“What is it?”
“The meaning behind the relief on the ossuary.” Bersei’s voice was quiet as he pointed again to the monitor.
Seeing his bewildered expression, she scrunched her face and said, “Looks like it did have something to say after all.”
“I’d say so,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes.
Leaning closer, Charlotte read the text aloud: “Adopted by early Christians, the dolphin intertwined around the trident is a portrayal of...” she paused.
The low drone of the ventilation system became suddenly pronounced.
“. . . Christ’s crucifixion.” Her voice trembled as she uttered the words, which seemed to hang in the air like vapor.
It took Charlotte a moment until the full impact hit her. “Oh my God.” A vice tightened in her stomach and she had to look away.
“I should have known.” Bersei’s strained voice sounded tormented, weak. “The dolphin shuttles spirits to the afterlife. The trident, the sacred three, representing the Trinity.”
“No way. This isn’t right.” She looked down at him.
“I know the ossuary’s patina is genuine,” Bersei protested. “Every single part. Consistent throughout, including the residue covering this relief. Plus I’ve established that the mineral content could only have come from one place—Israel. And the evidence we saw on the bones reinforces that message. Scourging. Crucifixion. We even have the nails and bits of wood,” he
emphasized, throwing his hands up in surrender. “Just how much more obvious could all this be?”
Her mind went momentarily blank, as if a cord powering her rational
thought had been unplugged. “If this is really the body of...Jesus
Christ”—it almost hurt for her to say it—“think about it—how profound
this is.” Charlotte saw the crucifix hanging over her bed. “But it can’t be.
Everyone knows the crucifixion story. The Bible describes it in minute detail and it doesn’t agree with this. There are too many inconsistencies.” She
strode briskly to the workstation.
“What are you doing?” Bersei was out of his chair.
“Here. See for yourself.” She jabbed a shaking finger at the brow of the
skeleton’s skull. “Do you see any evidence of thorns?”
He looked up at her then straight back at the skull. Giovanni knew
what she was implying. Scrutinizing it intently, he failed to detect even
minute scratches. “But surely it’s hardly likely that thorns would inflict
damage on the bone itself?”
Moving around the side of the workstation, Charlotte was now down
by the legs. “What about this? Broken knees?” She pointed at them. “I
don’t remember these being mentioned in the Bible. Wasn’t it a spear in
Jesus’s side that finished him off?” Here she was trying to renew her lost
faith at a time when she most needed to believe in something bigger than
herself, and Bersei—of all people—was tearing it down again. Worst of
all, he was using science to do it.
The anthropologist spread his hands. “Look, I understand where you’re
going with this. I’m just as confused as you are.”
She studied him intently. “Giovanni, you don’t really think these are
the remains of Jesus Christ, do you?”
He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “There’s always the possibility that this symbol was only meant to honor Christ,” he offered. “This
man,” he pointed to the skeleton, “could merely have been some early
Christian, a martyr perhaps. This could all be a tribute to Christ.” He
shrugged. “It’s not exactly a name on that box. But you saw the genetic
profile. It’s not like any man we’ve ever seen. I’d have to say that I’m pretty
certain about this one.”
“But it’s only a symbol,” she protested. “How can you be sure?” Bersei was taken aback by the American’s passionate denial. He wished
