The Fourth Nail: An Historical Novel

by Paul Argentini

  “Holy shit!” Diura said.

  “Son of a bitch!” Roberto said. “No wonder this has been a mystery for two-thousand years!”

  Stella said: “You’ll have to underline and capitalize those exclamations after I tell you we just got lucky! Cari, this is what networking will get you. An MIT classmate of mine has a friend who knows a classmate of my husband’s who swears he will help. He is a defrocked Russian priest who works as a mountaineer. He has made ascents at Lenin and Muztagata peaks; Denali, Ushba, and Elbruz. Make no mistake; Androyev Nicholovski is a Russian capitalist first. He will arrange total and complete plans for any expedition you may wish to take. That’s one thing. Listen to this: He is a professor of ecclesiastical antiquities specializing in domiciles, hilltop forts, cloisters, palaces and protuberances, including structures that integrate caves and escarpments. He has a huge photographic library of petroglyphs and pictographs. His study includes freestanding edifices, remains of sedentary villages, and cist-type graves, both square and round in form. He is the expert of stelae built within a quadrangular perimeter, and monolithic arrays usually with accompanying structures and other remains such as mountain top walls and earth works. A hermitage is kindergarten stuff for him. He claims he can sniff out where one has existed within the last 500 years just as a pig can snort out truffles. He insists he be part of this research. If all this sounds too good to be true, it is. I think besides big money—American--he has a predilection for twelve-year-old Tasmanian maids or some other equally disgusting morbid compulsive aberration. If I could get away with it, I’d pose as a Tasmanian willingly. I think you’d better leave D at home. At last report he was making a cell phone call from the 25,340-foot peak of Ulugh Muz Tagh, or Arkatag, or also known as the Przhevalsky Range. Whatever, he wants to meet with you. Such research re-ignites his enthusiasm. He seeks the challenge.”

  “So? When do we leave?” Diura asked.

  “We’ll get married when I get back,” Roberto said.

  “Okay! We’ll get married before we go!” she replied.

  “Cara! It’s much too dangerous a journey!” he said.

  “You make me sound like a prehistoric male chauvinist.”

  “You forget, Caro,” holding his hand in both of hers, Diura said, “I don’t like to bring it up, but I don’t know how much time we are destined to be together. I thought through my absence I could coerce you into marrying, but now I find that unimportant. These months with you has been Paradise for me. It’s what I wanted. That it has to satisfy me? No. I will not accept that. If there’s more, then I want it. I want to be with you every moment I am able. Whatever it takes. Do you read me? Whatever it takes.”

  What it was going to take, Roberto told her, was a flight to Amsterdam, and from there, a seven-hour flight by KLM jet to Astana, the capital of Kazakhstan. They would not be far from the remote regions near the border of eastern China. He was not going to put her through that. The possibility was it could all be for nothing. Stella herself said it. She had been digging through the centuries with a smoke shovel. She had come up with a fact pie—one fact and hundreds of guesses, assumptions, inventions. Yes, there had been actual landmasses, and countries, and routes, and people, and places, but very little on which to base historical accuracy. It was not the story of a people who left records of their existence, but of a person who was more ghost and imagination than substance. They were trying to prove that this specter existed and left behind something of substance. It would be somewhat satisfying, Roberto said, if he could learn how the rumor of Marius and the Clavus Quartus got started. Despite Stella’s genius, there was a superior chance the Kunlun Mountains would keep its own secrets. If he had full or some good part of full faith in the journey, he would welcome her company on the first leg.

  “I would investigate whatever hermitages were likely repositories of The Marius Diary,” Roberto said, “and return to you with or without success, with or without some information about Marius. Besides, Stella said I should not take you, and I always listen to Stella.”

  “Stella also said we should get married. That was two months ago. Okay?” Diura said with finality. “Then, I’ve been with you for most of the difficult work, I’d like to collect on some of the fun, too. I bet half the world has been to Kazazkstan and ridden a yak, why should I be left out?”

  “Yak are long-haired ox found in neighboring Tibet and central Asia. You don’t ride a Yak, you have to listen to it from petulant females who don’t get their way, which I will have to endure from you for the rest of my life if I don’t agree to let you come!”

  “You got that straight. That’s why I love you, you’re so smart!” Diura said. “Tell me again why we’re going there?”

  XXI

  Marius and Angelus once again found themselves on the fo’c’sle of a ship that was plying foreign waters, but this time they were headed in the opposite direction--homebound. So far, they had traveled in a westerly direction for more than three days.

  Their exuberance rose to higher and higher levels every time they spoke of home. Angelus liked to speculate on how he would eviscerate his brother, dwelling on the details.

  Marius would not speculate beyond his desire to see his family. He explained it would keep him from being disappointed whatever he found. He thought of Teresa and wondered when and where, if ever, he would hold her in his arms again.

  The nail was the object of long and serious attention. In the privacy at the front of the ship Marius unwrapped the nail from the bloody neck cloth. “Angelus, a voice inside me draws me to this nail.”

  “Like what?”

  “The man we crucified called himself a Messiah. What’s a Messiah?”

  “I’m not sure. Like a rabbi, but more? Eh?”

  “Something mysterious? Look at my hand. It’s like new! When I touched Him my hand went cold, and suddenly it was no longer deformed. And look at how you were fixed. What kind of workings are these?”

  “I can’t explain it. I’m just happy it is!” Angelus said joyously. “My handiwork will attest everything with me down there is in good working order! Yes? Eh?”

  “Yes, I notice the light has come back in your eyes!”

  They laughed. Marius jabbed Angelus’s shoulder. “You know? He wasn’t an ordinary man, like you or me. He had been scourged and was about to undergo an excruciating death, and He was filled with compassion for me! For me!” Marius said tapping his chest. “How did he know the pain I felt in my heart for what I was about to do, and that it was something equal to what He was about to endure?” Marius asked Angelus. “It was as if we were brothers of that moment! There was that instant when I first looked into His eyes that I wanted to run away, yet, I was stayed by the message I read therein,” Marius went on. “It wasn’t until we came aboard this ship,” Marius said, “and I felt the nail stuck in my belt that in my mind I was carried back to our work. How clear the message was then that came to me. He said I would do well my three tasks. Last night I thought of them. Of the three tasks, the first was to crucify Him. Almost as a revelation the second task came to me. It is to deliver this nail to Rome!”

  “If you say so,” Angelus agreed. “What are you going to do in Rome with that nail? Eh? And what could be this third task? Eh?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t the slightest idea.”

  “Let me know when it is revealed to you, yes?”

  “Yes. That means we’ve got to find a way to keep the nail safe, so I can’t lose it, or have it taken from me.”

  Marius decided it should be sewn in a leather collar. He left to borrow a needle and waxed thread from the ship’s sail maker. He returned to the foc’s’le to fashion a leather collar from his belt. Ensconced in the middle of it was the fourth nail. As a collar, the ends would be overlapped and sewn together around his neck to make it a solid ring. It would take some doing to tear it away from him. Also, he would use the bloodstained bandanna to hide it.

  Marius reached the point in his work with the col
lar where he asked Angelus to sew the overlapping ends while it was on his neck. Carefully working the needle through the thick leather, Angelus took tight stitches. Then he tied off the end of the thread and bit the needle free.

  Marius nudged Angelus. “We are being watched. A sailor caught sight of my gold bracelet before it was hidden with the leather wrappings. We must make our way aft where we would not so easily be cornered and where a little boat is towed.”

  Picking up quickly on the seriousness of the situation, Angelus laughed. Talking animatedly, he followed Marius as they sauntered across the deck toward the aft section of the ship.

  As they passed sailors, they smiled and waved in greeting and moved on until they were at the stern railing. “We’ll sleep here tonight,” Marius said, “with one of us awake at all times. It would be best if they thought us both asleep. Darkness is when evil best does its work.”

  “We need a weapon,” Angelus said.

  Marius agreed.

  They spotted a dowel around which the painter from the sail was wrapped. The handle of the tiller could clear a path in a hurry, they acknowledged, once the peg that held it in place was pulled free. They knew the captain carried a wicked-looking blade.

  That evening in the light of the moon Marius saw shadows moving furtively towards them. He nudged Angelus.

  On Marius’s signal, Angelus loosed the line around the dowel and pulled it out. Marius pushed the helmsman out of the way, and freed the tiller. He took it in both hands and swung at the closest man. The sound as it struck the man told Marius he had broken the man’s arm. Angelus jabbed the dowel at the man nearest him, but the man was too strong for him, and brought him to the planking.

  “Marius!” Angelus shouted.

  Marius brought the tiller around, cracking the assailant’s head and knocking him overboard. Instinct made him twist around to catch the upraised arm of an attacker about to cut him in two. Marius used the tiller to block the blow, then grabbed the hand that held the blade and wrestled it free. He used it to slash at the man’s chest. He saw more crewmen closing in.

  “Jump! Angelus! Jump!” Marius shouted.

  “I can’t swim!” Angelus shouted.

  In a syncopated rhythm, Marius grabbed Angelus with one hand and shoved him overboard, while with the other he cut the line holding the dinghy. Marius swung at the nearest man to hold him at bay. Then, Marius dove over the fantail.

  He grabbed Angelus and towed him the short distance to the dinghy. Together they clambered into the boat.

  At daybreak, when he awoke, Marius found a small bag made of skin that held foul- smelling water. There was nothing else, no food, sail, oars. He wondered how long they would be adrift, and how long they could make the water last.

  They had been adrift for a week, the last two days without water. They were sunburned, with peeling skin, dried lips. A storm came up. When it cleared, Angelus spotted a spit of land. He paddled from inside the boat while Marius went overboard, and swam using the rope to pull the boat behind him.

  When Marius finally touched bottom and stopped swimming, his muscles totally cramped. As weak as he was, Angelus pulled Marius up and onto the shore and massaged his arms and legs to reduce the spasms. Then, they both collapsed asleep.

  Marius opened his eyes as water dripped onto his lips. He looked into the blackest eyes he ever saw. It was a dark-skinned girl, perhaps eleven years old, with a shawl over her tightly knotted hair looking down at him with a worried expression on her face. He tried to smile at her. When she saw his expression change, she ran away.

  Soon, men surrounded them. The girl was a member of a small nomadic tribe that kept goats and traveled from one grazing spot to another. They wore loose fitting, intricately spun, colorful clothing. They used animal skins and poles to make one large lodging where everyone slept. The men carried short, curved, sharp-edged weapons. The leader, in a make-do sign language, indicated they had spotted the boat, and found them.

  Marius saw no way to have the leader understand where he wanted to go, but he understood Marius had a destination in mind. After a lot of talk and gestures Marius got the idea that they were welcome to travel with them. The leader made it understood that they often met larger travel caravans with which they bartered.

  Almost a month went by when they came to an oasis. The leader went to see about getting water from the group already there. Marius had to surmise a lot to try to understand the sign language and words he did not understand. Marius finally realized that the tribe would not be allowed near the oasis unless they paid for the privilege to draw water. Payment would include a very young girl, about the age of the leader’s daughter who found Marius.

  Marius understood this was not usual. These were ruffians. The leader made it known they could not afford to pay. The leader was concerned that if they tried to reach the next oasis they would lose too many animals en route. There was no alternative but to pay the blackmail.

  Marius tried to explain that he wanted to repay the people for their kindness, and that he would simply have a talk with their leader.

  “How you do that? Eh?” Angelus asked. “You can barely speak with these people, how you can speak with thieves?”

  “We owe these people for our lives. We must repay them,” Marius said. “When speaking with wild animals, speak as they do—with the blade.”

  After nightfall, Marius and Angelus circled around to the other side of the oasis.

  They saw five camels, but only three men around a fire. Marius indicated the other two might be in the small tent. They would go there first.

  At the tent, Marius slipped in first. The man to his right sat up quickly. Marius struck him with his blade at the side of his neck. Angelus, holding his weapon with two hands, plunged it into the second man’s throat.

  “Leave the three by the fire to me,” Marius whispered.

  Marius strode quickly to the fire. The first man to spot him jumped to his feet. Marius put his blade through his stomach.

  The second man jumped up holding his sword.

  Angelus kept his eye on the third man who scuttled away a short distance.

  Marius stood his ground. As the man brought his weapon around from the back of his head, Marius switched his blade from one hand to the other. He brought it up swiftly to hack off the man’s arm at the wrist, then slashed open the man’s chest.

  Angelus pointed with his sword, “There! In the shadows!”

  Marius spotted the figure, and circled around the fire to get to him. Angelus stepped in to cut off his retreat.

  The man leaped out, and instead of making for Marius, turned to attack Angelus. In an instant Marius hurled his sword.

  The tip of it caught the man at his cheekbone, went through his brain to the other side of the skull.

  Angelus stared at Marius. “How would you feel if you missed him and got me?”

  Marius shrugged. “Lonely?”

  Angelus whacked him on the shoulder and together they dragged the bodies a distance away from the oasis and buried them in the sand.

  They returned to the tribe to report that they had reached an understanding with the ruffians. They were convinced to go on their way and leave their camels and goods for the tribe.

  The leader was grateful. They had saved the tribe untold hardship and in honor would kill a goat for them for the evening meal.

  A little more than a week later, the tribe was to take an inland route. Marius and Angelus said their farewells, and took a route to the north. Marius understood it was a week’s journey to the port city.

  They were still a distance out from the port when early in the morning they came to another tribal settlement. This one was large with what Marius estimated to be at least 60 members. There were many tents surrounding a very large one. Within the perimeter of the tents were at least 20 camels. Marius told Angelus there was no reason to stop at this encampment, and that they should continue their journey to the port city without delay. Angelus agreed. Then, a lone rider
on a camel came out to greet them. He motioned they would be welcome to spend the night, conveying the idea the leader wanted news from other cities. They would be on their way to the port city the next day, and they could make the journey with them by camel. It would be faster and easier.

  “Let’s move on, Angelus,” Marius said.

  “What? We’re walking to Rome?” Angelus asked. “We both could use the rest.”

  Against his better judgment, Marius agreed to accept the invitation.

  The rider indicated they should enter the large tent.

  As soon as Marius’s eyes adjusted to the dimness he saw in the center a man and a woman fornicating. He turned to leave, but the rider who came in with them shook his head and shrugged indicating this occurred as a matter of course. Within moments the man stood, closed his robe, and walked to greet his guests.

  The man was young, tall, wore a heavy moustache and goatee, and had dark, intense-looking eyes. As he tied his sash, he strolled around them taking in every inch of them. He felt the food and water bags, then tapped their blades, nodding in approval. He turned to walk away, stopped, and returned to Marius. He tapped the bracelet at his wrist, and jerked his chin up, as if to ask what it was. Marius lifted his hand, made a tight fist and jerked it to indicate it gave him strength. The bearded man pointed to the leather band and made a circle with his hand. Marius understood he wanted to know what was underneath. He shook his head. The man nodded. Marius dropped his arm. The man pointed to his bandanna, and made the same circular motion. Marius shook his head. The man nodded. Marius tapped Angelus. “Let’s get out of here.”