When he regained his composure, Garagallo said, “For what it’s worth, I tend to agree. I don’t think the relic was the Baptist’s preserved head.”
“Good, because that would be creepy,” Paul said. Ava squirmed. Ignoring her, he went on: “What relics do you think they had?”
The bishop smiled at his guests. “I believe they possessed two of the lost jars of Cana. Does anyone care for coffee?”
After dinner, Clarkson checked his messages. He’d received an urgent call from the history department chair. Apologizing profusely, he excused himself and stepped in to the garden to return the call. When he came back, he announced that he had to leave.
“What could be so important at this hour?” Garagallo asked.
Clarkson answered, “Dominic is… curious about the situation. He’d like to ask me a few questions.”
Ava’s face was ashen. “I hope you’re not in trouble.”
“Oh, don’t worry. He’s an eminently reasonable man. He won’t jump to conclusions. Nevertheless, it’s vital that I see him immediately.”
Clarkson thanked their host for the splendid meal and made preparations to leave.
“Should we go too?” Ava asked him.
“No, that might complicate things. I’d prefer to speak with him first in private.”
“Ava, I wonder if you and Paul would like to stay here awhile longer,” Garagallo said. “My housekeeper prepared a variety of desserts. She’ll be inconsolable if no one tastes them.”
Ava glanced at Paul. He didn’t seem nervous. She decided to accept the bishop’s invitation. Predictably, the desserts were phenomenal. Paul’s favorite was the crisp cannoli filled with sweet ricotta and chocolate. Ava preferred the warm figolla (soft, almond-stuffed cookies). Garagallo then invited the Americans to join him for a postprandial snifter of brandy. He led them to his private study: an interior room protected by a thick, ancient door of oak and iron. Inside, Ava noticed portraits of Shakespeare and Marlow, a statue of Democritus meditating, and a bust of Homer. Paul’s attention was captured by an escutcheon mounted behind the wide desk. The heraldry featured a flaming sword and a shepherd’s crook crossed above a castle with seven towers. Beneath it hung the motto gardez bien. As Paul struggled to remember where he’d heard those words, the bishop excused himself to see about the drinks. While he was gone, Paul whispered, “Do you trust him?”
Ava sighed. “Not fully. I like him, but I sense he knows more than he’s telling. Why play games with us?”
“He seems to know a lot about the jars.”
“Yes but, I wonder—”
Garagallo’s return interrupted her sentence. Noting her startled expression, he said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“Oh, no, Excellency. We were just discussing Shakespeare.”
“Really? What play?”
“The Tempest.”
“Ah, yes.” He smiled. “One of my favorites. ‘We are such stuff as dreams are made on…’”
For several minutes they chatted about the work, Ava and the bishop quoting verses from memory. Paul’s attention wandered. He resisted the temptation to gulp his brandy. Finally, Ava asked the bishop: “Something you said at dinner piqued my curiosity. You mentioned the lost jars of Cana.”
“A fascinating subject, yes? You might even call it my hobby. What would you like to know?”
“You said Pope Leo and Emperor Valentinian had two jars. Weren’t there six originally?”
“Yes. The Gospel of John specifies that six jars were present at the first miracle. Later, these six were split into three pairs. Each pair was hidden on a different continent to prevent destruction by the Antichrists…”
Paul interrupted: “Hold on. Did you just say Antichrists? There’s more than one?”
“Regrettably, yes. History has withstood a seemingly endless succession.”
Paul shook his head. “I’m confused. I thought Satan was the Antichrist.”
Garagallo explained. “Jesus Christ epitomizes the Christian virtues, the greatest of which is love. Do you agree?”
Paul nodded. “I do.”
“Thus, anyone or anything opposing those virtues is, by definition, anti-Christ. The word can describe Lucifer or any other monster who serves death, injustice, and damnation. Early Christians considered Herod and later Nero to be Antichrists. Of course, there have been others. I believe each generation must find the courage to combat this evil, embodied in some new, hideous form.”
“But what use are stone jars against a monster?”
“The jars contain a prophecy. If you believe the legend, reading the prophecy aloud at the proper place and time can defeat the devil.”
“Too bad it didn’t work against Hitler.”
Garagallo closed his eyes and anguish passed over his face. In a hollow voice, he said, “Yes. Hitler was a terrible Antichrist. Even as a little boy, I despised him. I’m proud we Maltese resisted his evil, and I grieve for all those who sacrificed their lives.”
For a moment the bishop couldn’t speak. Finally, he opened his eyes, gazed up at the antique crest, and went on. “As a man of faith, I believe the sacred jars’ power might have stopped the Nazis. Sadly, we’ll never know. At least one jar was destroyed in 455. After the fall of Rome, the surviving jars’ whereabouts were lost to humanity. St. Bede believed one was given to King Osby of Northumbria in 665. He may have hidden it under Whitby Abbey or possibly Whitekirk, but the others disappeared.”
Ava asked, “Were any hidden in Egypt?”
“According to legend, two jars were given to Africa. No one knows what happened to them. If I were to guess their location, Egypt and Ethiopia would be my top candidates. Why do you ask?”
Generally, Ava distrusted churchmen. She knew the Church’s spotty history, and she was well aware of its recent scandals. Not all Catholic leaders had acted honorably. Yet Ava trusted Garagallo. She heard sincerity in his voice, and she shared the bottomless anger he expressed regarding the Nazis. Though she sensed he had a secret agenda, Ava concluded that the bishop was an ally, not an enemy. Having made her decision, she answered him. “Because that’s where we found two of them.”
Garagallo was silent. After a moment, he reclined in his chair, whispered a prayer of thanks, and said, “Please, tell me everything.”
Ava told him of their journey from the monastery to Malta. She began by describing the relics’ discovery and concluded by explaining how she and Paul had escaped the catacombs. For now, she omitted any mention of the disks. Garagallo listened intently. Though he nodded occasionally, he never spoke, allowing Ava to relate her story without interruption. When she finished, he asked, “What do you intend to do with the jars?”
Ava glanced at Paul. He nodded. “We want to give them to the Church,” she said, “pursuant to certain conditions.” She listed their terms.
For a moment, Garagallo appeared lost in thought. Then he rose, smiled, and took Ava’s hands in his. With a warm voice he said, “On behalf of the Church, I thank you for your honesty, selflessness, and generosity. Naturally, in a matter of such importance, I must contact Rome. I may not receive guidance until after we’ve elected our new pope, but you may rest assured that we appreciate your astounding gift.”
They left the study and returned to the main hallway. As they neared the stairs, the bishop said, “Friends, tonight has been a rare pleasure. Thank you for trusting me. I’m honored, and I give my word that you’ll come to no harm within these walls. Please feel welcome to spend the night in my guest quarters. All are fully equipped and comfortable. Or, if you prefer to go, my butler will call a cab. Of course, none may be available right now.”