“Saint Veronica,” Ugo said. “The woman who wiped Jesus’ face as he carried the cross toward Golgotha. On that cloth, a mysterious image of his face was left behind. In this pier, the popes placed that cloth.”
At last he turned to the fourth statue. “Saint Longinus. The soldier who pierced Jesus on the cross, wounding him in the side with his lance. In this pier, the popes placed Longinus’ lance.”
Nogara turned to face us. “As you may know, only three of those relics are still here. In a gesture of goodwill, we gave the skull of Saint Andrew to the Orthodox Church. But Andrew’s head never belonged here anyway. This basilica’s relics should tell the most important story in Christianity.” A quiver began to form in Nogara’s voice. “The True Cross, the veil, and the spear are all relics of our Lord’s death. What belongs in the fourth pier is a relic of His Resurrection. John Paul, when he inherited the Shroud, was going to move it here. But the radiocarbon tests created a climate of doubt in which it was impossible to transfer the Shroud from Turin. Now we’re finally going to fix that. My exhibit is going to bring the Shroud home.”
He lowered his voice so that Simon and I had to lean in to hear.
“I have found ancient texts describing an image of Jesus that was kept in a city called Edessa for centuries before the Shroud appeared in France. That Turkish city is now called Urfa and is where your brother rescued me in the hospital. I’ve tracked our Turin Shroud to that location no later than the four hundreds AD. Now I want to do more: I want the finale of my exhibit to prove that this so-called Image of Edessa came from Jerusalem in the hands of the disciples themselves. And, Father Alex, that is where my work involves you.”
Before continuing, he reached into his pocket for the plastic bag he had taken from the apartment. From inside it he produced something odd: a plastic spoon resembling a drumstick. He lowered himself to Peter’s level and said, “Peter, I need to speak to your father alone for a moment, so I’ve brought something for you.”
The tip of the spoon was covered with something pale and lumpy.
“What’s that?” Peter asked.
“Suet. And it has magical powers in this basilica.” Ugo led Peter to an open space near the altar. “Hold it out just like this, and pretend you’re a statue. Don’t move a muscle.”
A moment later, a dove descended from the dome. It landed on the suet and began to feed. Peter was so surprised that he nearly dropped the spoon.
Ugo whispered to him, “Now go anywhere you like. Take your new friend for a walk. I’ve found the birds here are quite tame.”
Peter was enchanted. With the dove only inches from his hand, he began to drift through the empty nave, careful as if it were a candle he was holding. All of us fell silent for a moment, watching him.
Then Ugo turned back to me. “As I was saying, I’ve been hoping to prove that the disciples brought the Shroud from Jerusalem to Edessa. This proof, of course, has been difficult to find. But I believe I’m finally on its trail. You see, Edessa was one of Christianity’s early capitals, and in the mid–one hundreds AD a gospel was written there. This gospel came to be called the Diatessaron, which I’m sure you know is Greek for ‘made out of four,’ because its text was a fusion of the four existing gospels into a single document. Since the Shroud would’ve been in Edessa at the very moment this gospel was written, I believe its writer may have mentioned the Shroud in his text.”
I began to interrupt him, but Ugo held up a hand.
“The challenge of confirming this is, of course, that the Diatessaron is extremely rare. Our only surviving copies are translations into other languages, written centuries later. All original copies were destroyed by the bishops of Edessa themselves when they decided in favor of the four separate gospels. At least, so the story goes. But recently I seem to have discovered otherwise.”