The Lost Catacomb (6 page)
“
Giampaolo, would you
get me a secure line?
”
Cardinal Rostoni spoke into the
intercom in a voice carefully devoid of all traces of emotion.
“
Yes,
I need it immediately.
Grazie
.
And you may take the rest of the day
off.
”
The
secretary knocked on the door to Rostoni
’
s inner office.
“
The line
is ready, Your Eminence.
Will there
be anything else?
”
“
No.
You may go.
”
Rostoni
waited a few minutes, until he heard the door to the outer office click
shut.
He then picked up the receiver
and dialed a seldom-used number belonging to a former employee of the
Vigilanza
,
who now operated a private international surveillance network that Rostoni
consulted on occasion.
“
It
’
s me, Giovanni,
”
Rostoni said
tightly.
“
I think we have a problem.
Or at least a potential problem.
”
“
Go on,
”
growled the deep voice
at the other end of the line.
“
You remember what we
discussed about the new crypt that was discovered last month in the Vigna
Randanini?
”
“
Si
. I remember,
”
he replied carefully.
“
In that case, I'm sure
you recall that after all the publicity in the newspapers and on radio that the
Pope forced my hand.
That he
insisted we make every effort to claim the artifacts that were found there for
the Church.
”
He
paused for emphasis and then added with barely controlled anger in his voice,
“
That I had no choice
but to engage those two art historians or he would have been suspicious of my
motives.
That I couldn't refuse
him.
”
“
I know. What of it?
”
Giovanni said
impatiently.
“
Well, I believe I have
reason to suspect that they might not be quite as malleable
—
or how shall I
say?
—
as
compliant as I had hoped.
There's
something about them that disturbs me.
They're a bit too sharp.
A
bit too inquisitive for my taste.
I
’
m concerned about what
they might discover and what action they might take.
They appear to be far more knowledgeable
and meticulous than I had expected.
“
I think it would be a
good idea to have them watched.
See
where they go.
Whom they talk
to.
And if possible, keep an eye on
them particularly if they enter the Secret Archives.
I
’
ll need to know which files they look at or if they
make any special requests.
I'm sure
I don't have to remind you why,
”
he added harshly.
There
was a brief pause as Rostoni listened carefully to the response.
“
Of
course not.
I understand
perfectly.
Don
’
t worry,
”
the deep voice
reassured him.
“
I
’
ll have it
covered.
And we
’
ll keep a low
profile.
As always.
”
Another
pause, and Rostoni then replied tensely.
“
All right
then.
Please take care of it immediately.
Too much is at stake.
We can't afford to wait.
”
The catacombs of the Vigna Randanini, where the new
hypogeum
had been discovered, were located on the estate of one of the oldest noble
families of Rome, not far from the Via Appia Antica, the roughly cobbled
consular road that had been built in ancient times to connect with distant
parts of the Empire.
The grounds
themselves were hidden from the street by a formidable brick wall that enclosed
the entire perimeter of the property.
As they approached the area with Signor Fossore, Nicola and
Bruno were shocked to see three
carabinieri
jump out of a small car,
their weapons drawn.
Nicola grabbed
Bruno's arm and turned to Fossore in disbelief.
“
I'm
so sorry," he apologized abashedly.
“
I should
have warned you.
The courts have
not only restricted access to the grounds, but they're enforcing the injunction
with a police presence around the clock.
The Marchesa,
”
he
confided, choosing his words carefully,
“
is concerned about possible attempts by the
Pontifical Commission to
—
how
can I put this delicately?
—
compromise
the site.
I'm sure you can
understand her concerns.
”
A short heavy-set man with thinning hair, Ugo Fossore was a
retired archaeologist who had worked for the Vatican at the beginning of his
career and had later been recommended to the Marchesa as a reliable restoration
expert when one of the crypts at the Vigna Randanini had threatened to collapse
several years ago.
It was only
natural, then, that she had called on Fossore to assess the damage to the
catacombs on her property following the recent tremors.
Under normal circumstances, the
discovery of the new
hypogeum
would probably have stayed under wraps for
a while.
But one of Fossore's
assistants had tipped off the local newspapers, probably hoping that his own
name would appear in print, and the new crypt had unavoidably come to the
attention of the Pope and the Pontifical Commission, resulting in the current
dispute.
The assistant's
participation in the restoration project had, of course, been promptly
terminated at the request of the Marchesa, Fossore added.
He now introduced Nicola and Bruno to the day-shift officers
as the experts who were authorized to enter the area and then led the way
through a heavy set of tall iron gates to a corner of the estate bordered by a
rusty wire fence and a few ragged bushes and trees.
Nicola glanced at Bruno skeptically,
thinking to herself that this looked like a rather inauspicious start to what
she had hoped would be the most fascinating set of catacombs she had ever seen.
Following their guide, Nicola and Bruno descended a short
stone staircase leading to an enclosed courtyard that was paved in a wavy,
undulating pattern of tiny black and white mosaic tiles.
The brick walls of the courtyard bore a
series of shallow arched recesses vaguely resembling small burial niches that
were known as
arcosolia
.
In
the distance, against the background of a rolling hillock dotted with tall
umbrella pines, the imposing fa
ç
ade
of the Marchesa
’
s
villa gleamed in the peach-colored splendor of the early morning light.
Unlocking a massive iron door at the entrance to the
catacombs, Fossore produced three oxy-lamps, which would provide both heat and
light inside the chilly subterranean network.
The soft glow of the lamps, however, did
little to dispel Nicola's initial disappointment at what she saw.
The narrow passageway appeared to be
nothing more than a long, roughly hewn tunnel leading to nowhere, with a strong
smell of mildew and the stale odor of dust assailing her nostrils.
She coughed several times and
surreptitiously searched her pockets for tissues and a breath mint to soothe
her irritated throat.
Unlike the enormous catacomb complexes of San Sebastiano and
San Callisto along the Via Appia Antica, or the large burial vaults that rested
under so many churches and basilicas in Rome, there was nothing dramatic or
heart-stopping about what she was seeing.
At least not yet. Somehow she had expected something more elaborate
—
more exciting and
unique.
Fossore, however, was oblivious to Nicola's reaction, though
Bruno shot her a puzzled glance, apparently wondering why she looked somehow
dismayed.
Clearly relieved that he
didn't need to speak in English for Nicola
’
s sake, Fossore proceeded to review the history of
the Vigna Randanini in rapid Italian.
“
First
I
’
ll give you a
brief tour of the older catacomb area.
As I
’
m sure
you know, the Vigna Randanini functioned in ancient times as a small
underground pagan cemetery that was later converted into a much larger Jewish
burial ground. Galleries were added as needed, and most are beautifully
decorated with frescoes.
All of
these rooms, by the way, appear in the map published by Frey in the 1930
’
s.
”
“
You
know,
”
Nicola
remarked,
“
I
’
ve never been able to obtain
a copy of the map.
Are there any
indications on it of the existence of the new chamber?
”
“
None
whatsoever,
”
Fossore
replied, shaking his head emphatically.
“
Nothing
that would hint, even remotely, at a room of this size or archaeological
significance.
“
Anyway,
we
’
ll start with a
tour of the catacombs and galleries,
”
he continued,
“
and
then I
’
ll take you
to the new crypt.
By the way, not
only was there no indication of it on Frey
’
s map, but its entrance had been sealed with brick
and covered with a layer of mortar that blended in perfectly with the walls of
the passageway leading towards it.
Perhaps even more baffling to us was the fact that a series of marble
plaques had been built into the passageway, apparently to simulate a group of
loculi
.
”
“
Are
you saying that you had always thought the entire area was lined with actual
burial niches, when in fact there were no real
loculi
there at all?
”
Nicola asked in
surprise.
“
That
’
s right,
”
Fossore replied,
nodding his head
.
“
The subterfuge was absolutely
perfect.
No one even suspected that
the crypt was there.
“
After
the tremors, only a small portion of the entrance to the
hypogeum
was
exposed, something more or less equivalent to a large peephole between two of
the counterfeit
loculi.
It
soon became obvious that some sort of hidden chamber lay behind the passageway,
so my assistants and I decided to open up other small sections in the wall, to
see what was behind them.
“
I
can only assume that the placement of these plaques was deliberate on the part
of those who constructed this section of the catacomb network, though I can't
presume to speculate why.
Fortunately, the burial vault and its contents have been unusually well
preserved as a result, since they
’
ve
been protected from dust
—
and
grave robbers
—
for
centuries.
“
We
’
ve removed enough of
the mock tomb markers to open up a large doorway to the chamber, but at this
point, I
’
m afraid
that my work here has ended.
As
skilled in structural restoration as I may be, I just don't have the necessary
background to analyze the contents of the crypt, which is why the two of you
are here.
”
They followed Fossore along the dank passageway towards a
network of long rectangular galleries and square
cubicula
.
From the ground up, along the walls of
the tunnel, there were several levels of
loculi
, interspersed with one
or two
k
ô
chim
,
or layered tombs.
Dim sunlight filtered in through two skylights, augmenting
the warm yellow glow of the oxy-lamps.
Though the original function of such skylights had been to provide a
conduit for the removal of excavation debris as new underground galleries were
quarried, they also enabled the entry of sun and air, which helped preserve
minimal hygienic conditions, given the large numbers of decaying bodies that
were buried in the recesses of the walls.
On occasion, the skylights would be positioned to allow a shaft of
sunshine to emphasize an important or especially beautiful monument to the
dead.
Okay, Nicola told herself.
This is starting to look a bit better
—
not much, but
definitely an improvement.
She knew
that humid atmospheric conditions in Rome had sometimes prevented funerary
artists from using the type of labor intensive tomb ornamentation more
generally found in Naples and Sicily, but still, the etchings on these plaques,
while interesting, were not nearly as intriguing as she'd hoped they would be.
She dutifully took out her sketchbook and flicked on her
headlamp, adjusting its strap over the thick tangle of auburn curls that had
fallen over her forehead, and began to copy some of the etchings.
Fossore explained that the cylindrical shapes were supposed
to be Torah scrolls and that the oval shapes were the fruits of the cedar tree
—
though Bruno
quietly remarked that they looked more like citrons used for the holiday of
Sukkoth
.
Other tomb decorations included the
lulav
or ceremonial palm frond, seven-branched
menorah
candelabra, and
shofars
or ram's horns.
Still other
symbols, more secular in meaning, included a heart-shaped bouquet of flowers
with a long wavy stem and something that could have been another grouping of
flowers or some sort of primitive palm tree.
One small room to the side, Fossore told them, was believed
to be a communal tomb for a socially prominent Jewish family.
Its white plastered walls, designed to
offset the darkness of the crypt, bore simple, painted decorations, including a
crudely sketched
menorah
candelabrum in red, with thick perpendicular
lines bisecting its branches and semicircular cups for the holy oil.
Each of the four corners of the tomb was
painted with a date palm fresco in the corner, with garlands and stylized
fruits between the
loculi
.
As they continued to walk along the cold stone corridor, they
passed the graves of a synagogue
archon
or administrative official, a
scribe, and a nameless, 5-month-old baby boy.
The many small
loculi
indicating
the burial places of babies and young children were more numerous than Nicola
had expected, and she was surprised to find herself feeling somewhat sobered by
their presence.
Somehow these
particular tombs made her feel the history of the catacomb in a way she hadn't
expected, leaving her with an unexplained sense of almost personal loss.
But there was little time for reflection as Fossore now drew
their attention to the distinction between the graves of the poor and the more
elaborate tombs of their wealthier counterparts.
The former made use of ordinary
brickwork to wall up the niches, sometimes incorporating leftover scraps of construction
materials.
Sadly, no individual
grave markers distinguished one from the other.
In contrast, the tombs of the rich were embellished with
white marble plaques bearing names, as well as dates of birth and death,
information about marital status, number of children, and the position of the
deceased in the community at large, especially if he or she had been a
synagogue official.
Many had formulaic epitaphs
extolling the virtues of the deceased in Greek, rather than in the expected
Latin, since the Jewish community of ancient Rome was Greek-speaking.
A large number of them bore Hebrew
lettering as well, which Bruno translated for Nicola and Fossore.
