“This is the reason we came to Venosa,” said Finn.
“Oh dear,” the old man murmured.
“Oh dear?”
“Young Luciferus Africanus and his mythical legion.”
“Mythical?”
“There is very little factual evidence that he ever existed, let alone his legion. When Rome fell, so did its bureaucracy, I’m afraid. There are scattered references here and there, but not much more than a hint. He was a legionary in Judea at the time of Jesus, that much is known. Some credit him as being the Roman who guarded Christ’s tomb and witnessed the Resurrection. Others credit him as the source for Lloyd C. Douglas’s novel The Robe. He’s also supposed to be the man who led the Lost Legion into the desert, and Almasy thought he was the source of the legends about the blond, blue-eyed men who were the guardians of Zerzura.”
“In other words he’s anyone you want him to be.”
“Basically, yes.” He glanced at the medallion again. “Although this would seem to take him out of the realm of myth… if it’s genuine.”
“How can you tell if it’s the real thing?” Hilts asked.
“Difficult,” the old man said and shrugged. “Gold is extremely hard to date accurately. Someone melting down gold objects from the appropriate era and using Roman gravity casting methods from the time period would have little difficulty forging such an object.”
“It was in Pedrazzi’s pocket when we found his body.”
“So much for provenance then,” the old man said, snorting. “If ever there was a man who could rightfully be charged with falsifying data, it would be him.” He shook his head. “On top of that there are the other legends.”
“What other legends?”
“The legends of the Luciferians and the Lucifer Gospel.”
“The Luciferians?” Finn asked.
“Sounds devilish,” said Hilts.
“Please,” sighed Finn.
“The Luciferians were a schismatic group within the Catholic Church during the late fourth century. They followed the teachings of a man named Lucifer Calaritanus, who was a bishop in Sardinia. Lucifer had once been a follower of Arius, a quite important theologian who argued that Christ was not part of the godhead but only a mortal expression of it. Some people, Pedrazzi included, thought that Luciferus Africanus was the namesake of Lucifer Calaritanus, the bishop. There’s a lot of Freemasonry and idiocy about the Knights Templar involved, which Pedrazzi embraced fervently of course, since much of it was the mythic foundations of Nazism. All that silli ness with Beowulf and Wagner and the Ьbermensch. Your friend Pedrazzi even thought there was a connection between Arius the heretic and ‘Aryan,’ the racial term invented by lunatics like the Frenchman, the conte de Gobineau, and his English friend Houston Stewart Chamberlain.”
“Never heard of either one,” Hilts said.
“Hitler did. He used Gobineau’s An Essay on the Inequality of the Human Races as a blueprint for Mein Kampf and the Final Solution. It described the concept of a concentration camp perfectly, among other things. The French may have invented the idea of Liberty, Equality and Brotherhood, but sadly it was a Frenchman, not a German, who also invented Nazism, I’m afraid. Chamberlain was one on his acolytes. He came up with an amusing theory that Christ was somehow not Jewish. Hitler called his good friend Herr Chamberlain the Prophet of the Reich.”
“The original white supremacist,” said Finn.
“Yes,” the old man said and nodded.
“What do you know about the man who was with him when he disappeared? DeVaux,” asked Hilts.
“Another Frenchman. Trained at the Йcole Biblique in Jerusalem. Personal private secretary to Cardinal Maglione when he was papal nuncio in France, continued with him for the rest of his career both as Vatican secretary of state under Pacelli, Pius XII, and also interestingly enough as Grand Chancellor of the Pontifical Institute of Christian Archaeology.”
“What exactly does that mean?” Finn asked.
“DeVaux had a great deal to do with all things archaeological within the Church. It’s well enough known that at the time certain elements within the Vatican were looking for archaeological justifications for some of the things Hitler and Mussolini were extolling. The Spear of Destiny, the Ark of the Covenant, Ultima Thule, or Atlantis. Also at the time one of the great fears was the establishment of a Jewish State in Palestine. DeVaux and a lot of other Franciscans were afraid that their hegemony over the Holy Land would come to an end if that happened.” The old man smiled around the stem of his pipe. “And just to make things interesting, Maglione, DeVaux’s boss, DeVaux himself, and Pedrazzi were all members in good standing of the Knights of Malta.”
“Who were they?” asked Hilts.
“You’ve seen the Godfather movies presumably?”
“Sure.”
“Our friend Tony Montana at the Municipio in Venosa can quote from all three extensively. You remember in the last of them that Al Pacino is given a medal?”
“Vaguely.”
“It is the cross of Saint Sebastian. He is being made a Knight of Malta. It is indicative, I think.”
“Is that anything like the Templars?” Finn asked.
“They are the Templars. There were two parts to the order when it was formed-the Hospitallers, the ones who cared for the sick, who wore black, and the Military order, who wore white in the manner of the Cistercians.”
Hilts looked amused. “We’re talking Dan Brown, The Da Vinci Code, all that?”
“I’m afraid so,” Vergadora said with a nod. “But these men are no joke. In recent years the Fraterninty of Saint Sebastian has returned to its paramilitary roots. They are zealots, trained like marines and utterly obedient. They even have a Web site: www.Christiansoldiers.org. These are not people to be taken lightly.”
“They sound like they could be friends of Rolf Adamson,” said Hilts.
“They certainly share the same basic philosophy,” the old man said. “Which I’m afraid brings me to the last piece of mythology associated with your legionary, Luciferus Africanus.” Vergadora reached out and touched the medallion. “Do either of you know the story of the Seven Sleepers?”
“Never heard of it,” said Hilts. Finn just shook her head.
“It is undoubtedly the source of your own fairy tale of Rip Van Winkle. Gregory of Tours discusses it during the sixth century, but it was well known before that. There are several versions, but the basic story is this: seven youths in the time of the Roman emperor Decius refused to honor his decree and repent of their belief in the Resurrection. They were walled into a cave but did not die. Instead they slept for two centuries, woke up to show that the Resurrection of the flesh was possible, then slept again until the coming of the Messiah. They sleep there still, these seven warriors, in a cave of immense riches, somewhere beyond the Western Sea.”
“Beyond the Western Sea?” said Hilts.
“The U.S.,” said Finn.
“Exactly,” the old man said, nodding.
“A treasure cave in the United States-that really is Adamson territory.”
“And the territory of his grandfather, the Reverend Schuyler Grand.”
“You’ve heard of him?” said Hilts, obviously surprised.
“My boy,” the old man said pleasantly, “if you live long enough your hearing begins to fade but you wind up hearing everything.”
Finn laughed at the small joke but she found herself thinking of Arthur Simpson in her hotel room and his warning about Senator Jimmy “Sword of the Lord” Judd and his Tenth Crusade militia.
Hilts stood. “Coffee went right through me, I’m afraid. Can I use your facilities?”
“Certainly. There’s a powder room just down the hallway by the kitchen.” He stood. “I’ll show you.”
“I can find it,” Hilts said. “No problem.” He left the room.
Finn looked at the gleaming medallion on the table in front of her. The connections were becoming frighteningly obvious, but the final intent remained obscure. What was Rolf Adamson’s real objective in all of this and just how far was he willing to go to accomplish it?
“What would this DeVaux person gain by killing Pedrazzi?” Finn asked.