“Thank you, my dear. You’re very kind.” Momentarily distracted by her beauty, he held her hand for a long moment before letting go. “Come, let us sit.” Cupping his hand on her shoulder, he motioned across the office to a circular mahogany conference table.
Santelli kept in step with Charlotte, his hand still connected to her shoulder, Father Donovan in tow.
Donovan was amazed how Santelli could turn on the charm when required...a wolf in shepherd’s clothing.
“I’m anxious to discuss this tremendous project you’ve been working on,” Santelli stated exuberantly. “Father Donovan’s told me many exciting things about your findings.”
When they had all settled into their leather armchairs, Donovan provided a quick background to bring Santelli up to speed on the relics that had been presented to the scientists. Then he apologized on behalf of Dr. Bersei who could not attend the meeting due to a personal crisis.
The cardinal looked alarmed. “Nothing serious, I hope?”
The librarian was hoping the same thing. “I’m sure he’s fine.”
“That means you have the floor, Dr. Hennesey.”
Charlotte handed Santelli a neatly bound report and gave Donovan a second copy. Flipping open her laptop, she waited for it to power up. “Our first order of business was a pathological analysis of the skeleton . . .” she began, allowing her professional persona to take over.
Step-by-step she walked the two men through a PowerPoint slideshow of crisp, enlarged color photos of the skeletal aberrations: the gouges, fractured knees, damaged wrists and feet. “On the basis of what you see here, both Dr. Bersei and myself concluded that this male specimen interred in the ossuary—who was otherwise in perfect health—died in his early thirties as a result of... execution.”
Santelli managed to look surprised. “Execution?”
She glanced to Donovan who seemed equally puzzled, but nodded for her to continue. Directing her eyes back to the cardinal she got quickly to the point. “He was crucified.”
The words hung in the air for a long moment.
Santelli leaned forward to put both elbows on the table and held the geneticist’s gaze. “I see.”
“And the forensic evidence unequivocally supports this,” she continued. “Furthermore, we also found these objects in a concealed compartment inside the ossuary.” Determined to steady her hands, Charlotte removed the three separate plastic bags from her carrying bag. Laying the first one down, she tried not to let the spikes hit too hard against the burnished tabletop. Next came the sealed bag with the two coins. The third contained the metal cylinder.
Santelli and Donovan examined each object closely.
The nails drew the most attention, but required little explanation. The two men must have been thinking exactly what she did the first time she saw them: what it would have been like to be impaled by them.
Charlotte expanded on the significance of the coins. Surprisingly, neither Santelli nor Donovan had yet to raise a question. Did they already know about these things? Had that bastard Conte been updating them with the findings from his spying? Trying to shake away her suspicions, she informed them that the cylinder contained a scroll that had yet to be studied. This particular relic had once again managed to hold Father Donovan’s attention for some time.
“We submitted a bone sample and some wood splinters for radiocarbon dating.” She passed across two copies of the dating certificates Ciardini had sent over. “As you can see, both samples date to the early first century. The wood turns out to be a rare walnut indigenous to ancient Judea. Organic material from flowers used during the burial ritual and flax were also found inside the ossuary. Again, both are specific to Judea.” She flipped open more images and data.
“Why flax, Dr. Hennesey?” Donovan asked.
“Most likely from the linen strips and shroud used to wrap the body during the burial ritual.” She paused. “Dr. Bersei performed a microscopic analysis of the ossuary’s patina.”
She moved on to images revealing the varying degrees of magnification applied to the stone’s surface.
“And the biological composition was uniform throughout the sample set. Plus the mineral content of the patina is consistent with similar relics found in caves throughout that region. More importantly, no signs of manual manipulation were detected.”
“I’m sorry, but what does that last point mean?” the Cardinal inquired.
“Simply that it’s not a fake—the patina hasn’t been artificially created by modern chemical methods. And it implies that the ossuary and its markings are authentic.” But you probably already know that, she thought. She brought up the 3-D skeletal imaging and swiveled the laptop toward them. “Scanning the skeleton, we calibrated the specimen’s muscle mass.” Working the mouse, she brought up the digitized, bloodred musculature, allowed them both a few seconds to absorb the image, then clicked a command to assign the monochrome “skin.” “By incorporating the basic genetic profile found in the specimen’s DNA we reconstructed this man’s appearance at the time of death. And here he is.”
She tapped the mouse button and the screen refreshed—pigmented skin, eyes alive with color, the hair dark and full.
Both men were astounded.
“That’s absolutely...extraordinary,” Santelli muttered.
So far, neither the cardinal nor the priest was letting on about whether they had any advance knowledge of the skeleton’s identity or the ossuary’s origin. As they studied the image, she eyed both of them in turn. Could these two clerics possibly be involved in a theft that had left people dead? “Lastly, Dr. Bersei was able to decipher the meaning behind this symbol carved onto the side of the box.” She was confident this next exhibit would elicit a reaction. She held up a close-up photo clearly showing the dolphin wrapped around a trident, and explained the significance of each symbol taken separately. “The fusing of these two pagan symbols was how firstcentury Christians represented...Jesus Christ.”
Santelli and Donovan exchanged uneasy glances.
Mission accomplished, Charlotte thought.
Silence fell over the room.
56
******
Cardinal Santelli was the first to break the atmosphere. “Are you telling us, Dr. Hennesey, that you believe these are the mortal remains of Jesus Christ?”
Though she instinctively liked it when people got to the point, this was more than she’d bargained for. Swallowing hard, Charlotte felt a bolt of energy shoot through her system—fight or flight. She actually had to temper the urge to look toward the open door.
Now she was glad that before leaving the Domus that morning, she had put in an hour’s reading of a book that was always readily available. In the drawer of the nightstand, in fact. If the report was going to even remotely suggest that these bones might have been those of Jesus Christ, doublechecking related parts of the New Testament was prudent.
“At face value,” she began, “the evidence is compelling. But there are discrepancies in the pathology report and contradictions to accounts in the Bible. For example, we found no evidence that a spear was thrust into the rib cage as the Bible states. And this man’s knees were broken.” She went on to detail how the Romans speeded up death with a metal club.
Father Donovan’s attention wandered momentarily as he thought about this anticipated inconsistency. He knew Charlotte was referring to the Gospel of John, verse nineteen, which stated that a Roman centurion pierced Jesus’s side with a spear to help expedite his agonizing death:
So the soldiers came and broke the legs of the first man and of the other one who had been crucified with Him. When they came to Jesus, they did not break His legs since they saw that He was already dead.
Donovan always mused that two lines included in that passage—thirty-six and thirty-seven—actually concisely explained the incongruent account:
...For these things happened so that the Scripture would be fulfilled: Not one of His bones will be broken. Also, another Scripture says: T
hey will look at the One they pierced.
Interestingly, none of the synoptic Gospels—Matthew, Mark, or Luke— made mention of this event. Donovan could only surmise that the Gospel of John included this embellished account to convince Jews that Jesus had been the true Messiah foretold by Old Testament prophets—“so that Scripture would be fulfilled.” He was certain that the skeleton laid out in the Vatican Museum was actually telling the truth: Pontius Pilate and the Romans had treated Jesus just like every other faceless criminal that threatened the empire’s social order. They had ruthlessly annihilated him and when he wasn’t dying quickly enough, they had smashed his knees to speed up the process.
Charlotte forged on. “I’m sure you’re far more aware than I am about what the Bible says about Jesus’s occupation before his ministry.”
Donovan played along with this. “He’d been a carpenter since boyhood.” In fact, the Bible never made explicit reference to Christ’s occupation. Jesus was thought to have been a carpenter merely because the Gospel of Matthew referred to him as “the carpenter’s son.” It was assumed he would have been employed in the family business—even though Matthew’s Greek word, “tektonov”—loosely translated as “carpenter”— really could have applied to anyone who had worked with their hands, from builders to day laborers to farmers.
Charlotte nodded. “All those years of hard manual work would have resulted in visible changes to the finger joints and wrists, where the bone and surrounding tissue thicken to accommodate increased demand. The joints would have shown signs of premature wearing in at least one of the hands.” She flipped to close-ups of the hands. “Yet this man’s show no obvious changes.”
“That’s fascinating,” Donovan managed, almost sounding sincere.
“But most importantly,” she pointed to the monitor, “his genetic makeup isn’t what you’d expect of someone born in ancient Judea. I carefully reviewed the DNA’s gene sequencing and it doesn’t match any documented Middle Eastern profiles for Jews or Arabs. The Bible states that Jesus Christ was born from a long bloodline of Jews. As you both know, Matthew’s Gospel begins by retracing Jesus’s lineage—forty-two generations—and all of them Jews. Way back to Abraham. That blood line would have been flawlessly Jewish. Yet this man’s DNA has no identifiable genealogy.”
Now both Santelli and Donovan looked perplexed.
Santelli tilted his head to one side. “So, Dr. Hennesey, are you telling us that you don’t believe that these are actually Jesus’s remains?”
Their eyes met in a silent standoff.
For an instant, she thought back to her conversation with Bersei—how he’d said that people might have been killed for these relics. Unlike Donovan, the cardinal’s shifty gaze was starting to convince her that Giovanni’s suspicions might just have been right. “From what I’ve seen here, claiming these to be the actual remains of Jesus Christ would be a long shot. The scientific methods available today pose too many questions. There remains a very real possibility that this is some kind of first-century forgery.”
“That’s a relief,” said Donovan.
Taken aback, Charlotte looked at him sharply. “Why’s that?”
Opening his satchel he produced the Ephemeris Conlusio. “Let me explain.”
57
******
Carefully resting the ancient, weathered manuscript on the glossy mahogany tabletop, Father Donovan turned to her. “You know, of course, that the Vatican has been extremely concerned about the ossuary’s provenance?”
Cardinal Santelli sat back in the chair, hands folded across his chest. Charlotte eyed the book curiously.
“And there was a very good reason why,” he explained. “No one outside a small circle within the upper reaches of the Church has heard what I’m about to tell you.”
Judging from the cardinal’s body language, she highly doubted that. “Okay.”
“First, I need to give you some background,” Donovan began. “Many Jews, particularly those living in ancient Judea, maintained that Jesus—the self-proclaimed son of God—hadn’t fulfilled the messianic criteria outlined in the Old Testament. And they were right.”
That’s an odd admission, she thought.
“The Messiah foretold by the prophets was supposed to be a warrior directly descended from King David, empowered by God to militarily reunite the tribes of Israel, thus freeing the Promised Land from tyranny and oppression.” Donovan was speaking quickly, his face animated, hands gesticulating. “The Messiah was supposed to rebuild the Holy Temple. The Messiah was supposed to conquer Rome. The Jews had been vanquished for centuries and subjugated by all the major empires—Persians, Greeks, and Romans. For the first thousand years of its existence, Jerusalem had known only bloodshed.” Images of dead Israeli soldiers reminded him how little had changed. “Yet in reading the scriptures, you find Jesus advocating peace. Here was a man telling the Jews to pay their taxes and accept their lot in life. In return he promised them eternity with God. He believed using evil to conquer evil only prolonged a perpetual cycle.”
Charlotte realized that Donovan needed to tell this story and that she needed to encourage it. “Live by the sword, die by the sword?”
“Exactly. Jesus knew Rome couldn’t be defeated. He was trying to prevent a massive Jewish rebellion that would have ended in a massacre by the Romans. But many chose not to listen.” Donovan’s voice was solemn. “Less than thirty years after Christ’s death, the Jews finally revolted. The Roman response was swift and it was brutal. They besieged Jerusalem and after they’d taken the city, they slaughtered every man, woman, and child. Thousands were crucified, burned, or simply hacked to pieces. Jerusalem and the second temple were razed to the ground. Just as Jesus had predicted.” He paused. “Dr. Hennesey, are you aware that most theologians estimate that Jesus’s ministry spanned only one year?”
She knew that Christ had been in his early thirties when he died. “I never realized that.”
Donovan leaned in closer. “I hope you’d agree that regardless of one’s faith, or even the degree of one’s faith, Jesus was a remarkable human being—a philosopher and teacher—someone who emerged from relative obscurity to bring a lasting message of hope, kindness, and faith that still resonates two thousand years later. No other figure in history has had such an impact.” His eyes on her, Donovan’s hands migrated to the Ephemeris Conlusio and rested flatly on its cover, as if protecting it.
“That book has something to do with all this?” Charlotte noticed that Donovan had yet to look at Santelli, making it clear that this part of the discussion had been choreographed by the two men.
Donovan answered her with a question. “You’re familiar with Christ’s resurrection story, the empty tomb?”
“Of course.” Having attended catechism classes throughout elementary school and having gone to an all-girls Catholic high school, she knew plenty about scripture—more than she wanted to. She gave Donovan the straightforward answer that he’d expect—the one that smoothed out the inconsistencies within all the Gospels: “Jesus was crucified and buried. Three days later he rose from the dead and reappeared to his disciples,”— In what form is anybody’s guess—“before ascending to Heaven.” That summed it up nicely, she thought.
“Absolutely.” Donovan was pleased. “Which brings us to this most remarkable story.” He gently patted the book’s cover. “This is a journal written by Joseph of Arimathea—a biblical figure intimately linked to Jesus’s death and resurrection.”
Charlotte was amazed by the Vatican’s secret treasure trove. Had this book been stolen too? “The Joseph of Arimathea?”
“Yes. The man who buried Christ.” Father Donovan opened the volume revealing pages in ancient Greek, and looked up. “For centuries the Vatican has feared rebuttal of Christ’s role as the Messiah. And this book provides many reasons why.” Stealing a quick glance at Santelli, Donovan braced himself not to falter or let his voice waver. So far, it seemed that the cardinal was satisfied with his performance. �
��Though portrayed as Christ’s advocate in the New Testament, in fact Joseph of Arimathea was secretly working to undermine Jesus’s ministry. You see, Jesus posed a substantial risk to the Jewish elite. Though he smartly avoided confronting the issues of Roman occupation, he had harshly criticized Jewish authority, particularly those priests who had turned God’s house into a travesty. In exchange for donations, the Jewish priests were allowing pagans to make sacrifices on the temple’s holy altars. They had turned the temple’s sacred courtyards into a marketplace. The temple embodied Jewish faith. Therefore, to faithful Jews like Jesus, its steady decline marked the slow death of religious tradition.”
Charlotte recalled Matthew’s portrayal of Jesus entering the Jewish temple, ransacking merchants’ and money changers’ tables. Understandably, Jesus hadn’t been keen on the holy place being used as a mall.
“Jesus had certainly found fault with the Jewish ruling class,” Donovan went on, “and he wasn’t afraid to let them know it. It was no surprise that it was the Jewish priests who’d sent their own guards to apprehend him. After Jesus was executed, Joseph of Arimathea was chosen by the Sanhedrin to approach Pontius Pilate to negotiate the release of the body. Convinced by Joseph that it would prevent Jesus’s fanatical followers from removing the body from the cross, Pilate granted his request.”
Sacred Bones : A Novel Page 29
