“Well, Sarah, you seem to be doing well,” David said thoughtfully. “Is that so?”
“Actually, it is quite awful,” Sarah said searching David’s clear gray eyes. “Teresa cried the first few days, now she is just sad. Maybe the next time he goes away she’ll understand he’s coming back; I hope so.”
Wanting to switch to a happier track, David said, “What do you hear from Simon? How do you think he’s doing?” David had heard from Simon a few times and knew he was suffering terribly without his family, not something he’d share with Sarah.
“When I talk with him,” she replied more cheerfully, “he’s excited about interviewing the Mandaean elders. He says they really appreciate him for telling their story, hoping his articles will influence U.S. policy makers and the public. He’s often very lonely after a long day of work, but at least he feels safe in the Green Zone. He misses holding Teresa terribly. I tell him what she does each day, which seems to help.”
“I’d love to know what he thinks about the Mandaeans,” David replied. “I remember being curious about them when Iraq invaded Kuwait in 1990, the Marsh Arabs, right?”
“Yes, they were called the Marsh Arabs, people who lived for thousands of years in the southern Iraqi marshes, remnants of the people of ancient Babylon. They also fascinate me. John the Baptist was their great prophet, not Jesus. They are remnants of early Christianity, followers of Mani, a major interest of mine. Even though this assignment is hard for all of us, Simon and I share deep interests, which helps me cope.”
“I know that,” David responded warmly. “And I absolutely agree, it’s important to report on these ancient religions. If they are forgotten in the middle of this mayhem and chaos, it would be a great tragedy.”
Patting David’s hand, Sarah sighed and began again. “The reason I can tolerate Simon being away and in danger is because we are all experiencing radical global transformation, a change of ages or eras. As this transition builds, nothing makes sense. We need to know what we were before to determine our future. If we lose our ancient heritage, we’re lost.”
Sarah felt encouraged and warmed when discussing what she cared about most. David was smart, elegant, and compassionate like Simon, making it easy to muse out loud with him. “David, are you aware I wrote my Ph.D. thesis on Marcion of Sinope, the first Christian heretic?” David nodded. “Marcion thought Christianity should be a totally new religion because the Jewish God, Yahweh, was the god of law while Jesus was a god of love. Judaism was the old religion, so using their scriptures tainted Christianity as a new religion. Simon has pinpointed major affinities between the Mandaeans and the Marcionites. He says interviewing Mandaean elders was like talking with Marcion two thousand years ago!”
David was drawn into the passion and theorizing. “How fascinating. What are the similarities?” No wonder Simon fell in love with her . . .
“The Mandaeans revere some of the prophets in the Hebrew Bible, but not Abraham because they thought he was immoral. Marcion also scorned Abraham, noting that he tried to kill his son, slept with his maid, and allowed the pharaoh to sleep with his wife.” Sarah shook her head describing Abraham’s sexual behavior. “The Mandaeans, a religion much older than Judaism, had the same opinion of Abraham. Since they existed at least four thousand years ago, they would have been in the Middle East when Abraham first showed up. We sure can see why Marcion wanted Christianity to start with a clean slate.”
“Well, you know, Sarah, some people might say you are wallowing around in a lot of old stuff that doesn’t matter anymore, but not me. We need to understand the past if anything is ever going to really change for the better. If Christianity is driven totally out of the Middle East, there will be major political and social implications, things Simon wants to write about. I’m proud of him for wanting to report on this. As for me, it’s time for my nap.”
Sarah settled into her room and went over to the narrow turret window to view Tuscan fields bathed in otherworldly golden light. Her heart quickened when she heard Teresa squealing at Matilda far below in the vineyard. She looked back into the room at the crib next to her bed wondering whether Armando once lay in it shrouded in hand-embroidered Tuscan lace. Pink, yellow, and periwinkle blue wildflowers had been lovingly arranged in the same vase that once held roses from Armando when he asked her forgiveness. The flowers made her ache for Simon. He’d love to be here tonight. As she went to the bedside table to pick up a novel, a light tap on the door had her turning around again.
It was Jennifer. “Hi, Sarah, am I bothering you? Please say so if I am.” Sarah smiled warmly and held out a hand to lead her in, but she stayed by the door. “Come with me to see our apartments. I love it here; I want you to see how perfect this is for me so you can tell Simon all about it. I’m so happy, so happy I married Armando.”
Sarah followed her out the double doors. They walked quietly down the long hall past the chapel to the other end where there was a thick chestnut door that she’d always wanted to open. Jennifer squeaked the old door aside and led them silently past the carved Renaissance door of the Pierleoni suite. They went to the opposite end of the large hall to an equally special door. “This is where we live! Isn’t it amazing?”
The arrangements intrigued Sarah, since this was how she might be living if things had worked out differently. Of course, now all she cared about was whether Jennifer was happy. Could any woman be happy with Armando? Jennifer led her through a small entry into the rooms while chatting enthusiastically, and then they nestled into two comfortable chairs in front of the fireplace in a commodious parlor. “Matilda reupholstered these chairs for us. I love her taste, yet how could she have known me so well? Maybe it is because I like what Armando likes? I have been completely comfortable since we came back from Majorca. I’m a hardworking loner, so I don’t miss people. This is like living in a dream, a fantasy becoming more real every day. Even though this family is very aristocratic, they aren’t snobbish or aloof. They gracefully live with what has been theirs for hundreds of years and love sharing it.”
“I’m so happy this feels right for you, especially happy you feel at home here so that you’ll feel comfortable when Armando’s away. This space is perfect for you, so elegant and authentic, yet also so cozy. Imagine if this wonderful fireplace could speak.” Together they scanned enameled carvings of vines and plentiful grapes on side panels cut into the granite, and on the center below the mantle, a bucolic scene of a Tuscan cottage with a family, animals, and gardens. “I especially love your studio,” she prattled on while she studied Jennifer’s face, seeking the comfort of Simon’s features in his sister. Jen is a mystery woman, a romantic creature from the past who found her place in the present. She’s so much more Semitic looking than Simon who resembles his father in body type and facial expressions. Eventually, Jennifer will look like Rose.
“Oh Sarah, what a lovely contrast this is to the modern world. This is the first time I’ve felt secure and happy since I left my childhood home to go to Paris. But how are you doing being away from your own country and caring for a baby while Simon is far away? This must be terrible for you; I can’t imagine it, really. I know you’re strong, but are you doing okay?”
Sarah felt the ache in her heart sink in deeper. “I love him because he’s doing what he needs to do, but it’s not easy.” Her heartache tended to ease when she focused on her work and caring for Teresa, yet for her health, she took note of the ache.
“I know what you mean. He’s my only brother and I’m proud of him, but I’m terrified when I think about him over there, so I just don’t. Oh, I’m sorry. That probably isn’t helpful to hear. I know him, and know he has to do it. He never could ignore his responsibilities.”
Sarah appreciated the love and support from Jennifer, despite her fears. Seeing this contrast with her own family’s reaction led her to blurt out a thought she didn’t know she harbored. “Jennifer, my father doesn’t understand at all. He is in Opus Dei, a Catholic power group, and you know what?
He’s probably never thought about all the Christians in the Middle East! He probably doesn’t even understand why they matter so much to Simon and me!”
“I know you and Simon have always been passionate about these ideas, but what is it specifically about some old Christian strains and ancient Middle Eastern religions that makes this so important to you?”
It was a relief to share more of this passion with her sister-in-law, so she went right to the heart of the matter. “Well, have you heard of the three Fatima Prophecies?” Jennifer responded with a blank stare. “In 1917, three young Portuguese girls were visited by an apparition of the Virgin Mary six different times on a hillside. She gave them three prophecies, which the oldest girl wrote down. The first two prophecies were accurate descriptions of the first and second world wars, things the girls could not possibly have dreamed up. Under pressure, Pope John Paul II opened the third one in 2000. Many people think he kept part of it secret because Cardinal Josef Ratzinger, who later became Pope Benedict, had said earlier that the third prophecy refers to dangers that threaten the Faith. The rumor is the prophecy says the faithful will leave the Church, an apostasy, and then Christianity will fall to Islam. If this is true, you can see why Simon is concerned about ancient Christian strains being driven out of the Middle East by ISIS, a modern Exodus.”
Jennifer was getting more than she’d bargained for. Her dark brown eyes opened wide as she tapped her chair arm with an index finger. Then she spoke so softly that Sarah strained to hear her cracking voice. “This is much worse than I thought. It is really dangerous for Simon to be there, isn’t it? You care enough about these weird prophecies to support his choice to go there? Forgive me, I have to ask.”
Sarah drew in a sharp breath staring into Jennifer’s nervous eyes. “We all are suffering in these times and the worst is yet to come. You must be aware that Simon, Armando, Claudia, and I have spent much time discussing these issues? I’d love to have you join our little group because there is so much more behind why we feel as we do, good reasons for why Simon has taken such a difficult assignment. You understand Armando’s paintings, his version of the apocalypse, so you’ll relate to what we talk about. If the apocalypse has actually begun, then nobody escapes without pain. We all will get sucked into it, the whirlwind. This isn’t something I would have said until after 2012, the crazy end date of the Mayan Calendar.” Jennifer’s face was blank. “This is a huge topic and it’s lunch time. Come to our group discussions to talk about what’s going on. Simon can’t join us when he’s gone, so you can stand in! Next time we get together with Claudia, will you join us?”
Jennifer felt a knot in her solar plexus thinking about meeting with Claudia and the group, but she had to get beyond petty jealousy. The only way to deal with Claudia was to get to know her better as soon as possible. The worst choice would be to have Armando meet with the group without her.
8
A Private Conversation
Pietro was upstairs in the Tuscan genealogy room sitting in a dark green leather chair. Unlike the large library in Rome with thousands of books that were the heart of the house, this room on the second floor was rarely used and mostly contained information about local Siena history and the Pierleoni family. Although hot during the day, at night cool breezes from a nearby ravine wafted pungent cedar aromas mixed with pine through the windows. The thick door creaked open.
“Good evening, Pietro,” David said warmly as he looked curiously around at glassed cabinets and old trunks painted with fading symbols. Huge dark beams supported a faded painted ceiling with more arcane symbols. “What a charming room, very medieval. Was this a library?”
“Yes. When our family started to come here less in the winter, my great-grandfather moved the old books to our library in Rome where the temperature and humidity are more controlled. We think it was decorated in the 1400s since many of the symbols are medieval. Please take a seat,” he said, indicating a faded purple velvet chair that looked very comfortable. As David settled in he continued, “I thought you might like a chance to talk about everything going on right now. I’m sure you are worried about Simon, but none of us want to talk about it too much around Sarah who is already so aware of the dangers. But we both know the news is not good. The U.S. is getting sucked back in with airstrikes in Syria and Obama announcing he intends to root out the terrorists. I know he’s tried to get American troops out of Afghanistan and Iraq, but these internecine wars don’t stop because the grievances go back centuries.”
“You’re a father, you understand how stressful Simon’s work is for all of us.”
“I believe I do,” Pietro replied circumspectly. “I’ve never feared for Armando’s life, and I hope I never will because he is my future, the continuation of my line and time itself. If I lost him, that part of me would be amputated. Simon is delving into disturbing and contentious Middle Eastern issues that go back millennia; the danger is real.”
“It certainly is,” replied David, both men thinking of all that had been happening in the region of late. Over the summer ISIS pushed out the Yazidis and other ancient Christian sects that had been in Iraq and Syria for many thousands of years. Some Yazidis escaped capture and fled to Kurdistan where the Kurdish president Barzani gave them refuge, some fled to the U.S. and Europe. The Yazidis used to have some protection through the Christian groups that stabilized the region, but Bush blew the lid off the ugly Islamic sectarian conflict when he invaded Iraq in 2003. This intensified tension for the Christians who were providing educational services, food, and health services in the region, and now that they were leaving. The fabric of society in Iraq and Syria was shredding.
Breaking them out of their reverie Pietro said, “I want to help in any way I can. Please tell me more about Simon’s assignment.”
“Simon went there to meet Christian leaders, to tell their story. Americans don’t seem to realize many of these sects are Christian. The U.S. media refers to Yazidis as devil worshippers, which is demeaning and untrue, a distortion of one of the oldest religious groups in the world. Horrible cruelties are being inflicted on them that are barely noticed in the U.S., barbaric abuses that turn my stomach. Simon is focusing on the ancient religions that adopted early Christian practices, such as the Assyrians, Chaldeans, and Mandeans, to help Americans see that a Christian exodus is unfolding. I admire Simon for exposing this tragedy. But that doesn’t reduce our family stress, especially Sarah’s.”
Pietro took note of David’s determined, ironic smile, a purposeful man with an excellent mind. His intaglio ring set in fine gold caught Pietro’s eye. “David, your ring has a beautiful carving. Is it meaningful?” A scaly snake biting its own tail was carved around the carnelian gem, the oroboros—the eternal symbol for the continuity of life and ever-renewing cycles of time. David drew his hand slightly back and said nothing. After a long and uncomfortable silence David said, “Well, yes, it’s meaningful to me because it was my father’s ring.”
Pietro knew he’d stepped over a line, but he decided to reach out once more because the situation was dire. He wanted David to open up and share in order to know how best to support the family, yet he hated being intrusive. “David, if you will, please glance up at the ceiling to see our family crest.”
David leaned back in the old velvet chair to look up and was very surprised to see a faded family crest with a flying swan on the top of an encircled lime green serpent biting its tail, the oroboros! His eyes came back down to Pietro’s playful gray eyes. “Well, ahem, you got me. But before we talk about symbols, may I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“How do you feel about what Simon is doing? You and Matilda adore Sarah. You once hoped she would marry Armando, as I understand things?” Pietro nodded gravely. “Now you are enjoying our sweet baby girl. I want to know: Do you feel Simon is being fair with his family?”
Pietro was surprised by being directly brought into family affairs. Oh well, I started the whole thing by asking him to join me he
re and then pointing out our crest on the ceiling. Why is he so closed? Pietro turned his eyes to the leaded casement window as he paused momentarily. David, exceedingly on edge, waited.
“All right, I will be frank. I admire Simon for what he has chosen to do at this time; I would have done the same years ago. Part of why I asked you to see me tonight is because I can help your family. Sarah will always be a daughter to us, the Italian way—once you are one of us, you never get away. You won’t either. Your son is Armando’s closest male friend and your daughter his wife, so I would do anything for Simon. But my hands, well, are tied until I know more, especially from you. I asked you about your ring because I may know what it means; possibly you don’t? If you will be forthcoming with me, you’d be surprised by what I can do.”
David felt a low-grade terror rising in his chest. His father had been in Italy during the second world war and bought the ring in an antique store in Rome. His father never took it off when David was growing up in Manhattan’s East Side. He gave it to David just before he died saying it was from a European secret society, The Brotherhood of the Serpent. On his deathbed he made David promise to never tell the secret. David wanted to give it to Simon to wear in the Middle East to protect him, but thought it might do just the opposite. “Let’s talk more about Simon,” David said in a slightly demanding way while putting his right hand on his leg unmasking the intaglio from Pietro’s eyes.
“I can ask certain people in Rome to discuss Simon’s situation with the highest officials in the U.S. Embassy. Simon could be as safe there as he would be at home. All you have to do is ask.”
Revelations of the Aquarian Age Page 8
