Julia Navarro - The Brotherhood Of The Holy Shroud

"Our informer is safe? No suspicions?"

'About one of the people that Valoni trusts the most? Certainly not."

"Very well. What else do we have?" the older man asked, scanning the group.

A man who looked like an English aristocrat spoke next.

"Zafarin arrived in Urfa two days ago. I don't have any news yet about Addaio's reaction. Another of the group, Rasit, has arrived in Istanbul, and the third one, Dermisat, is supposed to arrive today."

"Good, then they're all safe. Now the problem is Addaio's, not ours. We need to consider how to deal with the one in the Turin jail, though."

"Something could happen to him before he gets out of prison. That would be the safest thing," the Englishman suggested. "If he gets out he'll lead them to Addaio."

"It would be the most prudent thing, I agree," said a second Frenchman.

"Could we do it?" the older man asked.

"Of course. We have connections inside the jail. But we'd have to arrange it carefully. If anything happens to his prize, Valoni will never accept the official report."

"He can rage and turn blue, but he'll have to accept it. Without that angle, his case is finished, at least for the moment," the older man retorted. "But let's continue to observe. I don't want to give them anything else to grab hold of just now."

"What about the shroud?" asked another of the men.

"It's still in the bank. When the repair, work in the cathedral is completed, it will be returned to the chapel for exhibit. The cardinal wants to celebrate a thanksgiving Mass in honor of the shroud's being saved once again."

"Gentlemen… hatching a deal over here, are we? Cornering the aluminum market?"

"No, Mr. President, but that's not a bad idea!"

They all laughed as the President of the United States, accompanied by James Stuart, joined them. The remainder of their discussion would have to wait.

"Mary, that man over there, who is he?" Lisa Barry had flown in for her sister's birthday the night before, along with Mary and James's daughter, Gina, who was staying with Lisa and John in Rome.

"One of our best friends, Umberto D'Alaqua. Don't you remember him?"

"Oh, yes, now that you mention his name I do. He's as impressive as ever, isn't he? Mce-looking."

"Forget it. He's a confirmed bachelor. It's a shame, because he's not just gorgeous, he's an incredibly lovely man. Thoughtful and kind each time we see him."

"I heard something about him not long ago… what was it…" Lisa began.

Then it came to her. The report on the fire in the Turin Cathedral that Marco had sent John talked about a corporation, COCSA, and its owner, D'Alaqua. Umberto D'Alaqua. She stopped in mid-sentence. She couldn't say anything to Mary about that. John would never forgive her.

"He gave me a ceramic figure from the second century b.c. It's stunning-I'll show you later," Mary promised. She linked her arm in Lisa's. "Let me take you over."

The two sisters approached D'Alaqua.

"Umberto, you remember my sister, Lisa."

"Of course I do. So nice to see you."

"It was so long ago, when Mary last visited…"

"Yes, Mary-you don't come to Italy as often as you should. Lisa, I think I remember that you live in Rome. Is that right?"

"Yes, it feels like home now. I'm not sure I could live anywhere else."

"Gina is in Rome with Lisa, Umberto, working on her doctorate at the university. And she'll be joining Lisa's group at the excavation in Herculaneum."

'Ah! Now I remember-you're an archaeologist!" D'Alaqua's enthusiasm was obvious.

Mary answered for her. "Yes, and Gina has inherited her aunt's passion for digging in the sand."

"I can't imagine a more exciting job than studying the past." Lisa smiled. 'And Umberto, I think I remember that you're no stranger to archaeology."

'Absolutely. I try to escape to work a dig myself at least once or twice a year."

"Umberto's foundation finances excavations," Mary added.

As they launched into an animated conversation about their mutual fascination with the past, James came up and, to Lisa's dismay, took D'Alaqua off to another group. She could have talked to him all night. John wouldn't believe her when she told him she'd been chatting with this man who'd turned up in Marco Valoni's report. Even Marco would be surprised. She laughed to herself, thinking what a good idea it had been to accept James's invitation to surprise her sister on her birthday. She'd have to put a dinner party together for the Stuarts when they came to Rome, she thought. She'd mention it to her niece; the two of them would make a list of people to invite. Lisa had several names in mind already.

The young servant wept in fear and horror. Marcius's face and chin were spattered with blood. The other servant had run to Josar's house to tell him of the tragedy in the residence of the royal architect.

"Then we heard a terrible cry, a shriek, and when we entered the chamber we saw Marcius with a sharp dagger in one hand, with which he had cut out his own tongue. He has fallen senseless to the ground, and we know not what to do. He had told us that something would take place tonight and ordered that we not be frightened, no matter what we might see. But my God, he has cut out his own tongue! Why? Why?!"

Josar and Thaddeus were not surprised at the servant's story. They tried to calm the boy as they made their way with him to the house of Marcius, and there they found their friend still unconscious, the bedclothes stained crimson with blood, while his servant cowered in a corner, weeping and praying and waving his arms in fear and terror.

"Calm yourself!" Josar ordered the other youth. "The physician will be here at once, and he will help him. But tonight, my friends, you must be strong. You must not be daunted either by fear or compassion, for if you are, the life of Marcius could be in grave danger."

The young servants began to grow calmer. When the physician arrived, he sent everyone out of the chamber and remained there alone with his assistant. They were long in coming out.

"He is resting quietly. For a few days, I want him to remain undisturbed; these drops, mixed in the water you give him to drink, will make him sleep and ease the pain until the wound has healed."

"We wish to ask you a favor," Thaddeus said to the physician. "We, too, wish to cut out our tongues."

The physician, a Christian like them, looked at them in distress.

"Our Lord would not look kindly upon these mutilations."

"We must do this," Josar explained, "for it is only in this way that Maanu will be unable to make us speak. He will torture us to learn where the shroud that was the grave cloth of Jesus has been hidden. We do not know, but we might say something that would endanger those who do. We do not wish to flee the city; we must remain here with our brothers and sisters, because surely all Christians will suffer the wrath of Maanu."

"Please," Thaddeus pleaded, "help us. We are not as brave as Marcius, who cut out his tongue with his own knife."

"What you ask me is contrary to the laws of God. My duty is to help heal; I cannot mutilate any man."

"Then we shall do it ourselves," said Josar.

The resolute tone of Josar's voice convinced the physician.

They went first to the house of Thaddeus, and there the healer mixed the contents of a small vial with water. When Thaddeus had fallen into a deep slumber, the physician asked Josar to leave the chamber and go to his own house. He would follow him there soon.

Josar impatiently awaited the arrival of the physician, who after a short time entered with a gesture of contrition.

"Lie on the bed and drink this," he told Josar. "It will make you sleep. When you awake you will have no tongue. May God forgive me."

"He has already forgiven you, my friend."