by Taylor Buck
It was true. But Jack was skeptical…at least at first.
As generous as Forlino and Valente had been, there was still the nagging encounter that had occurred in the stairwell at the villa. To put his concerns to rest, Jack asked Valente about it bluntly.
“Mr. Cullen,” Valente replied, laughing, “I can assure you that what you heard was entirely out of context…”
He proceeded to explain that the discussion had, in fact, been between Forlino and his daughter, Gabriela. He had wanted to say something on the stairwell, but he wasn’t sure what Jack had actually heard. The topic of discussion involved the city of Florence’s ownership issues with the dig. It seemed that the city was perturbed about having been revoked ownership of the dig by UNESCO, and the Florentine city council was attempting to find alternate means of gaining access to the site. In order to obtain complete confidentiality of the findings from the city, the MPS were required to keep any new discoveries under wraps. Therefore, Jack’s involvement was going against the protocol UNESCO had put in place.
Gabriela had questioned Jack’s involvement from the start, but Forlino had assured her that Jack was working on their side.
As far as the issue of “questionable relations,” Valente assured Jack that there was nothing questionable about their relationship. The term, amore mio—my love—is used among spouses and children in Italian families. When asked about the kissing, Valente assured Jack that he was surely mistaken and must have heard something else.
All in all, Valente had been extremely kind in his offers… and Jack couldn’t have asked for better timing. He needed someone connected with UNESCO in order to gain access to the Medici Villas. There was no other way around it. Since each Medici villa was now considered a historical site, it was property of UNESCO. This left Jack with very few options. The only way he would be able to gain access to the villas would be through Valente’s connection.
“I’m intrigued,” Jack said glancing over from the passenger seat. “Again, thank you for your letter. Your offer to my family and me was far too kind.”
“Well it still stands, Mr. Cullen. Both Kathleen and yourself have been fundamental contributors in this. The discovery of these letters has been… il sogno, a dream come true for us… as you can imagine.”
Jack nodded. “I truly appreciate the offer, but we’re going to see things out. I realize it may sound crazy to some, but I am a man of faith. I remain optimistic regarding Kathleen’s situation. At this point, my prayers for my wife are all I have. I’m confident she will soon pull through this.”
Valente smiled. He seemed pleased with Jack’s response. “I too, am a man of faith. Please know that my prayers have been over your family as well, Mr. Cullen.” Valente’s eyes shifted to the rearview mirror. “I must thank you as well, Mr. Allen. Using TerraTEK’s tools, we were able to break through the wall and enter the adjacent room.”
Jack perked up. “You were?” His first inclination was to ask if they had found the treasure, but he stopped himself knowing that it obviously wasn’t the case. Still… any hidden room seemed a fair bet.
“Yes,” Valente continued. “It turned out to be a much smaller room—more letters belonging to the Medici family.”
“Anything of value yet?” Jack asked.
Valente smiled. “I’m afraid we don’t know yet, Mr. Cullen, we haven’t even finished transcribing the first room. It will take time. However, one letter that we came across yesterday has Massimo and me very excited. It is somewhat of a puzzle… we were hoping you might be able to shed some light on it.”
Jack smiled apprehensively, recalling the secret he had been keeping from both Forlino and Valente. He still hadn’t told them about receiving Lorenzo’s letter in the mail from Kathleen. It was his only leverage at the moment, but it appeared that he was running out of runway. In order to get any further, they were going to have to combine efforts. Forlino and Valente had information that he needed, and vice versa. Still, he wasn’t sure if they were being completely truthful to him. Can I really trust them?
Valente pulled the car into a brick arch opening deep within the city. They stopped at the Piazza d’ Azeglio and drove by a beautiful outdoor garden. Valente slowed in front of an impressive two-story building which seemed to stand out from the structures beside it. The façade was block concrete on the first floor with a smooth stucco exterior on the second. A suspended balcony covered in hanging baskets looked out over the gardens and sat above an aged, Italian-alder, gothic door.
“This is Signore Forlino’s house?” asked Jack.
“Yes. His house in the city,” Valente replied. “Massimo and I own the villa together but conduct most of our business here in the city. I will show you to our work space.”
He waited for the iron gate to swing wide, then parked just inside the main wall. Jack and Chester followed Valente inside the house.
The first floor opened to dark hardwood flooring and stark white walls. It was a very airy and open layout—more of an art gallery than a residence. The décor was drastically different from the villa in that it was entirely modern. Large teal curtains draped along the bright windows and a freestanding staircase led to the second floor. All of the furniture was brightly colored and geometrically modular.
“Come, this way. We work up in the loft,” Valente said as he led them upstairs.
Jack followed, quickly checking his phone. He had texted Marianne earlier about their conversation the other day. She had yet to respond.
As they emerged on the second floor, sharp shouts and expletives flew freely around the space. Across the loft, out on the terrace, Massimo Forlino was hunched over barking angrily into his phone.
“No… no… Vai al diavolo! Inaccettabile!...” When he saw them approaching from the stairs he cupped his hand over the receiver and whispered something quietly before he hung up.
“Gentlemen, I apologize!” Forlino said making his way across the room. “I was on the phone with my fund-sucking attorney.”
“Fund-sucking?” Jack inquired.
“Yes,” Forlino said hesitantly. “Is my English incorrect?”
“No,” Jack assured. “I just haven’t heard it put that way. It makes perfect sense, though.”
“The city again?” Valente queried Forlino.
“Si, si.” Forlino quickly changed expressions. He walked over to shake Jack’s hand. “It’s great to see you again, Mr. Cullen. Did Ignazio tell you about the letter?”
Jack looked puzzled. “Sorry, who?”
“Ignazio is my first name,” Valente informed them with a polite smile.
“Ah, sorry. No… actually,” Jack said. “I believe he was waiting until we were all together.”
“Bueno! Even better,” Forlino said enthusiastically clapping his hands together. “Come over here and take a look.”
Forlino led them to the center of the room where a massive flat screen monitor displayed a digital scan of an old letter. It had all of the signature traits of the original letter that Chester had shown Jack when they first met—the letter from Cosimo.
“A letter from Cosimo de’Medici,” Forlino said, “to Georgius Gemistus Plethon, his teacher and close friend.”
“Plethon?” asked Jack. “As in the Greek Neoplatonic philosopher?”
“Yes,” said Forlino behind a big white grin. “As I’m sure you know, Plethon was fundamental in inspiring the Renaissance because he reintroduced Plato’s teachings to Western Europe.”
“He was fundamental alright,” said Jack. “Known as The Second Plato by scholars in the mid-14th century. In fact, Cosimo’s entire school, Accademia Platonica, was started as a result of him attending Plethon’s lectures.”
“The second Plato…” Chester muttered skeptically.
“It was said,” continued Jack, “that Plethon had a supernatural link with the ancient philosophers… that his knowledge of Greek philosophy was unequaled by anyone of his time.”
“A man… that may be holding a secre
t, no?” Forlino inquired.
“So what does it say?” asked Chester.
Forlino unfolded his glasses and placed them across the bridge of his nose. He began translating the letter out loud to English.
My dear friend Gemistus,
My constituents in Morea wrote to inform me of your ailing health. You should know I was deeply saddened to hear of it. I pray that you find strength and perseverance in these days of quandary to prolong your years even more so than you have already fared.
“Plethon lived nearly one hundred years,” Jack added. “A considerable amount of time, considering the day they lived in was riddled with plague and disease.”
I thought you should be aware of the provisions I’ve made regarding the Thēsauros you left in my possession. The articles are safe underground. I’ve fortified them in a bronze vault, accessible only by two keys of my safekeeping. One key will be hidden away and the other remains in my possession until my death. Then it will be passed down through my family.
I trust that you are agreeable with this. You are the only one with whom I have entrusted this information. Know that the keys were only made to ensure the Thēsauros doesn’t fall into foreign hands.
You will be pleased to know that the Academy is thriving. We are training a group of students utilizing Thēsauros to accelerate their learning. The students have benefitted substantially by studying and applying its methods.
I hope to hear good news of your condition in the coming season. Please return correspondence if your health allows.
Eternally in your favor,
Cosimo de’Medici
1453
“Thēsauros?” asked Chester.
“Treasure,” answered Jack. “It’s the early Greek pronunciation of the word. He walked over to Forlino’s bookshelf and retrieved a thick red book with the word, Rogets, foil stamped across the front. He brought it over to Chester.
“A thesaurus?” Chester asked.
“Over time,” Jack continued, “the Greek word, Thēsauros, was Romanized until it became Thesaurus. Its literal meaning, however, is treasure store, or essentially any collection of things that are of high importance or value. In ancient times, a thesaurer was in charge of safekeeping materials of great worth, usually to the king. Thus, the rank of thesaurer is synonymous with what we today call a treasurer.”
“Of course,” said Forlino. “That makes perfect sense.”
“And look here,” pointed Jack. “Every time Cosimo mentions the treasure, he also uses the Greek spelling, θησαυρός. He’s referring to it in the original language—a telling hint that he holds it in utmost regard.”
“And we still have no idea what this treasure might be, right?” asked Chester.
Forlino, Jack and Valente all shared a look of uncertainty. It was clearly a tacit subject in which each man had generated his own hypothesis.
Valente spoke up first. “What do you think, Mr. Cullen? Based on your background in antiquity…”
“Well, it’s easy to speculate,” Jack said equably. “But before we jump to conclusions, we should observe its origins. We know that Cosimo inherited this treasure from Plethon, and in turn that tells us where it came from.”
“It does?” Forlino asked, scratching his head.
“Yes,” answered Jack. “Plethon was from Constantinople. He was among the many Greek scholars who dwelled there and protected the manuscripts. In fact, he prophesied the fall of the Byzantine Empire in many of his lectures well before it actually happened. Besides being a knowledgeable philosopher, he was also a prescient planner. In order to prepare for the coming collapse, he began frequenting Florence to deliver manuscripts to Cosimo de’Medici, Niccolo de’ Niccoli, Traversari and Poggio—all men having had a fundamental role in the creation of the Renaissance.”
“Poggio was a writer, right?” asked Forlino.
“Copyist,” corrected Jack. “In fact, Poggio was one of the finest manuscript copyists of the day—a man whose work is reflected everywhere, even today. Both Poggio and Niccolo developed the Roman typeface and italic script respectively. Because of Plethon, these men soon found themselves in possession of ancient manuscripts… some that had even survived the 4th Crusade.”
“I was under the impression that most of the manuscripts were destroyed during the Crusades,” said Valente.
“Most people are,” continued Jack. “However, in the year the Crusaders sacked Constantinople—1204, there was a small group of scholars that, like Plethon, had the foresight to prepare for the worst.”
“The Templars?”
“Actually no,” Jack said austerely. “Many of the Templars were actually on a mission to exploit history, not protect it as modern accounts would have you believe. This was a small brotherhood known as the Anthrópos. In many ways they were treasurers… or should I say… thesaurers. They were devout scholars who set aside ancient artifacts, including relics held over from the Library of Alexandria—the original repository of early Greek works by Plato, Euclid and Sophocles. The earliest Biblical documents were also rumored to have been preserved by them. The Anthrópos safeguarded treasures through the 4th Crusade and up until the fall of Constantinople in 1453, when they were forced by the Ottomans to dismantle. Then they became refugees… roaming the lands for a new home and place to hide the treasures they had protected for so many years.”
“I’ve heard rumors of the Anthrópos,” said Forlino as he removed his glasses and smoothed back his dark curls. “They were enemies of the Knights Templar, no?”
“Not exactly,” Jack replied. “Truth be told, they were an entirely different class. Whereas the Templars were soldiers—fierce knights with allegiance to the king… Anthrópos were scholars—wise men… protectors of ancient classicism, conserving many of the oldest manuscripts on earth. It was their job to safeguard the ancient ways. There were few encounters with the Knights Templar, but when there were, they fought fiercely to defend their possessions. There are even tales of the Anthrópos having supernatural abilities—metaphysical powers honed and mastered in order to defend themselves against assailants.”
Forlino and Valente exchanged a look of intrigue.
“You see,” Jack continued, “the Knights Templar were on a mission to retrieve artifacts whereby they could pay the church—a noble cause, but eventually their thirst for gold took priority over the church and many of them became mercenaries. Their greed prevailed. The Anthrópos knew this to be true, so they became reclusive for a time, hiding from the Knights until the Crusades ended, then they settled in Constantinople for the remaining years.”
“And once Constantinople fell, the Anthrópos brought the treasures to Florence?” Chester asked.
Jack nodded. “They had no other options. The last bastion of classical antiquity had fallen and they had nowhere else to turn. So they migrated to Florence and allied with an illustrious family that respected the ways and customs of the ancient age—and more importantly, a family with enough power to keep the treasure safely hidden from the public.”
“The Medici,” Forlino said with a glimmer in his eyes.
Jack nodded assuredly.
“So what then became of the Anthrópos?” asked Valente.
“They adopted Florentine culture,” said Jack. “It was actually recorded by Vasari’s historical accounts that they embraced it wholeheartedly. In many ways, Florence adopted the spirit that Athens once held, and that attracted them to the city. They were also responsible for beginning a movement in Florence. A movement that was referred to by the Italian pronunciation of the same name… the Greek word Anthrópos translated to Italian… became Umanistas.”
Valente raised an eyebrow, “Humanists,” he said, seemingly enthralled with the history lesson Jack was so expertly providing.
Jack nodded again. “They developed what we know today as Renaissance Humanism. As you might know, Humanism has roots that stretch deep into history. Some would say that Hadrian or even Plato were the original Humanists. Oth
ers say it reaches even further back in history to biblical times to King Solomon. The topic is a very subjective one. During the Renaissance, all of the great thinkers and artists were well versed in Humanist thought… Ficino, Brunelleschi, Botticelli, Machiavelli, Michelangelo, Da Vinci… but remember, Humanism in that day was a completely different system of thought than what we know of it today.”
“How so?” asked Valente.
“Well, up until the French Revolution, Humanists were simply classicists. An Umanista was a teacher or scholar of Greek philosophy who taught the humanities… nature, science, art, language and literature. Humanism, as it were, was initially scholastic in origin. It wasn’t the existential ideology that we have come to know today. In fact, it was more of a religious experience than anything. Humanists celebrated the mind, beauty, power and vast potential of human beings. They believed that people were able to experience God directly and have a personal, emotional relationship, whereby their faith was the unifying element. That mentality was a far cry from the prior dogmatic approach wherein there was a supposed lineage of holiness to abide by—a pious hierarchy which kept the masses from experiencing God in a personal way. The prior so-called descendant divinity was established by the church to retain power within the castes: God… pope… bishop… priest on down to the masses. Humanists sought to cut through this religious ideology. They believed that God had made the world but that humans were able to share in His gifts by becoming creators… innovators… artisans themselves. The Humanists challenged mankind to become… better. They sought to be more in tune with man’s existence and what we could physically, mentally and spiritually achieve.”
“Something must have provoked this within them. The treasure somehow opened their eyes to what they could achieve?” added Forlino.
