‘From what you’ve told me that’s the least they would do. What about Professor Fiorini, can’t you go to him?’
‘This is where it gets very murky. I went to see Rosselli after the lecture today. I only gave him the bare bones of what I’ve told you, that I thought the Omega Scroll existed, and he seemed quite upset. He wouldn’t say much, but he told me Professor Fiorini disappeared the day after he returned from Rome.’
‘Murdered?’
‘It’s the classic “Italian Solution” and if these people in the Vatican are as closely linked to the Mafia as I think they are, it’s quite possible. It won’t stop Rosselli speculating in his lectures, but I’m guessing he’s been warned not to take his investigation too far and deep down he’s more than a little frightened. He told me to be very careful.’
‘So what do we do?’
‘For the moment, nothing. Play our cards close to our chests. Eventually something will give, the truth always outs.’
Giovanni reached over and refilled Allegra’s glass.
As they walked back towards the university Giovanni linked his arm through Allegra’s. A little voice told Giovanni that this was wrong, but the chianti seemed to blur the insistent voice and he rationalised that he had met his soulmate. Had he been more honest he might have admitted that the feelings he had for this intelligent and beautiful nun had thrown him into turmoil.
‘What are you doing over the semester break? Will you go home?’
Allegra shook her head. ‘I can’t afford it. I guess I’ll stay here and wrestle with Mary Magdalene, 153 and what was it? Fish and cities falling out of the sky,’ she said, laughing.
It was Giovanni’s turn to shake his head. ‘ Quello non va! That won’t do at all. I am going home to see my folks – I’ve even been invited to say Mass. You must come too. My family said they would love to meet you.’
‘I couldn’t,’ Allegra said quickly, without quite knowing why.
‘Why not?’ Giovanni demanded.
‘Well, there is Professor Rosselli’s research,’ she responded lamely.
‘My, my! He has got you worried. I’ll tell you what. While we’re at home we’ll spend some time on the pros and cons of Christ and Mary Magdalene and we’ll write it up when we get back.’
‘That would be nice,’ she said, giving in to his logic. Allegra felt the warmth of Giovanni’s body and nearly put her head on his shoulder. Accettazione and testarda. Deep within, strange feelings were stirring. The voice of Catholicism was telling her that it was wrong to be this close to a man. Like Giovanni, she put it down to feelings of friendship for someone whose intellect, warmth and compassion she had come to admire deeply.
‘Do you know, I don’t think I’ve even asked you where you live.’
‘Used to live,’ he corrected her, ‘but I still call it home. It’s a little fishing town on the Gulf of Policastro. Maratea. Have you heard of it?’
‘No, but now I’m looking forward to visiting it very much.’
‘You will love it. Everyone is very friendly and the mountains look like they fall into the sea. It is the perfect escape for students.’
‘Mmmm,’ murmured Allegra dreamily, and without a thought to what she was doing, she rested her head on his shoulder.
Giovanni knew he had to change the subject before the voice in his head completely disappeared. ‘One day I would like to go to the Holy Land and see all of those places that are in the Bible and visit Qumran.’
Allegra lifted her head from his shoulder.
‘And we could find the Omega Scroll – and put an end to all of Rosselli’s assignments,’ she said and her eyes sparkled.
Without realising it, the quest for the missing Omega Scroll had begun and their lives would change for ever.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Maratea
G iovanni stopped his battered Fiat on Mount St Blaise overlooking Maratea. He and Allegra got out and walked up the stone steps to the very top of the mountain where a wealthy Maratean resident had erected a 22-metre-high statue of Christ, arms spread, watching over the little town of Maratea nestling on the side of the mountain below. They stood looking at the stunning view, a light breeze blowing Allegra’s hair.
‘Oh Giovanni, e bellissimo! ’
The Apennines tumbled into the Tyrrhenian Sea, forming a rocky coastline that stretched north and south as far as Allegra could see, the sharp jagged peaks finally fading into the clouds. Carob trees competed for space with pines, smaller oaks and olive trees. Nestled in each of the promontories were little inlets of emerald lapping at the rocks and sand, the water turning a deeper blue further out into the Gulf of Policastro. Below them, the road coiled down the mountain like a piece of curling spaghetti until it reached Maratea itself, and further down, the port of Maratea Marina. The bright blues, reds and oranges of the wooden fishing boats drawn up on the beach and moored behind the rocky breakwater added to the charm of the little port. This place was seemingly untouched by tourism and the pace of a more urgent world.
Allegra, conscious that once again she and Giovanni were standing very close together, closed her eyes. The sun felt warm on her face. Fleetingly she thought of her family back in the cold, misty hills of Tricarico. She missed them dreadfully and wrote regularly, but in her heart she knew that she could never go back. Allegra had come to realise that the Church and the little convent of San Domenico had put her in an intellectual and experiential straitjacket. Her faith was as strong as ever but she was starting to spread her wings. The Vatican’s control over Allegra was being eroded.
‘ E molto bellissimo, Giovanni. Really lovely.’
Giovanni smiled and let his arm rest around her shoulders. ‘I thought you’d like it,’ he whispered. ‘While we’re here we’ll borrow a boat and have a picnic on one of those little beaches down the coast.’
Allegra leaned in against him. She wanted to stand there for ever.
‘Sure beats doing assignments,’ she murmured.
The road down to the town contoured around the steep side of the mountain and Giovanni had to coax the ageing gearbox into second to supplement the Fiat’s equally ageing brakes. When they reached the little port Giovanni parked in one of the several empty spaces on the piazza beside the marina.
‘See that house with the orange shutters?’ Giovanni was pointing to a group of whitewashed concrete houses at the southern end of the beach overlooking the port. It was as if the little village had been carved into the side of the mountain. In front of the houses a small limestone cliff dropped vertically down to the water and the brightly painted wooden boats rocked gently under its protection. Behind the houses the dense brush of the foothills rose sharply to meet the majesty of the Apennines. ‘That’s home.’
‘It’s lovely, the view must be wonderful.’
‘It is, but don’t be deceived by the view. That part is expensive but we Donellis are simple folk. The house was owned by my great-great-grandfather and it’s been in the family ever since.’
‘It looks lovely just the same, although I’m feeling a little nervous about meeting your family.’
‘You shouldn’t be. It’s not as if I’m bringing home a fiancee.’
Allegra’s embarrassment was obvious, her blush rising through her tanned skin, and Giovanni instantly regretted the comment.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.’ For a moment there was an awkward silence between them as they each wrestled with thoughts they dared not put into words, then just as quickly the moment passed.
‘Giovanni!’ Giovanni’s sister Maria had spotted the car, and run like a young schoolgirl through the alleys and laneways to meet her favourite brother. ‘Giovanni!’ She flung herself at him, kissing him enthusiastically on each cheek.