The Pope interrupted. “We understand this desire but we do not approve of it. The meaning of eternal life, as far as we are concerned, is to be embraced by the Holy Ghost. To live a pure life is of greater value than to somehow evade the state of death.”
“Yes, Your Holiness,” Holmes concurred. “There is really nothing logical about wishing to be alive forever. It is too great a burden from any point of view.”
Father Ciasca leaned forward in his chair. “We see that the bodies of some of our saints do not fall to corruption because of their holiness, but that does not mean we are evading death. It is impossible. Many cultures, Signore Holmes, have attempted to embalm their rulers so that they may enjoy the afterlife. Egypt is particularly famous for that, as you know. They were quite obsessed by the idea of immortality and may have gone to extreme lengths. And obviously, the efforts would have been ongoing for centuries. It is natural to expect that many alleged spells and incantations and formulas were spoken of that guaranteed immortality. If you have an interest in Egyptian history, you will likely be satisfied by what you find in our archives, Signore Holmes.
Sherlock Holmes, The Missing Years: Timbuktu Page 5
