Sign of the Cross

‘Really? I’ve never heard anything like that.’

‘Me, neither. Then again, I guess their union makes some sense. Their connection with Rome goes back two thousand years when Vienna was a Roman military post. In fact, you’ll never believe who one of the founding fathers of Vienna was. None other than Tiberius himself. It seems he was the leader of a Roman garrison that occupied the foothills of the Alps. While there, he grasped the importance of the region and ordered his men to take over the Celtic city of Vindobona. Once they did, it became a military stronghold for the next five hundred years.’

Until that moment Payne wasn’t sure if the laughing man statue was worth a ten-hour drive. He figured they might find a clue or two but wasn’t convinced it was worth their exposure time — especially since the Hofburg was a federal facility. Too many things could go wrong, he told them. Too many well-trained guards would be nearby. Yet Boyd and Maria persisted, practically demanding that they go to Vienna.

This latest bit of information helped Payne understand why.

Strangely, the link between Tiberius and the laughing man was irrefutable, yet for some reason their partnership had never been acknowledged in history books. That meant some group went out of its way to hide the alliance between these men. And the instant their secret was threatened, they panicked, sending in a hit squad to take out Boyd and Maria at the Catacombs, then blowing up a bus to silence anyone who might’ve overheard them talking.

But why? And more importantly, who? No one would go through that much trouble unless there was a modern-day consequence to the secret. And if so, then this had to be about Christ and the people who believed in him. There was no other explanation for such desperate behavior.

Payne whispered, ‘What’s your take on the Catholic Church? I mean, do you think they could be behind this?’

‘That’s a difficult question. Most people like to view their church as infallible. But any time you throw humans into the mix, anything is possible.’

Jones pondered his next statement for several seconds. ‘Are you familiar with Pope John VIII? Legend has it that he was an English scribe who signed up for work as a papal notary. Years later, after dedicating his entire life to the Church, he was named pope. Great story, right? Unfortunately, there’s a tragic ending. Shortly into his reign he was overcome by excruciating pain in the middle of a public processional. Before anything could be done to help, the pope died right there on a Roman street in plain sight of everybody… Any idea how he died?’

‘Let me guess. He was poisoned by a priest.’

‘Nope. He died giving birth. You see, it turns out John VIII was actually a pregnant woman.’

‘A woman?’

‘Amazing, isn’t it? The head of the Roman Catholic Church lied to everyone for several years in order to get what she wanted out of life. Her vows didn’t matter. Catholic law didn’t matter. The only thing she cared about was becoming Pope Joan.’

‘Pope Joan? That was her name?’

‘Not her actual name. That’s what fourteenth-century academics named her.’

The legend of Pope Joan goes beyond Christian history. Medieval tarot cards used to honor her with the papess card (la papessa in Italian) before the Catholic Church applied enough pressure to have the card changed to the priestess card, hoping to minimize the scandal.

‘And she isn’t the only one who has broken church laws. From what I’ve read, popes have fathered several hundred kids over the years. Plus many popes obtained the papal throne through illegal means to begin with: bribery, blackmail, extortion. And even worse, many of them committed crimes while they were the pope, everything from theft to assault to murder.’

Payne grew silent as he thought about Jones’s words. Finally, he said, ‘If you worked for the Vatican and you heard rumors about an ancient scroll that threatened everything that you’d dedicated your life to, what would you do to stop it?’

‘Not to be rude, but I think you just asked a flawed question. In my mind a more appropriate question would be: What wouldn’t I do?’

Their truck stopped a quarter mile from the palace. Payne made his way to the driver’s window, anxious to talk to Ulster and Franz about the Hofburg. He knew both of them had been there. What he didn’t know was how knowledgeable they were about the security and the layout of the grounds. He asked, ‘How many times have you been inside the palace?’

Franz answered. ‘That is tough one. I lose count after all the years. Maybe thousand times?’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Ja! Didn’t Petr tell you? Scholars from Vienna have been coming to Archives for years, mostly because of Petr’s grandfather. The Hofburg is a national museum, several large museums all tied together. Their curators have brought many items to the Archives for us to study. Often they were too large or valuable to be moved without help. That is why we have the trucks.’

‘I guess that means you know the security guards, too?’

Franz smiled. ‘Ja, ja! I know them all by name.’

Suddenly, getting inside the Hofburg wouldn’t be as tough as Payne had thought.

Jones stayed in the truck with Ulster and Franz while Payne led the way across the Volksgarten, a colorful stretch of land that decorated the area near the Parliament Building. Maria followed several steps behind, her hair tucked under a ball cap, her face hidden behind a pair of movie-star sunglasses that she had bought from a street vendor.

Further back was Dr Boyd, the person Payne was most concerned for since his picture was on the front page of every newspaper in town. Thankfully, he blended in perfectly with a Scottish tour group that happened to be walking in the same direction. His pale features and bald head were buried under a red sun hat. His nose was slathered in a thick layer of zinc oxide. He objected to it at first, claiming that he’d look like an old man. Payne assured him that was the point. Everyone in Europe was looking for a ruthless killer, not a pasty-faced geezer covered in lotion.

It took several minutes to snake their way to the front edge of the Heldenplatz, the main courtyard in front of the Hofburg. Payne pretended to tie his shoe on the cobblestone sidewalk, allowing Boyd and Maria to catch up. Then, as a group, they crossed in front of a row of Fiakers, horse-drawn carriages that have been used in the Inner City for over three hundred years.

Boyd asked, ‘How are we to do this? May I walk over and examine the statue?’

Payne answered, ‘I don’t see why not… But when the truck arrives, we leave at once.’ He pointed to an equestrian statue near the Outer Gate. ‘I’m gonna hang back there and keep on an eye on you. While I do, please do me a favor and find out why that bastard is laughing.’

The laughing man statue was identical to the one in Milan. The weathering of the marble was different due to Austria’s harsher climate, yet there was no doubt in Maria’s mind that the two were made by the same artist, a fact that confused Boyd. Why would an artist waste his time and chisel two identical statues? Why not vary the positioning of the subject or the look on his face? And why was the laughing man grinning so broadly in every piece of art?

Maria whispered, ‘Is there any way we can trace the sculptor?’

Boyd blinked a few times before her question sank in. ‘It’s funny you should ask, for I was thinking the same thing myself. Alas, any research we conducted would probably result in a bloody cul-de-sac. Although a great number of sculptures and paintings exist from the days of the Empire, the names of very few Roman artists were ever recorded. In their culture, art was created for viewing not for creative recognition.’

‘Not even the masters?’

He shook his head. ‘Tell me, my dear, who designed the Colosseum? Or the Pantheon? We’re talking about two of the most famous buildings in the world, yet no one knows who designed them. That’s simply the way the Romans were. They didn’t value the artist.’

‘Then let’s ignore the artist and focus on the history of the piece instead? If the Romans cared about record keeping as much as you claim, maybe we’ll determine where the statues were created or why they were placed in separate cities. Who knows? Maybe everything we’re looking for is somewhere inside these walls.’

Boyd sighed. ‘I hope so, my dear. Otherwise the truth about Christ may never be learned.’