They were down to the final few possible sites from the second set of calculations, using Stadium length assumptions of 606.8 feet and 577.28 feet. The longer Stadium had come up dry, and at day six they’d moved down the creek 350 yards and shortened the elevation appropriately, to factor in the shorter unit of measurement. That had yielded another area to be dug up, which, allowing for a margin of error, would take another five or six days. They were nearing the end of that run, and Steven was becoming obsessive about checking and rechecking every aspect of the translation.
That morning, as he sighted with the rangefinder and studied the canyon with his binoculars, watching as Arturo and Francois toiled diligently at their task, he’d had a breakthrough thought – one of the flashes of inspiration that seemed to have deserted him since Antonia’s death. What if the calculations, the Stadium length, had been written with a different, more obscure length than what he’d assumed? The logical unit would have been the Italic, given the document, with the more distant possibility the shorter Olympic. But what if they’d used the Egyptian? Given the location in Jordan, it wasn’t impossible, but it hinted at a far more ancient burial. He did a quick calculation and figured that it would put the starting point for the ascent roughly a thousand yards further east of their original position.
Steven grabbed his binoculars, and Natalie, spying him from where she was working on the computer near the kitchen, wandered over to join him.
“We going sightseeing?” she asked.
“I want to check something out.”
He explained his new theory as they trudged up the river bed to the new point, Steven watching the GPS screen as they walked.
“We’re here,” he announced.
They both looked up the side of the canyon, to see a steep slope interrupted by a ravine leading to the top; evidence of a minor runoff tributary that had etched its way through the rock over the eons. Steven studied the area around the summit with his binoculars, then did a quick mental calculation using the new assumption.
“It’s at the top of this ravine?” Natalie asked.
“That would be the instinct, but not what the Scroll said. It said north. That’s north-east. The river turned south back there. By my calculations, if we adjust for everything, the new spot would be…there.” Steven swung his binoculars back in the direction of the current dig. The new spot was a quarter mile from the original excavation they’d started on the first day. He pointed the rangefinder at it and adjusted a little. Peering back up to the new area, he scrutinized the landscape for any clues. None were forthcoming. Only…
“What?” Natalie asked, hearing his sharp intake of breath.
“There’s a rise there that looks promising. I want to take a closer look,” Steven said and began striding back along the river bed to the camp. Natalie quickly caught up.
“You seem optimistic. For the first time in days.”
“I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up, Natalie. This is still needle in haystack territory. I’m just going stir crazy from doing nothing, so maybe I’ll go for a little hike and poke around some.”
“Cool. I’ll go with you.”
Steven glanced at her. “Sure. Wear sunscreen,” he said.
Back at the camp, Natalie ducked into their tent and emerged a few moments later. They both grabbed shovels and he slung a thermal bag with water in it over his shoulder. Steven entered in the new coordinates he’d calculated and created a waypoint on the GPS. They looked up the canyon face.
Steven shook his head. “That’s right along the path up that smaller ravine we’ve been using to get to the other dig. It’s along the natural route we selected to hike up the canyon – the obvious and easiest way to the top.”
“What are you waiting for?” Natalie stepped across the shallow river water and was at the base of the canyon within thirty seconds. Steven noted that the outdoors agreed with her – the cargo shorts and army green tank top demanded his attention, even in the heat.
It took twenty-five minutes for them to reach the waypoint, climbing at a moderate pace, by which time they were both soaked in sweat. They stopped, having ascended almost seven hundred feet, and caught their breath. Steven kicked absently at the dirt.
“This seemed a lot easier back at the river. There’s a whole lot of nothing here,” he commented, studying the ground for a sign of…something.
“Where do we start?” Natalie asked, panting slightly.
“Let’s drink some water and take a few minutes. Last thing we need to do is faint. We can begin…here.” Steven tossed the shovel a few feet and dropped the thermal bag on the ground, fishing out two water bottles.
Once they were hydrated, they began digging. It was fairly easy for the first foot. By the second foot it became difficult, and by the third they were unable to keep going. They’d hit rock. Steven moved to the side and continued a trench, widening it until it was ten feet long by three feet wide. Natalie worked the other end of it, and when they took another break, they noticed Arturo and Francois waving at them from above. They waved back and then resumed their excavation. Natalie was ready to call it quits after two hours, when her shovel hit something…different. She scraped at it and saw that it was rock, but with primitive mortar bonding it in place. Afraid to be wrong, she continued scraping stone and dirt out of the way, until she was sure.
“Steven.”
He turned.
“What is it?”
“Tell me again what we’re looking for?”
“I’m not sure. Something man-made,” Steven said, wiping trickles of sweat off his face with his arm.
Natalie looked up at him, broiled by the sun, red, in spite of the liberally-applied sunscreen and the baseball hat, giving it a game try on the side of a hill in the middle of nowhere. She felt a sudden and unexpected surge of emotion, a combination of attraction, sympathy, admiration and heartache, and she realized with a twinge that what she was feeling was probably love, for the first time in her life. Different than the love for her father, or the lust she’d felt for sexual partners. This felt altogether…right.
None of which she shared with Steven. Instead, she smiled and said, “I think I found it.”
An hour and a half later, Arturo and Francois had joined them in clearing the area of sediment, revealing a crudely-mortared wall, erected from medium sized stones from the river.
“Can you imagine hauling those rocks all the way up here?” Natalie wondered.
“Whoever did this wanted to make sure this stayed in place for a long time. It must have taken a week to build, even though it’s not that big,” Steven said.
He watched as Luca and Moody arrived from the camp with the sledgehammer and a crowbar, Moody also toting a flashlight.
“What have we got?” Luca asked, puffing from exertions of the climb.
“A wall. Very old, by the looks of it,” Steven reported.
“A wall?”
“Yes. Question is what’s behind door number one…” Natalie said.
“What’s the plan?” Moody asked.
“I’m going to go with: knock down the wall,” Steven said.
He took the sledgehammer from Moody and swung it against the upper reach. A rock gave way, falling inward, revealing a dark space behind it.
“Arturo, Francois. Go get more water, and a camera. We’re going to be here for a while,” Luca instructed the two younger men, who reluctantly gathered their gear and began the hike back to the camp. “I’d prefer to keep this between us for now. I don’t know what we’re going to find, but I’d rather not have more eyes on it than necessary,” Luca said in a low voice.
“It’s your ride. You can decide who gets on,” Steven said, swinging the hammer again. A rock shifted, but other than that, nothing. He hit it again, and another rock fell in. Moody moved in to help by manning the crowbar in a somewhat practiced fashion.
Twenty minutes went by, and they’d cleared most of the man-made barrier away, revealing a cave behind it – a depres
sion in the limestone that had been there for millennia. Natalie looked back down the canyon at the camp and saw Arturo and Francois loading up a rucksack with supplies. She turned back to the cave and caught Steven’s eye.
“Who wants to do the honors?” Steven asked.
Luca gestured with his hand for them to go in.
“Ladies first,” Moody said, handing the flashlight to Natalie.
After taking it, Natalie hesitated, then drew a deep breath and stepped into the gloomy cavity. She took a few small steps and waited for her eyes to adjust, enjoying the substantially cooler, if musty, temperature. Steven stepped in after her, carrying the hammer, followed by Moody. Luca brought up the rear. The cave was surprisingly large and deep, stretching for twenty-five feet from the newly-created entry. The walls were the same light limestone as the canyon. Steven realized that his pupils had widened to accommodate the darkness and he could see fairly well.
A crudely fashioned circle of thorned vines sat on top of an ancient stone tablet, atop a primitive pedestal that had been hewn from the soft rock at one side of the chamber, and the group approached it with hopeful trepidation. Natalie shone a beam of light on the coarsely engraved inscription on the rock – they all heard Luca’s sharp intake of breath.
“It’s…it’s beyond belief,” he murmured reverently.
“Is that what I think it is?” Steven said.
Luca didn’t respond. Steven turned to face him.
“Is it?”
CHAPTER 37
“The inscription. What does it say?” Natalie asked.
“I…it says, ‘Heaven sent its son as the Divine Light’,” Luca whispered.
“So – this is the crown of thorns from the crucifixion?” Moody asked.
“Perhaps. I mean, in light of the circumstances…” Luca seemed confused.
“I’d say it is, based on the engraving. Which, if I’m not mistaken, is Aramaic,” Steven said.
Luca was startled. “You read Aramaic?”
“Just a few words, from some ancient parchment studies I did years ago. But, apparently, you do,” Steven said.
“It’s not uncommon among those of higher learning in the Church. The Jerusalem Talmud is written in Aramaic, after all,” Luca said.
“Keeping up on the competition?” Steven asked.
“I wouldn’t put it that way…”
“I’ll bet. But even I recognize one of the words. Yêšû.” Steven peered at the inscription again. “That would be Jesus, for those who skipped archaic languages in high school,” Steven said.
“You’re correct, of course,” Luca murmured.
“What does the tablet say?” Moody asked.
“It’s only a few words. Luca?” Steven prompted.
Luca peered at the primitive lettering and cleared his throat. “I live in each of you. Love one another,” he whispered.
“Then…this is the last gospel,” Moody said in a hushed voice.
The group regarded the crown and tablet with a sense of awe, in the presence of history. Natalie broke the trance.
“Steven? Come here,” she called out, having moved to the deepest part of the cave.
“What is it?” Steven asked softly.
“Another wall.”
Steven looked at where she was shining the flashlight. It was another barrier, constructed from the same stones and mortar as the one they’d just broken through. Steven caught Moody’s eye and nodded. Steven hefted the sledge hammer and swung it sideways at the edge, where the wall met the cave. It bounced off in a spray of shards, but the sound was of striking something hollow. He swung again, and a stone gave way, just a little.
Moody and he took turns demolishing the obstacle, and after another quarter hour most of it lay in a heap on the cave floor. The noise of the pounding was deafening, but nobody wanted to move out of the cave. It was as though they were rooted to the floor. Even as the dust settled after the final hammer blow, nobody approached the new opening. Finally, Natalie moved to Steven with the flashlight and took his hand. He directed the beam into the depths of the cavity and saw a few items leaning against the limestone wall – a roughly crafted leather satchel, some worn sandals, a battered spear.
Natalie and Steven inched into the crypt, and their light skimmed over the interior, stopping when it came to a form lying on the cave floor. A skeleton lay on its back, staring sightlessly at the ceiling, the fabric of the thin material that had covered it deteriorated to smithereens. The group was frozen.
Moody broke the silence. “Okay, this is too weird. I’m getting out of here. Luca, let me by. I need some air,” he said, edging towards the mouth of the cave.
“I’m afraid not,” Luca said, as he slammed him in the base of the skull with his heavy steel pistol.
Moody collapsed in an inert heap on the floor, his head making an audible thunk as it hit. A small pool of blood collected beneath his skull as he lay, unmoving.
Steven moved slowly to the side wall as he took in the scene, pulling Natalie with him.
Luca trained the gun on them. “That’s far enough,” he warned.
Natalie’s eyes widened in shocked disbelief. Steven asked the obvious question.
“Why?”
Luca sighed, an exhalation of exhaustion and frustration. “Does it matter?” he asked.
“To me, it does,” Steven said.
Luca hesitated, seeming to win an internal struggle, and then started speaking in a quiet monotone.
“The Church is the only family I’ve ever known. I’ve given it my life. And yet I’ve watched as it has lost relevance, even as I’ve defended its honor and fought the good fight. I knew that whatever we found here would be hidden away while a group of frightened old men debated the possible effects of its meaning on their authority, so in the end, all my work will have been to support a waning institution too timid to do what it should.” He gestured with his free hand. “This will be concealed while the powers that be argue whether the world should know the truth. I’m not bitter about it, but as I’ve grown older, I’ve also become more pragmatic. I’m a secret warrior for a secret sect of a Church that’s afraid to make bold moves to regain its vitality. And I suppose I’m tired of watching it from the sidelines, living a monastic existence devoted to the richest institution on the planet.”
“You certainly sound bitter,” Natalie said.
“I’m not. It’s just that I realized when the Scroll went missing that the Church would do far more and act way more decisively to protect its interests than it ever would to regain the leadership role it used to have in the civilized world. Other religions are boldly evangelizing and spreading their reach. But I’m part of an antiquated system that’s afraid of its own shadow, and whatever the Divine Light was, I knew it would ultimately be suppressed. Now that I see the truth, I’m even more convinced I’ve done the right thing.”
Steven shook his head. “The right thing? Are you kidding me? Do you have any idea how wrong whatever you’re doing is? Whose skeleton do you think this is, anyway, with a crown of thorns the lobby attraction? This is history being made,” Steven pointed out, his voice rising in volume as he finished.
“Ah, the passion of the younger man. I almost remember how it was. Yes, this is history – a history that the Church won’t be able to make public, no matter what. Do you have any idea what it would do to its legends and reputation if Jesus’ body was found? It would turn the Church on its ear. Millions would be devastated. It would mean that the Son of God, proclaimed as such by a hotly-contested vote of Roman cardinals, was a man – a man who clearly didn’t rise from the dead after three days and ascend to heaven,” Luca said. He cocked his ear, registering a sound in the distance.
Steven gripped Natalie’s hand to comfort her. He needed to keep Luca talking and hope for an opening.
“Oh, come on. I think most Christians understand that the Bible is allegorical, and not to be taken literally. Even the Pope has said so. I think you’re completely wrong. I thi
nk finding the body of Christ along with his last words would rekindle faith and belief and give the Church new legs. It would be proof of a kind. And the last words of Jesus…you have to admit, they’re powerful.” Steven said.
“I don’t disagree. In fact, you’re saying exactly what I believe. But the problem is that I know how Rome works, and I can tell you categorically that it would be decades, if not centuries, before any of this was known…if ever. The Church is an enterprise – a business, if you will. It sells faith. But the market isn’t as robust as it used to be. Science has encroached on the faith business and taken market share from it. So, like all big businesses with a shrinking market, it either needs to innovate and reinvent itself, or circle the wagons and fight to keep a monopoly going. And I’m telling you, it is more interested in protecting what it has than blazing a new trail. Even the words on that tablet could cause an upheaval – if the Lord is in each of us, do we really require a bunch of robed dignitaries to act as the mouthpiece of heaven? Do you see what I mean?” Luca mopped his brow with the back of his free hand. “While I agree this is a miraculous find and should be trumpeted from the highest buildings, I’m equally sure that the preservation of the Church’s position in the faith business will force silence. It’s sad, and it’s wrong, and I wish I was mistaken, but I’m not.”
“Fair enough. Let’s say you’re right. Why…this?” Natalie asked.
“Because I see the Church for what it is. It’s a large, super-wealthy behemoth that’s all about money and power, and has little to do any more with faith and spreading the gospel. Truth be told, it hasn’t been about that for almost ever. Did you know, that even in the first centuries of its existence, complaints started to surface about priests being the wealthiest men in their towns? These were the representatives of a religion founded on the idea of a savior who sacrificed everything, who lived in poverty and eschewed material possessions. And yet its princes, its bishops, lived in relative luxury while they sat in judgment of lesser mortals. Fast forward to present day and you find an institution founded on those principles of austerity and compassion that has managed to become the richest entity in existence. Doesn’t that seem a little odd to you? That the God business should pay so well, when countless generations of humans have lived and died in misery? The hypocrisy is astounding. I should know. I’ve been a part of it.”
The Voynich Cypher Page 29