The Second Messiah

“The marble scrolls are a sort of historical tapestry, depicting glorious past deeds, some of them a record of the villa owner’s and his ancestors’ achievements.” Jack moved closer to study the marble, using his sleeve to remove a thick layer of dust. “According to this inscription, he was a man called Cassius Marius Agrippa.”

“Was he someone famous?”

“If he was I’ve never heard of him. The ancient Romans loved the grand gesture. Their city was full of monuments, statues, and plaques to the movers and shakers of their world. Important figures liked to blow their own horn.”

“So he could have been famous.”

“Well, maybe not, Yasmin. Anyone worth their salt or with an ego complex had a bust made of themselves, or a statue commissioned. Some just liked to have their personal achievements inscribed for posterity, like Agrippa here.”

“What did he do?”

“A whole bunch of things, according to this. Agrippa was a man of many parts. Roman army general, consul, businessman.”

A portion of one of the inscriptions drew Jack’s attention and he put the lamp on top of one of the limestone blocks and climbed up. He grimaced in pain as he reached the top and gripped his leg. “Ouch, that hurt.”

“What’s wrong?”

“A twinge in my thigh.”

“Your wound?”

“Yep.”

“Be careful, take it easy.”

Jack used his elbow again to wipe off dust from the marble. He carefully ran a finger over the stone as if he were reading Braille. “I also think this guy Agrippa may have been in love.”

“With who?”

“Himself. His list of his achievements seems endless. On top of everything else Cassius Agrippa was—”

“Was what?”

Jack held the lamp closer to the marble, light flickering over the inscription as his brow creased with shock. “There’s something amazing up here. Come and see for yourself.”

81

Lela stumbled over a hill of rubble. She felt totally confused as she halted in the middle of a cobbled Roman street, the remains of shops and villas on either side. “Where are we? This place is a total maze. Why do I have the feeling that we’re lost, Ari?”

They were far past the entrance passageway, the string of lightbulbs had ended, and Ari used his lamp. Ahead, half a dozen passageways led in different directions. High above them was a metal trellis set in the roof, the hint of street light filtering down, the vague sounds of traffic and a distant church bell.

Ari swung the lamp to create a bigger spread of light, then peered up at the metal trellis above. “I read about these tunnels. They crisscross Rome. So there have to be other exits.”

“I hope so. We can’t go back the way we came with the police around.”

Ari moved left but as he did his balance went and he teetered on the edge of a huge shaft, the lamp swinging in his hand to reveal that it dropped away into bottomless darkness.

“Ari!” Lela grabbed his arm and managed to pull him back in.

He wiped perspiration from his brow. “That was pretty close.”

A second later, Ari’s cell phone rang and he flicked it on, heard a voice, and said, “Go ahead.” He covered the mouthpiece and said back to Lela. “It’s base, in Tel Aviv.”

“What do they want?”

“They’ve got a positive ID on the Arab.”

Yasmin gripped Jack’s hand and he pulled her up to join him on the limestone block. She found her balance and held on to him as he read from a damaged section of the marble. “What does it say?” she asked.

Jack touched the chiseled lines with his forefinger. “According to this, Cassius Agrippa was a commander in Roman-controlled Syria. It doesn’t say where in Syria but it does mention it was at the same time as the governorship of Pontius Pilate, who controlled Palestine.”

“Go on.”

“Cassius Agrippa claims a long list of personal achievements. But what’s particularly interesting is this one: ‘Portavit sicco suus officium quod sentio quod neco Nazarene notus ut electus vir.’”

“Give it to me in plain English, professor.”

“It says: ‘He carried out his duty and judged and put to death the Nazarene known as the chosen man.’”

Jack took a worn, leather-bound notebook from his back pocket and jotted down the Latin words inscribed on the marble. “That’s all I can make out. After that there’s a big gap where the inscription’s been damaged. The ‘chosen one’ was another term used to describe the messiah at that time. By ‘chosen man’ I’ve a feeling they mean the same thing.”

“Is this the same commander who carried out the execution in Dora?”

“I’ve a gut feeling it may be. Father Novara and Father Kubel were both archaeologists and must have figured out some sort of connection to the Nero marbles inscription. Why else would the drawing be in the file?”

“Does it say where the execution took place?”

Jack followed the inscription with his finger. “No. Big chunks of the writing are missing here too.”

Yasmin frowned as she looked around the rotunda scrolls. “Why do you think Cassius Agrippa wanted all this mentioned in his inscription?”