by Albert Noyer
“Enough!” an agitated Eusebios cried as he struggled to stand. Nepheros paused while Getorius helped the bishop up. “I declare this abominable document to be the property of Holy Church! Secretary, you will bring the papyrus to my residence. Testament scholars shall expose it for the satanic travesty that it is.”
Again perturbed, the Egyptian priest, Tanutamun, spoke to Papnouthios, who nodded and looked toward the governor. “Excellency, the priest claims that the papyrus belongs to his temple and that it is the property of the dead prince.”
“Ludicrous!” Abinnaeus countered. “Pagans have no claims to such ‘property’.”
Nepheros cautioned, “Excellency, the ownership should be for a judicial magistrate to decide.”
“This is an ecclesiastical, not a civil matter!” Eusebios exclaimed with his bishop’s veil askew. “Governor, civil authorities are appointed with the sanction of God, thus I order that the papyrus be given to me. Abbot Isidoros and a representative of Patriarch Cyril will be on an evaluating council.”
“Holiness,” Getorius interposed, “Galla Placidia insisted that a document found in her mausoleum be kept secret until her librarian declared about its authenticity.”
Nepheros supported him. “The surgeon is correct. This papyrus undoubtedly is false, yet Your Holiness should not risk appearing prematurely foolish.”
Eusebios frowned while considering his advice. “Very well, yet this Kashat papyrus, surely another Gnostic invention, will remain in my custody. Isidoros is still at Pelusium and the abbot shall read it with us.”
The governor told Papnouthios, “Your Sobek priest understands Latin, yet make it clear to him that Bishop Eusebios is custodian of the document. Nepheros, stay with the bishop when he returns. I’m going back to the pretorium.”
Getorius recalled that his wife had not come back. “Arcadia left to take Pennuta outside.”
“An embarrassing incident,” Abinnaeus murmured. “The deluded woman imagines that she’s in love with me.”
And you’ve evidently encouraged her.
Outside the temple, the rain had let up. Shimmering puddles of wind-blown water on the courtyard paving reflected an overcast sky the gray color of paving stones. Arcadia stood leaning against an entrance column, clutching her cloak tightly against her neck and shivering uncontrollably.
“What is it?” Getorius brushed damp hair away from her face. “Are you suffering greater illness?”
Her teeth chattered in replying, “I…I’m running a fever. Ch…chills,”
Abinnaeus came outside and glanced around the area. “Where did Penn…did the Kushite woman go?”
Arcadia pointed toward a building beyond the courtyard’s eastern wall. “Sh…she ran off, in…into that house.”
Abinnaeus frowned, but did not comment.
“Cara…” Getorius took his wife’s arm and led her down into the courtyard. “You must get into bed and rest. Does your head ache?”
She nodded, then saw the bishop and Nepheros standing at the hypostyle hall entrance. “Getorius, was…was there a tr…treasure in the mummy?”
“No, I only found a papyrus manuscript.”
Eusebios hurried down the steps, clutching the golden case against the camel hair vestment under his cloak. “Surgeon, you mentioned that you exposed such a papyrus at Ravenna as forged. I wish you to help me in evaluating this document.”
“Holiness, Arcadia is feverish. I should first accompany her back to our room.”
“Your wife may return me,” Abinnaeaus offered. “Papnouthios will treat her fever.”
“That isn’t necessary―”
“Surgeon, we cannot waste time,” Eusebios insisted. “That pagan priest knows about the papyrus and will spread rumors to discredit Holy Church. I shall bless your wife before she leaves.” The bishop held his episcopal cross on Arcadia’s forehead, throat, and both inner wrists, intoning a prayer in Greek and ending with Latin, “In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.”
Arcadia thanked him before turning to her husband. “Getorius, tell me about the papyrus when you come back. I’m anxious to learn about what is upsetting the bishop.”
“I will, cara. Take spirea…valerian…and rest until I return to the Pretorium.”
Watching her leave with the governor, Getorius noticed a donkey cart stopped near the wall. Its driver seemed to be waiting for Abinnaeus and the woman to pass. Despite the man’s lowered head, he recognized Skoros, the physician’s assistant. What could he be bringing to this pagan temple? Before he could give the incident significance, Getorius heard the bishop calling for him to come with Nepheros.
* * *
In the bishop’s dining room, Abbot Isidoros had almost finished a meal of dry bread crusts dipped in a cup of vinegar, while listening to a deacon read from the monastic rule of Pachomios. The white-haired clergyman looked up when the three men entered and noted Getorius’s evident surprise at his sparse meal.
“Surgeon, it is said that God sells righteousness at a low price…a small piece of bread, a cup of cold water. Today, I fail that standard by allowing myself the luxury of dilute vinegar.”
And a bit of boasting? Getorius silently observed.
Eusebios dismissed the lector and motioned for Getorius and Nepheros to sit with him, opposite Isidoros. He held up the papyrus case. “Abbot, we discovered this purportedly ancient document in the Sobek temple. It is of unsettling importance to all Christians.”
Isidoros swirled a final crust in his cup. “Is it another Gnostic text, perhaps an account by the entombed Lazarus describing his cosmic visit to the realm of Barbelo?”
“You jest, Abbot, yet this is beyond any known account concerning the infancy of the Holy Child.”
“And, Bishop, most of what already has been written is a pious fable.”
Exasperated at the abbot’s casual response, Eusebios insisted, “This has names, a historical time, that of Caesar Augustus, a Kushite prince and his…his sorcerer. The very Divinity of Christ is challenged.”
Isidoros’s response was more comment than question. “Another Arian forgery, then.”
“Abbot, the Surgeon recently determined the origin of a spurious papyrus and thwarted its release.”
Getorius said, “Holiness, with the help of a rabbi and the Empress’s librarian.”
“And, Bishop, you wish the surgeon’s assistance with this?”
Eusebios nodded. “Also, Abbot, that he be an impartial witness to the document’s discovery.”
Isidoros pushed his plate and cup aside. “Abba Zeno counseled that a man must pray for his enemies, before God will hear his own petition.”
“Kalos…good.” Eusebios stood and adjusted his veil. “We shall pray in the chapel of Holy Antony, then go to my library and read the balance of the papyrus account.”
The chapel, a former reception room located off the atrium, was only large enough to accommodate the bishop’s staff and a few visiting pilgrims. A dark mahogany wood rail inlaid with a pattern of ivory Greek crosses separated the sanctuary from the nave. Twin doors carved with crosses gave access to the sacred altar area and were open only during a liturgy. An easel near the right door displayed an icon painted on wood depicting a long-bearded monk, Antony, dressed in a camel-skin tunic and being embraced by Christ. To the left, a wooden pulpit held a massive leather-bound liturgical codex. Benches on either side served for seating. A woolen rug woven in bright geometric designs lay underfoot.
The faint yet ever-present scent of incense was reassuring. Eusebios crossed himself on his forehead and lips, kissed his episcopal cross, then held the papyrus case against the figure of Christ in the icon, praying silently. Standing, the abbot bowed low toward the sanctuary. Getorius tried to imitate him, but his attention was on the two men. The bishop possibly is married…that deacon could be his son. An abbot, Dorothea’s brother, brought up in a wealthy household, heir to power and prestige, yet renouncing everything for a monastic poverty of body that would enri
ch his soul. Now this papyrus seems to be a challenge to core beliefs about Christ that have molded both of their lives.
In a library-scriptorium adjacent to the chapel, Eusebios dismissed two gossiping copyists. While unrolling the papyrus onto a table, he summarized for Isidoros what had been read of the document.
After listening, the abbot ran a hand through close-cropped white hair. “Continue with the unread section after reaching Pelusium.”
Eusebios held the manuscript to the early afternoon light of a copyist’s window. “‘The caravan reached Pelusium in five days, where most of the merchants sold their goods. Lucanus, the young physician, continued on to Alexandria for medical studies. The feverish child had benefited from his treatments, but I, prince Kashat, wished to reach Bubastis, two days journey south, where an Egyptian physician could be consulted’.”
“Holiness,” Getorius asked, “doesn’t your own tradition holds that Bubastis was the Holy Family’s first stop in Egypt’s Delta?”
“True, and a common fact undoubtedly well known to the forger.” Eusebios turned toward the Abbot. We must find errors in the text, the writing style, some abnormality that proves the document to be false.”
“Indeed, I am listening carefully, yet if we are dealing with a centuries-old papyrus how would we recognize an anomaly?”
The abbot’s comment did nothing to reassure Eusebios. “The earliest true Christian writings after those of Paul are by the Church Fathers…Clement, Ignatius…Polycarp, over a century later.”
“To compare them with the style of this pagan prince’s scribe would take time.”
“Which we don’t have,” Getorius pointed out. “A forgery has a purpose and is useless if not made public. Why was this document discovered at this precise time?”
Isidoros approved. “Well said, Surgeon. If not a work of God, why was it to be revealed now? We must continue reading to find out. Bishop?”
Eusebios found his place. “‘At Bubastis, a priest serving the temple of Bast examined the infant. Learned in astrology, he advised that the child not be taken as far south as Kush. The summer star, Arktouros, had risen to forewarn arrival of the southern land’s parched heat, which I knew only too well. The Judean infant, born in a northern clima, would undergo a risk of ardent fevers if brought there. The summer solstice was upon us, which the priest proclaimed a most dangerous time to treat illness. I, Prince Kashat, therefore resolved to settle in a colony of my people near the Moeris Lake, at Crocodilopolis, a further journey.’”
Isidoros held up a hand to stop the reading. “This Prince Kashat, the places and events he mentions give an authenticity to his account. Conversely, the Infancy tales of Pseudo-Matthew relate that in Egypt the Holy Child is worshipped by dragons, lions, and panthers, all wagging their tails like playful house pets. The Infant further causes a palm tree to adore Him, a spring to flow at His command, as well as other signs and wonders.”
Eusebios noted, “Blessed Jerome translated that Hebrew original, yet harbored doubts about its authenticity.”
“Nevertheless, he released the papyrus,” Isidoros said, “thus providing a feast of magic treats on which fools might gorge. As to Bubastis, the Matthew author mentions that site by the name ‘Sotinen,’ and yet no other locations in Egypt. He then has Joseph ‘returning to Judah after no long time’…” The abbot sighed and looked at Getorius. “Surgeon, have you arrived at a diagnosis?”
“As you suggested, Abbot, we should finish our preliminary examination and next search for other symptoms.”
Isidoros chuckled softly. “Once again, well said! Bishop, continue the search for ‘symptoms’ that, hopefully, we may cure.”
“‘Praise to the god Ammon’,” Eusebios read, “‘the infant thrived in my winter palace at the oasis. The aged father, Josep ben Heli, had served in the Hebrew Temple at Jerusalem and sought out a synagogue. Miriam, the mother, seemed to recover a measure of mental balance in her new surroundings. She remained aloof, yet pleased to see the boy schooled in the Hebrew Torah and their Prophets. Yet I also engaged Nechepso, an Egyptian mage, to educate my son in the magical arts of divination, exorcism, evocation, and reanimation of corpses. The wondrous child learned so quickly that I thought the ba of the self-created, immortal god, Khefera, had entered into him and guided his mind’.”
Eusebios paused to pass a trembling hand over his white beard and shake his head. “This …this Kushite now calls the Holy Child ‘my son’ and implies that a pagan god infused His mind with wisdom.” He glanced at Nepheros, who had sat during the reading without commenting. “Secretary, you have been atypically silent. What is your opinion?”
Nepheros’s dark brows rose at being asked the question. “Holiness, if you believe this to be a forgery, you must attempt to identify its author, its provenance. Until then…” His voice trailed off.
Isidoros took up the thought. “Until then we must scan the papyrus for errors.” He glanced at Eusebios, who had turned to stare out a window. “I sense the Bishop is tiring. Surgeon, would you read?”
“Of course. Bishop?”
Eusebios indicated where he had left off, then slumped in an armchair, shading his eyess with a shaking hand.
Before reading, Getorius asked, “With respect, Bishop, why hasn’t the Sobek temple been closed, like that of Zeus?”
The abbot answered for him. “You saw its location. Abinnaeus prefers to keep the remaining pagans quiet. In return, Tanutamun offered to close it on the Lord’s Day and not to perform rituals that offend Christian sensibilities. Tomorrow is such a day.”
Getorius noted “I’d lost track of the time. My wife and I would like to attend a liturgy.”
“I shall send Paulos for you,”Eusebios said. “Continue, Surgeon.”
“‘My son, whom I called ‘Taharqa,’ after a great Kushite king, was fond of the nearby lake and often pleaded to be taken there. On one occasion, the clever child modeled several birds from lake mud. To amuse his playmates, he recited an incantation, blew on the clay forms, and they flew off. Another time, when Taharqa was nine years of age, he came upon the body of a drowned child. After he saw the disconsolate parents weeping, tears formed in his own eyes. He looked at the sky and recited a spell that Nechepso taught him, then breathed into the dead child’s mouth. Praise Amon, the boy coughed water and sat up, alive!”
Eusebios lowered his hand and sighed. “These are episodes from the Syriac Infancy Narrative. Any presbyter…even a copyist could….could re-tell them as happening in another era.”
“Yet, Holiness,” Nepheros gently reminded him, “repetition in the narratives helps to prove their authenticity, as is true of the Synoptic Gospels.”
Although Getorius knew little about Biblical exegesis, he felt the secretary made a valid point. Events the stories told about Jesus by the three Evangelists had been derived from common sources and the abbot said that the prince’s Infancy account was detailed in a way that the others were not.
Irritated by the interruption, Isidoros slapped his hand on the table for attention. “May we finish reading the entire document? I wish to hear a complete account and then consider individual passages.”
Getorius read on about how the prince was astonished as the boy supernaturally grew in grace and wisdom, and how Nechepso marveled at the way his student mastered the techniques of Parthian, Chaldean, and Egyptian sorcerers, as well as miracles performed by neo-Pythagorean diviners. Just before the twelfth year after Taharqa-Jeshua’s birth, the boy announced that he wished to see the Hebrew temple at Jerusalem. Prince Kashat, now unwell with ardent fevers, allowed the boy and his parents to go, but insisted that they return by his son’s fourteenth year. They did so. When the boy was a young man of nineteen, the aged Josep ben Heli died. Jeshua abruptly retuned to Galilee with his mother, sister Assia, and brother, Ja’acob.
At this point Eusebios once again demanded that the papyrus be destroyed without being read completely through. Isidoros quieted him. Getorius told the clergymen t
hat he was near the end of Prince Kashat’s account; both would want to hear his final paragraph.
“‘I fear that I have not long to live, fever debilitates me day after day. I am convinced that Taharqa-Jeshua is a Divine Being who inhabits a human body. In retrospect, the magic, the illusions, the spells that Nechepso taught my son are chaff, for he has far outstripped his teacher in his ability to perform miracles, including resuscitation of the dead’.” Getorius read on briefly, then laid down the papyrus, his own hands shaking. “The…the prince ends his account with a report that reached him about a Hebrew miracle worker at Jerusalem who was crucified for sedition by the Roman procurator.”
After a period of silence, Isidoros admitted in a hoarse voice, “I…I was wrong, this is not an Arian document that denies Christ’s divinity. The conclusion supports something different, such as the heresies of Nestorios, who claims that the Lord simply conjoined a human nature to the Divine Nature.”