by the letters S and C – Senatus Consulto , the Senatorial mint mark. ‘The lost arch of Nero,’ she said. ‘ AD 54.’
‘Precisely,’ Trapani said, visibly impressed by the nun’s acumen.
‘But this isn’t a typical columbarium, is it?’ she said, glancing at the tarps.
‘Hardly.’ De Stefano waved his hand at the hanging wall tarp. ‘Please take it down, Gian Paolo.’
The men pulled the tarp free of its pins and gathered it up. Underneath were rows of small dome-shaped niches carved into the cement, many containing stone funerary urns. The array of niches was interrupted by one smooth panel of creamy plaster. Gian Paolo trained a floodlight on it.
The plaster was covered with a wheel of painted symbols.
Elisabetta approached it and smiled. ‘The same as my wall.’
The horns of Aries, the Ram.
The twin pillars of Gemini, the Twins.
The piercing arrow of Sagittarius.
The complementary scrolls of Cancer, the Crab.
The crescent of the Moon.
The male symbol, Mars. The female symbol, Venus.
All of the zodiac. The planets. A circle of images.
De Stefano drew close, almost rubbing against Elisabetta’s shoulders. ‘The plaster you studied must have come from the interior wall of a smaller room. It took this cave-in to expose the main chamber.’
One symbol particularly drew her attention. She stood beneath it and raised herself on her toes for a better look.
It appeared to be a stick-figure, the trunk a vertical line, the arms C-shaped upwards as if raised, the legs C-shaped downwards. The vertical line extended above the arms to create a head or neck but it also extended below the legs.
‘It’s surely the symbol for Pisces, but it’s traditionally portrayed on its side. Vertically, it looks more like a man, doesn’t it? My original wall had the same variant. And if it’s meant to be a man, what do you suppose that is?’ Elisabetta asked, pointing at the segment between the legs. ‘A phallus?’
The archeologists seemed embarrassed at hearing a nun utter the word and De Stefano quickly rejoindered, ‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘What, then?’ she asked.
The old professor paused a moment and told Trapani, ‘All right, pull back the ground tarps.’
The men worked quickly, almost theatrically to accomplish their version of a dramatic reveal, exposing the length and breadth of the debris-strewn floor.
Elisabetta put her hand to her mouth to stifle an oath. ‘My God!’ she whispered. ‘How many?’
De Stefano sighed. ‘As you can see, our excavations have been hasty and there’s undoubtedly jumble and stackage from the cave-in, but there are approximately eighty-five adults and twelve children.’
The bodies were mostly skeletal, but because of the sealed atmosphere some were partially mummified, retaining tan patches of adherent skin, bits of hair and fragments of clothing. Elisabetta made out a few faces with their mouths agape – fixed, it almost seemed, in mid-gasp.
The remains were only incompletely exposed; hundreds of man-hours would be required to extricate them thoroughly and carefully from the rubble. There were so many that she found it hard to focus on one at a time.
Then, out of the tangle of arms, legs, ribs, skulls and spines one singular feature emerged, crashing into Elisabetta’s consciousness like a huge wave pounding against a rock. Her eyes darted from one to another until she felt her vision blur and her knees go liquid.
Holy father, give me strength .
It was undeniable.
Every body, every man, woman and child stretched out before her possessed a bony tail.
FIVE
JANKO MULEJ HABITUALLY cracked his knuckles when he became impatient. The gesture wasn’t lost on Krek.
‘What’s the matter?’ Krek demanded.
Mulej was in his forties, a decade younger than his host, ugly as the back of a bus, as Krek liked to say, even to Mulej’s face. He was almost twice Krek’s size, a giant of a man who would have had to go around in tracksuits were it not for
‘Precisely,’ Trapani said, visibly impressed by the nun’s acumen.
‘But this isn’t a typical columbarium, is it?’ she said, glancing at the tarps.
‘Hardly.’ De Stefano waved his hand at the hanging wall tarp. ‘Please take it down, Gian Paolo.’
The men pulled the tarp free of its pins and gathered it up. Underneath were rows of small dome-shaped niches carved into the cement, many containing stone funerary urns. The array of niches was interrupted by one smooth panel of creamy plaster. Gian Paolo trained a floodlight on it.
The plaster was covered with a wheel of painted symbols.
Elisabetta approached it and smiled. ‘The same as my wall.’
The horns of Aries, the Ram.
The twin pillars of Gemini, the Twins.
The piercing arrow of Sagittarius.
The complementary scrolls of Cancer, the Crab.
The crescent of the Moon.
The male symbol, Mars. The female symbol, Venus.
All of the zodiac. The planets. A circle of images.
De Stefano drew close, almost rubbing against Elisabetta’s shoulders. ‘The plaster you studied must have come from the interior wall of a smaller room. It took this cave-in to expose the main chamber.’
One symbol particularly drew her attention. She stood beneath it and raised herself on her toes for a better look.
It appeared to be a stick-figure, the trunk a vertical line, the arms C-shaped upwards as if raised, the legs C-shaped downwards. The vertical line extended above the arms to create a head or neck but it also extended below the legs.
‘It’s surely the symbol for Pisces, but it’s traditionally portrayed on its side. Vertically, it looks more like a man, doesn’t it? My original wall had the same variant. And if it’s meant to be a man, what do you suppose that is?’ Elisabetta asked, pointing at the segment between the legs. ‘A phallus?’
The archeologists seemed embarrassed at hearing a nun utter the word and De Stefano quickly rejoindered, ‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘What, then?’ she asked.
The old professor paused a moment and told Trapani, ‘All right, pull back the ground tarps.’
The men worked quickly, almost theatrically to accomplish their version of a dramatic reveal, exposing the length and breadth of the debris-strewn floor.
Elisabetta put her hand to her mouth to stifle an oath. ‘My God!’ she whispered. ‘How many?’
De Stefano sighed. ‘As you can see, our excavations have been hasty and there’s undoubtedly jumble and stackage from the cave-in, but there are approximately eighty-five adults and twelve children.’
The bodies were mostly skeletal, but because of the sealed atmosphere some were partially mummified, retaining tan patches of adherent skin, bits of hair and fragments of clothing. Elisabetta made out a few faces with their mouths agape – fixed, it almost seemed, in mid-gasp.
The remains were only incompletely exposed; hundreds of man-hours would be required to extricate them thoroughly and carefully from the rubble. There were so many that she found it hard to focus on one at a time.
Then, out of the tangle of arms, legs, ribs, skulls and spines one singular feature emerged, crashing into Elisabetta’s consciousness like a huge wave pounding against a rock. Her eyes darted from one to another until she felt her vision blur and her knees go liquid.
Holy father, give me strength .
It was undeniable.
Every body, every man, woman and child stretched out before her possessed a bony tail.
FIVE
JANKO MULEJ HABITUALLY cracked his knuckles when he became impatient. The gesture wasn’t lost on Krek.
‘What’s the matter?’ Krek demanded.
Mulej was in his forties, a decade younger than his host, ugly as the back of a bus, as Krek liked to say, even to Mulej’s face. He was almost twice Krek’s size, a giant of a man who would have had to go around in tracksuits were it not for
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