January 20, 2013, 11 p.m. Paris time. Somewhere over Northern Italy
As his children slept on the Ryan Air flight to Verona, Morse took out his notebook and the scroll containing the 37 new quatrains. He copied each of the quatrains into his notebook first in French, and then next to it, his English translation. When he was finished with the first six, his notebook looked like this:
13.
Il écrit d’amants et de rois,-------------------He writes of lovers and of kings,
De fantômes et de monsters,-----------------Of ghosts and monsters,
De faunes et de fées dans les bois,----------Of fauns and fairies in the woods,
Les pièces sont écrites par le Chantre.----The plays are written by the Bard.
14.
Il maîtrise l’astrologie et la physique.-----He masters astrology and physics.
Il regarde les étoiles avec sa lunette.------He looks at the stars through his telescope.
“La terre tourne autour du soleil,”--------“The earth revolves around the sun,”
dit-il à ses critiques,------------------------------------he says to his critics,
Et pour cela, on l’arrête..--------------------And for that, he is arrested.
15.
Le plus grand savant qui soit jamais né.--------The greatest scientist ever born.
Les lois du mouvement et de la terre,------------The laws of motion and of earth,
Les lois des mathématiques et de la gravité.---The laws of math and gravity.
Déguisé, il arrêtera les faussaires.---------Disguised, he will arrest the counterfeiters.
16.
Le four de Farriner causera un feu.----------------Farriner’s oven will cause a fire.
Bientôt tout Londres est englouti par--------------Soon all of London is engulfed in
les flames.---------------------------------------------flames
Le Maire ne fait pas ce qu’il peut,-----------------The Mayor does not do what he can,
La destruction pour tous les hommes-----------Destruction for all the men and ladies.
et toutes les dames.
17.
Ces trois amènent le son de la musique--------These three bring the sound of music.
Les anges sourient à leurs symphonies.--------The angels smile at their symphonies.
Chacun est doué et unique,----------------------Each is gifted and unique,
Les plus beaux sons jamais écrits.--------------The most beautiful sounds ever written.
18.
Fâchés contre les impots et assoiffés de liberté--Angry at taxes & thirsting for liberty
Ils déchargeront leur thé dans la baie profonde.----They will dump their tea in the
------------------------------------------------------------- deep bay.
Surpassés en nombre, ils battront les Anglais.----Although outnumbered, they will
-----------------------------------------------------------defeat the English.
Leur drapeau aura des étoiles et des bandes.-----Their flag will have stars and
---------------------------------------------------------- stripes.
Morse wrote his solution for Quatrains 13 to 18:
13. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
14. GALILEO
15. ISCAAC NEWTON?
16. GREAT FIRE OF LONDON
17. BACH, BEETHOVEN, MOZART
18. THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION.
The scientist who discovered the laws of motion clearly sounded like Isaac Newton, but Morse was unsure about the part about arresting counterfeiters. He could not get an Internet signal on the plane, so he could not look up the question. He would later learn that Isaac Newton had once worked for the Mint, and had disguised himself in a sting operation to locate and arrest counterfeiters.
Morse went through the remaining quatrains (see Appendix) and provided similar solutions. He now had a total of 49 of the missing 58 quatrains. His finished list looked as follows:
1. KING HENRY VIII
2. VLAD THE IMPALER
3. POPE ALEXANDER VI
4. POPE JULIUS II
5. POPE LEO X
6. MARTIN LUTHER
7. POPE CLEMENT VII
8. POPE PAUL III
9. COPERNICUS
10. POPE PAUL IV
11. POPE JULIUS III
12. IVAN THE TERRIBLE
13. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
14. GALILEO
15. ISCAAC NEWTON?
16. GREAT FIRE OF LONDON
17. BACH, BEETHOVEN, MOZART
18. THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION.
19. THE FRENCH REVOLUTION
20. NAPOLEON BONAPARTE
21. CHARLES DARWIN
22. LOUIS PASTEUR
23. AMERICAN SLAVERY
24. ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELL AND THE TELEPHONE
25. THOMAS EDISON AND THE LIGHTBULB
26. ALBERT EINSTEIN
27. WRIGHT BROTHERS AND THE AIRPLANE
28. WORLD WAR I
29. HENRY FORD AND THE AUTOMOBILE
30. JOSEPH STALIN
31. ADOLF HITLER
32. JOSEF MENGELE
33. HIROSHIMA AND NAGASAKI
34. MOHATMA GHANDI
35. MOTHER THERESA OF CALCUTTA
36. WATSON AND CRICK, DNA
37. JOHN F. KENNEDY
38. MARTIN LUTHER KING
39. MOON LANDING
40. POL POT AND THE KHMER ROUGE
41. IDI AMIN
42. STEVE JOBS AND THE PERSONAL COMPUTER
43. AIDS
44. LADY DIANA
45. TIMOTHY MCVEIGH
46. SADDAM HUSSEIN
47. UDAY HUSSEIN
48. OSAMA BIN LADEN AND 9/11
49. DESERT STORM, IRAQ WAR, AFGHANISTAN WAR, ABU GHRAIB
Morse could not say, of course, whether these scrolls were the genuine article or forgeries. That would have to await carbon dating and a comparison of handwriting samples by experts. He was, of course, very skeptical by nature. But one thing was for sure. If these were forgeries, someone had gone to a significant amount of trouble for a hoax. The purpose of such a hoax he could not imagine. And why would anyone wishing to play a hoax involve gunmen with real guns? The man in the gray suit was definitely impaled by Doug’s candelabra in the Basilica. Morse had checked the man’s wounds immediately after the incident, just to make sure this was not some elaborate con game. He was definitely dead. Why would anyone get killed over a practical joke?
The man in the gray suit had said just before he died that events were in motion and that the prophecies would give away the hand of the killers. These prophecies went all the way up through 2010 at least. If there were nine more prophecies, could the new quatrains in Verona actually predict their own futures?
Morse put away the scroll in his bag, which had gotten considerably bulkier since Zach had placed his longboard in it. When he got to their hotel, he would need to immediately obtain a map of Verona. They had very little time to look for the last set of scrolls, and Morse was determined to use what little time they had efficiently. Fortunately, Morse had a good friend and colleague, Benito Parducci, who was Director of Antiquities for the City of Verona. He was hoping his friend would give him a peek into the Scaliger sarcophagus first thing in the morning.
A few hours later, the Ryan Air 747 touched down in Verona International Airport. As they got off the plane, Morse and his children crouched down low behind other passengers, worried that more gunmen might be waiting for them here in Verona, as they had been in Carcassonne. However, once they passed into the general terminal area, they saw no one who looked suspicious, and they were able to breathe a little easier. They caught a quick cab to the five-star Due Torri Hotel Baglioni, in the heart of the historic center of Verona. The tangerine and cream colored tiles, fresh white roses, and ornate columns in the bright lobby welcomed them. Morse paid in cash, for fear someone could be tracking his credit card and learn their location. He asked for a wakeup call at 5 a.m. Zach and Zoey groaned when they heard that, but were otherwise too tired to complain. He obtained a map of Verona from the hotel clerk. When he got to the room, it was after 1 a.m. Morse looked up Benito Parducci in the Verona phone book on the night stand. Fortunately, Parducci was listed. Morse made a note of his phone and address. Then they hit the blue and butter striped super king bed like bricks and fell asleep within a matter of minutes.
When the alarm went off at 5 a.m., Morse jumped out of bed in the dark.
“Come on guys, we have to get going. Who wants the first shower?”
“Dad, you have got to be joking,” moaned Zach, crouching in a ball under the soft covers. “It’s still dark out.”
“Dad, we haven’t slept in a week,” complained Zoey, also burying herself under the covers in the darkness. “Can’t we sleep a little while longer?”
“Guys we only have a couple hours here and then we can go home. We have one more riddle to solve, and we know where it is. Come on!”
Neither teenager moved from the bed.
“OK, I will take the first shower, but I want you two up after that.”
Morse took a hot shower. He stayed in until the entire bathroom was fogged up, letting the hot water pulsate his sore muscles. He was so out of shape. He definitely needed to hit the gym when he got home.
He called down to room service for a fresh pot of black coffee and some fresh fruit for the kids. At 6 a.m., Morse called his friend Benito Parducci, waking him up from a dead sleep.
“Buon giorno, il mio amico, questo è John Morse da UCLA.”
“John Morse? "Ah, sì, Professore Morse. Così buono di sentire da lei. Ma è molto presto qui"!
“Yes, my friend, I know it is early. I am here in Verona.”
Parducci spoke English better than Morse spoke Italian, so they switched languages.
“Ah, fantastic! Well, we must have the lunch then. What brings you to Verona?”
“You are not going to believe this, but I am on a treasure hunt of sorts.”
“Una caccia al tesoro. A treasure hunt, you say?”
“Yes, I was summoned to France last week because a local priest there found an ancient manuscript of the prophet Nostradamus from the sixteenth century. At first I thought it was all a hoax, but Benito, I tell you, the manuscript I found looks quite genuine. At any event, the manuscript sent me looking for a final clue, which appears to be hidden in the sarcophagus of our good friend Cangrande della Scalla.”
“The Big Dog?”
Morse laughed “Cane grande” in Italian means “big dog.” “Yes, the very one.”
“Are you putting me on? Is this a practical joke?”
“I assure you it is not. I can show you the manuscripts if you like. It is most intriguing.”
“Well, I remember you always liked adventure. You Americans all think you are Indiana Jones.”
“Yes, well, I have been feeling like that these past few days. Do you think you could meet me over at the Scaliger Tombs this morning? I have a flight which leaves in just a few hours.”
“Well, normally, I would say no, but now you have me intrigued. In addition, it will be funny to see the look on your face when you see there is nothing in the sarcophagus but a very ugly mummified body.”
“Are you certain?”
“Quite certain. In February 2004, we took the lid off the sarcophagus and removed the body, because historians wanted to try to determine Calgrande’s cause of death. His mummified body was actually quite well preserved, and they were able to detect significant amounts of digitalis in his body, suggesting that he was poisoned. The local theory here is that Cangrande was murdered by his ambitious nephew. I will let you look inside, but I have seen the inside of the sarcophagus several times, and there is nothing in there but a body.”
“Perhaps it is hidden inside the handle or in a secret panel or something?”
“Well, we shall have fun finding out. How about I meet you in one hour at the Arch and we shall go on your—how do you say it—‘crazy chase of gooses.’”
“Very funny, Benito. OK, I will see you then.”
Morse corralled his children out of bed and by 6:30 they were ready to explore beautiful Verona. When they left the hotel, they had a beautiful three block walk to the Tombs of the Scaligeri. In the distance, they could see the tall, red brick Lamberti Clock Tower, the hallmark of the city, standing guard since 1172 over the snaking and curving River Adige and the red-roofed buildings of the city. The clock tower’s top had fallen off in 1403 when it was hit by lighting, but in the 1400s, the resourceful Veronians had built the tower higher still. Another ten blocks away was the ancient Roman Arena, carved out of pure marble, which could seat 20,000 people. And looming in the distance near the Arena, on the banks of the Adige, was the beautiful red brick Castelvecchio, the ancient castle built by the della Scalas, with its strange turrets that were curved rather than squared off. The Ponte Scaligero, or Bridge of the Scaligeris, ran away from, and could only be accessed from, the castle, and ran across the Adige. The bridge was said to be the escape route for the della Scalas if they needed to leave the city.
The city was filled with piazzas, or large plazas, carpeted with gray stone, ancient buildings, and lots of pigeons. Zach was excited when he saw the wide-open piazzas, and grabbed his longboard with the green wheels out of Morse’s zippered bag. At last, some fun! Zach rolled down the piazza on his skateboard, and Zoey ran after him asking for a turn. The two jumped off small staircases and ramps and hurtled towards unsuspecting pigeons, which were not used to fleeing from longboarding American teenagers. There was not a cloud in the sky this morning. The air was crisp and cool. It was a wonderful day to hunt for buried treasure.
After a few blocks they arrived at the famous archway to the Scaligeri Tombs. Over the top of the Arch was an ancient sarcophagus. In stone directly above the sarcophagus, was a stone statue of a man lying on a bed with a sheet. Directly above that was a small pointed roof, and above that, a statue of a man riding a horse. In the courtyard near the arch was a black iron fence, with sharp-pointed tops. Inside the area enclosed by the fence were several platforms five or six feet off the ground, which rose on the corners on columns to exquisitely ornate Gothic roofs. Under each roof, on a platform, was another Scaliger tomb.
After waiting about twenty minutes, Benito Parducci arrived. He was a happy fat man who looked like Stromboli the Puppetmaster from Disney’s Pinocchio, bald with the exception of bushy brown hair over his ears, and a full brown beard. He was wearing a white linen shirt, a blue vest with a loud zigzag pattern, and black pants.
“Hello, Mr. Indiana Jones!” laughed Parducci. “So good to see you.” He gave Morse a big bear hug.
“And who are these children?”
“These are my children, Zach and Zoey. Kids, say hello to Dr. Parducci.”
“Oh my goodness, they have gotten so big! Last time I saw you in California, they were no bigger than my knee. You are very lucky, Professor!”
The teenagers shook Parducci’s hand, and then, growing weary of adult talk, went back into the piazza to skateboard some more.
“Come, let us sit down over here and look at these manuscripts over some nice black coffee.”
Parducci motioned him over to a small café in the Piazza. Morse sat down and unzipped his bag, removing all the manuscripts taken from the journeys. He quickly recounted their tale from Salon de Provence to Agen, back to Carcassonne, and finally to Verona. Parducci was quite concerned over the part of the story relating to the gunmen.
“My friend, I am so sorry. I cannot imagine who would want to kill someone over an old manuscript. No one followed you here, did they?” Parducci looked around nervously.
“No, we made quite sure of that. I think they have lost the trail for now anyway. So what do you think, could we get a look at the sarcophagus?
“Of course, I will take you there now.”
Parducci walked over to the Church of Santa Maria Antica, and Parducci unlocked a non-descript doorway inside one of the arches. He led Morse up a very narrow and steep staircase two stories up. At the top of the staircase was another door, which Parducci unlocked. When the door opened, Morse could see that he was standing on top of the archway, right next to the sarcophagus of Cangrande della Scala. To the left was the open air of the piazza and the front of the sarcophagus. To Morse’s right was to the dark back wall behind the sarcophagus. Parducci directed Morse to the opposite side of the sarcophagus and explained that they would both need to lift the cover off together and place it to the side. Morse did as he was directed. Inside was a mummy, with tattered remnants of clothing. Parducci would not let Morse touch anything inside the tomb.
“I will search. What is it exactly we are looking for?”
“A set of scrolls, probably wrapped up inside some type of tube, if it is similar to the last two we have seen.” Parducci gingerly searched all around the mummy, looking for anything matching that description. He also searched for secret panels inside the sarcophagus and found none. Morse was disappointed. Parducci and Morse then returned the cover of the sarcophagus to its original position. Upon Morse’s urging, Parducci continued to look all around the sarcophagus, hoping to find a hidden panel or a hollow handle, but he could find none. Morse was sure this was the place. Where could it be? Morse checked all along the stone walls around the sarcophagus and could not find any hidden compartment in the stone.
“Perhaps it is in the equestrian statue up on the roof. The scroll did contain a picture of a horse.”
“My friend, I sincerely doubt it. In 2003, we performed restoration on the equestrian statue. I am confident one of the workers would have found a hidden scroll if there was such a thing. I have probably gone too far in letting you up here already. I cannot possibly let you go climbing along the roof, where you could fall off. I am sorry; I wish I had more answers for you.”
“Can I see that last scroll again?” asked Parducci. Parducci looked at the scroll over Morse’s shoulder, as Morse read the translation.
Le page, le soldat, le héros
Le défenseur de Cicéron
L’astrologue, le médecin,
Le meilleur grammmairien du latin,
Son ami est Della Rovere,
Le botaniste, l’érudit,
L’hérétique présumé,
L’ennemi de Monsieur Dolet,
Le plus grand champion de Virgile
(L’oeuvre d’Homère est infantile)
L‘historien, le professeur,
Plus tard, le grand auteur.
Ce que vous cherchez est, peut-être,
Dans le tombeau de son ancêtre.
Regardez sa carte et vous verrez
L’avenir de l’humanité révélé!
The page, the soldier, the hero,
The defender of Cicero,
The astrologer, the doctor,
The best Latin grammarian,
Della Rovere is his friend,
The botanist, the scholar,
The alleged heretic,
The enemy of Monsieur Dolet,
The greatest champion of Virgil
(the work of Homer is infantile)
The historian, the teacher,
In later life, the great author,
What you seek is, perhaps,
In the tomb of his ancestor
Look at this map and you will see
The future of the mankind revealed!
“You said, ‘Look at THIS map and you will see…,” said Parducci.
“Yes, so?” asked Morse.
“In French ‘CETTE’ is ‘this.’ ‘SA’ is ‘his.’ It says ‘SA CARTE’ on your scroll. The correct translation is: ‘Look at HIS map.’”
Morse looked at the words again. What a stupid blunder! Of course, Parducci was right.
“HIS map….I wonder what that means.”
“I think I know what it means,” said Parducci. “I agree this first part refers to Julius Caesar Scaliger. But Julius Caesar Scaliger’s account of his family heritage was largely a fabrication. He was not, as he claimed, a descendant of the royal Scaligers. Quite to the contrary. His father was from Verona, but he was no nobleman. He was a manuscript editor and cartographer. His name was Benedetto Bordone. He made maps. So ‘HIS’ map means the map drawn by Benedetto Bordone, his father. Unless I am badly mistaken, this map you have here on the scroll was probably a copy of one drawn by Julius Caesar Scaliger’s father, Benedetto Bordone.”
“So that means,” said Morse, “that the final clue is not in the sarcophagus of Cangrande della Scala, but rather in the sarcophagus of Benedetto Bordone.”
“Ha ha! I have solved the puzzle! You may call me Indiana Parducci!”
“I will call Steven Spielberg and make sure you get the next part. Benito, do you have any idea where I could find the tomb of Benedetto Bordone?”
“No, but the answer could be in the City Archives. It is right by the Arena. I will take you there!”
Morse and Parducci ran down the stairs, excited about their new discovery. They alerted the teenagers and the four hopped into a cab and rode ten blocks over to the City Archives. Parducci and Morse approached the clerk. Parducci explained what they needed and the clerk directed them to long rows of fat, dusty tomes that were probably over a hundred years old.
They were called the Grave Directories. Anytime someone in Verona was buried, they were required to obtain a permit from the city graveyard director. By searching through these books, they should theoretically be able to pinpoint the final resting place of anyone who had died in Verona within the last 100 years. Parducci was concerned when he looked at the books, however, as Bordone would have died mush longer than 100 years ago. He pointed this out to the clerk, who then directed him to a three volume set of ancient books, showing an obviously incomplete list of some famous people of Verona from centuries gone by who were buried somewhere in Verona. These included Dante Alighieri, the thirteenth century poet and author who wrote the Divine Comedy, describing his journey through Hell, Purgatory and Paradise. Parducci looked through the Italian books quickly, and, incredibly, found an entry for Benedetto Bordone. He started laughing.
“What is so funny?” asked Morse.
“You will never guess where he is buried!”
“Where?”
“In a vault beneath the thirteenth century Capuchin monastery San Francesco al Corso!” Parducci was smiling devilishly.
“I am sorry. I am not following you. Am I supposed to know that monastery?”
“Well, of course you should. It is where they have the famous tomb of Guilietta Capulet!”
“You mean from Romeo and Juliet?”
“The very one!”
“But she is just a character in a Shakespeare play, not a real person.”
“Well, we don’t know that for sure. Shakespeare based his story on a book called The Tragical History of Romeus and Juliet by Arthur Brooke written in 1562. Brooke, in turn got the story by translating into English an Italian fable about the same lovers written by Matteo Bandello in his Novelle in 1559. Many believe that Bandello is the true author of Romeo and Juliet, but that is not the case. Bandello actually copied much of the story from an Italian author named Luigi da Porto, who first told the story in 1530. Da Porto claimed that he did not make the story up, that in fact it was based on a true story of real families in Verona. In support of his claim, he noted that the early fourteenth century historical chronicles from Bartolomes Della Scala recounted the events of the star-crossed lovers as if it was a true historical event. So far all we know, Romeo and Juliet and their families may have been real people.”
“So tell me about this tomb.”
“There is an open marble tomb in a dark crypt in the basement of the Capuchin monastery. Both the crypt and the monastery date from the thirteenth century. I think even the tour guide operators admit that the bodily remains of Juliet were never contained in the tomb, but that does not stop hundreds of people every year from getting married in the crypt. Why anyone would want to get married in a funeral crypt is beyond me.”
“Where is the monastery?” asked Morse.
“ It is just outside the borders of the City of Verona, on the Via del Ponteire, and is a five minute cab ride from here.”
“Well, let’s go!”
Five minutes later, the two scholars and the two teenagers were on the Via Del Pontiere, in front of the old Capuchin monastery. There was a line of tourists waiting to get in. Parducci used his credentials to get beyond the queue of onlookers. As they went inside, Morse asked, “Where would Bordone’s crypt be?”
“I have no idea. I suppose there must be a vault underneath the crypt of Juliet’s tomb. We will have to ask the proprietors. They run a little business out of the monastery.”
A few minutes later, Parducci had a lengthy conversation in Italian with a skinny woman with red hair in the manager’s office. As they talked, she continually looked over Parducci’s shoulder with suspicion. Finally, it appeared that the woman was relenting. She grabbed a brass key ring from the wall and introduced herself to Morse and the teenagers.
“Hello,” she said in English. “I am Therese Signorelli. I manage this place. I understand you want to see the Monk’s Crypt.”
“Yes, I suppose we do,” said Morse.
“No one has been down there in fifty years. It is locked up. It is probably filled with cobwebs and rats.”
“Oh, we don’t mind,” said Morse. “Anything in the pursuit of history, you know.”
“Rats?” said Zoey, grabbing her dad’s arm. I am not going down there if there are rats.”
“Yeah, Pops, how ‘bout I wait up here too. I am not so keen on rats myself,” said Zach.
“Perhaps your children would like to take a look at Juliet’s tomb? There is a tour leaving in a few minutes.” The proprietor looked at Morse. Morse was at first confused, and then realized she wanted money for their tickets.
“Yes, of course, here are some Euros. That would be splendid. You kids go on the tour and we will meet you back here in a few minutes.”
The red-headed woman took the money, gave the teenagers their tickets, and then escorted Morse and Parducci down a long hallway, in the direction away from the tomb. She unlocked a doorway, went down three flights of steps, and reached a small brick room with a door at the bottom. She gave both Parducci and Morse a onceover, and rolled her eyes, signaling that they were crazy. She unlocked the door. They went onto a small platform, and saw a stone stairway descending into darkness another two floors. There were inches of dust all over the platform.
“I do not have insurance for this if you fall, so don’t fall,” she said.
Morse took out two flashlights from his nylon zippered bag and proceeded down the stairway, pushing huge cobwebs out of his way as he descended the stairway. At the bottom of the stairs was a long wall. At regular intervals along the wall were iron doors, a total of twelve in all, with a metal pull ring on each. There were no names on the doors signaling what might lie beyond. Pictures were engraved in metal on each door, however. Morse searched for a horse but could find none. The pictures included a knight in full armour, a poet, a poor friar, a blacksmith, a bishop, a scientist, several men looking over a document, a weaver, and another bishop.
Morse looked at the pictures. Only the one on the end seemed to match. It looked like men looking over a document. That could be a map. But Morse rejected that idea quickly. The scroll had a horse on it. There must be some connection to a horse. None of the engravings appeared to show a horse. But then Morse remembered that the second scroll’s chess drawing. Chess….
“The horse represents a ‘knight’ on the chessboard!” exclaimed Morse. “It must be the first door here, with the picture of the knight.”
“Ah, my friend, this time I think you have solved it!” said Parducci, smiling.
Parducci used the key ring given to him by the proprietor and opened the lock on the first door. Inside was a small stone room, covered in cobwebs. In the middle was a covered stone sarcophagus. There was a large stone slab over the top. Morse shone his flashlight at the foot of the sarcophagus. In large letters etched on the stone, it read “BENEDETTO BORDONE, IL CARTOGRAFO DI VERONA 1460- 1531”
“This is it!” Morse exclaimed, more excited than a five year-old on Christmas morning. Morse and Parducci took opposite sides on the sarcophagus lid as they had done before. With a herculean effort they managed to budge the stone slab off to the side a little bit. It was enough to look in the tomb. In the tomb was a skeleton, obviously very old. In the skeleton’s hand bones, draped across the rib cage, was a huge scroll, a