Finally they were led into an office where they were greeted by Pierre-Philippe Dubois the Archivist of the Vatican Secret Archives who was also the Librarian of the Vatican Library — the two posts having been held as one since 1957. As he rose to greet them, Daniel and Ted realized that neither of them had won outright the bet that they had made on the aeroplane. They had never seen Dubois before, but Daniel had speculated that he would be of patrician bearing.
Ted, in contrast, who was somewhat older and thus less in awe of senior academicians, suggested that he would look like more of a bespectacled scholar and that the broad shoulders of Daniel’s vision would be replaced by the hunched shoulders of one who spends long hours poring over leather bound codices.
In the event, they exchanged a brief eye-contact and muted smile that acknowledged that the truth lay somewhere in the middle. After the introductions and minted tea all round — consumed well away from any valuable books or manuscripts — the hard questions began.
“So… I understand that you have some things to show me that you feel might be of interest to the Vatican secret archives.”
He was looking at Ted when he said this, assuming that the senior man would speak for both of them. But Ted nodded in Daniel’s direction and it was Daniel who led off, explaining about the manuscript that Martin Costa had found. He didn’t actually mention Costa or the fire or anything to do with the police or being on the run, but he explained that the manuscript was not currently available in its original form.
To make the abstract more concrete, he showed Dubois a glossy laminated colour printout that they had prepared earlier at an internet cafe and explained precisely what the document was, where it was found, the possible identities of the persons named in it and the fact that surviving fibres established that it was indeed an old Jewish-style parchment.
When he finished speaking, he could tell that Dubois was far from convinced.
“Forgive me for my perhaps unfair scepticism, but a picture of a manuscript that is no longer extant is hardly best evidence. I am well aware of your credentials Professor Klein, and you Professor Hynds, but it would be hard for me to commit to anything more than the mildest of curiosity in the absence of the actual manuscript — or at least a more detailed explanation of why it is no longer available.
Watching him now, Daniel wondered how much he actually knew. They had only phoned when they arrived in Rome, but Monsignor Dubois would surely have checked them out through their academic institutions, even if he remembered Daniel from his recent adventures in Egypt.
Had he also Googled them and found out about Daniel’s brush with the law? Did he know that Daniel was technically a fugitive from British justice? Was there in fact a European or international arrest warrant out for Daniel? And were the Carabinieri closing in on them even as they spoke?
Daniel shifted awkwardly as these doubts and fears enveloped him.
“I’m sorry,” Dubois followed up. “I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. I am simply pointing out that the Vatican would have to study these documents very carefully before coming out with any statement about their authenticity. And in the absence of the original document, there isn’t really much to study.”
Daniel was about to say more, when Ted leaned forward. He didn’t immediately speak or interrupt, but the Archivist picked up on his body language and invited him to join the conversation.
“Professor Hynds.”
“Yes, er well I let my colleague lead off because I’m a firm believer in starting with the hors d’oeuvre rather than the main course.”
Ted paused to give Dubois the chance to acknowledge the humour with a smile. The Archivist was happy to oblige. Ted then spoke in a slow, deliberate tone, explaining about the map, whilst periodically lifting the cardboard cylinder into the air to make Dubois aware that unlike Daniel’s missing ketuba, this was something concrete, real and truly a “bird in the hand.”
The only point at which Ted departed from the pre-arranged script — making Daniel uncomfortable yet again — was when he told the Archivist that he was sure the language was proto-Brythonic, the original language of the Celtic Britons and that he was one of the few who could translate it. This was something he was supposed to hold back, for better leverage. As it was, the Vatican could always seek out other experts, now that Ted’s disclosure had set them in the right direction. But they would have known of Ted’s strengths and specializations anyway.
Finally, Ted opened the cylinder and carefully withdrew the plastic envelope containing the parchment map. It was only when he had carefully unfurled the map and allowed Dubois to inspect it, with watering eyes, that Ted made his move to reel in the catch of the day.
“I understand that you hold in this archive a Jewish-type of parchment containing Hebrew lettering but in an unspecified language. I am going to stick my neck out here and speculate that — like this map — the parchment that was found at Domus Aurea also contained proto-Brythonic text written in the Hebrew alphabet.”
Dubois looked stunned. Ted realized that he had to strike while the iron was hot. So he spoke again, before the Archivist could gather his wits
“Daniel is one of the finest scholars of Semitic alphabets and pronunciation,” he said, subtly shifting the centre of gravity on Daniel’s vocation, to strengthen his point. “And I am one of the few people specializing in the old Brythonic languages, The important thing is that between us we have the skills that few others have. If my conjecture is right and the Domus Aurea parchment contains proto-Brythonic text in the Hebrew alphabet then Daniel can provide the best possible transliteration, which I can then translate. Between us we can reveal a secret that others — and I suspect you also — thought was locked away forever.”
There was an awkward moment, when the archivist seemed lost in the deepest of contemplation, before a smile graced Monsignor Dubois’s lips.
Chapter 57
“We’re going to throw the garbage away,” said May.
“What both you?” asked Bernie, their grandfather.
“Yes, why not? There Mai’s throwing the ordinary garbage and I’m taking the plastic bottles to the recycling bin.”
“Okay but stay on the pavement and watch out for cars.”
Although only eight, in the twenty four hours that they had been here, the twins had shown that since the last time they had come to visit, they had become very grown-up and helpful. It was clear from the beginning that they liked to show how they were not only self-sufficient and capable of doing things for themselves, but also ready to help around the house. They knew that grandpa Bernie and Grandma Helen were no longer as young as they used to be, and so they wanted to show their gratitude towards them by helping them and showing them that they were considerate and eager to help.
So now they were climbing the stairs chattering to each other and listening with curiosity to the sirens in the distance that seemed to be getting closer. At the top of the stairs, they closed the gate and turned right in the sheltered overhang of the buildings, past the end of the row of attached houses and into the bright sunlight.
The long street was not a bus route and in some ways could easily have been mistaken for a cul-de-sac, except that it was in fact open at both ends. But they had no intention of going to the end of the street. After the attached row of houses on the left ran out the street continued towards the green dumpster or “frog” as Israelis called it, with the wire mesh cage for the plastic bottles a few yards before it.