The Fourth Nail: An Historical Novel

by Paul Argentini

  “This is how I want to remember the ghost. I love you with all my heart, Marius!”

  “Giuseppina! Stop! This is not right!”

  But it was too late. Giuseppina enveloped him with her passionate fury. Marius found he could not restrain himself. He clasped her to him, uncontrollably hard, deep.

  That evening when Marius and Giuseppina returned from a walk to the beach, they found the table set for dinner under the grape arbor. Clemina had prepared Claudio’s favorite wheat flour pasta with sauce from the black ink of the octopus.

  “Giuseppina,” Clemina said when she joined them, “you shine brighter that the noonday sun. The source for that can only be happiness.”

  Guiseppina bowed her head slightly and glanced sideways at Marius. “I would like your permission to go with Marius. I love him very much. He has expressed caring for me, too. I may be of much use to him. In any case, we will return here either to be married...or not.”

  “With all my love and respect, I did not know Guiseppina would ask this. I would not say, ‘No.’ It may be best for all of us. I would like your permission to have her come with me to Rome.”

  Claudio stopped in mid-sip. Clemina beamed.

  “Per Bacco!” Claudio said. “Do not drink the wine that is at table! I shall open the vat with the best wine in the cellar!”

  Guiseppina and Clemina both stood to hug each other and kiss each others’ cheeks. Then, it was Marius’ turn.

  Claudio asked, “It is good to know you are feeling well enough to travel.”

  “I don’t know how I will find things in Rome after all the time I’ve been away,” Marius said. “I am anxious to go, but first, as a sign of my affection, I would like to spend a day on the boat with you, Claudio.”

  Marius and Claudio had already left on the boat when Giuseppina approached her mother. “I must not leave without seeing my dear Germano.”

  “Is that wise?” her mother asked.

  “I put myself in Germano’s place, Mamma. We have been together ever since we were children. We never spoke of it, but lately he has been suggesting we get married. He is so...how do you say it?...impetuoso? I want to tell him face to face. I don’t want him to be the object of gossip.”

  Near the mountaintop, Germano looked out over the broad view from La Punta di Vista. “I wondered why the surprise picnic today. Are you sure about this fellow Marius?”

  “Yes, we love each other very much, Germano,” Guiseppina said.

  “I thought we loved each other very much, too. There was never a thought in my mind we would not be married, Pina,” using her diminuative.

  “I know. I love and respect you very much, Germano. It’s the reason I thought we should see each other one last time to seal our friendship.”

  “I had a bad feeling the day I learned your parents took in the stranger. Can I not dissuade you?”

  “No. His love envelopes me.”

  “You cannot just leave me. I love you, Pina; we have loved each other since forever.”

  “I know and I’m sorry, Germano. It’s not something I wished for or looked for. It just happened. We leave for Rome tomorrow. You know how much you mean to me. I wish you happiness, Germano. I will miss you.”

  “Tomorrow! Pina, I can’t let you go. Give me time to convince you to stay with me!”

  “Germano, I pray you find such a love as I have with Marius. It is so all-consuming! It is so… magnificent! Nothing can dissuade me!”

  “I cannot live without you. I cannot live in an empty world.”

  “I feel badly for you, Germano. I cannot feel sorry for having found this love!”

  “It is to be so? With total certainty?”

  “Yes.”

  “One last kiss goodbye...?”

  At mid-afternoon Marius and Claudio returned home to find Clemina in tears. Two of their neighbors were with her.

  Clemina sank into Claudio’s arms. After a long while she was able to tell him a sheepherder saw Guiseppina and Germano fall from La Punta di Vista.

  When Marius departed for Rome, he left his gold bracelet on the kitchen table.

  There was not one moment in the weeks it took him to get to Rome that he did not toy with the collar around his neck. He thought about the fourth nail in every way that he could, reliving every moment from the time he first struck the nail at the forge. His conclusion was that it was a source of mystical and fantastical powers. Could he not attribute to it that it saved his life from drowning? To Marius it had proven itself to be both good and bad. It had been a positive force for him and somewhat for Angelus. Was it not associated with a good number of deaths starting with Jesus and going on to Horace, the men aboard the ship, by the oasis in the desert, the gladiator, then Angelus, Germano who also took Giuseppina to her death?

  How much more good would it do?

  How much more pain would it cause?

  26

  Lama Langra was a study in contrasts. He was totally bald but his eyebrows were wild, black hedgerows. He wore heavy, horn-rimmed glasses, stood a head shorter than Roberto, and was as thin as a flagpole, which made him look like a teen-ager despite his 60-odd years. Beneath his dull brown ankle length homespun robe he wore bright orange-rose silks: a scarf, layered shirts, and pantaloons. His boots were fur lined.

  Lama Langraspoke a few words to the lama guarding the door. Then, he motioned for Roberto, Diura, and Andreyovich to sit Indian fashion on the raised platform that nearly filled the small, square room. Light came in from high-up windows. There was a cold brazier in one corner. Andreyovich spoke a few words in Russian.

  The Lama said, “I speak several languages. I am not as comfortable in Russian as I am in English. I have doctoral degrees from Oxford and from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. So English has it?” He looked from one to another.

  “I am Roberto Donadio, and this is Diura Dicuorra, both of us from the United States. This is Professor Andreyovich Nicholovski from Moscow, our guide. Thank you for your gracious welcome, Lama Langra.”

  “We have not had a visitor since 1950. Ms. Dicuorra, you are the first lady ever to visit our abode. We are extremely remote and have very little contact with the outside world. That is especially fortunate today with the regressive political system in China. As you know, we are located in a steep ravine. This site was chosen for several reasons; the first is for protection and seclusion. It is an excellent defensive location as you learned by the difficult means it took you to get into the building, and that was with assistance. Consider the same route, scaling walls and so on, with opposition. Geographically, there is an easier way to get here from the east rather than from the north as you came. I must assume you reached us purely by accident?”

  “Lama Langra, we are not here by accident,” Roberto said. “On the contrary, this lamasery has been the object of a very intensive search. We hope we made the correct educated guesses. It is the only abode which fit our specifications, primarily that it is at least 2,000 years old.”

  “Yes, we have been here for more than 2,000 years, and with good reason. Security is our uppermost concern. The integrity of our abode is supreme. We allow no one in here that we do not wish to be here,” the Lama said. “One way we keep safe is not to provide any information whatsoever about our existence, past, present, future. We have allowed you one question answered. There will be no more until you have satisfied us that you present no danger whatsoever. We are concerned that your research revealed us to you. We would like to know how that was possible. More than that, we want to know your chief purpose for coming here.”

  “It will be my privilege to answer any and all questions you may have on any subject,” Roberto said. “I would hope that we would pose no danger to you whatsoever. We are on a historical research mission of a story that goes back to the Crucifixion. It concerns the fourth nail...”

  The Lama interrupted, “Clavus Quartus! I came across the rumor in my ecclesiastical studies of ancient Rome. Is it the same?”

 
; “Exactly the same,” Roberto said. “I believe you may be the keeper of what I call The Marius Diary, the story of how the nail came to be, and its present location. Shall I go on?”

  “Yes, certainly do,” the Lama said, “This is highly interesting.”

  Over the course of the next two hours, the three of them gave the Lama in particular detail the entire story on how they got to sit before him.

  The Lama closed his eyes and remained silent for more than five minutes. When he looked up, he spoke to the guard in Burmese for several minutes. “We will have tea. Earlier, two lamas were to descend to your campsite to inform your porters to remain exactly there until you all return in a day or so because you would not be able to return by darkness this day,” he said. “We do not know if we can be of any help to you concerning The Marius Diary. We do not know if we wish to help. I am appalled that we have been pushed into the limelight by modern technology, and the leadership of Mr. Donadio, the scholarship of Madam Stella and Professor Nicholovski, and the work of Ms. Dicuora. I do not know at this moment what we can do to re-secure our anonymity if at all, or what we can do about it. It is a major concern. Ordinarily, the lamasery would not be available to any of you. You all must remain confined to this room. You will be served meals here, and blankets will be brought for your comfort. When I return I will report on my search through the archives for any manuscript such as you describe. I do not want to disappoint you so be warned that no one is allowed to remove anything from the lamasery with or without permission, and never permitted are any documents, artifacts, belongings ever to be taken away. That means, to be clear, that should the Marius Diary be here, and should we find cause to allow you to view it, that is the best you will get. Do not think of taking it with you. To understand the security precautions, tell me your estimate of the value of The Marius Diary, Mr. Donadio?”

  “Inestimable, Lama Langra. A modest guess would be several million dollars,” Roberto said. “If it is the true diary, it can lead to the location of the fourth nail. I want you to know I have been offered a great deal of money to produce the fourth nail. For whatever it is worth, we are not looking for the diary because of money. If you have the diary, and you want to sell it, I can get buyers for you should you need the income.”

  “You cannot tell from this room that we lack nothing of the physical world. One indication may be that we all wear the finest silks. We have no financial needs, so anything we have here would never be for sale,” the Lama said. “Anything here, stays here. This lamasarie is safer than your mother’s arms. One is never in more danger than when one feels most secure. On such is our abode built. The faith that entrusted us to keep it for these centuries, to have it when you came to view it, let’s say, is our foundation which we feel will continue for additional centuries. Once it is known that we have it, what would it take to stop others from trying to possess it?”

  “That danger would be enough for you to say you do not have the diary even if you do have it. I can understand why that may be a consideration for you to say that to us now and secure your continued anonymity,” Roberto said.

  “It is known as Catch-22?” the Lama said. “We are in a room with no visible exit.”

  “Not quite, Lama Langra. I would appeal to your devotion to scholarship. The Marius Diary should be made known to the world, purely as a historical document. That is all I seek for it. I am not a religious man, but the contents of The Marius Diary may contribute to the peace of the world. To answer your question, to keep the location of the fourth nail hidden if I ever found it I would have to refuse $50-million.”

  “$50-million!” Andreyovich exclaimed.

  “You see how money more than prayer turns heads?” the Lama asked.

  “Andreyovich Nicholovski is a priest. He believes The Marius Diary is worth much more than that, or is he saying if they offered me more than that I would have accepted? No matter, I have the only answer I can offer you, Lama Langra. Anonymity. If your abode remains anonymous, may we safely view the diary if you have it? Swear us to secrecy. I will take a vow to forget this lamasery ever existed.”

  “And I will,” Diura said.

  “Why not? I will, too!” Andreyovich said.

  “Perhaps that is a way. We will consider it. We will see you in the morning,” the Lama said.

  “Lama Langra!” Roberto said. “If I may, is this the lamasery known as Tzndrl or Dztsl?”

  Tomorrow would bring many answers they were told.

  It was nearly noontime when Lama Langra entered the room and solemnly announced he had found three scrolls written in ancient Latin that may have been there since 50 A.D.

  Roberto and Diura gasped at the news. They jumped up off the floor, and hugged and kissed each other, then grabbed Stolli and waltzed around. Andreyovich, caught up in the moment, started clapping, shouting and whirling about. Lama Langra watched in amazement.

  “Roberto,” Diura said. “I apologize. All this time I said you and the fourth nail were pazzo.”

  It took a while for them to quiet down. When they did, Roberto confronted the Lama. “You have no idea what your news means to me, personally. What it will do for the rest of the world I have no idea, but I am grateful for your deep and kind consideration. At this moment, I feel I must make my obeisance and offer a prayer to whatever power has guided us to your abode. May I ask when will I be able to see the scrolls?”

  Smiling, the Lama said, “I think the more interesting question is why I will allow you to see them. That was in doubt you can be sure.”

  “Kindly tell me,” Roberto said. “Did I say something that convinced you I am a serious scholar and wish no personal gain?”

  “Yes, something you said,” the Lama answered. “You said your name was Roberto Donadio. I met your father, Americo, in Cambridge where I heard him give several lectures, one on the Fibonacci Numbers and Nature. He spoke of a son, his ‘Roberto!’ I recall that lecture and seminar to this day. He gave a brilliant talk. He spoke of Fibonacci’s rabbits, Dudeney’s cows, honeybees, numbers and family trees, numbers and the golden number, rectangles and shell spirals, numbers and branching plants; petals on flowers, seed heads, pine cones, leaf arrangements, and fingers. His other lecture was of my particular discipline dealing with philosophy and spatial relationships. As I remember, he posed the question: ‘If one took three spheres of different diameters and arranged them in space in a random relationship, then connected the periphery of each sphere to the periphery of the other, where each pair of lines intersect, do they fall on the same plane, and, if so, why?’ Can you give me the answer Dr. Donadio?”

  “Yes, I can. As we both know, the question can only be answered philosophically. The dissertation favored by my father was by the German philosopher, Arthur Schopenhauer, who was profoundly influenced by the Eastern religions, especially Hinduism and Buddhism. I am totally incapable of declaiming his paper. Lama Langra, does that confirm I am who I say I am?” Roberto asked.

  “No one posing as Dr. Donadio’s son would have known exactly that. I’m sure you understand my need for caution,” the Lama said. “Now, because I trust you and the sincerity of your research, I am delighted to be of help. That does not diminish our rules, you understand.”

  “Of course!” Roberto said. “I hope we have time to discuss my father who, I’m sorry to report, passed away. May I see the Marius scrolls?”

  “Only one person at a time may view the scrolls. They are sealed in a gold case. They seem to have fared well although there might be some bacterial damage. You may copy whatever you wish. You are not allowed to trace or cause the slightest damage. These are treasured, revered documents,” the Lama emphasized.

  “Time,” Roberto said. “How much time will I have with them? Is it possible you will allow me to return at a future date to do further research?”

  “I’m afraid I didn’t emphasize enough our security. I took your oaths to mean none of you will ever return here for any reason, under any condition. We are to be comple
tely forgotten. You will never be welcome here again, nor are you to send anyone else in your stead, or direct anyone here for any reason. I regret that it must be so, but we must protect our abode. Do you accept that?” the Lama asked.

  “How much time now?” Roberto asked.

  “You have two days,” the Lama said emphatically. “You will depart here at noon on the third day. I am stretching our rules, you understand. We will send mountaineers with you to make sure you reach your caravan safely. I must warn you, we have marksmen who will not hesitate if you attempt to turn back, or if you ever return. Your father would understand and would comply with my wishes. I know he would demand you listen.”

  “As a scholar you can understand my request for more time, Lama Langra. I have no idea if I can read the scrolls’ language or calligraphy. I would have to handle them very carefully and gingerly. I don’t believe I will have enough time to study all three thoroughly. I would respectfully request any extension of time whatsoever as a blessing...”

  “I believe three things need be said once only by the person who needs to say: Sorry, thank you, and no.” the Lama said.

  Roberto said, “I’d rather not waste another moment and would like to see the scrolls.”

  “You will be escorted and monitored at all times while in the repositorium,” the Lama said. “You may view only one scroll at a time. I think we can count on your looking at the last one first! Pray it tells you the resting place of Clavus Quartus.”

  Roberto was the first to view the scrolls. With the guard off to one side watching him carefully, Roberto sat before the third of the three scrolls just staring at it for more than ten minutes. During that time, he thought mostly of his father, and what this moment would have meant to him. He made no attempt to control his tears. Roberto considered the number of lifetimes that had gone into the search for these, The Marius Diary. Most of all, he wondered at what Providence, what stroke of luck, had enabled him to discover the location of this treasure. He prayed the diary would lead him to the fourth nail and end its mystery; perhaps to bring peace and harmony to Mankind. In solving this problem, he realized he had created another, almost as big as finding the scrolls. How could he prove to the world that he actually saw the genuine articles? His oath to the Lama meant he would have no tie back to the lamasery. Without the actual scrolls, finding the fourth nail would mean as much as any of the other relics claimed to be genuine with no actual proof, the weight of the authority making the claim would be its actual foundation. Only if he, Roberto, could produce Ille Clavus Quartus and use it to perform a miracle before the world could there be testimony to its genuineness. Anything less would have it considered another phony article. He wondered if he was making too much of the proof. Wouldn’t it be enough just that he had the story? Wouldn’t it be enough to inform the world of how the fourth nail had been created, and where it supposedly was placed? Lord! Just to have the story of Marius of Rome! Would that not be enough to substantiate a rumor that had persisted for two thousand years? And, quite importantly, too, that he was the instrument to do this made him feel somewhat special. So special, in fact, that he considered the moment he touched the fat scroll to be holy.