The Psalter (20 page)

Romano seemed confused. “I’ve always gone by Michael.”

“Why don’t you call yourself Peter?”

“I don’t know.” Romano hated the name. It was part of all he’d left behind when he ran away from home and from a succession of brutal foster homes. Like everything else from the life which now only filled his dreams, he’d blocked Peter out. He was Michael, the name he’d taken from the priest, Father Mike, who found him as a boy sleeping in a cold church. “I’m not Peter. Anyway, to use the name of the apostle and the church’s first Pope seems arrogant.”

Cardinal Minissi’s face brightened. “The first cleric ever to change his name when he became Pope was also named Peter.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes indeed, in the ninth century. He said the same thing: that taking the name of the Apostle would be presumptuous. Since then, no pope has taken Peter’s holy name. What a shame, such a powerful appellation. He wasn’t a good Pope, the one who changed his name, of course. I’m not supposed to say such things, but old men get to say what the young cannot. We’re forgiven our offences more easily. You realize that Peter Romano means Peter the Roman.”

“Someone reminded me recently.”

“Names hold power, don’t you think? More so when they’re spoken in Latin as they were intended,
Petrus Romanus
. Would you mind if I called you Peter?”

Michael winced at the sound. Like the Pope the cardinal mentioned, the name seemed presumptuous. Mike was more to his liking.

“It obviously makes you uncomfortable, so I shall call you Michael. Now tell me Michael Romano, what exactly was written underneath the palimpsest?”

Cardinal Minissi had put Romano so at ease that he caught him off guard.

“Oh you needn’t be surprised,” the
Protector of the Vatican Library
said. “I discovered the book many years ago in the Library. We didn’t possess the technology to view what was underneath, but I realized from the stylus marks that the pages had been overwritten. The original had been erased so well, I couldn’t even read a fragment. I could only make out a few characters, Aramaic, first century.” The old man’s eyes gleamed.

“You’re correct, Eminence, and I would put the date at fifty A.D., plus or minus.”

“I knew it!” The cardinal shouted, his face beaming. He sprang from his seat, spry again despite his advanced years, and shuffled around the desk. He sat in the chair next to Romano. “Did you translate the text?”

“Yes, Eminence. The first page, anyway.”

“Was it scripture?”

“In a manner of speaking, but not one of the canon.”

Cardinal Minissi rubbed his chin. “Well, which book then?”

“
Thomas the Contender
, the lost
Gospel of Mathaias
.”

The cardinal’s eyes widened and his mouth gaped. “Jesus twin brother. I should have guessed.”

“You’ve read
Thomas
?”

“Of course. Oh, I realize
Thomas
is a heretical book, but he was revered in the early years of the church until Emperor Theodosius banned his texts. Many thousands of Christians also believed in
Thomas
, and with good reason, it appears. If any of the heretical Gospels were the true words of our Lord, I would have guessed they were written by
Thomas
.”

“Why?”

“Because theologians still debate whether
The Gospel of Thomas
predates the New Testament Gospels. I always thought the book had as much right to be included in the Bible, more. Then there’s the whole
Doubting Thomas
nonsense. Someone simply had to disparage the Apostle to discredit his authority and authenticity.”

“Eminence, do you realize what this means?”

“Naturally. Our view of Jesus might be incorrect. Is that so surprising? Jesus’ family led his followers after the crucifixion. His brother James took over, and he wasn’t even an Apostle.”

“What about the church?” Romano’s voice raised a notch.

“What do you mean?”

“Our teachings might be called into question.”

The Library Cardinal placed his hand on Romano’s shoulder. “Fortunately for you and me, that’s not our department. We deal in knowledge, the discovery and preservation. Let’s leave the implications to the Defender of the Faith and His Holiness. For the moment, we don’t need to sort out the issue.
Thomas
is lost.”

Romano hung his head. “And I’m to blame.”

Cardinal Minissi patted the priest’s shoulder. “Don’t reproach yourself. The Psalter was stolen from you, just as it was from poor Father Mackey, and by the same people who killed him, I suspect. Now, I have a task for you, Father, which requires the utmost discretion.”

Romano arched his eyebrows. “You mean secrecy?”

“Quite.”

“As Prefect of Technical and Scientific Management, you must install a system like the one used to decipher the Psalter. I want to translate all of the palimpsests housed here.”

“Eminence, the job would take decades, tens of thousands of man hours.”

“I think not. You know what you’re looking for.” Cardinal Minissi grinned.

“Then you’ve discovered Giovanni?”

“Is that what you call him? Remember, I once held your position. I was fascinated by the scribe with the foreign handwriting who had a singular devotion to copying over heretical scriptures. He seemed to have discovered something both wonderful and terrible and concealed the originals by erasing scrolls and writing over them so they wouldn’t be utterly destroyed.”

“That’s what I felt.”

“Well, I think I can give you a head start. Follow me.” The cardinal led Romano to his bedroom, past the bed, to a tall, narrow bookcase covering the wall. Religious texts filled the shelves along with a collection of detective stories whose main character was a priest from the Middle Ages, a Medieval Sherlock Holmes in a cassock. “It’s most unscholarly of me,” Cardinal Minissi said as Romano pulled one down and thumbed through the pages, “but I can’t get enough of them.” Then he gave the shelves a push and the bookcase spun on a swivel, revealing a hidden room. “I think you’ll find most of what you’re looking for in here.”

The chamber was small, no more than the size of a washroom, but floor-to-ceiling bookcases containing nothing but Psalters covered the walls. Romano slid one from the shelf and opened the leather-bound cover. The script was unmistakably Giovanni’s. His face lit up. “Are they all Giovanni?”

“Of course. Forty-nine of them. I’ve been collecting these since I figured out what the old scribe was up to. When Father Mackey and I realized you had discovered him as well, we redoubled our efforts to collect as many as we could before you got very far. Most of them were in the Vatican Library. How some ended up in the Secret Archives, I can’t imagine. I thought I had collected them all when I worked there. It seems I missed more than a few. I told you that you were the right man for the job. Now that we can read the original scriptures, you need to get started straight away.”

“It’s like a dream.”

“There is, however, a more pressing task to attend to with all urgency.”

“Anything, Eminence.”

“Someone else discovered Father Mackey had the Psalter and that the book was one written by, how did you call him?”

“Giovanni,” Romano reminded the cardinal.

“Of course. They knew precisely when he left my office and where he was going. What do you know about bugs, Father?”

“Bugs?”

“Listening devices, isn’t that what Americans call them?”

“Yes, but I understand very little of the technology used to read palimpsests and even less about bugs.”

“Then you’d better learn. How else would anyone know Father Mackey had the Psalter?”

Priests gawked at the raven-haired woman in the inner sanctum of the Vatican Library, accompanied by the new co-prefect. Astonished eyes scanned her collar to make sure she wore a visitor’s badge. “I scarcely hoped you would agree to come,” Romano said to Isabelle Héber as they walked to his office, “but I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

“I needed to get away for awhile anyway. Every time I went to the Archives, I imagined poor Eugène’s body. Philippe suggested I take some time off, so I’m thinking of this as a working vacation. Besides, I’ve always wanted to visit the Vatican.”

“I’d be proud to be your personal guide.”

The cardinal’s secretary, Father Sabella, raised his eyes and dropped his pen as he spied Isabelle with Romano. When the cardinal said a technology expert would be visiting, he hadn’t mentioned that the specialist would be a beautiful young woman. Romano held the door for Isabelle and as she sauntered by, he caught the secretary ogling—or perhaps he only stared from shock. After Isabelle entered the room, the secretary’s gaze passed to Romano, who furrowed his brow. Father Sabella’s eyes recoiled to the pile of papers on his desk.

Isabelle pulled a wand with a metal loop from her bag. “This isn’t my forté,” she said. “Security had to explain how the thing works, but they assured me this would get most of the bugs. Nevertheless, you should really call an expert.”

“I can’t. No one must know we suspect a spy might be in our ranks. Officially, you’re helping me install a document preservation system like IsyReADeT. It’s not as important to find every bug as it is to figure out whether the offices are bugged. But shouldn’t we be whispering or writing cryptic notes so they won’t learn we’re on to them?”

“You’ve been reading too many spy novels. If we find any devices and remove them, they’ll realize we are, as you said, on to them.”

“Good point.”

Isabelle went straight for the telephone on the cardinal’s desk. She lifted the base and passed the wand underneath. A low synthetic hum sounded as the gadget passed by the phone, but grew no louder. She pulled a screwdriver from her purse and removed four screws that fastened the phone’s cover. Removing the plastic shroud, she inspected the circuit board but saw nothing unusual. She clipped an ohm meter to the line and turned the dial. The needle measuring voltage didn’t move, and she shrugged her shoulders. She changed the dial to another setting. The needle remained unchanged. Isabelle scanned the room, paying particular attention to lamps and the chandelier as she’d been instructed, but still found nothing. “I don’t detect a thing.”

“Strange. The Cardinal sounded so certain.”

“Like I told you, I’m no expert. You should get someone who’s experienced in this sort of thing, but unless I missed something altogether, I’d say the cardinal’s offices are clean.”

“I’ll tell his Eminence. Somehow, I don’t think he’ll be relieved,” Romano replied perplexed.

“Why not?”

“If someone outside is listening, then we don’t need to suspect those of us on the inside.”

“Look, Mike, if we found bugs in the office, someone had to install them.”

“But not necessarily one of us,” Romano said. “Workers come in all the time.”

“You don’t need a listening device in the room to hear what’s going on.”

“What do you mean?”

“All kinds of equipment could spy on you from the outside and you wouldn’t even know, like a
big ear
.”

Romano knitted his brow. “A big ear?”

“Sure, a parabolic antenna like a satellite dish, except it amplifies sound.”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Welcome to the modern world, Father. We’re in the information age, and information is power. People will do anything to get data, like hackers or phishers who troll the Internet to get passwords to bankcards and credit card numbers.”

“Priests don’t have much credit.”

Isabelle laughed, and her face sparkled. Romano couldn’t help but be charmed. He felt uneasy around women, but Isabelle was different. “Speaking of credit, why don’t I treat you to lunch? As the new co-prefect, I’m allowed an expense account.”

“You mean in a refectory on hard benches with hundreds of priests?”

“No, I mean a café down the street that makes terrific cannoli. Welcome to the modern priesthood, Doctor Héber.”

“This is the best cannoli I’ve ever tasted,” Isabelle marveled.

“It’s delicious, but not the best. A place in New York makes the best. So tell me, how’s your father?”

“He’s fine and excited that I’ll be working in the Vatican restoring documents. How did he put it?
You’re finally doing something worthwhile with your life
. He asked me to give you his regards and demanded you call on him the next time you’re in Paris.”

“I’d love to visit Pascal, but after losing the Psalter, I’m not sure the church will let me out of her sight, at least for a while.”

“Yet you’re now the Prefect of the Vatican Library, a big promotion, no?”

“Co-Prefect, and in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m in charge of security and technology. I think they’re trying to keep me away from the books.”

“More likely, they want someone who recognizes the church’s most precious manuscripts so they can be preserved forever.”

“What’s considered valuable depends on who gets to decide. One person’s treasure is another’s trash. Now, let’s talk shop for a moment. I want you to photograph a number of manuscripts.”

Isabelle became animated. “You mean palimpsests?”

“Exactly.”

“Are these written underneath Psalters like the one stolen?”

“Yes,” Romano said.

“Then you’re looking for more first-century scrolls in Aramaic like
Thomas
.”

“Yes.”

“Are you trying to prove the church wrong?”

Father Romano pondered the question for a moment then said almost to himself, “I’m trying to find the truth.”

20
Lothair’s Revenge

Scraping, hammering and the bustle of workers echoed throughout the
schola cantorum
. “I don’t know how you can work in this infernal racket.”

Johannes looked up from architectural drawings spread across a plank table. “Rabbi Avraham, what a pleasant surprise.”

“I’ve been looking for you these last months, but, alas, no illustrious priest. I end up feeding my cakes to the dogs. They like them well enough, however our conversations are rather limited. Are you so famous that it’s beneath you to visit an unremarkable rabbi?”