wasn’t a story he liked to tell. ‘He fabricated the story of the Bedouin to be able to investigate more thoroughly what his team had discovered. He was ingenious. In the ultimate analysis it was providential. The hunt for the scrolls began. Complete and partial parchments were sold on the black market for millions of dollars. Total fraud in the majority of the cases.’
William continued the detailed account. The church had its own agents in all the markets of the Near and Middle East looking for any documents relevant to the Holy See or the history of the West. Sarah imagined Rafael as one of these infiltrators, with turban and dagger, or saber, in a white tunic negotiating in the hot sands of Damascus, Amman, and Jerusalem. Of course he wasn’t old enough for this.
From time to time there was talk, whispers only to interested parties, about some fragment that appeared in some place in the possession of some person or another. Offers came in from all sides, always in a tent, never in the heat of the sun, and the church managed to acquire some of these fragments of history in exchange for large sums of money. They were translated and authenticated. The Dead Sea Scrolls do in fact exist. For some time they were not seen or heard of by anyone, but then two or three appeared at the same time. Ben Isaac released a few he deemed sufficiently provocative, but harmless.
‘And how was it they discovered his scheme?’
‘It was God.
‘They might never have been discovered. Ben Isaac was an intelligent man with an acute, discreet mind. But one of the archaeologists who was part of the Israeli’s team quarreled with his supervisor and resolved to abandon the project. Despite a pledge of secrecy, he sent an anonymous accusation to the secretary of state. It was the pontificate of the good Pope John that tried to verify the information. It was confirmed.’
William was silent for a few moments to let all this sink in for Sarah, who listened attentively.
‘But the story of the Bedouin prevails today,’ Sarah objected.
‘In the beginning we decided not to reveal the false story, until we saw what was going to happen. It turned out to be advantageous to both sides.’
‘For both sides?’
‘For the church and for Ben Isaac.’
‘He gave you what he discovered?’ Sarah was astonished.
‘Part of it. Fundamentally we had the same objectives.’
‘Which were?’
‘To preserve history,’ William offered.
Sarah didn’t exactly agree. She considered the church an institution that preserved only the history that served its own interests, not all of history.
‘So what was Ben Isaac’s plan?’
‘He wanted to keep the discoveries secret at all cost. Not just from the church, but from everyone.’
‘He didn’t want glory, like every other adventurer?’
‘No, he was born into wealth. He studied in London, fell in love, and married. He was a hard worker. Then he took on the mission of finding evidence of the Bible. Others before him had tried, without success. The place where the scrolls were discovered was a route of passage for the Jews. Jesus himself might have passed that way. He knew what had to be done and equipped himself with very expert historians and archaeologists. Money was not a problem, so everything came together in a positive final result.’
‘Yes, but I thought they found the gospels of Philip and Magdalene, which the church considers apocryphal and not credible, along with other irrelevant things. That’s what I read or heard, anyway.’
‘You’re well informed. That was only what they made public.’ He hesitated before deciding to go on. ‘The rest is protected by an agreement.’
Interesting, Sarah thought. The church and its secrets.
‘An agreement between…’ she insisted.
‘Between the Holy See and Ben Isaac. It’s called the “Status Quo.”?’
Sarah smiled, remembering a rock band with the same name.
‘It means the current state of something. It was signed by John the Twenty-third and Ben Isaac, and later, by John Paul the Second and Ben Isaac and their team of historians, archaeologists, and theologians, obviously. It was important to maintain absolute secrecy.’
‘He must have been very young when he signed the first agreement.’
‘A little more than thirty years old.’
‘That’s something,’ Sarah said with admiration.
‘Indeed,’ William concurred.
‘I still don’t see what I’m here to do!’ Sarah exclaimed. Her curiosity continued to grow.
‘We’ll get there, Sarah. Be a little more patient.’
At that moment one of the doors opened to admit William’s resolute assistant, who whispered something in his ear.
‘We’ll go at once,’ William murmured.
The priest left and the cardinal was available again. It was time for the question a good journalist would ask if this were an interview. ‘And what documents are included under this agreement?’
William didn’t answer at once. He approached Sarah, stopped looking at the faces of Christ, and focused on her. He hadn’t stared as intensely all night as in this moment. He felt uncomfortable, even blushed.
‘Two documents from the first century,’ he informed her at last.
‘Important?’ Sarah asked uncomfortably.
‘Very. One of them is the Gospel of Jesus.’
17
When a commandment comes from God, it cannot be questioned. It is known that He always writes without error. His will is law, always, even if it is not written. It will come to pass from that day forward. And if to protect Him certain commandments must be violated, commandments that He himself inscribed and gave to Moses to communicate to us; well, then, let His will be done on earth as it is in heaven.
One of the Ten Commandments he violated constantly, Thou shalt not kill, but He slept like a baby every night since He knew the majesty of His work in the astonishing Creation.
The mail was delivered every week without the name of the sender or the recipient listed, since it could be for only him, for only he and she lived there.
She always woke up before he did and never went to bed unless she was told to or unless he was not at home, which, fortunately, happened frequently. She rarely spoke unless he asked her a question, though she did speak to herself when she was alone. Every day, like taking medicine, before bed, and first thing in the morning, she had a random passage from the Bible to read, or at least that’s what she thought.
Tonight he returned without prior warning, and she was still not asleep at nine. She was reading a novel that he didn’t know about. Her lip split from the hard slap he gave her and splattered blood on the pillow.
‘The sun has already set,’ he said in a calm voice and with an expression that made it seem the remark should be considered an act of leniency.
‘Forgive me,’ she murmured, her eyes tearing with pain.
She got up and ran for her room.
‘Stop,’ he ordered, and approached her menacingly. He grabbed the book roughly. ‘I’m confiscating this. Go to your room.’
Everything had its time, rules, and discipline. A fault, whatever it was, required a punishment, and the slap in the face that split her lip was not itself the punishment, but a warning.
These outbursts could be avoided if she followed the rules. She knew them backward and forward. She had no excuse to disobey what had been determined.
He looked at the book and read the title, The Man Who Never Existed, by one Hans Schmidt. A heresy in two hundred pages that pretended to point out the road to salvation. He couldn’t understand it. God showed them the way. Why did she have to look for other ways? He was too merciful. Some people needed to learn the hard way how
