The Fourth Nail: An Historical Novel

by Paul Argentini

  Marius’s dowel was the first to find flesh. Marius made a false feint then continued the blow, which landed solidly on Bastoni’s shoulder. An ordinary soldier would have screamed in pain. Bastoni shrugged it off.

  The contest continued evenly until Bastoni, wearing a training gauntlet, discovered Marius’s unprotected hand on the dowel. Focusing on that, finally he was able to solidly whack the knuckles of his right hand. Marius grunted, a chorus to the crack of breaking bones.

  The dowel fell to the ground. Marius jerked to retrieve it. Bastoni brought down blows one after another, the sound of the crash of the shield resonating against the thud of hard-struck leather. Bastoni put his foot on the dowel to hold it down as he put in every ounce of effort to pound an opening in Marius’s defense.

  Marius jammed his body into Bastoni’s knee to loosen the dowel. He shifted the shield to his right arm, and picked up the dowel with his left hand. He stood up to face the sweating, gasping Bastoni. Marius glared at the man. “Enough practice!” he shouted. He feinted a blow to the head, and swept the dowel around to smack solidly into Bastoni’s leg. Almost in the same apportamento, he brought the dowel around to connect with his other thigh. Bastoni involuntarily jerked down to protect his knees. That’s when Marius found he had brought the dowel down solidly into his neck. It made Bastoni’s eyes cross, and caused him to stagger.

  Marius stepped back, and searched out the crowd for Captain Morgana. The two men stared at each other across an abyss filled with wish and want, conflict and conclusion, satisfaction but no contentment, both looking for an answer. Captain Morgana nodded. That gave the secret victory to Marius. Nodding in return, Marius accepted the homage to his self-respect.

  Sergeant Bastoni’s blows were missing their zing. Marius had taken heavier ones all day long in training sessions. He allowed the sergeant to do his damndest for the next hour. Very convincingly, Marius made it look as if the sergeant had gained the upper hand.

  In a series of blows, Marius made it look as if he lost the dowel again, letting it fly from his hand. Bastoni, seeing the opening, charged, his dowel raised high. Marius dropped his shield and held his hand up, conceding defeat.

  Bastoni gloated. He walked the ring, his arms upraised in victory, his face thick with victory.

  Angelus approached Marius every morning and every evening. “Do you want to talk about it?” he would ask.

  Marius did not answer him for a month. Angelus knew enough to leave him alone. He did note the production at the forge was raised to a level never before seen by Horace.

  At the training field more than two months later, Captain Morgana took Marius to one side. “I gave you my word I’d try to get you out of here. I can offer you the chance. Whatever you decide to do, yes or no, we owe each other nothing. Agreed?”

  “You’re an honorable man, Captain. I would fight on your side anytime. I agree.”

  “I will come to the forge in the morning with a proposition,” the captain said. “One thing, Marius, I will make an offer, but do not be quick to volunteer. Allow me to raise the ante to something worthwhile.” Marius nodded.

  The next morning, Horace called all the workers around the anvil. “Captain Morgana to talk!”

  The Captain looked from one man to another. “We are here to keep the Roman peace. The authorities and citizenry are in foment over a man called Jesus who has blasphemed, caused a disturbance at the temple, and calls himself the Messiah. He was brought before Sanhedrin and Caiphus, the high priest, who sent him back here to the Fortress as the seat of government of Pontius Pilate, the Procurator of Judea who tried to pass off the responsibility of the disposition of this man to Herod Antipas, the Tetrach of Judea. Herod refused to have anything to do with the matter. Jesus is one of four prisoners who may be put to death. I have been told, as is the custom at these high holy Jewish holidays, Pontius Pilate will allow the populace to free either Jesus or Bar-abbas, a common criminal. Even though this is of the Jews’ own doing, the onus of scourging and executing the prisoners falls on us as peacekeepers. They die by crucifixion. My men will do as ordered, but it must be shown that Rome is not involved. The uniform of the Roman guard must be associated only with seeing the sentences are carried out. No soldier will nail these men to their crosses. So far there are four men chosen to do two of the criminals. I need two volunteers for the third prisoner, either Jesus or Bar-abbas. The volunteers will have access to the harlots in town as long as they are in Jerusalem. Step forward to accept.”

  “Make more!” Horace spoke up. “I get whore anytime!” He broke out in laughter.

  “I hear soldiers talk,” Jerrold said. “The Jew’s high powers do magical things. He heals the sick and blind, and preaches of another world.”

  Gerard said, “Some are afraid because how you say...?”

  “Superstition?” Jerrold said. “We want no part if he is to be crucified.”

  “Quickly, then, I offer to whomsoever volunteers,” the Captain said slowly, “freedom from indentureship!”

  “I do!” Horace spoke up.

  “What good would it do you, Horace?” the Captain asked, “You can’t resign from the army! Anyone?” No one moved. “You?” He pointed to Marius.

  Marius looked around and nodded.

  “You?” the captain pointed to Angelus? Angelus nodded.

  Then, Marius said, “I’ve never crucified anyone.”

  “I’ve seen to a few hundred of them,” Captain Morgana said. He clapped Marius on the back, and said, “Come with me now, I will instruct you.”

  “Captain Morgana,” Marius said. “I would attend this chore better if you were to have my collar removed, and my gold bracelet attached to my wrist now. Put me in chains to be sure I don’t escape until I go to do the chore, if you wish.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” the captain said, “and I agree to do as you have asked. Come with me now.” They started together across the Praetorium. “The first thing you must do is forge for yourself three nails. If you’re smart, you’ll make a fourth. If you bend one of the nails, as I’ve seen happen, it will break if you try to straighten it or drive it. Keep the fourth as a spare to get yourself out of trouble. They always put a titulus, a small sign at the top of the cross that states the prisoner’s crime, so you’ll need a small nail for that. Incidentally, you’re not a carpenter so I suggest you do some practice driving nails.”

  Marius nodded. “I’ll do that.”

  “Now listen closely, Marius, because I can only give you these instructions one time,” Captain Morgana said. “As the centurion in charge, I must be present at the scourging of a prisoner to make sure they don’t kill him so we don’t crucify an already dead man. You must do every single thing I tell you because the man you crucify must be dead on the cross by the Sabbath. Do you understand that? He must be stone cold dead by sundown. There is no leeway on that. We’re here as peacekeepers, and there’ll be the furies if the man gasps one breath more than he should. Do exactly as I say and the one you nail to the cross will give up the ghost very quickly. To begin with, by the time we get through here, and prisoner is made to carry the cross to Golgotha, he won’t be in any condition to give you any trouble. If you have any mercy in you, do your task quickly...”

  On the way back to the forge, Marius made a short detour to the doorway and spoke quickly to Teresa.

  Back at the forge alone with Angelus, he leaped and spun around showing the gold bracelet on his wrist. “Look! Look at this! Free! I’m free!” Then, he quieted down and spoke to his morose friend. Noticing the downcast look, Marius said, “I will not abandon you. Help me with this job I am to do. After, you and I will go back to Rome. Do you understand? First, take off your neck cloth, and let me take off your collar. We’ll put it back on loosely so we can discard it easily. Then, get this collar off of me. Then, get me the best iron you can find to make the nails.”

  Marius began to tremble as he started the process of forging the nails. Many thoughts crowded into his
brain. The dominant one was that he would soon be a free man. He would return to Rome. He was anxious to learn what had happened with his father and sister. His thoughts turned to Teresa. Making an escape with Teresa would be dangerous. He could not take her. As they had arranged, he would see her as they were leaving. When he thought of what he was about to do to a fellow human being, he stopped cold. Would he have the capacity? It was one thing to deal with another man armed and protected, able to defend himself. It was a completely different matter to instigate death on one captured and harmless. He thought about it for a long time. Yes, he was committed. He had accepted the chore. In his heart he knew he would do that and more for his freedom because without it, he himself might as well be dead.

  18

  In the darkened niche, Roberto stirred. He sat up. Had he just traveled some two thousand years in time and returned to the niche? A trick of the mind. He had a smile on his face. He blinked rapidly. Was he Marius? Or was he Roberto?

  The major thought in his mind was to leave the Vatican and return to his apartment. He wanted to inspect Father DiBenedetto’s Breviary. Of course! Where else would a priest hide a clue to a centuries-old mystery?

  He took the Breviary and sat at the kitchen table. It was an ordinary, well-used little book. He riffled the pages, first one way, then the other. A few of the pages were torn. Quite a few had corners bent over. He examined those closely. He found nothing extraordinary. He went through the Breviary page by page. He noted nothing unusual, no markings or words underlined. Again he went through the book page by page. It revealed nothing. He went through it again page by page to confirm no pages had been removed. Nothing.

  He held the book and turned it all around again. Then, he put it on the table and opened the front cover, and studied it. He turned it to the inside back cover, and studied that. He ran his hand over the inside of the front cover, and did the same for the back.

  To Roberto, the difference in the thickness between the two covers sent a charge of electricity coursing through his body. He found his hands trembling.

  It was an indelibly, explosive moment. Had he found a major clue for the fourth nail?

  He noticed the margin had shifted on the inside back cover. Then, he realized it had been opened at the top and side and had been re-glued. When he compared the covers simultaneously, Roberto knew something had first been slipped down inside. Whatever Father DiBenedetto wanted to keep secret was still there.

  Within minutes Roberto had the kettle steaming. Roberto used aluminum foil to cover the kettle’s spout to have the steam come out of a very tiny funnel-like aperture to direct the heat more accurately. Working meticulously with a pair of tweezers, he gradually loosened the glue and peeled back the inside cover. He exposed a folded piece of paper.

  Using the tweezers, he slipped the paper out of its pocket.

  He held his breath as he unfolded it.

  On the paper in pencil was a line of stars and numbers: *-2-9-19-24-*-2-3-3-15-17-*-3-7-15-17-*-2-3-3-8-15-17-23-24-??8-4-2-?.

  Wow! Roberto thought. How do I decipher this? I’m not a cryptographer. It can’t be that difficult a chore, can it?

  He did not feel it was a complicated code, not anything requiring the DaVinci Rose, or the German Enigma machine that used a rotating alphabet plus a letter key. He felt Father DiBenedetto was under the gun. He didn’t have an awful lot of time to develop a serious code or to use a cryptograph to encipher the message Roberto thought. His feeling was that the priest had come up with his own cryptogram based on logic and reasoning.

  Using the most rudimentary system, Roberto assigned consecutive numbers to the alphabet starting with the letter ‘a’ being number one. He wrote the numbers from the Breviary under the letters. He wrote the letters. The words were a jumble. The mystery was the stars mixed in with the numbers. The one constant was the name, “Marius.” That had to be it.

  He decided the starting letter would be critical. After much thought, he used the letter “M” for Marius to start writing the numbers consecutively. The words were a jumble. He decided, however long it would take, he would start the first number from the letter “A”, which he had already done, moving down one letter at a time.

  By early afternoon with only a few hours sleep; Roberto was still unable to decipher the message.

  Roberto decided he would need all the help he could get that he trusted if he were ever to find The Marius Diary. He dialed Diura’s phone number.

  “Pronto!”

  The sound of Diura’s voice made Roberto feel as if his breath had been totally sucked out of his chest. Absorbed as he was in the fourth nail, there were moments when he found his need for her presence totally irresistible. The truth was her absence was an agonizing duress. “Yes. Signorina Diura Dicuora, per piacere.”

  “Roberto! This is Diura. I am a little hoarse; I have been laughing a good bit! My cousins are so entertaining! Are you all right?”

  “Yes. I’m fine. Just wanted to check in with you.”

  “Just that?” she said.

  “Yes,” he answered.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Good!”

  “I know. I’ve been having those kinds of dreams, too.” Her deep, full laughter caught him by the throat. He felt the blood surge to his cheeks. “You miss me, but you’re not ready to capitulate. You want to re-negotiate. I’m not interested.”

  “Diura!”

  “Say something vital and exciting. Boring is deadly.”

  “I’m going to die...”

  “Roberto!”

  “...if I don’t see you,” he continued.

  “Porca miseria! I’m going to hang up on you.”

  “I capitulate. I am totally lost. I need you to clear the fog. I am ready to quit. They have taken away my library card at the Vatican. I am without direction. No place else to go.”

  “Really!”

  XIX

  Captain Morgana brought the news that Bar-abbas was freed. Marius would crucify the prisoner Jesus.

  Marius stuck the four nails under his belt at his back, collected all the tools and rope he needed, and together with Angelus went to Golgotha to dig a hole to receive the stipes of the cross.

  Before Marius knew it, the end of the cross had just been positioned on the ground. Then the prisoner, Jesus, was presented. Marius confronted the man he was about to crucify.

  Jesus said, “You are Marius of Rome, summoned for this task.”

  “Yes, my name is Marius. They say you are the Messiah.” Jesus nodded. “You are a stranger to me; I know you not, nor your cause. I hold no malice toward you except that I have no desire to live if I can’t live as a free man. I earn my freedom by the enormous cruelty and perfidious harm I am about to do to you. I beg your forgiveness.”

  “I forgive you, Marius. I give you life everlasting,” Jesus answered, barely able to speak. “Marius, know you have been chosen for this task. You have two others to do for the Father. Now, do what you must. My father awaits. I am ready.”

  Marius removed the unstitched bloody cloth from around Jesus so he was uncovered.

  Marius, at the right side, reached with his right hand to take the prisoner’s right biceps to lead him backwards. Marius positioned him on the cross lying on the ground. With Marius’s left hand behind his head, he gently eased Jesus down onto the wood. Marius helped him to sit just above the sedile, a small seat to catch the buttocks. Marius stared into his eyes, and saw reflected in them a sky blue surrounded by a brilliant, golden haze. As Marius released his arm, he looked down at his own hand. He saw that where it had been so broken and crushed by Bastoni it was no longer deformed! It was as perfect as it had ever been. Marius flexed it. He felt no pain. He felt its strength. With astonishment, he looked back at Jesus. He felt the man’s aura of peace, and heard him say, “Marius, you will perform well all three your assigned tasks.”

  Marius did not fully comprehend the words, but nodded to Angelus, handed him the four nails and said, “Quickly. We must d
o our work swiftly!”

  Angelus removed the circle of thorns from around the prisoner’s head.

  Marius went to one knee and looked down into the man’s eyes. Marius reached over to put his hands on either side of the man’s face. Marius took a deep breath, and knew once he started, he could not stop. He heeded Captain Morgana’s instruction to pull the head as far forward as he could, and swiftly propel it backwards as forcibly as he could until it struck the wood solidly. It knocked the Man unconscious. Marius hoped that Jesus was lucky and did not regain consciousness until after all three nails had been driven in.

  Marius put the unconscious Man’s right hand on the patibulum, the cross arms. Angelus handed him the heavy forge hammer and a nail. Marius could hear Captain Morgana tell him to place the nail back on the wrist where it would penetrate bone, and whack it swiftly and heavily. He struck. The nail penetrated, spurt blood, and sunk into the wood, and further as Marius hit it again.

  Marius leaped to the other side. He put Jesus’ left hand on the patibulum, took the nail from Angelus, and struck twice driving it in.

  Marius pulled a stiletto from his belt, and ordered Angelus to lift the buttocks. This would be a critical act, Captain Morgana said, which would bring about further excruciating pain but would cause a quick death. Marius did as he had been instructed, pushing the stiletto through the bottom into the man in three different directions to penetrate the intestines releasing the contents into the body cavity. It would cause a firestorm of infection. Care had to be taken that the point of the stiletto did not pierce the outer skin.

  Marius could hear Captain Morgana’s warning that nailing the feet would require the utmost of skill and concentration. Marius moved to the left side, took the foot, then the nail from Angelus. As instructed, he put the nail directly above the cup of the heel bone, and struck it with the hammer. At too shallow an angle, the nail went through the skin, slid off the bone, through the flesh and struck a rock bending the nail. Marius looked up at Angelus, who without looking around, just held out the spare nail to Marius.