“May the Lord grant you health again, Librarian.” Zadok gently grasped his arm.
Theokritos returned his hold. “We meet as scholars unraveling a mystery. You Hebrews have a reputation for learning.”
“A persecuted people must use the pen as a weapon, rather than a sword.”
Getorius looked at Placidia to gauge her reaction at the exchange, but she was smiling. He had thought she might have been worried that Theokritos would be hostile, since he considered the Hebrews’ unbending insistence on the worship of one God arrogant and irrational.
“This is the mystery,” Placidia said, taking two cedar boards off a side table. “Theokritos has flattened the will papyrus onto a wooden panel and held it in place with the golden ribbons you see. The letter of Peter is on this other.”
When Magnaric came in with a cup of hot mulled wine, the rabbi declined and explained to Placidia, “My thanks, Empress, but our dietary laws of kashrut forbid me.”
“Indeed,” she replied with a trace of impatience in her voice, “I recall that you Judeans cannot take foods that are unblessed. Another peculiarity of your religion.”
“May I sit here, Empress, to study the documents?” Zadok asked her, to avoid continuing the subject.
At Placidia’s nod, he took the boards from her and sat on a couch. The silence was broken only by Theokritos’ rasping cough as the rabbi read. Zadok went back over the text again and fingered the edges of the fiber sheets before looking up at the librarian.
“The papyrus is of fine quality. What one might expect to find in a procurator’s office. I’m told you’ve conducted tests to determine its age. May I know your conclusions thus far?”
Theokritos shook his head. “That is only for the Regina to see, after I finish. What did you find out from the text, Teacher?”
“Empress”—Zadok looked at Galla Placidia—“I understand there have been several deaths connected to these documents.”
“Not directly,” Placidia hedged. “Well, one. An assistant to Theokritos.”
“Who would do this?” Zadok probed. “For what purpose?”
“I suspect my military commander may be involved. Two of the deaths have been inside the palace.”
“The first, you say, was the unfortunate library assistant who discovered the documents’ hiding place. Why was the niche equipped with such a trap, do you think?”
“To keep the two papyri from being discovered,” Arcadia ventured.
“But, young woman,” Zadok chided gently, “one could not think of a more dramatic way to call attention to them.”
“My thought also,” Theokritos agreed, struggling to sit up, and animated now that a discussion was under way. “The person who accidentally discovered them was meant to be killed.”
“One less witness,” Getorius said. “And yet hiding the papyri had to be a temporary measure.”
“Surgeon, you do have skills other than medicine,” Theokritos remarked. “Continue your speculation.”
“After the verses on Behan’s manuscript—the prophecy about the will—were revealed, someone obviously was to remove the documents and make them public.”
“Correct,” Zadok agreed, “and the timing would be critical. The discovery was premature, yet the actual date could not be far off, or it would risk exactly what did happen.” He fingered the papyrus sheet with the will. “Christians have a great festival during our Kislev, that is, next month. Near our celebration of Hanukkah.”
“The Feast of the Nativity is in December,” Getorius told him. “The commemoration of Christ’s birth.”
“Yes, that would be most appropriate for such an earthshaking announcement.” Zadok reexamined the letter of Peter. “These Hibernians puzzle me, that this remote people should suddenly be thrust onto the world stage.”
“Not unlike you Hebrews,” Theokritos commented with a husky chuckle.
Zadok nodded, smiling at the quip. “And that these people should be entrusted with such a document, assuming for our purpose that the will is genuine. An unknown land at the extreme northwest corner of your father’s maps, Getorius.”
“Ptolemy called the island Ibernia,” Theokritos recalled, “but the outline he drew is pure fantasy. It was terra incognita at the time, and still is.”
“Then,” Placidia suggested, “what better hiding place for four hundred years?”
“An excellent point for the authenticity of the two documents—”
Zadok was interrupted by Theokritos suffering a spasm of coughing. He spat yellow mucus into the bowl, then leaned back on the pillows, his breath coming in short gasps. “What…of the…text, Teacher? What did…you find in it?”
“The language. Is the Latin writing style of Pilate’s secretary consistent with the era?”
“Theokritos, save your voice, I could reply,” Getorius offered before the librarian answered. He waved a hand in agreement. “Rabbi, Theokritos compared the text with manuscripts by the younger Seneca. Who else, Arcadia?”
“Quintilian. The styles were the same.”
“And not difficult for any competent scribe to copy.”
“True, Rabbi,” Getorius agreed, “which is why Theokritos concentrated his tests on the material. The ink and papyrus fibers themselves.”
“Yeshua ben Yoseph spoke Aramaic, the language of Judea at the time,” Zadok recalled. “The letter of Simeon…of Peter…is in that language. Our forger is clever.”
“The will is in Latin,” Theokritos croaked. “Latin would be written by a Roman procurator’s secretary.”
“Very clever,” Zadok emphasized. “Empress, have you a copy of the Christian Testament?”
“I do.” Placidia went to a cabinet and brought back a richly bound codex containing the writings of the four Evangelists. “A gift from Bishop Chrysologos. What is it you’re looking for, Rabbi?”
“I may have detected a contradiction.”
“I thought something was out of place, too,” Getorius said. “I have no training in these things, but I believe I spotted an error.”
“There are two contradictions,” Theokritos corrected, “as the Teacher also may have noticed. But go on, Surgeon.”
“I recalled that the text of Matthew read that Christ said he could ask for the help of several legions of angels. May I, Regina?” At Placidia’s nod, Getorius thumbed through the book’s pages. “Here. ‘Do you think that I cannot appeal to my Father to supply me with twelve legions of angels?’”
Zadok nodded. “We have studied these accounts to determine whether or not our Sanhedrin acted improperly. What is the contradiction?”
“The discrepancy,” Theokritos broke in, “is that the papyrus reads, ‘The Twelfth Legion of Angels.’”
“So the forger
