Fanatics

“Thanks for calling,” I said.

We traded pleasantries for a few minutes, then Northrop got down to business. “You needed some translations. Got a pen handy?”

I sat down at Raphaella’s work station by the window and pulled a writing tablet to hand.

“Ready,” I said.

“First, let’s talk about the book. The title, Compendium Revelationem, is easy. The English is ‘Collection of Revelations.’ ”

“Okay.”

“Hieronymvs is a given or what used to be called a Christian name,” he went on. “You may not have known that in Latin a v is an English u. The modern spelling would be Hieronymus, like the artist Hieronymus Bosch.”

“Ah, I see,” I said knowingly. I had no idea who the prof was referring to.

“In English the name would be Jerome.”

“Got it.”

“Ferrara is, of course, the Italian city.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Firenze is the Italian for Florence.”

“Right.”

“You have the date already-1495. The rest is a name-the printer and/or publisher of the book, Signore Francesco-that’s Francis, like the saint-Bonaccorsi. With me so far?”

“I’m with you,” I replied, scribbling.

“Now to the words imprinted around the circumference of the medal. As you said in your email, some of the words are indecipherable.”

I didn’t remember writing a six-syllable word in my letter. But I said, “Understood.”

“Remember that the v in Latin is a u in English. Also relevant is this: it was customary when putting Latin inscriptions on buildings, statues, medallions, and so on to compress words where space demanded. Sup is ‘super’ or ‘above,’ for example. Add this fact to the poor quality of the inscription and I have quite a challenge. All I can be sure about for the one side of the medal is ‘Hieronymus’ and ‘Doctissimus’-Most Learned Jerome-a formal title for an academic or churchman.

“On the reverse side of the medal we have better luck. I find ‘The sword of the Lord above the earth’ and ‘speedily and rapidly’ and ‘the spirit copiously advises.’ That might also be ‘amply warns.’ But here’s a loose translation: ‘Behold, bold and swift shall be the sword of the Lord upon the land.’ ”

“Got it,” I said, jotting furiously.

“Good. I’m not sure how helpful that is to you.”

“It’s very useful,” I said. “Thanks a lot. You’ve cleared up a few things. Um, if you have a minute or two more, there’s something I heard that I’m almost certain is Latin. I’m not sure how accurately I can repeat it.”

“Go ahead.”

I recited the words spoken by the torture victim in my dream.

And the professor laughed.

“I guess I didn’t say it very well,” I said, disappointed.

“Sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you. What you said is taken from two very well-known works. Well, if you’re Catholic and know Latin, that is. The part beginning with Credo is from a statement of belief, the Nicene Creed. It goes, ‘I believe in one God, the Father almighty, maker of heaven and earth.’ And so on. Want me to repeat that?”

“I’m writing it down. Go on.”

“The second bit is a prayer. ‘Out of the depths I have cried to thee, oh Lord. Lord hear my voice.’ It’s from the Psalms and has been widely recited since medieval times.”

“Oh.”

“I believe it was Oscar Wilde who wrote a book while in prison. He titled it De Profundis, or ‘From the Depths.’ ”

“Prison, you said?”

“That’s right. They locked Oscar up for being gay. It was against the law in those days. What a world, eh? Anything else I can do for you?”

“No. This is great,” I said. “I really appreciate it.”

“Any time, Garnet. My best to your parents.”

And he was gone.

With swelling excitement I opened my laptop and brought up the page of words I had copied from the medal and the professor’s old copy of Compendium Revelationem. My eyes darted back and forth between the computer screen and the scribbles I had made during the phone call.

The man in my dream was the man on the medal and his name was Hieronymus.

One of the names on the Compendium was Hieronymus. Northrop had said that Bonaccorsi was probably the publisher. So Hieronymus was probably the author.

I had the names of two cities in Italy, Ferrara and Firenze, or Florence. How they fit the puzzle was anybody’s guess.

I sat back and stretched. Puzzles. Conundrums. Riddles. Enigmas. Fun? Sometimes, but not this time. Frustrating? Definitely. Dangerous? I looked around. Maybe. Probably.

My gaze was drawn to the alcove. “Well, Professor Eduardo Corbizzi,” I said out loud, “maybe I should ask you.”

I crossed the room and took his Savonarolan Theocracy from the shelf and carried it to one of the comfy leather club chairs in front of the hearth and the new mantel. Wondering what “savonarolan” meant, I began to read. The first chapter took me to Renaissance Florence. After half an hour or so of dry academic paragraphs I sat back and stared at the ceiling, the book open on my lap.

It couldn’t be this easy, I thought.

Savonarola. A surname. First name, Girolamo. Born and educated in Ferrara. Lived and preached in Florence. A Dominican monk and a priest. A writer and renowned orator. One of his most famous books was Compendium Revelationem, in which he recounted visions of the future he claimed were revealed to him by God.

He was the subject of Professor Corbizzi’s book.

His name, Girolamo, meant Hieronymus in Latin and Jerome in English.

He was the face on the medal, the author of the “Collection of Revelations,” the subject of Professor Corbizzi’s book, and the tortured prisoner in my dream. And according to Professor Eduardo Corbizzi, he was a fanatic.

PART THREE

I am the hailstorm that’s going to smash

the heads of those who don’t take cover.

– Girolamo Savonarola

One