The First Sin

by Jessica Brawner

  “Abraham, may I present my companion, Jacqueline.” David held out his hand to me, and I nodded to Abraham, smiling.

  Stepping forward I said, “I have heard so much about you. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person. David tells me you study the history of religious garments? That sounds like a fascinating area of expertise.”

  Abraham took my hand and bowed over it. “Indeed madam. I find religious haberdashery is fascinating and helps us to learn about the early Church.”

  “Tell me sir, something I have always wondered, why are Miter’s such an odd shape?”

  This launched Abraham into a detailed explanation of Miter’s in general but did not enlighten me on the Miter of St. Peter. “You seem very knowledgeable on the topic,” I said. “Have you ever had the opportunity to examine the Miter of St. Peter?”

  “Oh! No, I’m afraid that one is very closely guarded. It has a most fascinating history though.” He snagged a canapé from a passing server. “I’ve made quite a study of it over the years, but the Vatican has never allowed anyone to examine it. I’ve sent several petitions on behalf of the University, but they are always declined. Did you know, for instance, that the Miter of St. Peter is the oldest garment in the church’s possession that is still used regularly? Or that it is supposedly guarded by demons? There are even stories that it holds the last scripture. Something so powerful that it could bring down the church, or give it absolute world dominance.” Abraham laughed. “There are many, many stories about the Miter of St. Peter, but I’m afraid without examining it, separating fact from fiction is nearly impossible.”

  I laughed in return and glanced at David. “There are really stories saying it’s guarded by demons? I would think Angels would be more in keeping with the church.”

  “Perhaps Lucifer has sent his demons to guard it so that the Holy Father cannot use the last scripture to ensure the absolute dominance of the church. And the church guards it to keep Lucifer’s demons from using the last scripture to end the church,” David offered. “Something to maintain the balance of the world.”

  “Perhaps. Or perhaps it is a fanciful story the Church has put out to keep thieves away.” Abraham sighed wistfully. “But, as I doubt they will ever agree to let me, or anyone, examine it, we will probably never know. Unless someone steals it and demons come after them.” He chuckled at that, dismissing the idea.

  “Where do you think the scripture is hidden?” I asked, the question coming out awkward and forced in the brief silence that followed Abraham’s last statement.

  Abraham raised an eyebrow. “I have no idea. It could be patterned into the beadwork, or written in code, or stitched on the inside. Or the Miter itself could merely contain clues leading to the actual location…You seem rather interested in this topic. Perhaps you should attend one of my lectures.”

  I cursed myself for appearing too eager. “I’m afraid I do not get to the Americas often, but I do have a passing interest in the topic.”

  “Ah well. You would make a charming student. But I’m afraid, as I mentioned, without the physical object to hand, there isn’t much more known about the Miter of St. Peter other than the various embellishments and which Pope had them added and their symbolic value. It’s a pity. I would risk my life against these demons for just an hour to examine it.”

  “I imagine such a thing would make your career as an academic,” I commented. Abraham looked around the gathering and chuckled. “Indeed, it would. Half the fellows here would want to kill me, and I would most certainly be made a dean at the University.”

  I liked him. David glanced at me, eyebrows furrowed, as if he could read my thoughts. I had the basic information I needed – a collector would be interested in the Miter of St. Peter, but it had more potential value as a political object that could be used to bring down the church. The question was – which was it? A collector, or a political power or someone with an interest in both. And should I pursue this beyond just the job. And was allowing Abraham an hour to examine the Miter worth the extreme risk? All of this flashed through my mind in an instant. I smiled charmingly and said, “Well, perhaps you will one day get an opportunity to examine it then.” I saw David’s shoulders relax.

  “From your lips to God’s ears, as they say.” Abraham saw someone else he knew and waved. “David, I presume I’ll see you during the week for the conference. Jacqueline, it’s been a pleasure. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve been trying to corner Dean Devlin for some time, and he has just walked in.”

  David clapped him on the back and turned to me, letting the increasing crowd swirl around us. “Did you get the information you wanted?”

  “Yes, but as with many things, it has merely raised more questions.” I tapped my fingernail on the edge of my wine glass. “Your thoughts on the guarded by demons aspect?”

  “Well, after we learned that the Stuart Sapphire held the spirit of the Bonnie Prince, when last you visited Scotland, I’m a little more open to believing in demons, but I am decidedly not happy about it. It offends my scientific mind.” David drew me further into the corner, using the crowd for privacy.

  “It can’t be that all such tales are true, or we would be infested with elves and goblins as well.” I laughed but felt the hair on the back of my neck rise uncomfortably.

  “Thank you for not bringing Abraham further into this.” He kissed the side of my neck. “Now, let us circulate for a few minutes more, so I can show off my handsome companion and be the envy of my peers, and then we can depart.”

  Chuckling I took his arm. “Anything for you mon chéri.”

  While David led us from group to group of academics, my mind swirled on the question – is the knowledge worth the risk? Is lying to David about it worth the risk? Would Abraham even accept such risk, and would he tell David? What would I do with the knowledge if I had it? The last question didn’t trouble me as much as the others. Knowledge was always useful, sometimes how it was useful didn’t come to light until the proper moment.

  Making a decision, as David introduced me to yet another small group of academics, I excused myself. At the hotel’s front desk, I asked for a pen and paper and penned a brief note.

  If you would like to significantly advance your knowledge in your field of study, meet me here at three o’clock in the morning. Come alone. Do not tell Anyone.

  I left the note unsigned and folded it up to fit in the palm of my hand, sliding it inside my glove for safe keeping. As the evening wore on, and the various professors began to depart, Abraham found us again, as I thought he might. Saying our goodbye’s I slipped the note into his palm. He raised an eyebrow, but gallantly slid the note into his pocket without otherwise reacting as he turned and shook David’s hand. David’s hired carriage came for us at eight o’clock as most of the academics were filtering out to dinner engagements. We joined the exiting throng and bumped and jolted in the carriage back to the airfield.

  “If I know you Jac, you’re immediately going to go back to the ship and spend hours pouring over it based on what Abraham said.” He twirled one of my curls in his fingers. “I am guessing your mind is lost to me for the rest of the night.”

  I chuckled, acknowledging the truth. “You do know me very well mon chéri.”

  “Shall I have the carriage drop you off, and come join you for breakfast in the morning?”

  I leaned in and kissed him. “You are a gem among men. Thank you for understanding.” I quashed the feelings of guilt coiling in my gut. His kiss turned heated, and I responded in kind, my face flushing as I pressed against him in the narrow confines of the carriage. The carriage arrived at the airfield much sooner than either of us wanted, and we emerged, disheveled, but fully clothed. The carriage driver studiously stared down the road as David bid me good night.

  Jacqueline

  Tyler had the watch when I arrived. “How goes it?” I asked. “And what has Nina learned about that ship out of Rome?”

  “It’s the same one that boarded us on the way here.
It is definitely a Swiss Guard ship. I’ve seen that Charles fellow on the far side of the airfield. My guess is that they don’t want to cause too much of a ruckus. They’re watching us Captain,” he said in a low voice. “But they’re being very discreet about it. A ‘mechanic’ has been working on the clank berth next to us all day, but he doesn’t look the part. And there has been more foot traffic than I would expect on that airship there.” He nodded toward the ship off our port side.

  “They’re as curious about our benefactor as we are.” I murmured. “Are we prepped for an emergency launch?”

  Tyler nodded again, scanning the other ships around us.

  “I have to go out again this evening. Late. If there’s need, leave without me. I’ll meet you at the bookstore in Aubagne to the east. Hopefully there’s no trouble. We will be leaving tomorrow afternoon.”

  Tyler glanced at me inquiringly. “Out, Captain?”

  I nodded, sealing my lips.

  “Okay. Out.” Tyler didn’t pry, but his eyes looked wary. “Seamus is keeping an eye on the incoming ships. I’ll double the watch as well.”

  “Good man. Thank you, Tyler.”

  In my cabin, I stripped out of my clothes and donned a set of dark flying leathers. They would raise no comment onboard ship and would be harder to spot in the darkness.

  Lighting the lamps in my cabin, I closed the shutters to avoid prying eyes and took the Miter out of its hiding place. At my desk, I examined it closely with a magnifying glass, not sure what I was looking for. The seed pearls that encrusted the outside were tiny, irregular shaped beads, but I could find no pattern to them. The soft hempen rope, affixed the way one might affix a ribbon struck me as odd. It was old, and it was clearly rope. Not the sort of decoration I would have expected to see, as it held very little aesthetic value. The crimson cross was stitched and the diamonds held in place by fine gold wire. The outer fabric was linen, with some sort of thicker, sturdier backing that smelled faintly of wool and incense. The lining was also linen, but newer, with tiny stitches of white thread visible where it had been attached.

  With a deep breath I took a pen-knife out of my desk drawer and slid it to the edge of the first stitch. “Knowledge for knowledge’s sake.”

  The knife was sharp and parted the small stitches with a pop. I worked my way around the edge, careful to leave the linen undamaged. Setting the lining aside, I peered into the dark interior. Angling it so that the light penetrated deeper into the Miter, I thought I could see faint sparkles, but whether it was simply backstitching, or something else, I couldn’t tell in the light of my cabin.

  I pressed on the pointed end of the Miter experimentally. It was firm, but as I applied pressure, it slowly sunk inward. With some careful maneuvering, I was able to turn it inside out. There, in front of me, in gold stitches on a background of silver thread were an elaborate set of slashes and curls. A language, but not one that I could read. A rust colored stain was smeared across half of it.

  I drew a deep breath. Abraham had been right about a hidden message. I hoped he wasn’t right about the rest. Hastily I drew out a piece of paper and copied the script, mimicking the letters and line breaks. Double checking my work, I sanded the paper and slipped it inside my desk drawer for later study.

  I turned the Miter right side out, pearls on the outside, wrapped it in a dark cloth, and put it into a satchel. Slinging the strap over my shoulder, I checked my boot knives, grabbed a hooded cloak and headed for the rendezvous, hoping Abraham was intrigued enough to show up.

  A quick journey by horseback put me at the front of the hotel a few minutes before the rendezvous time. Sliding past the front desk, I slipped into a side room, leaving the door slightly ajar so I could see down the hallway. When I saw Abraham down the corridor, I beckoned for him to come in. The room was windowless, with a meeting table and a few comfortable chairs. A side table sat against the far wall, intended for small buffets or drinks.

  “I must admit, your note intrigued me. A beautiful woman, a secret meeting, the chance to advance my career…” He closed the door and lit the gas-lamps in the small meeting room. “I almost didn’t come, thinking David was perhaps playing a prank with your help.”

  “David must not know about this meeting.” I said emphatically.

  Abraham looked surprised and started to say something.

  “How much has he told you about what I do?” I had positioned myself on the far side of the room with a table between us.

  “Ah. Not much. He mentioned that you travel a lot, and that you don’t see each other often.”

  I nodded. “I captain a ship. My crew and I transport specialized items for high-value customers, and we are known for doing so discreetly.”

  He blinked a few times, digesting that bit of information. “So why are we meeting?”

  “I have in my possession, something that I think you would have great interest in, and I need more information about it. There is some personal danger to you, but, knowing academics as I do, I thought you might be persuaded to tell me what you know of the item in return for being able to examine it to further your research."

  Abraham’s eyes lit up with understanding and excitement and his demeanor changed. “Yes, such an arrangement might be beneficial to both of us. The advancement of research through illicit means is by no means unusual. Rest assured, your name will not be associated with any findings I release, and it takes months to write up such papers.”

  I nodded. “I thought you might feel that way.” I pulled the Miter out of my satchel and unwrapped it, laying it on the table.

  Abraham blinked, staring at the object on the table. “Holy Mother of God.” He rubbed his hand across his chin. “Is that really…?”

  I nodded.

  “Why...How?” He looked at me, fear and excitement warring in his eyes.

  Thinking quickly, I said, “We were commissioned to transport it for the Vatican, I cannot of course tell you it’s final destination. They thought it would be safer to take it in an unmarked ship.”

  He nodded soberly. “I understand now why this meeting is secret.”

  “If you reveal that I showed you this, it could mean the gallows for us both.” I replied.

  “Indeed. May I?” He gestured to the Miter, his hands trembling, and I nodded. He stared at it in awe for a moment, holding it as if it might bite him. Taking a deep breath he began a minute examination. After a quarter hour of I asked him, “What can you tell me about this object?”

  "The Miter has been part of the Holy Roman church since its early days, immediately following the death of Christ. Tradition has it was commissioned by the original St. Peter in his quest to create symbolic garments that would help tie all the different factions of the church together. The garments have of course changed over the years, but priest's robes are basically similar now to what they have always been. There has only ever been one Miter, and it is passed from pontiff to pontiff."

  He paused still staring in awe at the object on the table. "Now," he said, clearing his throat. "The Miter was not always as ornate as what we see before us. History tells us initially it was made of felted wool and linen, with a basic decorative border made from some sort of rope, supposedly representative of the cincture that Christ wore.” He ran his fingers over this portion of the Miter, pointing to the rough hempen strands. “Over the years, the different pontiffs have added decoration and embellishments. The gold thread was added some centuries ago, and the pearls even more recently." He paused and ran his hands over the Miter once more as if spellbound by its presence.

  "The reason this is all so fascinating is twofold. Firstly, it shows very little wear despite the fact that it is worn frequently and exposed to the elements on a regular basis. No one," he paused. "Well, no one outside the Vatican at any rate, knows how this has been accomplished. Secondly, as I mentioned earlier, it is said the original Miter contained the last scripture as presented to Peter by Christ. This scripture is supposedly so dangerous that if it is ever re
ad aloud it will destroy the Church."

  Something that could destroy the church was powerful indeed. “Because of what it says, or because of some mystical, unknown power?”

  “Unknown. My assumption has always been because of content, but I cannot verify that without more information.”

  I picked up the Miter and carefully turned it inside out. “In studying the Miter earlier this evening, I found this.” I showed him the script in the unknown language, and his eyes widened.

  “Can you read it?” I inquired.

  He studied it for a few minutes. “No. But given sufficient time and study I can translate it. It is written in ancient Aramaic, the language of Christ.”

  At this point he was sweating and pale. “It’s good that you are transporting this for the Vatican, and that it’s not stolen. I consider myself a rational man, but lore has it that if the Miter is stolen it releases fallen angels, followers of the Son of the Morning. Trapped in hell, bound to protect it, they are tasked with returning the Miter to its proper owner. Even if that is merely a story put about by the Vatican, I imagine any thief they caught with this would wish for the tortures of Hell before the Vatican was done with them." He ran his fingers over the small stiches, pausing at the discoloration I had noted earlier.

  I held my tongue. Dwelling on the possibility of torture was not advisable in my line of work. “I must go soon. If you copied the inscription, could you work out the translation? I could pay for that, but it must come to me first, before any publication.”

  He nodded. “Give me half an hour to make some sketches, and copy the inscription.” He took out a pencil and notebook from his coat and began sketching. I pointed out the rust colored smear to him and he took down a note, but made no comment, his hands trembling slightly.