On the day the mute was to take Arcadia back to her house, Prisca gave her a pair of fused glass earrings as a parting gift. She also agreed to come to the clinic after the New Year, for a gynecological examination.
The smell of chicken droppings still clung to Arcadia’s clothes as the carriage clattered back through the Porta Aurea. When her house came into view, she realized that she knew no more about conspirators with a red cockerel as a symbol than she had when she left, but she was sure it would be a long time before she would have Agrica serve chicken again!
Chapter seventeen
When Arcadia went to see her husband on the sixth of December, to tell him about her few days at Publius Maximin’s estate, she found David ben Zadok in the room with him.
After embracing Getorius, she uncovered a clay pan. “I brought you rabbit rissoles cooked in honey-ginger sauce, the way you like them. Rabbi, may I give you a serving?”
“My thanks, but our religious statutes forbid the eating of such animals.”
“I’m relieved you’re back, cara,” Getorius said, as he watched her spoon the meat into his dish. “I was worried about your safety, but evidently without reason, thank God.”
“You have been away, young woman?” Zadok asked.
“Senator Maximin invited me to his country villa for a few days.”
“He owns a chicken farm outside Ravenna,” Getorius explained to Zadok. “I was concerned for my wife because the man sports a signet ring with a rooster symbol. He says it represents his poultry business.”
“Yes, we know of the senator in Classis. Enormously wealthy and ambitious, but his influence over the emperor is tempered by Galla Placidia.”
“I thought the senator might be connected to the conspiracy because of the ring,” Arcadia said.
“But would he boast of it by displaying the sign of the cockerel so boldly?”
“You have a point, Rabbi,” Getorius agreed, “that would be too obvious. Arcadia, we were discussing the possibility of examining the case in which the papyri were found.”
“Could it tell us anything about the age of the documents, Rabbi?”
“Perhaps. Our goldsmiths would examine the decorations and metal, especially the solder joints.” Zadok exhaled and rubbed his eyes. It was obvious that he was tired, and probably not sleeping well over concern about the release of the will. “And yet this might prove nothing,” he admitted, “a new container could have been made every generation or so. The leather lining you found could also be recent.”
“Then there’s no way to really prove that the papyri are not authentic?” Arcadia asked.
“The librarian is taking the correct path, young woman. The fibers will tell us what we wish to know.”
Getorius voiced a doubt, “Isn’t papyrus subject to quick deterioration? Some of the library manuscripts are in terrible condition.”
“The case was sealed?”
“Yes. After Placidia ordered me to open it, I had to use a tile-cutter’s chisel to cut through the solder.”
“This would have protected the contents.”
“Would you be willing to look at the case, sir?” Arcadia asked Zadok.
“Of course, I would like to see it very much,” he agreed. “And it is important for us to be doing something, even while the librarian works. How is Theokritos feeling?”
“Still quite ill,” Getorius replied, “but he forces himself to continue. I spend my days reading near his office, yet he doesn’t let me help.”
“He has the case?”
“No, Placidia does.”
Zadok shook his head in a gesture of frustration. “I asked the Empress to let our scholars examine the two papyri, but she refused. Will she allow our craftsmen to test their container?”
“I’ll ask for an appointment,” Arcadia volunteered. “Tell her she might learn more about the documents from an examination of the case that held them.”
“I’m grateful, young woman.” Zadok stood up to leave. “You’ll wish to be alone with your husband now. Our goldsmiths will return the case before the festival of Hanukkah, on the twentieth of this month.”
“I’ll send you word when I have the case,” Arcadia told him. “Nathaniel can pick it up.”
Zadok nodded agreement and put a hand on Getorius’ shoulder. “Have faith, son. In the past the Almighty has seemed to abandon Israelites too, yet a Psalm promises, ‘All my enemies shall be confounded and dismayed. They shall turn away in sudden confusion.’”
“I…I’m sure that will happen, sir,” Getorius said, more as a comfort to the old man than to himself.
Galla Placidia was receptive to having the golden cylinder examined, but told Arcadia that Rabbi ben Zadok must report whatever his craftsmen found out only to her. She also mentioned that since Bishop Chrysologos had not heard from the dead monk’s monastery, he presumed no one had been able to come. Behan would be buried in the cathedral cemetery on December twenty-fourth, the day before the feast of the Nativity.
Nathaniel returned the Celtic case to Arcadia at her villa before sundown on December twentieth, along with a sheet of vellum that explained what little his artisans had been able to discover. The report was discouraging, yet, despite Placidia’s warning, Arcadia asked the Judean to come with her and show it to her husband.
“It is difficult to evaluate work that is so unique,” Nathaniel admitted to Getorius as he handed him the report. “Our gold workers found no Greek or Roman influence in the design.”
“Nothing to date it?”
Nathaniel shook his head. “The material is electrum, a silver and gold alloy that was known even to Egyptian craftsmen in the time of Moses.”
“The soldered joints?”
“Nothing to report except that the workmanship is superb. As Rabbi Zadok observed, our forger was clever in his writing, yet even more so in placing the papyri in a container of such authentic design.”
“But it could be recent, the style does survive in Gaul,” Arcadia said, unwilling to concede failure. “Behan’s clothes chest had similar decorations. I have tunics…gowns with Celtic embroidery work…at least one jewelry piece.”
“All traditional ancient designs,” Nathaniel countered, “which makes dating the case difficult.”
Disheartened at
