The Secret Chapel (god's lions)

by John Lyman

  Chapter 5

  It was still dark outside Saint Peter’s Basilica when Father Leo arrived the next morning and ascended the steps. In front of the enormous open doors, a brown-robed figure stood framed by bright yellow light streaming from inside the Basilica, making it difficult to see the face under the hood. “Father Leopold Amodeo?”

  Leo looked up at the monk. “Yes.”

  “Hi. I’m John. John Lowe. I work with Father Morelli. He just called to say he’s running late and asked me to meet you here for Mass.”

  The monk brushed the brown hood from his head to reveal a young man in his twenties with soulful eyes, long black hair, and a short, trimmed beard. They shook hands and turned to enter the massive church created by Michelangelo and Bernini.

  “I see you are a Franciscan, John.”

  “My sense of fashion usually gives me away,” John laughed. “Actually, the Franciscan Brothers in Assisi have allowed me to live in their community while I consider the priesthood. I’m currently on loan to Father Morelli as his assistant for the next few months. We met this past year while I was finishing some graduate work on an archaeological dig on the outskirts of Rome.”

  “Father Morelli seems to be involved in a lot of projects around here. Are you an archaeologist also?”

  “I have a PhD in history, and I’m working on my master’s in anthropology.”

  At least this new assistant had the right training to help Morelli, Leo thought.

  Practically everyone who had ever entered the immense Renaissance church was overcome by its unparalleled beauty, and Leo and John were both awed as they passed through the mammoth doors and headed up the aisle toward the main altar.

  “What kind of history, John? I mean, what was your thesis work about?”

  “Classical Rome … the Roman Empire during the time of Christ. That’s what drew me to Italy in the first place.”

  “Interesting. When did you first think of entering the religious life?”

  “I’ve been thinking about it on and off since grade school. I was raised Catholic, went to Catholic schools all my life. You get pretty well indoctrinated by the time you reach high school. Two of my friends from school became priests.”

  Leo looked up at the ceiling as they walked along. “I went to Catholic school too, but a lot of my friends became police officers and firefighters. I came out of a working-class neighborhood, and we had a lot of kids from my graduating class who entered those fields. It’s funny how we all gravitated to professions where we could help people.”

  They continued up the center aisle of the enormous basilica that contained eleven chapels and forty-five altars and seated themselves near the baldacchino, a monumental canopy that sheltered the papal altar and the holy relics of Saint Peter. Made of dark bronze accented with gold vine leaves, it was created by Lorenzo Bernini in 1624 under the direction of Pope Urban VIII. For centuries, Christians had built their churches in the shape of a cross, and Saint Peter’s was no exception. The altar lay in the center under the colossal dome designed by Michelangelo; although sadly, he never lived to see it finished.

  “I’m surprised the Jesuits didn’t grab you, John. How did you end up in Assisi?”

  “Actually, I applied to Jesuit seminary shortly after I met Father Morelli. He realized I needed time to make a decision about the priesthood, so he arranged for the brothers in Assisi to accept me as a novice for a year.”

  “What do you think of the monastic way of life so far?”

  “It’s definitely not my calling. I have a feeling the Church is going to need men of action in the years to come, so that’s why I’ve chosen the Jesuits.”

  “You have a lot to decide, John. As you probably already know, the ranks of the Jesuits have begun to dwindle over the past several years. We’re kind of like a peacetime army now. The priesthood is in trouble, and the Church is desperate for qualified candidates, especially men who are morally incorruptible in today’s climate of hostility toward our religion. A few bad ones have destroyed the work of thousands of good ones, but I’m heartened by the words of Saint Paul when he said, ‘Where sin has abounded, there grace will even more abound.’”

  With the smell of incense permeating the air, an elderly bishop ascended the steps to the altar and raised his right hand in the sign of the cross. “Te igitur, clementissime Pater …” The High Mass spoken in Latin had begun. Leo was thinking of how much he had missed the Latin version of the Catholic Mass back in America when he glimpsed Morelli sliding across the wooden pew.

  “Good morning, Leo. I see you’ve met John.”

  “Yes, and I see you’ve already been at work this morning, Father.”

  Morelli’s eyes widened. “How did you…?”

  Leo cast his eyes down at Morelli’s mud-covered shoes.

  “Oh. I wanted to take a look at something under the Basilica, but it appears that Emilio and a team of construction workers were there first. Evidently, he’s had a wall constructed sometime in the past few days to block me from reaching my latest excavation. That little toad of a man has been spying on me again.”

  “Why don’t you go over his head?” Leo asked.

  “Now is not a good time to rattle any cages around here. Until I know who we can trust, I can’t afford to bring any unwanted attention to my work.”

  Morelli looked across the aisle at a group of nuns burning holes through them with their eyes and lowered his voice. “Did you know that Emilio made the suggestion to the cardinal that we should have a subway station constructed right under the Vatican? Can you imagine that? The man thinks it would be a great way to control the crowds and eliminate bus traffic. We could let the faithful just pop up like ground squirrels for a quick look around and then duck back down again. His plan would destroy literally thousands of years of history and make it impossible to do any further archaeological exploration of the area.”

  “I agree, that’s pretty appalling, Anthony, but I’m sure the archaeological committee of Rome would put a halt to any plan like that as soon as it was presented to them.” Leo knew that the subway system in Rome would have been much more extensive if it weren’t for all the historical treasures buried below.

  “The Italian government doesn’t have any say about what goes on inside Vatican City. I seem to be fighting a constant losing battle against those who want to destroy our past for some reason.”

  A final blessing from the altar brought the Mass to an end and the multitude streamed past the immense doors into Saint Peter’s Square and through the colonnade created by Bernini. The three men loitered in the cool morning air before deciding to head across the street for breakfast in a small sidewalk cafe.

  The waiter brought strong Italian coffee while the three men studied their menus and chose the Italian version of ham and eggs. Leo scanned the table for condiments and looked around at the different foods being served at other tables. “Too bad you can’t get hash browns in Italy.” He had a weakness for greasy American food.

  Father Morelli reached into a napkin-covered basket and pulled out a peach muffin. “This cafe caters to Americans, but you can tell by the flavor of the meat that they serve only local ham that’s been cured according to strict Italian law. Thankfully, hash browns haven’t found their way here yet. I highly recommend their pastries.”

  The sun was rising across a pale blue sky, erasing the early morning shadows crisscrossing the narrow Roman streets and bringing warmth to their outside table as the men began to eat. John was still studying his ham, looking as if he had discovered a new life-form, while Morelli gobbled his eggs and smothered his muffin with butter.

  “Are you familiar with the ancient area below the Basilica, Leo?” Morelli asked between sips of coffee.

  “I’ve only heard stories about it, but I’ve never had the opportunity to go down there myself. It must be fascinating, especially for an archaeologist.”

  “It is. Directly below the Basilica, under the main altar, is the Vatican grotto, a sa
nctified crypt where many of our most venerated popes are buried. Then, below the grotto, is an ancient pagan and Christian necropolis that dates back to the second century. It was discovered by a team of archaeologists in the 1940s. That was the area I was looking around in this morning. About the same time they discovered the necropolis, they found a small tomb there dating to AD 160. That was the tomb that held the bones of Saint Peter. It’s one of the most important archaeological finds to date in the Christian world.”

  “Saint Peter died years before that,” Leo said. “How did they know that was really his tomb?”

  “It’s believed by many that the first few generations of Christians moved his body around for almost a century in an effort to hide it from the Romans. The archaeologists who made the discovery found an inscription that marked it as his final resting place.”

  John was sipping his coffee in silence as he listened to the two priests. “I noticed that you still use the term AD, Father Morelli. Haven’t modern scholars decided to replace it with the new abbreviation CE?”

  Morelli winced. “I absolutely hate the new abbreviation CE. As you both know, AD is Latin for Anno Domini, meaning ‘in the year of our Lord’. CE stands for Common Era. What kind of garbage is that? We’ve been saying in the year of our Lord for two millennia, and now they want to take that away from us, calling it, instead, the Common Era. It’s just another veiled way to slowly erase God from our everyday speech.”

  Leo had to smile. His old friend was very perceptive about a lot of things other people let pass without notice. “So, you were digging around below the Basilica before breakfast?”

  “Oh … yes. I wanted to check that area one last time for evidence of the ancient seal mentioned in the code, and that’s when I discovered the wall they had built to keep me out.”

  “Keep you out of where, Anthony?”

  “There is another, even deeper and more ancient area beneath the one I was in this morning. One of the workers discovered it by accident about six months ago, and for the past few weeks, John and I have only been allowed to spend a few days down there exploring and mapping the region. From what we’ve seen, the area appears to be a section of the old Roman catacombs. The seal we’re looking for is either in the Vatican grotto, which is above the level I was in this morning, or behind the newly constructed wall in the deeper area we haven’t fully explored yet.”

  Leo took another sip of coffee. He loved the ambience of these small sidewalk cafes in Rome. There was something about the light and the air, along with the history and pace of life that made thinking clearer, more in tune with living in the moment. Maybe that’s why so many artists and writers were returning to Europe for inspiration like they did back in the 1920s.

  Leo’s reverie was interrupted by Father Morelli’s voice. “I’m sure you know by now, Leo, that my fascination with archaeology has always had a higher purpose. I’ve never doubted that the Bible was inspired by God, but proving it has been something that has eluded scholars for over two thousand years. Do you know why, at this exact time in history, we’ve uncovered the hidden code in the Bible?”

  Leo had to think back to their previous discussion of the night before. “I suppose it has something to do with the development of computers.”

  “Exactly. It also coincides with the timetable set in the Bible. The Jews returning to their homeland after two thousand years was the first prophecy to be fulfilled. The discovery of the embedded code within the Bible, and the ability to decipher it, was never meant to happen until now. We are on the verge of a whole new understanding of just what the Bible contains. It’s like a tumbler has fallen on a cosmic time lock to a holy vault, opening a door to what was previously unobtainable.”

  “You’re being a little too cryptic for me, Anthony.”

  “We’re dealing with a cryptic subject, Father. That’s why I believe the discovery of the seal and the ancient chapel mentioned in the code was always meant to happen now. Not one day sooner or one day later.”

  Leo ordered a second cup of coffee and reclined in his chair while Morelli finished the last of his eggs. “What are you going to do now that they’ve blocked your way into the deeper catacombs?”

  “We’ll just have to find another way in,” John interjected. “We still need to check one more section in the grotto, but if we don’t find the seal there, then we have no choice but go down into the area behind the newly constructed wall. Personally, I’m hoping that we do have to go into that deeper region. We were only allowed to explore a small section of it. Imagine what might be down there.”

  Leo liked this young man. He had a rebellious streak, and his youth was refreshing in this world of pious intellectuals, even though John was something of an intellectual himself. The enthusiasm generated by these two men gave Leo the feeling that they were all on the threshold of a great adventure. Conversely, it could very well be an adventure that contained a large degree of terror for himself, his friends, and maybe even the whole world.

  It was a little after nine o’clock in the morning before they had finished their breakfast and departed the cafe. Leo returned to his hotel while Anthony and John walked to their individual apartments in the Vatican to gather the equipment they would need. Leo hadn’t considered the fact that he would need work clothes for this trip and decided to do a little shopping before he met his friends at eleven for their descent into the tunnels under the Vatican.

  Entering through the front doors of the hotel lobby, Leo spotted Arnolfo behind the desk. “Buona la mattina, Arnolfo.” Good morning.

  A large smile crossed Arnolfo’s face. “Buona la mattina, Father. What can I do for you this glorious day?”

  “I need some jeans and hiking boots. Do you know of a shop nearby that might have them?”

  Arnolfo smiled. “So, you are going under the Basilica with Father Morelli.”

  Leo was always impressed at the hotel owner’s knowledge of what went on in Vatican City. “Is there anything you don’t know about that goes on across the street?”

  “I only listen, Father, that’s all. If people want to talk, I let them talk. Mostly, they see me as part of the room, like a piece of furniture. A chair or a table hears many things not meant for prying ears.” Arnolfo’s last statement had shown that he was much more than just a simple hotel keeper.

  “At least I know who to come to if I want to find out what’s going on around here,” Leo said.

  Arnolfo winked and wrote something down on a piece of paper before handing it to Leo. “Here, Father. Go to this address. I think this man might have something you will be interested in.”

  Leo’s curiosity became aroused. “What does he know, Arnolfo?”

  “He knows what kind of clothes you will need. He owns a sporting goods store, Father.”

  Leo turned crimson as Arnolfo burst out laughing.

  “Nice,” Leo said, smiling to himself at how Arnolfo had led him into that trap. “I’ll have to think of a way to match you for that one my friend.”

  “I have no doubt, Father. I will be on the lookout for it.”

  Both men continued to chuckle as Leo walked out of the lobby into the bright Roman sunshine. The day was brilliantly clear, not at all like the rainy day before when he had arrived. He walked along the narrow streets before finding the sporting goods store sandwiched between a small, family-run bookstore, and a butcher shop with little strings of sausages and plucked poultry strung overhead in the window.

  There was no hint of a mall or chain store here, although in truth, Rome had been home to the first shopping mall in history. Leo remembered the first time he had seen it. Named after its creator, Trajan’s Markets was built in the second century AD by Emperor Trajan and his architect, Apollodorus of Damascus. Together they had built a visionary multistory complex of one hundred and fifty shops, the ancient Roman equivalent of a modern shopping mall. Everything an ancient Roman might want could be found there. The shops sold everything from silks and spices imported from the Middl
e East to fresh fruit, fish, and flowers. Considered among the wonders of the Classical world, this archeological treasure remains standing today in the Forum area of Rome.

  Leo thought back to when America had been a country of small shopkeepers, and the change he had seen over the span of a single generation was not pleasant in his mind. The Italians had their small stores and neighborhoods, with extended generational families kept intact in the same town or village, while America’s families had undergone an enormous change in the moral and corporate explosion that now forced them to endure a commercial landscape run by powerful conglomerates.

  The unique charm that had once marked the boundaries of different cultural regions throughout America was being erased, and almost every city and town across the country now resembled every other city and town from one coast to the other. Due to corporate greed, huge box stores covered the land with no respect for individual communities, forcing small family-run businesses to fail and dispersing young people to seek work hundreds or thousands of miles away from their parents and grandparents.

  The change had left a barren expanse of sameness and apathy across the nation. The distancing from past values, coupled with dwindling opportunity for working men and women spurred by globalization, unaffordable college tuition, and the widening gap between the very rich and everyone else, was creating a violent underclass that was spreading like a virus across a land previously occupied by a mostly peaceful and moral populace.

  Who or what had ushered in this new age was a subject of much debate at the university where Leo taught. He had formed a theory that the Great Depression had so victimized our “greatest generation” that they had unwittingly sowed the seeds for a selfish, winner-take-all postwar grab for material wealth. Their efforts to raise themselves out of poverty and give their children a better life had changed the very core values of an America they had worked so hard to create and left the generations that followed without a unifying sense of community.