Past Lives

Eighteen

Stroud prepared to inject Benny Zur. This time he would use a more sophisticated metering device than the simple hypodermic he’d employed first time. This would give him more control over dosage. When he appeared to delay for too long, Ignatius asked why.

‘I’m having second thoughts,’ said Stroud. ‘I’m not sure he’s strong enough.’

Ignatius looked at the heavily sedated figure of Benny Zur. His skin looked pale — almost translucent — and his breathing was shallow. It had been some time since he’d last seen daylight and he’d lost weight through being kept under heavy sedation.

‘Haven’t the sisters been looking after him?’ asked Ignatius.

‘It’s not that,’ said Stroud. ‘His cardio-vascular system hasn’t been exercised in a long time; muscles waste very quickly when they’re not used. I’m not sure he’s going to stand up to the stress of regression.’

‘We’ll just have to take the chance,’ insisted Ignatius. ‘We’ve wasted too much time already. It could take us years to find someone else like him. We might never do it. He has to tell us all he knows.’

‘If he dies we’ll end up with nothing,’ said Stroud. ‘It would be safer to wait. We could ease off the sedation so that he remains conscious for longer periods: we could exercise him, improve his physical condition.’

Ignatius waved away Stroud’s suggestions. ‘No more waiting, we do it now,’ he insisted. ‘Get on with it.’

Stroud shrugged and connected the tube leading from the reservoir to the shunt needle he had taped into place in Zur’s arm. He opened up the small, plastic micro-valve in the line and the contents started to drip-feed slowly into the man’s arm. He kept his eye on the gauge as the level dropped then closed the valve and said, ‘You can begin.’

Benny Zur’s head started to move on the pillow as if stirring from a deep sleep.

Ignatius had a notebook open in front of him. It was the record of Benny’s earlier regression. ‘What is your name?’ he asked.

Benny did not reply. Ignatius kept repeating the question until he did. Benny became distraught. Sweat started to flow freely down his face and a rasping sound came from his throat. Stroud looked worried but Ignatius watched dispassionately. ‘Who are you?’ he asked. ‘Tell me your name.’

‘James... James of Caesarea.’

Ignatius leaned forward. ‘How old are you?’

‘Forty-four.’

Ignatius exchanged an excited look with Stroud. ‘Do you remember being in jail in Caesarea?’

‘Years ago.’

‘You met Paul of Tarsus there. Tell me about it. I want to know everything you can remember.’

‘Paul was a good man. He persuaded me that I should become a Christian.’

‘That must have been a dangerous thing to do in a Roman prison?’

‘There was a risk but I saw how things were going and decided to take the chance. It came off. When they let Paul go, they let me go with him.’

Ignatius looked puzzled. ‘But you were a convicted thief, why should the Romans let you go?’

‘When they arrested Paul, the authorities didn’t realise that he was a Roman citizen: they beat him up pretty badly. Of course, when they discovered their mistake, they knew they were in deep trouble. It was the right of every Roman citizen to put their case before the emperor in Rome if they felt an injustice had been done to them and that’s exactly what Paul insisted on doing.’

‘But you weren’t a Roman citizen, why should this affect you?’

‘When Paul said what he intended to do he started to get better treatment and so did his friends — I think the governor hoped Paul would change his mind about taking his case to Rome.’

‘But he didn’t?’

‘No, and eventually he was released into the custody of the centurion, Marcus Aurelius, for the journey to Rome. Paul requested that I and two others be allowed to accompany him on the journey.’

‘Why you?’

‘I was still in the process of becoming a Christian and Paul thought I needed support: he didn’t want me backsliding while he was away. Luckily, the governor was still anxious to please Paul. He was worried about what he might say in Rome so, in the end, I was allowed to go.’

‘What happened then?’ said Ignatius.

‘We were put on board ship.’

‘Bound for Rome?’

‘Not straight away. There was an important Greek on board and we had to take him to Thessalonica — but first, we stopped at Sidon to take on supplies. Paul was allowed to visit old friends in the port after he’d given his word to Marcus that he wouldn’t try to escape. He took me with him.’

‘Why?’

‘He wanted me to meet his friends. They were followers of Jesus before even Paul himself. Paul hadn’t always been a Christian. There had been a time when he’d actually fought against the movement so I think he still felt guilty. Maybe that’s why he worked so hard to make amends. He never seemed to rest.’

‘What about these friends?’ asked Ignatius.

‘They’d heard all about Paul’s success in converting people to the cause of our Lord. They were very pleased to see him and gave him something to take with him to Rome. They said it would protect him and help him in his mission.’

‘What was it that they gave him?’

‘A sword.’

‘A sword,’ repeated Ignatius.

‘It was the one used to pierce the side of our Lord on the cross.’

‘A sword, not a spear?’

‘A sword,’ replied Benny.

Ignatius seemed spellbound. His eyes didn’t blink for a full thirty seconds. The sword, if it still existed, would be a relic to rival even the Holy Grail itself. He was almost afraid to look at Stroud whom he sensed was positively shaking with excitement.

‘What was this mission?’ he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

‘Paul’s real reason for wanting to go to Rome was not to complain about his earlier treatment; he really wanted to try and convert the Emperor Augustus to the way of our Lord. If anyone could do it, Paul could. He burned with an inner fire that people found impossible to ignore. They listened when he spoke. They wanted to believe.’

‘So Paul left Sidon with the sword. What happened next?’

‘We had to sail south of Cyprus because the winds were in the wrong direction. We should have taken that as an omen. Things didn’t go well at sea. We seemed always to be either becalmed or struggling to make progress against headwinds. It was never easy.’

‘But you did make progress?’

‘We eventually reached Myra where Marcus had us transferred to a larger vessel sailing out of Alexandria to Rome.’

‘Did conditions improve?’ asked Ignatius.

‘No, we were becalmed again for many days and then, when we did get going, we lost two of the crew overboard. Finally we got caught in a storm and ran aground off Melita.’

Ignatius looked at Stroud and mouthed the word ‘Malta.’ He turned his attention back to Zur. ‘What happened then?’

‘The ship broke up on the rocks and we were thrown into the sea but we all managed to make it to land, some swimming, some hanging on to bits of wood, others being kept afloat by their friends. The God of Israel was with us that day.’

‘What about Paul?’

‘He was always a tower of strength. As soon as we reached the shore, he organised us into working parties. Some were detailed to build shelters, others to collect wood for the fire. I had to forage for food. As it turned out, there was no need. The local people were very friendly. They lit fires, gave us food and provided us with shelter until we got organised.’

‘And Paul? What did he do?’ asked Ignatius.

‘Paul was taken to see the governor of the island, a man named Publius and they became friends. As I said, Paul was good with people. Publius invited him to stay in his house and arranged living quarters for the rest of us until a ship could be found.’

‘Where was the sword all this time?’ asked Ignatius.

‘Paul kept it with him.’

‘Did he have it when he left the island?’

Benny appeared to hesitate. ‘I suppose,’ he said.

‘You suppose?’ repeated Ignatius slowly. He said it in almost threatening fashion. ‘Think!’

‘I... can’t remember.’

‘I think you can,’ said Ignatius. ‘Tell me!’

‘There were lots of problems over the sword. Important people on the island got to know about it. Some of them wanted to buy it.’

‘Buy it?’ exclaimed Ignatius.

‘They offered Paul as much gold as he could carry if he would leave the sword behind on the island but he said no. Selling it was unthinkable.’

‘So if he didn’t sell it... what happened to it?’

‘Two men broke into Publius’s house one night and tried to steal it. They were caught and punished. They had their hands cut off. Both of them bled to death.’

‘Who ordered that? Publius?’

‘No, they were servants of a rich merchant, Salicus of Mdina. Salicus himself ordered it. He even carried out the sentence himself.’

‘What would servants want with such a thing?’

‘Everyone knew that Salicus himself had ordered them to steal it but no one dared say it. He was such a powerful man, second only to Publius on the island.’

‘So the sword was safe.’ Ignatius suddenly changed tack. ‘How long did you all stay on the island?’

‘About three months.’

‘And then you set sail once more for Rome?’

‘There was a ship that had been wintering in the harbour. When it left for Syracuse, it took Paul and the others with it.’

‘But not you?’

‘I had to stay behind... I was sick.’

‘And the sword?’

‘Paul must have taken it with him.’

‘I think not,’ hissed Ignatius as if he was pronouncing a death sentence.

Benny started to sweat profusely.

‘That sword never left this island or history would have said so.’

‘I don’t know what you mean...’

‘I think that the sword was stolen from Paul by one of his own people. You!’

‘No! No!’

‘No mention of that sword was ever made again in Christian annals. It never reached Rome. It must have stayed in Melita... just like you did. Salicus bribed you to steal the sword after his own men failed, didn’t he? He knew you were the weak link in the chain just like I do. It’s written through everything you’ve told me. You weren’t converted to Christianity in jail. You just saw a way out of prison and, like the opportunist you are, you took your chance. Now, I’ll ask you again. What happened to the sword?’

Zur’s breathing became laboured and irregular as he tried to fend off Ignatius’s barrage of questions and accusations. Stroud was becoming anxious but Ignatius was not to be swayed.

‘You weren’t left behind because you were sick,’ snarled Ignatius. ‘You were a prisoner of the Romans! They wouldn’t leave a prisoner behind because he didn’t feel well! They would have put you to the sword and thrown your body to the fishes without a second thought! You stole the sword and made a run for it. You went into hiding and if I’m not mistaken, you hid in the house of Salicus, something you arranged beforehand. Admit it! Salicus bribed you to steal the sword didn’t he?’

‘Who are you? How do you know these things?’ Benny cried out.

‘I’m from the future. Call me part of your eternal damnation if you like,’ rasped Ignatius.

Benny let out a cry that made Stroud warn Ignatius. Ignatius held up a palm and continued with his questions. ‘What happened to the sword?’

‘I don’t know.’

Ignatius picked up one of Stroud’s shunt needles from the tray and took off its plastic shield. With a sharp downward movement, he pushed the needle in up to the hilt in the upper aspect of Benny’s thigh.

Benny’s eyes opened wide like a fish lying on a slab and he let out a scream of pain. Ignatius remained as emotionless as ever. ‘Now then,’ he said, ‘Are you going to answer truthfully or am I going to investigate your capacity for pain?’ He moved the base of the needle with a circular, grinding movement as if to illustrate his point. Zur cried out again and said, ‘All right, I’ll tell you... no more... no more.’

‘Go on.’

‘I did steal the sword for Salicus. He said that he would hide me in his cellars and give me my freedom when Paul and the others had left the island. I didn’t want to let Paul down but being a prisoner of the Romans was no life for any man.’

‘And the sword?’

‘It brought nothing but misfortune to Salicus and his family.’

‘How so?’

‘Salicus’s wealth came from his ships. He had a fleet of five, which sailed the Mediterranean, bringing spices from the east. Two were lost in storms before three months had passed. His wife died of a terrible disease that made her waste away and their only son was found dead in his bed one morning. No one knew why.’

‘And Salicus blamed the sword for this?’ said Ignatius.

‘He was convinced of it,’ said Zur. ‘He said he could feel its malevolence whenever he held it in his hand.’

‘Probably guilt,’ said Ignatius. ‘Did you feel anything when you held it?’ he asked.

‘No,’ replied Zur.

‘So what did Salicus do about it?’ asked Ignatius.

‘He went to Publius and owned up. He handed the sword over and begged for forgiveness. Publius was furious because of the shame Salicus had brought upon him and the island but decided that he had suffered enough. He’d lost just about everything that mattered to him. He decided that the whole affair should be kept quiet and that he would take care of the sword until it could be returned to Paul.’

‘But it was never returned to Paul,’ said Ignatius.

‘Publius hid it in a secret place so no one else would be tempted to steal it. There was a well in the courtyard of his house. It had a chamber hollowed out of the stonework about two thirds of the way down.’

‘How do you know this?’

‘Because I put the sword there.’

‘You? A convicted thief and a cheat?’

‘Salicus was pardoned by Publius but I wasn’t. I was to be executed for my part in stealing the sword. The execution was to be carried out immediately after I had hidden it so that I could never tell anyone.’

‘But?’

‘Publius relented at the last moment and let me live.’

‘That was a very dangerous thing to do. You were dishonest and knew too much.’

‘Publius was a good man. He didn’t want my blood on his hands. He had me put on board a Roman vessel bound for the east.’

‘As a passenger?’

‘As a galley slave. In many ways that was worse than being executed.’

‘So you never returned to Melita?’

‘Yes, I did.’

It wasn’t the answer Ignatius had expected. He looked to Stroud with renewed excitement. ‘When? How?’

‘After two years of living hell in the galleys, I escaped. We got caught in a sudden squall coming into Syracuse. It threw our vessel against the harbour wall and damaged the hull. I and three others were freed from our chains to repair it. That was when I got away. I swam under the ship when our guard’s back was turned and made it to the shore. I had no money and no possessions and only the slave’s rags I stood up in but I was free. I stole food and clothing from local houses to survive then I got work on a ship bound for Africa. It stopped in Melita to take on water and it was then that I had the idea.’

‘You would return to Publius’s house and steal the sword?’ said Ignatius, his eyes wide with excitement.

Benny snorted. ‘I didn’t want the sword. What good was a sword to me? It was the gold I was after. When they sent me down the well to hide the sword, I saw the big box that was sitting there. I had a look inside. It was full of gold.’

‘So you returned to Publius’s house?’ said Ignatius, his voice dropping to a whisper. ‘What happened then?’

‘I came to the house after dark... I climbed over the wall and lowered myself into the well...’

Benny stopped and closed his eyes as if trying to remember something. He didn’t respond when Ignatius shook him. ‘What’s wrong with him?’

Stroud pushed up Zur’s eyelids and turned pale. He looked at Ignatius. ‘He’s dead.’

‘He can’t be!’ fumed Ignatius. ‘What happened?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Stroud with a shrug. ‘But surely he’s told us enough. If that sword is still there, it must be worth...’

‘You don’t know what you are talking about,’ said Ignatius.

‘But we just have to excavate the site of the well in the grounds of Publius’s house...’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. The governor’s house was destroyed centuries ago.’

‘But there must be some record of where it stood,’ said Stroud.

‘Oh, yes,’ said Ignatius bitterly. ‘There is and now something else stands in its place.’

‘What?’

‘Mdina Cathedral,’ replied Ignatius.

‘The cathedral!’ exclaimed Stroud, ‘But we...’

‘Exactly,’ interrupted Ignatius. ‘We cannot excavate the entire floor of a cathedral looking for a two thousand year old well. Not only that, Mdina Cathedral is the second cathedral to have stood on that site since Roman times. The first was destroyed in an earthquake hundreds of years ago.’

‘But there must be old documents in the island’s records house,’ suggested Stroud. ‘There must be some information there about the original positioning of the house.’

‘Then I suggest you start looking,’ said Ignatius coldly. ‘In the meantime I’ll make sure that we get a new supply of protease. We’re going to need it when we start all over again.’