The Fourth Nail: An Historical Novel

by Paul Argentini

  “In those few moments we had together before his funeral, I assured Angelus I would come see you. He spoke of this land and the crops, the working people, and the special grapes that were harvested here, Trascori, I think.”

  “Yes.”

  “Many times he expressed his homesickness. He said you thoroughly enjoyed this life.”

  “My motto is enjoy your life!”

  “Angelus certainly tried to do that!” Marius got up. He started to approach Davidio.

  The guard held up his hand, and motioned Marius was to stay back.

  Marius nodded. “Thank you for seeing me. I must go. What I have for you is probably worth a small fortune.” Marius brought out a small leather bag. It got Davidio’s interest immediately. Slowly Marius took from it a carved piece of jade. He held it between his fingers.

  Davidio motioned for him to bring it closer.

  Marius turned his back to the guard as he held the stone up high before Davidio to make him stretch and bare his neck. Davidio greedily reached up for it. Marius fished back into the leather bag. He withdrew from it a thin, short shaving blade. Acting swiftly, Marius grabbed Davidio’s hair and pulled his head back using his other hand holding the blade to force open his mouth. “This from your brother, Angelus,” he said as he spit into his open mouth. Then, Marius pulled the sharp instrument across Davidio’s throat. It gaped open from one side of the jawbone to the other; blood spurted wildly as it gurgled in his scream.

  The guard was caught totally by surprise. He reached for his sword. Marius held up his hand. He picked up the jade and handed it to the guard staring hard into his eyes. “Do not be too quick to sound the alarm.”

  Marius looked down at the moribund Davidio, and thought out loud, “Not quite an evisceration, Angelus, but it will have to do.”

  To Marius it was a debt paid to a promise made—first to himself.

  28

  The guard again spoke rapidly, urgently to the Lama, who answered him quietly. The guard replied to his query. The Lama nodded and appeared to issue orders to the guard.

  The Lama turned to Roberto and Diura. “The Russian has taken the scrolls. He put them in a knapsack and has left the abode. It seems he gave the guard strong spirits which incapacitated him and allowed the Russian to grab the scrolls and leave. We must stop him and regain them!”

  Roberto and Diura grabbed their knapsacks with their climbing gear, followed the Lama out the door, then, down the difficult climb to the floor of the ravine.

  When they got there, they watched a guard nock an arrow into his recurved bow, pull back, take aim and let the arrow fly. They could see it was intended for Andreyovich who was two-thirds of the way to the top on the other side. The arrow went short of the mark.

  “Andreyovich!” Roberto shouted through his cupped hands, “don’t do this!”

  The Russian made the top, and turned back to shout, “Fifty million dollars! More than I make in month! Besides! Saint Nicholovski is not be bad to be!”

  The Lama held out his hand to Diura. “You have been marked as a special lady. You are both very lucky to have each other. My blessings on you both. Goodbye,” he said to her. He turned to Roberto. “I regret things had to turn out as they did. You had no way of knowing. We will get the scrolls from Andreyovich Nicholovski either here or we will take the short cut and wait for him in Hoten. Do not return unless we fail to retrieve the scrolls or you come to return them. In spite of this, it was a pleasure to meet Dr. Donadio’s son.”

  Roberto took his outstretched hand, then, compulsively wrapped his arms around him. “I’m sorry for what happened, too, but thank you for one of the greatest moments in my life.”

  Roberto and Diura jogged after the guards racing up the side of the ravine.

  By the time Roberto reached the crest, he saw Andreyovich at the edge of the blue ice wall, and scrambling halfway to him were two of the guards from the abode. Andreyovich had no time to put on his climbing harness, and would rappel in the old-time classic manner. Roberto watched in anguish as he put the rope through the carabineer. He passed the double rope under one thigh, across the body and over the opposite shoulder. The guards drew closer to him. In short order, he would rappel down the wall, cross the ice, pass the base camp and get to the vehicles. He’d take one vehicle and disable the other. Perhaps he would head for Hoten. Perhaps he wouldn’t, Roberto thought.

  As Diura came up alongside Roberto, they watched Andreyovich reach down for the knapsack. As he put his back to the void to start his rappel he looked back at them and waved his arm slowly. He put the flask to his lips, shoved it into his pocket, and turned to look down.

  Roberto and Diura watched him throw himself backwards off the wall. Suddenly, to their horror, Andreyovich jerked to a stop, and then flew off into space as he screamed. The knapsack was thrown out of his hand. One by one the gold cases went free, then, one by one the scrolls burst out of their cases. They were caught by the flashing winds, and flew loosely, resembling paper rolls thrown out of windows during ticker tape parades. Andreyovich’s loud, long agonizing yell came up to them until it slowly died out. The wind caught the scrolls efficiently shredding them to pieces as others flew in long, lazy loops like unfettered kites in updrafts until they, too, now far away, were caught, ripped, scattered limply over the foreboding landscape before disappearing.

  Roberto gasped at the thought of Stolli’s death, and for certain that the original scrolls of The Marius Diary unimaginably would be lost to the world forever.

  When Roberto and Diura reached the edge of the ice wall, there was no sign of Andreyovich below. He had crashed onto the ice patch and slid off into the distant further ravine. It was in a place where, similar to other mountain climbing deaths, the body was just too inaccessible to retrieve and would remain where it landed as its final resting place.

  One of the guards shook his head as he took a piton off his ring and pointed to the hole in the ice where there had been one. Andreyovich had committed a cardinal sin. In his hurry to get away, he had counted on an old piton without testing its reliability. The one he used pulled out when he threw his weight on it and caused his death.

  The guards accompanied Roberto and Diura down to the ice field to within sight of the base camp before turning back.

  When they were a short distance from the camp Roberto stopped Diura. “Look!” he said.

  “What am I looking at?” Diura said.

  “About two yards in front of us,” he said, then pointed. “There, on the ground. It’s a small portion from one of the scrolls!” He turned and saw the guards were watching them. “D-D, kneel down to tie your boot!” She understood immediately, and did as he asked. Roberto watched her for a few moments. Then he also went to his knees as if he were helping her. Instead, he moved quickly to roll up the parchment, and, blocked by Diura, carefully hid the scrap in his jacket. They both got up, and made their way to the camp.

  “Roberto, this is a tragedy. A real calamity. To have one man’s greed deprive the world of such a treasure. They are lost forever. So close. We had the scrolls in our hands. Think of it, after centuries of searching for them they are lost forever in such a manner. Were you able to decipher anything at all? Can you tell where Marius hid the fourth nail?”

  “No. Nothing. If ever there was an appropriate moment to cry, this would be it. I could make out words here and there. It was signed clearly, ‘Marius of Rome.’ I have some notes, but there’s no question they are totally useless. Thank you, Diura, for sharing this venture. We will remember it for always.”

  They told one porter to stay with the truck, and return to Hoten with all the gear. He explained the two of them could keep and share everything. The other driver would take them back to Hoten immediately.

  On the ride, Diura pointedly asked Roberto, “Did you learn anything important about the fourth nail from the scrolls?”

  Roberto shook his head. “No. No, I wasn’t able to decipher a thing. I told you I tried to read the scroll
s, but I was unable to do so. I wasn’t sure of the Latin, and it was written in a difficult to read, cramped, something of a shorthand style that was totally unintelligible to me. I spent a lot of time trying to make the sections that were damaged but somewhat legible to no avail. I barely had time to do what I had to do.”

  “Roberto, I’m so sorry,” Diura said. “I’m dreadfully sorry. I thought I would feel differently when your work with The Marius Diary was over. Ambivalent, perhaps, happy you could devote your time to me somewhat. But, now, this...such a waste. All the years of all the people, all gone for nothing. The original version of The Marius Diary truly is gone?”

  “You saw what I did. The Marius Diary is no more. Yes. The scrap we found is all that is left. It can be carbon dated, I think. It will authenticate our report. At least the scrap will validate our diary about the search for The Marius Diary.”

  “No chance ever to recover such a priceless, historical treasure?”

  “None. You saw it ripped to shreds and scattered to inaccessible places,” he said. “I would rather Stolli had gotten away with the scrolls of The Marius Diary, at least they would still exist.”

  XXIX

  Returning to Rome after his mission up north to tend to Angelus’ brother, Marius found two messages waiting for him.

  The first was from Augustus of the caravan. He had come to visit Marius. He was on his way to his home in the far south. He would return to visit him on his trip north to the Silk Route some many months hence.

  The second was an urgent message from Beatrice. “Quickly! Come!” There was an emergency. He went directly to the home he bought for her.

  When Marius saw her peering through the opening in the shawl pulled tightly over her head to hide her face, he could see she was overwrought.

  “Antonius is ill with the fever!”

  “Did you get a physician?”

  “I’ve called all sorts! He remains terribly ill! Do something! Help him!”

  “I know nothing about healing! I’ll call more physicians!”

  “No! I can do that! If you want to do something for me, you help him! You can’t let your son die!”

  “My son? This is a shock! To know I have a son? I honor you, Beatrice. Thank you.” He had an inkling that kept the news from being a total surprise. He saw a lot of himself in Antonius.

  “You may not remember, but that night so long ago you paid for and you got a virgin. That was I! And Antonius is the result of your manly feats that horrible night! Yes. He’s yours. Now do something or you won’t have him for long!”

  Marius sat by Antonius who was burning up with fever. A servant kept his forehead covered with cold compresses. Marius shook his head. He had no idea what he could do to help the boy.

  Marius left him to walk the atrium. He went into deep thought. A son! What a magnificent discovery. If only he had known earlier to introduce him to his grandfather. What could he do to help the boy? Idly, his hand touched his neck cloth and collar. It took a long while, but suddenly the revelation came to him. If the relics had done strange and mysterious things before why would they not now perform the same way? What harm to try them?

  Marius sent the servant out of the room so he could be alone with Antonius. The servant left and reported to Beatrice. More than curious, she decided to watch Marius through a slit in the door.

  She saw Marius remove the neck cloth and the collar from his neck. Then, he used the stained and bloody cloth to wipe the sweat from the boy’s face and neck. He cut the collar from his neck and put it between Antonius’s hands and squeezed them together for a long time.

  The boy murmured and asked Marius to remain with him. Marius put the relics on the table beside the bed, and lay down beside Antonius.

  In the morning, Beatrice found her son sitting up in bed smiling at her with Marius snoring.

  She woke up Marius. “Antonius is well! What did you do? What did you do?”

  Marius was baffled by her questions, but delighted to find the boy ready to go outside to play.

  “Tell me how you did that?” Beatrice implored.

  “I didn’t do anything. The boy simply fought off the fever. I’m glad.” But Marius, as he left Beatrice’s home to return to his own house, knew in his heart the boy’s recovery was not a coincidence. He shook his head. The mystery deepened. He concluded the relics held some sort of power. In this case, again, they had done well.

  Beatrice was not without thoughts of her own concerning her son’s magical recovery and Marius’s actions with the relics. There had to be a relevancy.

  When she was alone in her son’s room, she picked up the neck cloth. It was filthy, still wet with Antonius’s sweat. She closed her eyes, pulled down her shawl, and rubbed the burn scar that ran from her forehead, down past her crumpled eyelid, over the gnarled cheek flesh, past the stump of an ear, down her neck, and onto her bosom. She took the collar and held it tightly in her hands as she had seen Marius do with Antonius. She left the relics as she found them, covered herself, and left the room.

  Marius, suddenly aware he had forgotten to take the relics, returned to Beatrice’s home. He retrieved the relics, and told Beatrice he would return in a few days to check on Antonius. Aware of the possible value of the relics, Marius knew he had to put them in a safe place. He would buy a gold box and secrete them, but did not know exactly where that would be.

  Two days later, a servant let in Marius and said she would let Beatrice know he was in the salon.

  Beatrice entered, the shawl over her face, and walked directly up to him. “Marius? In a weak moment I told you one day we might become friends?” He nodded. “Yes, we can be friends.” She walked a short distance away toward the shadows in the room.

  “Because of Antonius? I can’t take credit for that.”

  “Perhaps yes, perhaps no,” she said. She slipped the shawl from her head and turned toward him.

  Marius looked at her. He shook his head spastically, as if his vision had failed.

  Beatrice looked at him seductively, a smile flashing across her face.

  “Beatrice?”

  “What do you think?”

  When Marius saw her, his body chilled, his insides tightened, his mouth fell open. He threw his hand up to his forehead. He could not comprehend what he was looking at. It was a woman, a stunningly beautiful woman. “Beatrice?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your disfigurement...”

  “Yes.”

  Marius was transfixed. The sight was too enormous for him to comprehend all in one sweep of time. He moved slowly to find a place to sit. “How can this be?” he murmured.

  Beatrice, walked before him, kneeled, and instinctively remained quiet. Time had stopped for her, too, when she first saw the transformation. It had taken her all this time to believe the change was permanent. Without a second thought, she knew Marius’s relics were somehow responsible.

  Marius sat quietly for a long time. He knew now to a complete certainty that the fourth nail and the neck cloth held immense powers. For Antonius and Beatrice it was extremely positive. For Davidio quite bad, however.

  No matter, his thought to hide the relics was best. First, he had to make sure the workings of the fourth nail were kept secret. Then he would put them in the gold box and hide it.

  He turned to Beatrice. “You must keep all this a secret. You must not reveal to anyone, anyone! what has happened to you and Antonius. If it becomes known much harm will be done.” Then, as a cruel after thought, he added, “Always remember, I can reverse these happenings! Do you understand?”

  “Tell no one.”

  “Yes.”

  “That will be so difficult! I would like to show myself. And what of Antonius and what he might say?”

  Marius got to his feet and paced. Deep in his bones he knew all of this had to do with the three tasks he was given, but he could decipher no more than that. More pressing was the change in Beatrice. He had to come up with a plan. The simpler it was the better it would
be.

  “Continue to wear your shawl and hide your face, even while in the house for the benefit of the servants. Tell them you are going on an extended trip and release them. In two weeks or more, I will pass the news that Beatrice fell ill while she was away and died. You will return as Beatrice’s cousin, so you may remain in this house, and raise Antonius close to me, his father. You will have to instruct Antonius in all of this. Only you can make this scheme work. Are you willing to do it?”

  Beatrice, terrified to lose her newfound beauty, quickly agreed to the plan and set it into motion.

  Another part of the plan, which he did not tell Beatrice, was that he had to hide the relics. He decided it would not be wisest to put them in a remote place, not anywhere in or near his own home. Why not this home? It would be ideal he thought, and he would have the freedom to work in secret when Beatrice and Antonius went away.

  Marius walked through the house examining every room carefully. Marius decided the hiding place would be in the center of the reception room. He moved aside the furnishings. Then he lifted and set aside enough of the marble floor tiles to give him room to work. He dug until he could throw out no more dirt from the hole.

  He checked that the nail and collar were in the gold box, which he had engraved inside the cover to leave proof positive that this was Clavus Quartus. He wrapped it in a small rug, then in a goatskin, and buried it in the hole.

  30

  Leaving the campsite, Roberto shook his head a bit as he watched the driver, then, when he could be seen, he put his index finger to his lips. Diura understood. She barely nodded. Any conversation about The Marius Diary was silenced.

  In the city, Roberto told Diura he wanted to buy something nice.

  “How nice?”

  “Mmmmm! something expensive and expansive.”

  “Like what?” she asked.

  “How about a carved white jade statue? As a token of our friendship,” he said.

  “For me, that token would have a special niche,” she said.