Chris Kuzneski - Sign of the Cross

Dante locked eyes with Maria. He wanted to say so much but realized it wasn’t the time or place. ‘He’s right, you know. Our itinerary is rather full. I have a family secret to tell you about.’

The chauffeur pulled the town car to the main gate of the villa. Benito sat in the backseat, mulling over everything that had happened. The violence at Orvieto, the events at the Vatican, the death of his son. Yet somehow, despite it all, he had a good feeling that luck was right around the corner, that all of his hard work was about to be rewarded.

Of course, he never imagined he’d be rewarded like this.

Boyd and Maria watched Dante as he walked over to the desk. Then, as if the secret he was carrying was too much to bear, he sighed and took a seat in his father’s chair.

Dante said, ‘I’ve known something was going on for years. I’d walk into a room and father would stop talking to Roberto right away. At first I thought they were talking about me. After a while I knew something bigger was going on.’

He picked up a trinket from the desk and stared at it, refusing to make eye contact with his guests. ‘I started looking through their files, double-checking everything they asked me to do, until I found a pattern that centered around Orvieto. Extra guards, extra funds, extra everything. Something was happening there that they weren’t telling me.’

Frustrated, he threw the trinket aside. ‘At one point I became so curious I went to Father and asked him about it, begging him to tell me the truth about the Catacombs and all the money we were spending. But he just scoffed and told me to leave him alone. Can you believe that? He ignored me. Immediately I knew he would never tell me anything.’

He paused for a split second, then glanced at Boyd. ‘That’s when I decided to get a partner.’

‘What do you mean by partner ?’ Maria demanded.

‘I know this will upset you, but I’ve been checking up on you for years. Your schooling, your living arrangements, your lack of a social life. You’re my sister, after all. There was no way I was going to forget you, even if you wanted me to.’

Maria didn’t say a word. She just sat there, confused. Trying to absorb everything.

‘That’s how I learned about Dr Boyd,’ he admitted. ‘I was checking up on you and discovered his passion for the Catacombs. At first it seemed like a miracle had brought you two together. Then I realized it wasn’t a fluke. You went to Dover for a reason. You went there to learn about Orvieto. You became his student because you were just as curious as I was.’

Tears fell from Maria’s eyes. She tried to brush them away before anyone noticed, but Dante saw them and smiled. He knew it meant he was on the right track, that he still knew his sister after all these years.

‘A year ago I was sorting through requests for digging permits when I came across Dr Boyd’s. I figured this was a perfect excuse to speak, so I called him about the Catacombs.’

Maria glared at Boyd. ‘You talked to Dante a year ago and didn’t tell me?’

Boyd defended himself. ‘I swear to you, I didn’t know he was your brother. He said his name was Dante and he was your father’s assistant. That’s all he said to me. Ever.’

‘He’s telling the truth,’ Dante assured her. ‘I didn’t want you to know because I knew you’d run in the other direction. I know how stubborn you can be. I’ve known that for years.’

The anger in Maria’s face softened. Slowly she turned back toward Dante.

‘For several months I’ve been exchanging information with Dr Boyd. He’d inform me about things that he’d discovered, and I’d do the same for him, all in hopes of planning a successful dig. I knew I couldn’t join him in Orvieto — there was no way I could hide that — but I figured one of us could be there. That you could be there. And in my mind, that was good enough.’

Her tears started again. ‘That’s what you’ve been hiding? That’s the family secret?’

Dante laughed at her innocence. ‘No, that’s not it at all. Father’s been keeping something from both of us for our entire lives, something we should’ve been told long ago. I swear to you I didn’t know about it until yesterday. When father learned about Roberto’s death, he pulled me aside and told me everything. He told me the truth about the Catacombs, the crucifixion, and our family tree. You see, the Catacombs of Orvieto were built for us. For our family. They were built to honor our relative.’

‘What are you talking about? Who was our relative?’

Instead of speaking, Dante pointed over his shoulder to the painting his father had commissioned shortly after visiting the Catacombs for the first time. The image was similar, albeit smaller than the one that Boyd and Maria had found in the first chamber of the Catacombs. The one Maria knew she had seen before but could never place in her head. Suddenly, she understood the reason why. Her subconscious had been blocking it out.

‘The laughing man,’ she gasped. ‘I’m related to the laughing man?’

Dante frowned. ‘Who’s the laughing man?’

‘Him,’ she said. ‘That’s what we’ve called him, because we never knew his name. His image was everywhere in the Catacombs. On the walls, in the carvings, on a burial box. We’ve been searching for his identity ever since.’

‘Then your search is over, because you already know his name.’

‘I do?’

He nodded knowingly. ‘Because it’s your name, too.’

‘ My name? What do you mean? He was a Pelati?’

‘No,’ Dante said. ‘His name was changed to protect us from his sins… He was a Pilate .’

‘A Pilate?’

He nodded. ‘As in Pontius Pilate. He was our ancestor. We are his descendants.’

‘We’re his what ?’ She stared at Dante. Then at Boyd. Then back at Dante. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘I mean, our family name isn’t Pelati… It’s Pilate . The name was altered to protect our family from persecution.’

‘Pontius Pilate was the laughing man?’

Dante nodded. ‘And our forefather.’

It took a moment for that to sink in. Once it did, Maria let out a soft whimper that suggested she had been blindsided. She wanted to argue, wanted to fight, but in her heart she knew her brother would never lie about something like this. That meant everything he’d said was true.

They were related to the most infamous murderer of all time.

Slowly, in an act of desperation, she turned toward Dr Boyd, who was now standing by her side. ‘ Professore? Is this possible? Is any of this possible?’

Boyd closed his eyes and pondered the history. ‘Yes, my dear, it just might be.’

‘But… how?’

He took a deep breath, trying to find the words. ‘As remarkable as this sounds, very little is known about Pontius Pilate. Most scholars agree that he became procurator of Judea in 26 ad and ended his term ten years later. Yet nothing is known about his birth or death, though theories abound on both.’

Some historians believe that Pilate was executed by the Roman Senate shortly after Tiberius’s death in 37 ad. Others claim that Pilate committed suicide, drowning his sorrows in a lake near Lucerne, Switzerland — a lake that is located on Mount Pilatus. Meanwhile, German folklore insists that Pilate lived a long and happy life in Vienna Allobrogum (Vienne on the Rhone) where a fifty-two-foot monument, called Pontius Pilate’s tomb, still stands today.

‘Despite these uncertainties,’ Boyd stressed, ‘there are several facts about Pilate we are certain of. The most interesting involves his wife, Claudia Procula. Few people realize this, but Pilate’s wife was the granddaughter of Augustus and the adopted daughter of Emperor Tiberius.’