Revelations of the Ruby Crystal

by Barbara Hand Clow

  Club Doria Pamphili

  His Etruscan roots fascinated her. The Roman conquerors had totally absorbed and then forgotten about the Etruscan culture, but Armando carried the heritage of this lost civilization. She replied, “When I toured Pompeii I saw a mosaic as lovely as this one. This one is in such charming contrast to the natural limestone grotto.” Her eyes swept a path over the pocked and irregular walls up into the ceiling. Sarah felt the deep and flowing sense of joy that always took her over when she encountered true beauty. The soft, damp limestone cooled her skin. I could drop all my studies and just live like this. The insight surprised her.

  Her vibratory field flowed out beyond her body while Armando visualized her nipples, and she registered the frequency shift of his root in her body. Narrowing his eyes slightly at her, he responded in a low voice, “Yes, the limestone is beautiful with the mosaic, an exquisite man-made work of art. It is always the combination of these two elements—nature and art—that creates the most exquisite feelings, the same as your emerald and diamond necklace resting on your beautiful swanlike neck.”

  This remark jolted her awareness back into the grotto as potent fire energy in her sacrum moved up her spine and coursed up into her skull where she felt a ping. Looking sideways, sloe-eyed, at his perfectly cut slacks and dark shirt open at the neck, her emerald and diamond filigree pendant burned her chest as she cast her eyes down to the mosaic border of waves and masks. She felt like bolting out of the cave. He just unzipped me!

  This hot energetic interchange was merely a few seconds. Satisfied, Armando deftly took her arm to lead her through a large rounded portal into a cavernous limestone grotto. When they entered the room, all eyes turned in their direction. The elegant Tuscan aristocrat accompanied by a young woman of great natural beauty and grace stopped the conversations for a moment. Who is she? Where did he turn her up? She is unknown, yet I think I’ve seen her. She literally glows; she shines. She must be a celebrity. Sarah felt a strange heady energy from all the people in the room. It was as though she were a vision conjured by them for their own purposes. She was relieved when they passed out of the main area.

  Several other grottoes opened up on the edges of the main cave, and Armando led her across a travertine floor to their own private grotto, with a table set with linen, silver, and flickering candles. The candlelight caused the crystals in the limestone to sparkle and her dangling diamond earrings to glow.

  The elegant and very private setting made Sarah feel off balance. She said nervously, “This is lovely, Armando. Thank you for bringing me here tonight. I’ve never eaten dinner in a cave before! Do you mind ordering for us, since this is your club?” Before she had time to take her words back, he’d already ordered two double martinis from the waiter who had suddenly appeared at the table’s side. With a smile, he said, “I noticed you liked having a martini with my mother in Tuscany, and that you like them up, dry, and with a twist.”

  In mellifluous Italian he ordered an appetizer, salad, and a rack of spring lamb for two, and then turned back to Sarah. “You may be interested in the source of this club’s name, Doria Pamphili. It comes from a nearby villa and gardens, the seventeenth-century playground for the Pamphili and Doria families. The Pamphili family produced Pope Innocent X, a very scandalous and controversial pope. He is of interest to me because he was the model for the face of Satan trampled by St. Michael the Archangel in a painting by Guido Reni. We can go see it at the Church of the Conception, Santa Maria della Concezione, if you like. Reni’s painting inspired the Portrait of Innocent X by Diego Velazquez that subsequently inspired Francis Bacon to paint ‘The Screaming Pope.’”

  As Armando spewed out this crazy story known to most Romans, he was enjoying her décolletage perfectly displayed in her low-cut dress. Her eyes are smoky green pools, and her perfect facial bones record centuries of good Celtic breeding. Her face is as perfect as any marble by Michelangelo.

  Sarah’s head spun with all the detail, as well as from the effects of her smooth double martini. She felt him studying her though he covered up his scrutiny with a wry smile, laughing eyes, and constant gesticulating. Armando was the most elegant man she’d ever dined with, and so she did not mind his attention. At the same time, she knew he was toying with her, testing her with unusual ideas to see where she’d take them. She responded, “Really! ‘The Screaming Pope’ is modeled on Pope Innocent? Hmmm.” His knees insistently rubbed the outsides of hers, making her feel edgy.

  “Well, yes. Actually, I’ve thought a lot about it,” he said as he poured her a glass of unfiltered red wine with a high percentage of alcohol. She wanted to take a piece of bread and dip it in olive oil, but since he didn’t, she resisted. “Bacon must have been obsessed with the true insanity of being a pope, a supposedly infallible human who is usually very sinful because he had to play nasty power games to get elected. I think Bacon’s screaming pope is a disturbing depiction of the total evil that invades almost any pope during his tenure, an infallibility neurosis that fascinated Bacon.

  “The other interesting story about this family is that Olimpia Maidalchini, the wife of the pope’s deceased brother, was the mistress of Innocent X!”

  Sarah took a serious sip of wine. The air around them seemed to crackle when he spoke, and then she caught a flash of another entity, a gray wraith, entering his body. Although the odd sight startled her, she didn’t consciously register what she saw because of the wine, the ideas being discussed, and Armando’s touch stimulating delicious sensations inside her thighs. It all happened in a moment, causing a palpable shift in the grotto.

  Slightly disoriented because she needed to eat, Sarah made the mistake of looking too deeply into his ancient eyes and apprehended pure evil, but again not consciously. Sensing evil too close to Sarah, her alarmed soul jumped into her body exactly when Armando hooked her. Armando hid a satisfied smile. He knew precisely when his carnal desire anchored in a woman because after many seductions he’d learned to recognize the signal—an intense almost painful electric snap in his right testicle. After that, just like any sadist, having his pleasure was a matter of time.

  Surrounded by sparkling crystal light and across the table from a gorgeous, elegant man whose focused dark eyes held her gaze, Sarah nonetheless felt her heart constrict into a tight knot. Her throat closed and she coughed. From what seemed like a distance she heard his voice saying, “The story of Olimpia Maidalchini is really intriguing, because nobody really knows what was actually going on behind closed doors. We know for sure that she controlled the papal court, which makes it likely she was his mistress. She locked the Pope in his chamber sometimes! This was a fascinating period in history—the time of the Thirty Years’ War in Europe, Cromwell’s rebellion in England, and the Reformation. While Europe was in turmoil, Innocent X took advantage by greatly increasing the power of the papacy with Olimpia manipulating the agenda. Religion is more about power than it is about faith. The villa near this club was Olimpia’s summer residence, and now Rome owns it and its wonderful gardens are public. So Olimpia lives on with us here in this club.”

  The waiter placed a large steaming rack of lamb in a rich brown sauce on the table. It melted under the waiter’s knife as he sliced off a few chops for each of them. Another waiter brought vegetables and potatoes on platters, and they helped themselves while the waiters poured more wine into their glasses. She felt a strange alienation, a great resistance to something. I’m the one who should’ve been named Innocent! I wish I weren’t here right now. But also I love being here, in an ancient grotto as a guest in a mysterious private club. Everything is so elegant, so perfect, so compelling.

  The lamb was tender and aromatic, the mint sauce sharp and fresh, and the wine tasted even better with dinner. Sarah began to relax again, so Armando said, “Please tell me what you’re looking into. I have been talking way too much about history and my club.” As he spoke, she glanced out into the room and noticed a sleek, curvaceous woman stuffed into a gleaming green satin dr
ess. A much older man was feeling up the woman’s rear end with a hairy, long-fingered hand. The woman’s head was thrown back, her dark shadowed eyes closed and her red-lipsticked mouth open in laughter. Armando followed her gaze and took note of Sarah’s shocked eyes.

  “Ahem,” he broke in, clearing his throat. “They do get going down here, since it’s kind of a sexy place with grottoes. That’s Italians.”

  Something about this didn’t quite square up with Sarah as she watched the man shove a fleur-de-lis cocktail stirrer between the woman’s breasts and then pull it out and lick it. The woman laughed again, and then they both got up and strolled over the black-and-white floor and out a back door. Something was disconcerting about that door so she asked, “Where are they going?”

  He hoped she wouldn’t also notice the painting of an erect Priapus on the lintel above their table as he said, “Oh, there is another part of the club, a small casino, and they go there to gamble. We can do it too, if you want to?” Noting the suspicion in her face he quickly added, “I’d love to hear more about your work, please?”

  “Oh, you know, sometimes I just get sick of my studies. Meanwhile, I’m fascinated by what you have to say about Innocent X, especially since your family produced a few popes.” Sarah wasn’t ready to talk about her discoveries with Armando, so she evaded him, and they bantered on while enjoying their dinners. He ordered two cognacs and a delicious chocolate torte slathered with cherries in brandy sauce, and then it was time to walk her back. His arm rested lightly around her waist as they walked along, enjoying the warm spring air. Soon they stood by her front door. With practiced ease he used his other hand to spin her to face him. Smoothly, like a potter molding a vase, he drew her closer; their lower bodies touched. He swept her cheek with his lips very delicately, saying softly, “I hope you will allow me to take you out again, soon?”

  Sarah felt his soft breath near her ear. The sugar had taken her slightly out of her body and the alcohol had melted her guard, leaving Sarah in a wild mood. The cedars swayed, her lower body felt warm against his, and she felt energy rising in her chest and neck as she felt his lips on her cheek by her ear. Like a silly teenage girl, she felt a desire to have him kiss her on the mouth, but she knew if he did, she would push him away. Armando had learned his lesson from the way things had gone in his studio, so he drew his head slowly back as she still felt his soft breath. Then she put both her hands on his chest, softly separating their bodies, and replied, “Yes, I’d love to see you again.”

  Lying in bed finally feeling safe and herself again, she wondered as she fell asleep, What on earth am I doing? Am I under his spell? How can I be responding so strongly to two men at the same time? How can I enjoy Simon yet also feel so excited by Armando? Of course my parents would love to see me marry a man like Armando, and they would never accept a Jewish guy. Daddy may want me to be a good girl, but he’d love it if I married the son of his old friend. “How wrong you are, Sarah, how wrong you are,” a voice whispered in the deepest recesses of her mind when she was sound asleep.

  As for Armando, as soon as he closed the door to Sarah’s foyer, he leaned on his Karmann Ghia and called Giaconda on his cell phone to ask her to meet him in the lobby of the Circus Maximus. They gambled in the casino for a few hours, surrounded by other couples openly making out and feeling each other up to get excited before going upstairs. Giaconda and Armando went up to his room in the hotel where he stripped her and braced her against the back of a settee while he sucked on her small, hard-nippled breasts. He pulled four leather strips out of his night bag and slid them all over the front of her body likes snakes as she arched her back and moaned. Then he tied her firmly to the bedposts, enjoying her willingness and enthusiasm. He got between her outstretched legs, ripped off her flimsy thong, and pushed in his huge penis. He held her ass high, watching her heaving breasts as he plunged in harder and harder while her breathing quickened and her body got hot. As he pushed and she moved with him, he felt the hot rising energy flooding his brain with light when she screamed, “Yes, oh yes, oh-oh-oh yes!”

  As Armando lay there while Giaconda fell asleep, he felt himself slipping into the twilight zone where he saw a distant temple. Walking up to the temple on a curving path lined with multicolored flowers, he entered the round open building with ten white columns, the Temple of Venus. Moving deeper into his dream state, he saw a thin and beautiful woman dressed in a gauzy white robe sitting on a bench in the center. He approached her with reverence, as if he were Cicero seeking Livia. She said, “Ah, fine. You have finally come to me, the goddess of love and of the hearth. You have found me in a woman, a lovely woman, but she is my Vestal Virgin! If you choose her for your wife, remember you will ruin her if you take her before she is willing. Do not forget, Armando.” And then he fell into a deep sleep. He didn’t recall the dream, but he got the message.

  11

  What about Marriage?

  As spring passed into summer in 2012, many commented on what a peculiar year it was. People talked of the world coming to an end based on the Mayan Calendar. In Europe people took to the streets to express their frustrations when economic austerity caused high unemployment, and the viability of the euro was threatened by tension in Greece. People in the Middle East had fought for their rights during the 2011 Arab Spring, and in 2012 Egypt, Syria, Iraq, and Iran became very unstable. Globally a great malaise was building due to stress over constant wars and climate change, but for Sarah a romantic future was beckoning.

  Early one June morning her apartment was warm and humid even before the sun rose. She sat in her window seat wondering if she was in Rome to find her partner. And if so, who would it be? Simon or Armando? Armando sent her lovely flowers every other day; he was such a romantic. And their long daytime walks and sensual, languorous dinners made her happy. But just as the idea of Simon started to fade in her mind, he called her with the latest news on the ossuaries, saying, “Many people are beginning to revise their beliefs about the origins of Christianity. Orthodoxy is challenged.”

  Enjoying fresh coffee while delighting in the aroma of the morning dew, she thought about how she lived in two different worlds. Who created this script—a dashing and intense Italian aristocratic artist in hot pursuit while at the same time I share ideas with a heart-warming, sweet, intellectual man? Watching a young couple linger by the garden wall to stop and kiss near the fountain, she felt like she’d never had so much fun. What’s changed in me? Why now? I feel myself opening like a rose.

  At this point the media was calling the pope “God’s Rottweiler” because he ranted and raved against movements in Austria that collected the signatures of priests who demanded an end to celibacy, permission for woman’s ordination, and Communion for divorced Catholics. The desperate pope called the faithful to “radical obedience,” which enraged them because they were horrified by the priestly abuse and financial erosion of their parishes.

  In May an Italian journalist, Gianluigi Nuzzi, had published Your Holiness: The Secret Papers of Benedict XVI, a collection of leaked private Vatican correspondence—”Vatileaks”—concerning struggles over the control of the Vatican Bank and hidden details about widespread corruption. For example, large sums of money from powerful business leaders and politicians for private audiences were doled out to the pope’s secretary, Georg Gaenswein. Nuzzi’s book described systemic disorder in the ancient institution. Romans chortled gleefully over these revelations. The Vatican was in total chaos! Clearly the so-called infallible pope was not in control.

  A few days after Nuzzi’s book was published, the president of the Vatican Bank, Ettore Tedeschi, was fired. And the day after that something truly bizarre happened: the pope’s butler, Paolo Gabriele, was put under house arrest. Romans assumed the butler was a scapegoat, since the volume of leaks was far greater than files he could have gathered himself. In fact, Nuzzi said in an interview that one of his sources told him there were at least twenty whistle-blowers in the Vatican. Change was in the air, according to
Nuzzi, who said his book would never even have been published twenty years earlier.

  Sarah was still obsessed with Gnostic theology, clearly the great threat to orthodoxy two thousand years ago. She flooded her senses with the intriguing Gnostic creation story of the wisdom goddess, Sophia; Lucifer; and the demiurge, the lesser god Yahweh. Was Jesus a Gnostic? Was Paul? Was Marcion, even? The more she studied the original documents, the more distraught she became about the loss of ancient wisdom. What if Jesus had been the central player in a Gnostic cosmic drama, a liberating breakthrough figure awaited for thousands of years? Was Jesus a divine being who incarnated on Earth to bridge our world with the spiritual realms? If that was his purpose, suppressing the truth about him was criminal. It still is. Imagine how the world could transform if the truth was revealed.

  Later, while relaxing at a small outdoor cafe near the Fountain of Four Rivers in the Piazza Navona, she thought more about the early Church. Her studies had finally started to coalesce in a way that made sense to her. Finally she felt she could see the whole picture. Before 200 BCE, the ancient world had participated in an exciting and complex, global, spiritual, and magical culture. Prophets and great teachers were communicating with each other from Egypt to Persia, from the Middle East to the British Isles, from Greece to Rome, and all this wisdom was gathered in the Alexandrian Library. The fragments Sarah had studied indicated they accomplished a great synthesis of global knowledge, evolution, sacred science, cosmology, and art. Sarah believed this knowledge went back more than ten thousand years.

  She crossed her legs and looked across the piazza, feeling someone’s eyes on her. Unable to find the source of the gaze, she returnd to her thoughts. She couldn’t escape the ugly truth anymore even if it meant she would lose her faith: During the fourth century in Rome, early Christianity had aligned with the emperor Constantine to create Roman Catholicism, a murderous religion. Ancient wisdom was deemed heretical, and the faithful were forced to worship the Jewish god, Yahweh. Marcion had become the big threat because he wanted to base Christianity on Jesus and compassion, a New Covenant. I’m having a crisis of faith! I know Jesus came to teach us about love to awaken our hearts. Finding my own love may be what my journey with Christ is about from now on.