The Last Cato (62 page)

“It’s ours,” the young Sumerian translator repeated obstinately. “This Cross is ours. We didn’t steal it.”

“How did you organize a… recovery on such a grand scale from down here?” Farag asked. “The
Ligna Crucis
were very widely distributed. After the first rob… recoveries, they were very well guarded.”

“You met the sacristan at Saint Lucia,” Ufa said, “Father Bonuomo of Santa Maria in Cosmedin, the monks in Saint Constantine Acanzzo, Father Stephanos of the basilica of the Holy Sepulchre, the popes of Kapnikarea, and the ticket vendor at the catacombs of Kom el-Shoqafa?”

The three of us looked at each other. Our suspicions had been right.

“They are all Staurofilakes,” the horse trainer continued. “Many of us choose to live outside
Paradeisos
to carry out certain missions or for personal reasons. To be here below isn’t mandatory, but it’s considered the greatest glory and the highest honor for a Staurofilax who gives his or her life to the Cross.”

“There are many Staurofilakes all over the world,” Gete commented, amused. “More than you can imagine. They come and go, spend time with us, then return to their homes. Like Dante Alighieri did, for example.”

“There’s always one or two of us near every fragment or splinter of the True Cross,” concluded the water master. “So the truth is, the operation was really quite easy.”

Ufa, Khutenptah, Mirsgana, and Gete looked at each other, satisfied. Then, remembering where they were, they devoutly knelt before the True Cross—impressive for its grand scale and the careful way it was displayed. They took time to carry out a series of complicated reverences and prostrations, murmuring ancient litanies from Byzantine rituals.

Meanwhile, God’s presence tugged hard on my heart. I was in a church, and no matter what, some places are sacred; they elevate your spirit and bring you closer to God. I knelt down and started a simple prayer of thanks that we had come here and that the three of us were safe and sound. I begged God to bless my love for Farag, promising him I would never abandon my faith. I didn’t know what would become of us or what the Staurofilakes had in store for us, but while I was in
Paradeisos,
I would come every day to pray in that magnificent temple in whose apse hung the True Cross of Jesus Christ by invisible threads. I knew it wasn’t authentic; it wasn’t the Cross Jesus died on. In those days, crucifixion was a common punishment. When he died on Golgotha, the crosses were used over and over until they became unusable and wormeaten. Then they were used as firewood for the soldiers. The cross before me wasn’t the True Cross of Christ, but it was the cross St. Helen found in 326 under the temple of Venus on a hill in Jerusalem. Its pieces had received the adoration and love of millions of people over the centuries. It gave rise to the Staurofilakes. And after all, it was the cross that had brought Farag and me together.

Back at Cato’s
basileion
for dinner, the lights in
Paradeisos
were dimmed, creating an artificial nightfall that wasn’t any less beautiful. Everyone returned peacefully to their homes. Our companions said good-bye in front of the large door into the
basileion,
which always remained unlocked.

Glauser-Röist and Khutenptah arranged to meet the next morning in the cultivation area. Ufa left a horse so the captain could ride there. The Rock seemed very impressed by the sugar resins—and by Khutenptah—and wanted to study the matter in depth. At least that’s what he said. Gete offered to show Farag and me sites in
Paradeisos
we hadn’t seen the first day. So we only said good-bye to Ufa and Mirsgana, although we promised to visit them again.

Dinner was more peaceful than lunch. In a different room, smaller and cozier than the vast hall, the ancient Cato CCLVII acted as host; his only companions were the
shasta
Ahmose, who was his daughter as well as a builder of chairs, and Darius, the administrative
shasta
and canonarca
*
for the Temple of the Cross. Candace was again the server who attended our table. A melody that reminded me of popular medieval canzonets played in the background.

As an intense and complicated conversation unfolded, I managed to put into practice what I had learned at noon about tastes and smells. I realized that to detect so many details and enjoy them, one had to eat and drink very slowly, the way the Staurofilakes did. What was easy for them turned out to be a superhuman effort for me, because I was used to chewing quickly and swallowing all at once. I really enjoyed a new drink they offered me called
eukras,
a delicious pepper-and-anis concoction they would have at night.

Cato CCLVII wanted to know our plans and questioned us indepth. Farag and I were very clear that we wanted to return to the surface, but surprisingly the Rock vacillated.

“I’d like to stay here a while longer,” he said, tentatively. “There are many things to learn here.”

“But, Captain,” I said alarmed, “we can’t go back without you. Don’t you remember? Half the churches in the world are waiting for our news.”

“Kaspar, you have to return with us,” Farag insisted, very serious. “You work for the Vatican. You have to show your face.”

“Are you going to expose us?” Cato sweetly asked.

That was a very serious question. How could we keep the Staurofilakes’ secret if Monsignor Tournier and Cardinal Sodano riddled us with questions when we returned? We couldn’t spring from the earth as if nothing had happened and say we had been playing cards since we disappeared in Alexandria seventeen days before.

“Of course not, Cato,” Farag hurried to say. “But you have to help us come up with a convincing story.”

Cato, Ahmose, and Darius laughed, as if that were the easiest thing in the world.

“I’ll take care of that, Professor,” the Rock said abruptly. “Remember, that’s my specialty. The Vatican itself taught me all I know.”

“Come back with us, Captain,” I begged, staring into his gray eyes.

But the mention of his work in the Vatican seemed to convince him to stay in
Paradeisos
even more. His resolve became more apparent.

“Not right now, Doctor,” he declared, shaking his head. “I have no desire to keep cleaning up the church’s messes. I never, ever liked doing it and now it’s time to change. Life is giving me a second chance. I’d be a fool not to take advantage of it. I’m not going back. I’ll stay, at least for a while.”

“So what are we going to say? How do we explain your disappearance?” I asked, anguished.

“Tell them I died,” he replied without hesitating.

“You’re crazy, Kaspar!” Farag exclaimed, very angry. Cato, Ahmose, and Darius listened closely to our conversation without interrupting.

“I’ll give you the perfect alibi that will spare you the church’s interrogations and still allow me to return in a few months without arousing suspicion.”

“We can help,
Protospatharios,”
Ahmose said. “We have many centuries of experience doing this very thing.”

“Is your resolve to stay for a while firm, Kaspar?” Cato asked, savoring a spoonful of ground wheat with cinnamon, syrup, and dried plums.

“It’s firm, Cato,” Glauser-Röist answered. “I’m not saying I’m convinced about your ideas or your beliefs, but I thank you for letting me rest awhile here in
Paradeisos.
I need to think about what kind of life I want to lead.”

“You should have never done something that disgusted you so.”

“You don’t understand, Cato,” protested the Rock, with a look of determination. “Up above, people don’t always do the work they like. Just the opposite. My faith in God is strong and has kept me going during the years I worked for the church, a church that has forgotten all about the gospel. To keep from losing its privileges, it lies, cheats, and interprets the word of Jesus to its advantage. No, I have no desire to return.”

“You can stay with us as long as you like, Kaspar Glauser-Röist,” declared Cato, solemnly. “And you, Ottavia and Farag, you can leave when you like. Give us a few days to organize your departure. Then you can return to the surface. But do know that you’re always welcome in
Paradeisos.
This is your home, when all is said and done. In case it hasn’t dawned on you, you are Staurofilakes, and the marks on your bodies attest to that. We will give you contacts on the outside so you can communicate with us. Now, with your permission, I will retire to pray and sleep. My many years don’t allow me to stay up late,” he explained, smiling.

“Don’t be afraid,” Darius said, observing our faces. “I know you are worried and that’s logical. The Christian churches can make your life difficult. But with God’s help, it will all turn out all right.”

Just then, Candace appeared with a tray holding glasses of wine. Ahmose smiled. “I knew you would bring us a glass of the best wine in
Paradeisos!”
she exclaimed.

Darius quickly stretched out his hand. He was about fifty years old, with thinning, gray hair and ears so small you could barely see them.

“Let’s toast,” he said when everyone held an alabaster wineglass. “Let’s toast to the
protospatharios,
may he be happy with us, and to Ottavia Salina and Farag Boswell, may they be happy though they are far from us.”

We all smiled and raised our glasses.

H
aide and Zauditu had prepared my room and put the finishing touches on the flowers and my clothes. Everything was delightful; the light from the little candles gave a magical glow to the room.

“Would you like anything else, Ottavia?” Haide asked me.

“No, no thank you,” I answered, trying to hide my nervousness. As we were leaving the dining room, Farag asked if he could come to my room as soon as we were alone. I didn’t have to speak; my smile was my answer. Everything was settled and I only wanted to be with him. Many times, as I looked at him, the craziest thought occurred to me: If I had more than one life, I still wouldn’t have enough time by his side. I wasn’t sure how, but suddenly certain things became clear to me, and spending the night with Farag was one of them. I knew if I didn’t, I’d reproach myself for the fear I felt and I’d never feel secure with this new phase of life. I was absolutely in love with him, absolutely blind with love. Maybe that’s why I didn’t see anything wrong about what I was planning to do. Thirty-nine years of abstinence were enough. God would understand.

“I think the
didaskalos
is impatient to come in,” Haide said. “He’s pacing back and forth in his room like a caged lion.”

Farag’s room was on the other side of the corridor.

I smiled. What else could I do? I couldn’t speak. I only wanted them to leave, and Farag to come in. They finally headed for the door.

“Good night, Ottavia,” she whispered and disappeared.

I slowly walked up to the mirror and looked at myself. I didn’t look my best right then. My head resembled a cue ball and my eyebrows floated like islands in a hairless sea. But there was a glow in my eyes and a silly smile on my lips that I couldn’t erase. I was happy.
Paradeisos
was an incomparable place—behind in the material realm but advanced in many other ways. They didn’t know haste, anguish, the daily struggle to survive a world full of dangers. Life unfolded calmly. They knew how to appreciate what they had. I wanted to take back with me their marvelous capacity to enjoy everything, no matter how insignificant. I planned to start that very night.

I was afraid. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I realized it was because of what I was missing. Without knowing it, my whole life had been preparation for that moment. I’d untied all those knots, lived through such incredible things, left behind the tight armor I’d put on my spiritual body so long ago. Now I had the great fortune of finding the most wonderful man in the world. Why was I so frightened? Farag had set me free and had waited with infinite sweetness until I broke out of my former life. His kiss was a firm promise. If I could lose myself in his lips, why couldn’t I lose myself in his body?

I heard three discreet knocks on the door.

“Come in,” I said, delighted and nervous. “You don’t have to be so cautious. If they want to hear us, they’ll hear us.”

“You’re right,” he agreed, very bewildered, as he entered my room. “I always forget they can read our thoughts.”

“Let ‘em!” I replied, going to him and throwing my arms around his neck. Farag was as nervous as I was. I could see it in his eyes; they blinked nonstop and his voice trembled.

He kissed me very slowly.

“Are you completely sure you want me to stay?” he asked me.

“Of course I want you to stay.” I kissed him again. “I want you to stay with me all night. Every night.”

I lost all notion of time, and I lost my heart too. It was fused to his heart forever. I stopped being me; I stopped being the Ottavia Salina who had existed up until that moment. I made it to bed although I don’t remember how because the taste of his mouth was so intense that I remember thinking it was the taste of life itself, concentrated on the lips of Farag Boswell.

The night passed. United with Farag’s body, fused skin to skin, I became a river of sensations. Like the tides, I went from the gentlest tenderness to furious lunacy. What I was doing wasn’t the terrible act religions had inexplicably condemned over the centuries. Were they crazy? What was wrong with discovering that absolute happiness was possible in this world? His strong, slender body was all I desired. I felt transformed into something new. At first, insecurity shackled me, but then, my heart about to break into pieces, I realized that Farag and I weren’t alone in that bed. False taboos and the ridiculous hypocrisies I’d been schooled in had climbed into bed with me, imprisoning me. It was a fleeting thought but important. Naked, I got on my knees on the sheets and looked at Farag. Weary and happy, he looked at me with curiosity.