Allegra half ran, half stumbled along the river back towards the village. Tears ran hotly down her cheeks as she struggled to breathe. When she was sure he was not following her she sat down on a rock to calm herself, her tears slowly subsiding.
It was late afternoon by the time she managed to wash the stains from her dress and, with her eyes still filled with tears, Allegra knelt by the river.
‘Blessed Mother, I have sinned before you and all of heaven and I am not worthy to gather up the crumbs under your table.’ She asked the Blessed Virgin to pray for her and intercede on her behalf, for she knew that she would surely burn in hell. She recalled the Gospel of Mark very clearly and any sense of testarda had, for the time being, vanished. The nuns had quoted Mark often enough. Her Lord had said that ‘if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out; it is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than to have two eyes and be thrown into hell, where the worm never dies and the fire is never quenched’.
Later that night Allegra lay awake in the family bedroom, her sobs hidden by the snores of her parents and brothers. How could she possibly be forgiven for such a momentous sin. She recalled the words of her Lord and Saviour and the truth began to dawn on her; this was a message. A reminder of the evils of sex that had so often been emphasised by the Bishop. The Lord Jesus would never ever have allowed himself to get in such a dreadful position. He had been perfect. Matthew was very clear. He had been celibate for the sake of heaven. ‘Let anyone accept this who can,’ her Lord had commanded.
What had happened between her and Carlo was a mortal sin because she had allowed it to start of her own free will, and she realised what she must do. She would join the local Dominican Order and devote the rest of her miserable life to making amends. Already the pain and the guilt seemed to be easing as she recalled the vision of St Catherine of Siena where the Blessed Virgin Mary had held Catherine’s hand while Christ put a ring on it. It would mean sacrificing all her dreams of exploring a world outside Tricarico, but it seemed a trivial price to pay for the ultimate marriage. She would become a Bride of Christ. The Mother Superior at the Convent of San Domenico had described it as the most mystical union, a gift that came directly from God.
Allegra was brought back to the present with a start by a quiet knock on the door. She opened it to find Father Giovanni balancing a basket of biscuits, coffee, some sweet cakes and chocolate.
‘Essentials for students!’
‘Father,’ she replied awkwardly. ‘Do come in. Forgive the sparseness,’ she said, offering him the only chair.
‘Please! Don’t apologise. Mine is exactly the same. And remember, it’s Giovanni. Have you settled in?’
‘More or less. It all seems a bit daunting.’
‘It always is for the first week or so until you find out where everything is. This is your first time at a university?’
Allegra nodded. ‘It was a real surprise, Father…’
Giovanni raised his eyebrows with a questioning grin.
‘Forgive me, I’m not used to calling priests by their first name.’
‘It’s all part of the program. Did they give you a briefing at your convent?’
‘Not really Fath-Giovanni,’ Allegra said, still struggling with the familiarity. ‘In fact, Mother Superior seemed a little cross about it.’
Giovanni laughed. ‘Sometimes change does not come easily,’ he said, ‘but I think there is method in John Paul I’s idea.’ A dark cloud shadowed Giovanni’s thoughts at the memory of the man he had so admired and respected. ‘We will have to write a brief report for the Vatican at the end of each semester,’ he continued. ‘Our impressions, how we relate to other students, their reactions, that kind of thing, but I dare say if we can open up the dusty corridors of the Curia to what is happening in the real world that will be no bad thing.’
Allegra started to relax, warming to the company of a man who seemed to know so much about everything, yet seemed so down to earth.
‘Have the others arrived?’ she asked.
‘Oh. You haven’t heard? Father O’Connell’s diocese is so desperately short of priests his Bishop won a last minute reprieve and I’m not sure who the other Sister was, but she resigned from her Order last week, so it’s just you and me, I’m afraid. If there’s anything I can do to help you settle in, let me know. I’m in Room 415 down the corridor,’ he said. ‘If you feel like getting out of here at the end of the week, there’s a great little pizzeria that’s within walking distance. On a Friday night they do a terrific wood-fired pizza and wonderful pasta especially for impoverished students like us.’ Giovanni bade her buonanotte and Allegra felt a little less alone.
That had been at the start of the academic year. As the year went on, although she was still troubled by some of the faculty teaching at Ca’ Granda, Allegra was more at ease with her new environment. With each passing week, she found herself looking forward to Friday night discussions with Giovanni over pasta.
Allegra hurried back from the little bookshop she’d found in one of the backstreets of Milano, a second-hand copy of John Allegro’s The Dead Sea Scrolls Revealed in her bag. She checked her watch and realised she had just enough time to get to Professor Rosselli’s introductory class on the Dead Sea Scrolls without actually running. Still wary of the traffic, she checked it twice and crossed the Corso di Porta Romana that led back to the university. Allegra slipped into the lecture theatre, just as the lecture was beginning.
‘ Buongiorno. Mi chiamo Professor Antonio Rosselli.’ A small man in his fifties with a weathered and lined face, the Professor wore a coat that was frayed and round black-rimmed glasses that were perched halfway down his large Roman nose. His white hair flopped in disarray, covering his large ears, and his dark eyebrows were bushy and as untidy as his hair.
‘Not one to spend much time with a comb,’ Allegra thought, intrigued by his mischievous smile.
‘Over the next few weeks we will be looking at the Dead Sea Scrolls,’ he began. ‘Over two thousand years ago, a mysterious sect of the Essenes lived in an isolated settlement known as Qumran on the northern shores of the Dead Sea. They were not, as the Vatican and others have suggested, a reclusive, pacifist and celibate bunch of monks, but rather one of the most advanced and enlightened communities of ancient civilisation. Their lifestyle followed that which Pythagoras had ordained for the ancient Greeks. Dressed in Pythagorean white, they rose before dawn to pray, and like Pythagoras, the Essenes were very advanced astronomers, mathematicians and well versed in philosophy.’ Professor Rosselli paused to tamp his pipe. ‘In this balanced society where women were considered the equal of men, work would cease at midday and they would bathe naked together in a ritual cleansing in one of several deep pools they had built in Qumran, before eating a simple communal meal’, he continued. The Professor’s enthusiasm for the ancient community was obvious. ‘The Essenes meticulously recorded every aspect of their lifestyle in an extensive library of scrolls. Part of their philosophy was to make their knowledge accessible to future generations. When the Roman armies advanced on Jerusalem in 68 AD the Essenes hid their scrolls in the caves above Qumran.’ Professor Rosselli surveyed his class over the top of his glasses. ‘But ever since the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls, there have been rumours of one particular scroll that reveals far more than the lifestyle of the mysterious sect of first-century Judaism,’ he said, his voice holding more than a hint of conspiracy. ‘Does anyone know what scroll that might be?’ Professor Rosselli asked.
Giovanni felt a sudden chill. ‘The Omega Scroll,’ he answered.
‘Yes, the Omega Scroll,’ Professor Rosselli said, his eyes gleaming. ‘The modern day equivalent of the Mummy’s Curse. As soon as people find it, mysterious things happen. It is also said to contain a revelation for humanity, a terrifying warning for civilisation. A secret so great that many seem to have been silenced in their search for this elusive archaelogical treasure.’
A revelation for humanity. Giovanni thought back to what he had witnessed in the Pope’s apartments, and he wondered whether there was any connection between Professor Rosselli and Professor Fiorini who had provided the brief for Pope John Paul I. Giovanni had tried to track the retired Fiorini down without success, and he resolved to speak to Professor Rosselli after the lecture.
‘So how did these scrolls come to light?’ Professor Rosselli, one of the world’s experts on the Middle East had a rare ability to transport his students back through time and space, and Allegra was not the only one to see the heat distorting the hills surrounding the Dead Sea. It was 1947.
The morning sun beat mercilessly on the Bedouin tents clustered in camps on either side of the long dusty road that since before the time of Christ had led from Jerusalem, east towards Jericho and down to where the River Jordan flowed into the Dead Sea. Centuries before, Christian pilgrims had been astounded at the sheer lifelessness of the water, and had given the sea its name. About 30 kilometres from Jerusalem the road forked. Straight ahead the river formed the border with Jordan, and the road led on to Amman. To the right, the road turned and led south
