The Testimonium (22 page)

When the presentation was finished, Dr. Castolfo stood and spoke to the team and the board alike. “First of all,” he said, “I want to congratulate the team on its amazing discoveries, and on the consummately professional field techniques you used to uncover and remove the artifacts, while working in a quick and efficient manner under unusual circumstances. Dr. Sforza, Dr. Guioccini, you could not have chosen a better team for this sensitive and significant excavation.”

He paused a moment and applauded the team, joined by the members of the governing board. The five archeologists who had labored all week on the site bowed modestly, and then he continued. “Secondly, now that all artifacts have been cleared from the chamber, I think it is high time we removed everything to a more suitable laboratory for further examination. I have a team of technicians standing by; they will carefully transport all the artifacts back to the mainland, and then remove the mobile lab and all of the gear associated with it, so that Capri can have its tourist attraction back. Dr. Rossini, with your permission, I am going to appoint a temporary resident archeologist to cover your duties here on the island for now. You have certainly earned the right to take part in the analysis and curation of these artifacts!” Giuseppe nodded his assent, and the board’s president continued. “I would ask all members of the team to remove your personal effects from the lab and the site before we head down to Dr. Rossini’s home for our meeting. All the artifacts should be set up in our new research lab at the museum in Naples by tomorrow morning, and I would ask that all of you be there, ready to work, by ten o’clock in the morning. I know it will be Saturday, but I’d like you to get acquainted with our lab and make sure that none of the artifacts have been mishandled. You may catch regular transport to the mainland if you like, or return with us by helicopter this afternoon. Monday your work begins in earnest. I am looking forward to seeing the result of your continued labors on this remarkable discovery.”

Josh and the team looked at one another. It would be a relief to be away from the island, but at the same time, he would miss this place where he had met and been accepted by four very impressive individuals. He was glad that he would be able to continue to work with them all for a good bit longer. Father MacDonald caught his gaze and gave him a wink, while Isabella glanced at him with a smile that made his knees go weak. Yes, it would be nice to get to work with her for a good long while yet!

Castolfo was wrapping up. “Now it is time for us to officially meet, as a board, with the five of you and discuss where we go from here. Dr. Rossini has graciously volunteered his home for this purpose, so at this point I will ask that we wrap up here and begin making our way down to Capri village. I believe that is all.”

The board members rose and shook hands with the team, several of them offering words of congratulations and encouragement. Even Dr. Tintoretto seemed to be less confrontational. Cardinal Raphael stared for a long time at the Pontius Pilate scroll, while Castellani gazed lovingly at the ancient
gladius
that had once been carried by Julius Caesar. As the board members left one by one, Josh asked Isabella what she wanted to do about traveling to the mainland. Rossini, who was standing by her, said, “I think we should all spend the evening at my home and celebrate the successful conclusion of our dig!” The rest of the team nodded in agreement, and, with that settled, they quickly cleared their personal gear out of the trailer and tents before hiking down the hill toward the village.

* * *

As the archeologists were preparing for their trip down the mountain, Ibrahim al-Ghazi was cleansing himself before entering the small mosque that was a few miles down the road from Capri village. This ritual washing, called the
wudu
in Arabic, was obligatory before entering the mosque’s prayer chamber. Once he was done, he stepped into the
musallah
, or prayer chamber, where the local imam was preparing himself to conduct the Friday noon service. The Muslim population of Capri was fairly small, and there were fewer than fifty people in the room when the service began a few moments later. Ibrahim bowed and touched his forehead to the floor as he had done many times before. He was not a deeply religious man, but he did believe in Allah the Creator. Given the events of the last fifteen years, he thought, it was a shame that more Muslims could not adopt a tolerant attitude toward Western culture. It grieved him that so many of his co-religionists seemed to be stuck in a medieval mindset that saw ongoing jihad
as the only way to advance their faith. He said his own prayer, incorporating the ancient words and phrases, but adding his own plea for greater understanding and peace between religions.

After the prayers were done, the imam stood and preached a short message, calling on the congregation to observe the Five Pillars, and reminding them that the best way to advance the cause of Islam in a nation of Catholic Christians was to live as exemplary citizens, to obey the laws, and respect the ways of their Italian neighbors. In short, it was a message of peace and moderation that Ibrahim was pleasantly surprised by. His parents’ imam was much more confrontational, lacing his sermons with scathing denunciations of Israel, America, and Western culture in general, which was one reason he rarely attended their mosque anymore. He decided to thank the Imam after the service ended.

As the other worshippers departed, Ibrahim made a polite bow the imam, who had shed his traditional robes and was clad beneath in a well-tailored white suit. “That was an exceptionally good sermon,” said Ibrahim. “I wish more imams preached your message of peace.”

The imam smiled. “Ours is the religion of peace, is it not?” he asked. “How can I preach anything else?” Ibrahim nodded in agreement. The imam studied him curiously. “I am Imam Muhammad al Medina,” he said. “You know, there are very few Muslims that live on this island, and I know all of them by sight, but I have never seen you before. Are you a tourist?”

Ibrahim shook his head. “No, I am working as a security guard on an archeological dig,” he said. Surely that harmless admission would not hurt anyone.

The imam nodded brightly. “Oh, that would be Dr. Rossini’s dig at the Villa Jovis! It sounds so fascinating. Have you gotten to see any of the artifacts yet? He told me that everything they found dates all the way back to the time of Tiberius Caesar himself!” That was partly true. Rossini had been talking to his fellow team members at Madame Bustamante’s restaurant, but Muhammad had been quietly listening in on every word.

Ibrahim smiled. Obviously this charming imam was a friend of Rossini’s who was familiar with the dig, and could be trusted. “That is right!” he said. “But apparently they found something really big yesterday, because this morning a helicopter brought in ten people to view the site and meet with the team.”

The imam nodded, his smile masking his keen interest. “I wonder what it could be?” he mused. “So many interesting things happened in ancient Rome.”

The guard nodded, but decided he had said quite enough. “There is no telling,” he said. “I’m just paid to keep the tourists out, and it looks like my job is nearly done. I think they have removed all the artifacts from the chamber, and are about to shut down the dig. At any rate, I have tarried too long. I am supposed to begin my watch in an hour. Thank you again for your sermon, and your prayers!”

“And thank you for your faith in the Religion of Truth,” said the imam. “Go with Allah’s blessing!” He watched as the young man walked away, and his smile faded quickly. Muhammad al Medina, the kind and tolerant imam of Capri’s only mosque, was nothing but a mask; one of many that this man had worn in his fifty years. His true name he had nearly forgotten, but the name he claimed for himself was Ali bin-Hassan. That was the name under which he had fought the American crusaders, first in Afghanistan and then in Iraq, and the name by which the CIA was still searching for him. It was the name Sheik Osama had given him when he had joined al-Qaeda long before the devastating blow had been struck against the “Great Satan” on 9/11. He had fought in bin Laden’s bodyguard at Tora Bora and protested mightily when the Sheik had sent him to Italy a few years later. “Bury yourself there,” the terror leader had told him. “Forget jihad, tell the infidels what they want to hear. Make yourself a spokesman for the heresy known as tolerance until the time comes to strike another great blow for Allah!”

Ali knew what the Sheik had meant. One of bin Laden’s dearest plans, known only to himself and a few trusted lieutenants (not, thank Allah, the treacherous dog Khalid Sheik Muhammad!), was to launch a mass attack on the Vatican itself, killing the infidel leader they called “the Pope” and dealing a body blow to Islam’s oldest enemy, the Roman Catholic Church. But the fortunes of war had gone against al Qaeda, and the great Sheik was dead. Ali remained in touch with what was left of the organization’s leadership, but the dream of burning the Vatican to the ground remained only that until Allah willed otherwise.

But now an unexpected development had occurred. Ali understood that the opportunity for Islam to become the world’s fastest-growing religion had been created by two forces—the massive injection of Saudi oil money into missionary work, and the worldwide decline of the heresy known as Christianity. As long as those two trends continued, then the establishment of a worldwide Islamic caliphate was only a matter of time. But if something happened to cause a great revival of Christianity, the cause of jihad would suffer severely. Humanism could never defeat faith, he knew, but faith in a false god could hurt the Religion of Truth deeply. “Know your enemy,” the ancient heretics had said. It was good advice. Ali knew the history of Christianity, and the great mistake that they had made in elevating the Prophet Isa (peace be upon him) to being the son of Allah, He who “neither begets, nor is begotten,” according to the Prophet. Millions had believed the heresy promoted in the
injil
, the Muslim term for the Gospels of the New Testament. Now a chamber of secrets dating to the time of Isa had been found. Who knew if its contents would advance or hinder the propaganda of the Catholics?Nothing must be allowed to advance the cause of the cursed infidels any further! Not when Islam was winning the battle in the minds of so many. He resolved to find out exactly what they had discovered as soon as possible.

Ibrahim al-Ghazi was completely ignorant of the train of events he had set in motion as he hiked up the Via Tiberio to his job. He thought affectionately of the imam and his words, and thought that, if he saw Dr. Rossini, he would mention his encounter with a man who was obviously the archeologist’s friend. But, as chance would have it, he did not see the doctor that afternoon. Or ever again, except on the evening news a week later.

* * *

Dr. Castolfo waited until everyone was seated to begin speaking. Rossini’s dinner table had been extended to its maximum size and a couple of leaves added, but the entire board was still only barely able to fit around it. The team members had pulled in two small sofas from the TV room, and were able to sit together, facing the board. It was cozy, as Rossini had said the day before, but it made it easy for everyone to see and hear what transpired.

“This unique discovery has the potential to reveal historical truths that will deeply affect the world’s largest religion,” he said. “All the more reason that we must proceed with the highest of scientific integrity and flawless procedure. The scrolls will be handled by a team of three highly trained lab technicians under armed guard until they are safe in the new research lab at the National Archeological Museum in Naples. Once they are safely there, access will be restricted to the members of this board and the five members of the excavating team. Should further examination by international experts be deemed necessary, the board will have to grant its approval. Whatever is in that scroll, even if it is only Pontius Pilate’s grocery list, we do not want anyone to be able to question its authenticity!”

The other board members nodded their agreement, and Dr. Sinisi raised his hand for recognition. “Go ahead, Vincent,” said the president.

Sinisi stood and addressed the room with his textbook charm. “What we have here is not only an archeological and historical discovery of the highest magnitude,” he said, “but also one of the greatest opportunities for positive publicity in Italian history. When these findings are announced, the world is going to flock to Capri, to see the chamber, and then to Naples, to see the artifacts. We have promised the press an announcement on Monday, and I want us to tell as much as possible. Obviously, we cannot tell them what is in the two scrolls yet, but we can certainly reveal the other artifacts, and the fact that these two scrolls have been discovered and are being prepared for reading and translation. And then when we do announce their contents, the whole world will be listening with rapt attention. The spike in tourism could conceivably cure Italy’s current budget woes and do much to restore our national prestige after the recent . . . well, after certain recent events.”

Everyone in the room nodded. Even Josh had heard of the scandalous behavior of Italy’s last president. Isabella stood, frowning, and asked to be recognized. When Castolfo gave her the nod, she spoke forcefully. “Dr. Sinisi, I do not want to compromise sound science in the name of promoting Italian tourism, patriotism, or any other ulterior motive. You have asked me to put on a dog and pony show for the media, and I will. The sword of Caesar and the other artifacts alone should be enough to create the buzz of interest you seek. The existence of the
Testimonium Pilatus
should NOT be revealed until we know what it contains.”

Tintoretto spoke up. “I disagree, Dr. Sforza. You have been too influenced by these clerics masking themselves as scientists. If you keep the find secret, and its contents wind up debunking the foolish myth of the resurrected carpenter, the last thing any scientist should want is for the find to be smothered in secrecy, so the Church can bury it all over again! I vote for full disclosure!”