Chapter 10
Piazza di Santa Maria Maggiore
"I THINK YOU went a little far with our senior clerics." The old priest spoke the words with what might almost be a smile. "However, at your age, Marco, I think I might have been tempted to do the same. If you can take advice from a friend, slightly more respect to Cardinal Amendola would not come amiss in future."
"He annoyed me. He was..."
Father Josef raised a finger, and Marco could see a definite smile on the wrinkled face. "You are probably wondering why I asked you to stay behind. Let me get you a coffee."
At that moment one of the sisters appeared with a tray, allowing Marco to relax. The old priest must have sent a signal to the kitchen. Amendola and his entourage would be well on their way back to the Vatican, and Father Josef Reinhardt was obviously friendly. Marco smiled wryly as he recalled the New Testament letter to the Christian Hebrews. No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace. The first part, at any rate, seemed to be true.
The sister disappeared with a brief wink for Marco, leaving Father Josef to pour the coffee.
"I already know something of your background, young Marco," the old priest said. "I have some work planned for you."
As Marco looked up in surprise, Father Josef held up a hand. "Drink your coffee, while I read what Eusebius of Caesarea has to tell us in his seventh book about his trip to Caesarea Philippi, just north of the Sea of Galilee. I have here a translation of chapter eighteen. I see no reason for us to struggle with the original Greek."
Father Josef pushed his half-moon glasses to the end of his nose as he turned the large book towards the light from the tall windows. He began to read.
"For the sake of those who come after us, I do not think it right to leave out a story that is worth telling. The people here say that the woman who had an issue of blood -- and who as we learn from the Gospels found healing at the hands of our Savior -- came from this place. In the city they showed us her house where there are still some wonderful reminders of the good act that the Savior did to her." Father Josef paused to raise the gold-rimmed cup of espresso to his thin lips. "This was, I believe, written in 325 AD," he added, taking a hushed sip.
"And it's reliable?" Marco hardly needed confirmation. The Church generally regarded the Ecclesiastical History of Eusebius as trustworthy. Certainly Sister Maria, who had taught him the catechism and ecclesiastical history at school, gave the man a good name for accuracy -- although she had definitely called some of his theology into question.
"I will read on." Father Josef replaced the small cup in its saucer, without the slightest tremor from his hand.
"On a high stone at the gates of her house we saw a bronze statue of a woman. She was bending on one knee, and stretching out with her hands. Opposite her was another figure made of the same metal, a standing figure of a man wearing a double cloak. He was reaching out to the woman. At his feet, on the monument itself, a strange species of plant was growing. It climbed up to the border of the double cloak of bronze, and acted as an antidote to all kinds of diseases. This statue, the people told us, was the likeness of Jesus. We saw it with our own eyes when we stayed in the city. It is not surprising that those people, who long ago had good things done to them by our Savior, should have made these objects. We also saw the likenesses of Christ's apostles, of Paul and Peter, and indeed of Christ himself, preserved in pictures painted in colors."
Father Josef removed his glasses and placed the book on the dark oak table. "It is a reference to the account told in the New Testament gospels by Matthew, Mark and Luke. You will remember how in Luke chapter eight the woman thought she merely had to touch the hem of Jesus' cloak to be cured? Eusebius is telling us the statue was built by the people who had actually seen Jesus heal this woman."
"I know the story," said Marco. "She was one brave woman."
"Well said, Father Marco. According to Jewish law anyone in contact with the dead or with blood was ceremonially unclean. This woman was treated as an outcast, ceremonially unclean with internal bleeding for twelve years, yet she dared reach out and touch a man."
"No wonder she tried to do it without anyone knowing."
Father Josef nodded. "Those people also saw Jesus bring the synagogue ruler's daughter back to life. They heard him claim to be the Son of God. We can be certain they would have made a fair likeness."
Marco looked up quickly. "And you really believe some of those things are still around?"
"I am sure the paintings have perished, but the statue...?" Father Josef shrugged. "The official Vatican line today is that no part of it still exists, which I find strange in the circumstances."
"I can't see it would tell us much about Jesus. Ancient art is very stylized," Marco protested. "Look at the Russian icons. The figure of Christ always has a long, distinctive face that bears no relationship to nature."
"The Orthodox style has been going with little change for over a thousand years, Marco. It is full of symbolism, but no one believes it to be an accurate portrayal."
"Right," he agreed. "And what about our early western art? At the time everyone told Giotto he painted in an incredibly realistic style. Realistic? It doesn't look very realistic today. So how could people make a good likeness of a human face two thousand years ago?"
"Are the statues of the Caesars accurate?"
Marco laughed. "How would I know?"
"Well, you must have noticed that there is a remarkable similarity between statues of the same Caesar found in different places," said the old priest. "Surely that demonstrates the ability of ancient craftsmen to achieve a precise likeness, time after time. The faces of the Caesars look lifelike so, yes, they are probably a true likeness."
"The ancient Egyptians weren't so clever at art. They painted the heads and legs sideways, and the bodies front on. And such big eyes. Very lifelike!"
"You are confusing style and symbolism with reality, Marco. The Greeks and Romans at the time of Christ went for extreme accuracy. We call it Classical art. It was revived in the Renaissance."
"There are Roman mosaics in the church here in the Piazza di Santa Maria Maggiore. They're not lifelike."
"They are from the fifth century, Marco. Roman art developed into a type of impressionism. The early popes exerted a strong influence on style. There was no such thing as Biblical art in the time of Christ."
"No statues?"
"Not of Jews or Old Testament characters. The Jews forbade statues, seeing them as idols, but the residents of Caesarea Philippi would not have worried about that. They lived in an independent Gentile area. The earliest Christian art in the catacombs shows Jesus as the Good Shepherd. And he never has a beard. I wonder why. That is something for you to think about while you're awaiting Amendola's final decision."
"We're talking about a Christian object surviving intact for nearly two thousand years," objected Marco, ignoring the mention of the Cardinal's panel.
"Two thousand years? If other ancient bronzes have survived, is it so surprising that just the head of this one could still be in existence? Two thousand years is not so long for a bronze article, especially if a Christian group has been guarding it carefully for much of that time."
"Which Christian group?" Marco asked immediately.
The old priest shook his head and bit his lip. "If only we knew its history."
"Does anyone know where this group was living?"
"In a monastery, possibly near Rome. At least, that is what I now believe. How would you like to do some detective work?"
Marco sat up. "If you think the face could look like Jesus Christ, it would affect every Christian. Maybe overturn dreams."
"We all have our own idea of what Jesus looks like, Marco. Some black Africans see him as black, and some Asians see him as Asian, because that is how they want to relate to him. And why not?"
"You're right, and deep down we all know our pictures aren't correct. I rememb
er Sister Maria saying that no one knows what Jesus looked like. A boy behind me said that he knew. He said he had a picture of Jesus in his Bible!" Marco grinned. "It will be a shock if this bronze head is authentic."
The haunting words of Old Savio came back. A relic. They say it could shatter the Church. Not true, surely? "No wonder the Vatican got excited when someone found it in..." He stopped. "But according to Cardinal Amendola the one they found in the Vatican was a fake!"
Father Josef nodded. "True, although Canon Angelo Levi believed he was given the original during the war."
"The Vatican must have taken photographs -- if they had the original. Or has Cardinal Amendola been at the shredder?"
Father Josef looked surprised. "You really have it in for poor Amendola. I doubt that such a photograph exists. When the war ended, Canon Angelo Levi failed to persuade the Vatican experts to take his relic seriously. I would dearly love to look at the features on that face. Photographs of the modern head that was destroyed yesterday would be of no interest."
"So what happened to the real one?"
"Marco, evil is like a circle. It passes by, but it comes round again. I believe history is repeating itself. We have to break that circle." Father Josef glanced up at the painted faces in their frames high on the walls. "This room makes me uncomfortable, which is doubtless why the Cardinal chose it for the panel. Come, we will go to my apartment and I will tell you what I want you to do for me."
The old priest carefully gathered up some papers, and rose slowly. He led the way down the staircase and along a corridor until they came to a worn, highly polished door to a small apartment. The rooms and the sparse furnishings could have been found in the senior lecturer's quarters of any ancient university -- at the turn of the nineteenth century. The apartment seemed to be located directly below the meeting room, since the view was of the same part of the piazza. At this level the traffic made the window vibrate.
"Marco, we believe a group of neo-Nazis is involved in a plan to divide and destabilize the Church."
Marco settled into the vast leather armchair. "We? You make it sound like the secret security services."
"You have already been sworn to silence about today's events. That oath still applies."
He looked around the room. This old priest was either totally mad or he was offering some interesting work. "Of course."
"There are several bodies in the Church concerned with security. Their duties run from the personal protection of His Holiness to the defense of our faith from heresy. You understand?"
He'd learned enough about bodies like the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith to feel uneasy. No one went before them with a disrespectful attitude.
"Countless crimes were committed in Italy during the fascist years. The occupying Nazi forces committed some, our own people committed others. Popular belief is that the Vatican glossed over many of these crimes. It was a time of great evil. Slowly the Church is asking for forgiveness for her support of an evil right wing. We saw Communism as the greater enemy." Father Reinhardt shook his head. "Many priests risked their lives to rescue Jews. But others did nothing. Rightly or wrongly, they saw it as their priority to protect their villages and congregations from Nazi reprisals. Very few Catholic priests come out of this without some share of blame. But you and I were not involved, so we are not in a position to judge."
"I wasn't even born," said Marco. "What about you?"
"I was sixteen years old in Germany at the start of the war. And now I am part of a special body within the Church. My duty is to protect our people from the evils that remain from the war. We are, as you correctly call us, a secret security service. We serve the interests of the Church, and our existence is certainly secret. We are not, however, violent. In that way we differ substantially from national security organizations around the world today."
Marco looked carefully at Father Josef Reinhardt, deciding to defer judgment on the old man's sanity until later. "So how did the bronze head get to the Vatican during the war?"
"It is a complex family situation, Marco, and one I do not wish to go into at present. Over the coming days you will stay in contact with me here on the Piazza di Santa Maria Maggiore. This is where I work as well as live."
"Now just a minute," Marco protested. "I was summoned here to meet the panel of inquiry, but they came across from the Vatican. It's almost as though the main point of my being here was to see you."
Father Josef laughed. "What can I say? These are indeed my quarters. The others you met at the inquiry were told it would be better for them to travel across the city, than for an old man like me to go to them."
Marco studied the elderly priest's face. Assuming the secretive body was real, and he was still not convinced about that, Father Josef was unlikely to be an insignificant member. "Can you reassure me that the bronze head at the studios was modern?"
"Rest assured, Marco, it was. Once upon a time Canon Angelo Levi had the genuine one, but it has disappeared. He was attempting to sell a fake when he was murdered almost twenty years ago."
"A sting?"
"You mean...?"
"He switched it."
"Yes, Marco, it appears so. Angelo was attempting to do a deal with the neo-Nazis -- but I believe he wanted to use his deception to raise money for the poor. Unfortunately he was killed before he could tell anyone what he had done with the original. And because you made a public spectacle of yourself on television last night, I anticipate you will now be approached."
Marco walked to the window and looked out at the huge fifth century church filling the piazza. Life seemed to have suddenly become a mess. Did God often make life difficult for new priests? No wonder there was a shortage. "Approached? Who by? You're talking as though you want me to get involved, yet according to Cardinal Amendola I made a serious mistake."
"Marco, from when I am, you most definitely did not make a mistake. This is a photocopy of a crumpled note left at TV Roma last night, by what appears to be the neo-Nazi group called the ADR."
"I've heard of the ADR," said Marco. "Achtzehn Deutschland Reinigung, or something like that. It's to do with racial purity. They want to complete Hitler's political plan for Germany."
"You are wrong, Marco. Hitler and the Nazis had a clear and wide ranging political blueprint for Germany. Racial purity was only a part of it. Certainly the way they set about removing the people they saw as impure was an appalling act of barbarity. But most of the neo-Nazi movements today, like the ADR, have no political agenda. They are motivated by nothing more than racial hatred. Their sole purpose is to harass, abuse and even kill immigrant families and workers."
"And you want me to get involved with them?"
"Like it or not, Marco, you are already involved. I have here a cell phone for you to borrow. I already have the number for it. You may use it for your personal needs, and give the number to your friends. And certainly you must use it to keep in touch with me whenever you consider it necessary."