The Lost Catacomb (14 page)
“
For
now, I
’
ll lock up
the scroll in my wall safe.
No one
else has the combination, so you don't have to worry.
I
’
ll return it to you after we leave the
Archives.
I
’
ll accompany the two of
you myself and stay there with you until you
’
ve finished, so you won
’
t be disturbed while taking notes.
If anyone asks, I
’
ll say that only I can handle the manuscript in
question.
No one will give it
a second thought.
”
An hour later, as they left the Archives and bade Father
Benedetto farewell, Bruno turned to Nicola and remarked thoughtfully,
“
Do you remember that I
mentioned in passing that someone had jimmied the lock on my office door the
other day?
”
“
Yes.
You said that perhaps some student might
have wanted to steal or alter the grade sheets from your graduate seminar.
”
“
That
’
s right.
That
’
s what I thought at the time.
Well, now I
’
m beginning to wonder if someone was looking for
something else.
Maybe
something connected to our research.
Not that I
’
ve
kept anything related to the project in my office,
”
he added quietly.
“
But
who knows?
I guess I
’
m starting to become a
little paranoid
—
just
like you
cara
,
”
he
added with a sober smile.
Mariamne and the Lost Pope
“
Dear, beauteous
death!
The jewel of the just,
Shining nowhere but
in the dark;
What mysteries do lie
beyond thy dust . . .
”
~~
Henry
Vaughan,
“
They
are all gone into a world of light
”
The ancient servant rapped faintly on the arched frame of
Mariamne
’
s library
door, the noise barely audible, his bent form half hidden in the flickering
shadows.
“
My lady,
”
he whispered quietly, almost hesitantly,
“
you have visitors.
”
Seeing that there was no response, he knocked more loudly
this time, clearing his throat as he slowly entered the room, afraid to disturb
her, yet equally afraid not to, as she sat at a long wooden table, poring over
a fragile parchment scroll that was yellowed with age.
She lifted her head distractedly, her
dark ringlets shining in the reflection of the long tapers that burned steadily
beside her.
“
Yes, Severinus,
”
she asked in a soft, melodious voice,
“
what is it?
”
“
My
lady, there is a messenger newly arrived from Rome,
”
he announced in a quavering voice.
“
He brings news from the
papal court.
Or so he says,
”
he added swiftly, as
he saw the look of shock spread across her lovely face.
“
He
is accompanied by three synagogue elders from the communities of Labicana,
Monteverde, and the Suburra.
”
She pushed the scroll aside, taking care to mark her place in
the manuscript with a small polished stone.
“
Take
our guests into the atrium,
”
she said, rising from her seat and waving him towards the door.
“
And
Severinus, please see to it that they are given some refreshment after their
long journey.
Perhaps some fruit
and nuts will be welcome, some honey cakes, and wine, of course.
I
’
ll join them momentarily.
”
What could this possibly mean? she asked herself, as she
adjusted the jeweled clasps at the top of her white
stola
, draping it
gracefully over her flowing
tunica
.
All the way from Rome?
To
see me?
Why?
At twenty-one, Mariamne Rufina was the only child of a
recently deceased and deeply mourned
presbyter
, or synagogue elder, in
the port city of Ostia, a suburb of Rome.
Her father, a successful cloth merchant, had been married to a woman
much younger than he, who had died giving birth to Mariamne after a tragic
series of miscarriages and stillbirths.
Despite the unbearable price paid for her entry into the
world, Mariamne had been the pride of her father
’
s old age, the light of his eyes.
Throughout his travels, he had
painstakingly acquired an outstanding collection of scientific and theological
manuscripts from all over the known world, and his villa boasted the finest
library in Ostia.
The best tutors
had been found to teach the young Mariamne to read Latin, Greek, and Hebrew
from these texts, and she proved to have not only a remarkable gift for
languages, but had also received expert instruction in mathematics, rhetoric,
and logic, subjects generally reserved for male pupils.
To her father
’
s
delight
—
and
to the astonishment of the Jewish community in Ostia
—
at the tender age of sixteen she had even
penned a brief treatise, an exercise in the art of disputation, in which she
had compared the basic tenets and relative merits of Judaism and
Christianity.
The text was
currently being used as an adjunct to Talmudic studies at the local synagogue,
where the congregants found her discussions of certain thorny religious issues
as persuasive as those rendered by hoary-headed scholars in faraway Palestine.
Nor were the feminine graces neglected in this motherless
household:
Mariamne was taught to
play the lute, the lyre, and the kithara with equal facility, and she managed
the domestic economy of her father
’
s
household with efficiency, kindness, and effortless charm.
Indeed, her father had set an example of
democratic values by freeing the majority of his slaves, who continued to be
employed as free men and women in his sunlight villa at the edge of the
bustling
cardo
, with its shops, open-air markets, temples, and public
baths.
Many had sought Mariamne
’
s hand in marriage, even when her father was still
alive, but none of the offers had been attractive enough to tempt her to give
up her personal autonomy and the delights of scholarship in favor of becoming a
matrona
answerable to the whims
—
however
pleasurable they might ultimately prove to be
—
of a husband and babies.
Perhaps someday, but only for a most
special individual, who could share her hopes, her dreams, and her keen
sensitivity and intelligence.
In the community in which she lived, marriage was consensual,
rather than arranged.
Based on love
and mutual respect, it was a contractual obligation freely entered into, and
though she was verging on spinsterhood
—
at
least according to the standards of the time
—
she was financially independent, surrounded by
a loyal and loving household of freed slaves who were almost like family
members, and well respected in the community.
Thus there was no need to make any rash
decision that could conceivably curtail all that she had achieved, so far, in
her brief life.
In fact, shortly
after her father
’
s
death she had been elected
mater synagogus
, or mother of the synagogue,
an honorary position generally reserved for women much older and more
experienced.
Now, Mariamne
’
s
smooth brow furrowed in thought as she left the library and made her way down a
wide hallway towards the atrium, a large courtyard that doubled as a reception
room, where her guests waited expectantly.
The atrium was paved with tiny colorful mosaics depicting symbols from
the Jewish holidays, and its walls were decorated with frescoes portraying
pastoral landscape scenes from the Bible. The atrium gave onto yet another,
smaller courtyard, a column-lined
peristyle
with plants, flowering
shrubs, and fruit-bearing trees.
A
small pond stood at its center, its crystal waters reflecting the overhead sun.
As she entered the wide courtyard, the four men rose to greet
her, bowing slightly as they introduced themselves, one by one.
“
Please,
”
she began graciously,
“
you may be seated. You
are most welcome to my home.
Most
welcome indeed.
“
And
what, if may I ask, brings you to our fair city of Ostia all the way from
imperial Rome?
A journey of this
nature must undoubtedly have some pressing purpose.
”
She sat
down on a nearby divan and smoothed the folds of her
tunica
, waiting for
them to reply
.
“
My
lady,
”
the eldest
member of the delegation now began,
“
your
proficiency as a rhetorician and your fame as
—
if we may say so
—
a theologian have reached our humble ears,
even in Rome.
And we are in urgent
need of your assistance and your skills.
”
He paused, noting that her cheeks had flushed becomingly and
that she had placed her goblet of wine, with trembling hands, on a nearby
table.
“
I
am most grateful for
—
indeed
humbled by
—
your
courtesy and compliments,
”
she answered.
“
Do go on.
You may be quite direct with me.
I am generally unused to flattery, and I
assure you, none is necessary.
If
there is anything within my power, some service that I can render, you may rest
assured, I
’
ll do
it with all my heart.
”
“
Thank
you, my lady,
”
he
replied.
“
I will delay no longer.
As you are no doubt aware, the Church
has heavily taxed the Jewish communities of Rome and Ostia for centuries.
We have long been considered aliens, not
citizens of Rome, despite the long tenure of our residence in the imperial city
and our numerous contributions to its culture and economic stability.
We have bowed ceaselessly to the
excessive demands of the Bishops of Rome, who have treated us differently than
other populations residing in the Empire.
And we have paid the price for refusal to change our religious faith,
repeatedly.
”
“
All
this we could continue to live with, without complaint, seeing that we have
managed to flourish and grow, despite the cruel terms of our situation.
But now, the new Pope, influenced by a
powerful group of bishops, has proclaimed yet another edict, a heavy tax that
will bring the eleven
synagogai
of Rome and Ostia to ruin. Sheer and
utter ruin.
“
We
beg you to come with us to the papal court, my lady.
You are so well schooled in logic and
rhetoric that you may be our only hope of convincing him to rescind it.
We have tried to send local
representatives from Rome itself to the court, but they
’
ve been turned away, time and time again.
We hope that your youth and your reputed
beauty
—
please,
my lady, it is only the truth
—
will
somehow gain you an audience with the Pope.
This achieved, we are sure you will be
able to convince him, somehow, to reconsider this rash and unwarranted step.
”
She looked around the room, examining their worried
countenances one by one, and then gestured to Severinus, who had stood all the
while, silently attentive, in a corner of the atrium.
“
Summon
my maidservant,
”
she
said quietly, as she removed her sandals.
“
Tell her
to bring my cloak, my leather shoes, and a pouch of gold coins.
She will accompany me to Rome, as my
chaperone.
We will be away for a
several days, perhaps longer.
”
She handed him the ring of keys at her waist.
“
I
am leaving you in charge of my household, Severinus,
”
she whispered softly.
“
I
know it will be in good hands.
”
