“Perhaps…not.” Theokritos’ breathing was labored again. “The writer…was an officer on Pilate’s staff. I…checked some ancient records. Legion Twelve Fulminata…was first levied under Julius Caesar…for his Gallic campaigns. But…at the time Pilate was governor…the unit was stationed in Syria.”
“Judea was part of the province back then?” Getorius asked.
Theokritos gave a feeble nod. “This Lucius Secundus may have been…in the legion…before being assigned to the pretorium at Jerusalem. A Tribune, perhaps.”
Getorius realized, as the librarian already had, that the error actually made sense. “So, roused out of bed, translating and writing in a hurry, with Christ speaking Aramaic, Secundus may have inadvertently copied in the name of his old unit. ‘Legion Twelve,’ instead of ‘twelve legions.’”
Everyone fell silent, stunned at the logic of the error’s explanation. Theokritos lay back and closed his eyes, then rasped, “The other contradiction, Teacher?”
“All four Evangelists agree,” Zadok replied, “that when Simeon was questioned around the fire, he was in the courtyard of our High Priest, Yoseph Kaiaphas, not that of the pretorium, as the letter says.”
“And your conclusion, Teacher?”
“Perhaps a simple one.” Zadok held up the board with Peter’s letter. “Simeon is writing twenty-three years after the event. If my own failing memory is any indication, his confusion is to be expected.”
“Then the errors actually give the documents a measure of believability!” Getorius blurted.
“I stated that our forger was clever,” Zadok remarked in a grim tone.
“But how could Peter have sailed the distance to Ibernia?” Arcadia objected. “Some say the Apostle never even reached Rome.”
“The man was a fisherman,” Getorius countered. “He had to be familiar with boats.”
“Fishing on the Gennesaret Lake isn’t quite like navigating the Pillars of Hercules,” she persisted. “Theokritos, would Peter even have known of the Pillars?” Arcadia noticed that the librarian was in a half-doze and glanced at Placidia. “Librarian,” she called out to him, her voice raised. “Would Peter have known of the western ocean?”
“Ocean?” Theokritos stirred and asked to drink again. Arcadia helped him sip his wine, but he pushed her hand away when she tried to feel the swelling in his throat. “Peter? The western sea?” he repeated in a whisper. “On that we must speculate. The Acts record that he met a centurion at Caesarea, on the Mediterranean coast. Joppa is also mentioned. Traders in those ports would have known of the Pillars, even boasted of having sailed past them as far as Britannia. A common trade route to obtain tin.”
“Empress,” Zadok said, “again my explanation is simple. If this is the work of the Almighty, as Simeon claims, then the voyage could not fail. He wrote that the boat directed itself, as it were—”
“Nonsense!” Placidia exclaimed in anger and stood up. “The whole document is a stew cooked up from the writings of the Evangelists. Anyone could have concocted it. The letter of Peter, that rambling speech of Christ’s—”
“He would have been close to delirium from thirst and loss of blood…” Getorius stopped, regretting the remark. Placidia was upset because the contradictions went against the possibility of the papyri having been forged, and he had added another reason.
Theokritos suddenly leaned over and vomited bile onto the tile floor. Arcadia went to wipe his mouth.
“I’ll have him taken to his room.” Placidia rang a golden handbell to summon a servant.
“I could help, Regina,” Getorius offered, “then examine him there.”
“I think not, Surgeon. Theokritos and Antioches are Greeks…and proud men.”
After Theokritos was taken out, Getorius turned to Placidia again. “Regina, there are poisons that create the same symptoms as those the librarian is exhibiting.”
“Nonsense.”
“The unexplained deaths have been in the palace.”
Placidia glared at Getorius, then walked around the room, touching her mementos with agitated slaps. “Continue, Surgeon. I did say I mistrusted Aetius.”
“Even though I suspect poisoning in Sigisvult’s death, allow a doubt that he died of guilt…or shame…or some unknown cause. Archdeacon Renatus certainly did not choose to drown in that leech tub. Someone in the palace has to be involved in his death.”
“This archdeacon, what do you know of him?” Zadok asked. “Or the dead Hibernian monk? Begin with him.”
“Practically nothing of Behan,” Getorius admitted. “I found some writing I thought was a prophecy, but Theokritos dismissed it as a word game.”
“Prophets do not have the luxury of playing games,” Zadok chided. “These Hibernians are proselytizing on the Continent, bringing some good things from their island. Better agricultural methods…a love of learning. But these ‘word games.’ Are they connected with the discovery of the Galilean’s will?”
“I believe so,” Getorius replied. “Behan may not have forged the document himself, but it’s clear that he died before he could announce the prophecy about its revelation.”
“His drowning prevented that,” Arcadia added. “A fortunate accident, if I can characterize the monk’s death that way.”
“An accident, or the work of the Lord?”
Getorius shrugged—the rabbi saw the hand of God in everything—yet he might have provided a clue to the release of the papyrus. “Sir, you suggested that it might have been intended that the will somehow be revealed at the Nativity.”
“It’s certain the monk would need accomplices to do so, or was the tool of others.”
“Others? Then this may mean something,” Arcadia said. “Behan’s manuscript had the drawing of a red cockerel on the bottom. We also found the symbol in two other places.”
“A cryptic emblem?” Zadok’s white eyebrows rose at the information. “We have such symbols in our Kabbalistic literature to identify followers. Where else has this appeared, young woman?”
“Possibly on the Eucharist wine cup from which Sigisvult drank,” she told him. “And on a tile from your mausoleum, Regina.”
“Then I’m a suspect, too?” Placidia pointed to the wall. “Over there you see a painted rooster.”
“No. Of…of course not.”
Zadok eased the awkward moment by asking, “Empress, what do you know of this archdeacon who was killed?”
“Renatus arrived here from Gaul. The bishop thought very highly of him. Nothing more, really.”
“He came to see us the day before your dinner,” Getorius recalled. “Arcadia and I both felt he was overly curious about Behan’s manuscripts. And
