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Authors: Shifra Hochberg
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examined it more closely. “ And the handle has filigree detail around the base. I ’ m not sure why it didn ’ t tarnish completely. I guess it was protected from oxidization by the mortar and dust that
covered it. In any event, it ’ s
definitely not a toy. It looks like
a yad , the pointer used for reading from the Torah scroll on the
Sabbath.
“ But what I
don ’ t understand is, what it ’ s doing
here. The yad as ritual
object dates from several centuries after the provenance of this catacomb. ” He held it closer to the flashlight. “ Look at this, Nicola, ” he
said in puzzlement. “ If I ’ m not
mistaken, there seems to be something written on it in Hebrew letters. ”
He polished the surface gently with a soft microfiber cloth
and read the inscription to her, “ Hey, reish, nun, bet — ה , ר , נ , ב . It doesn ’ t spell an
actual Hebrew word, or at least not any word that I ’ m familiar
with. I wonder what it could be. ” He turned it over again, examining it from several angles,
determined to figure out what it could possibly mean.
“ Wait a
minute! ” he
exclaimed suddenly. “ Maybe it ’ s a Hebrew
date or some sort of gematriya equivalent. ”
“ Gematriya ? ” Nicola
asked. “ What ’ s
that? I ’ ve never
heard of the term. ”
“ Well, ” Bruno
explained, “ gematriya is an ancient Greek word that
describes the substitution of letters of the Hebrew alphabet for specific
numerical values, so that the numerical equivalent of the letters would be . . . let ’ s see . .
. ‘ 5, 200,
50, and 2. ’
“ If this is
supposed to be a year in the Hebrew calendar — which,
according to Jewish tradition, dates from the time of the creation of the world — then
it would be equivalent to the year 5252. Maybe that ’ s when the yad was fashioned, ” he
reflected out loud.
“ But that
would be ridiculous, ” he
said, frowning. “ That ’ s
centuries after these catacombs were excavated and in active use. There must be something here that I just
don ’ t understand. Some sort of symbolic meaning that I ’ m just not
picking up on. ”
He placed the object back into the narrow slit between the
bricks and turned to Nicola, his brow furrowed in thought. “ Unless, ” he
said slowly, his voice tinged with disbelief as he turned toward her, “ unless we
convert the Hebrew year to its secular calendar equivalent. Which would be 1492 — the
year of the Spanish Inquisition. ”
“ But that ’ s impossible. It makes no sense, ” Nicola
countered. “ No sense
at all. ”
“ I
know. What would an object dating
from the 15 th century be doing in this catacomb? ”
Chapter Ten
The sun was still shining brightly outdoors, in glorious
contrast to the dankness and gloom of the catacombs, and Bruno proposed that
they spend what was left of the day along the Via Appia Antica. As they drove towards a nearby outdoor
caf é , they passed a series of villas that were set back from
the road behind tall brick walls and heavy iron gates, for maximum
privacy. Lush fields dotted with a
riot of wildflowers bordered the estates, surrounded by crumbling walls of rock
and mortar, ancient relics of the imperial Roman Empire. The cylindrical tower marking the tomb
of the Roman matron, Cecilia Metella, could be seen a short distance away.
“ By the
way, Nicola, ” Bruno
remarked, “ not everyone aspires to live in one of these villas. The municipal property taxes here are so
high that some of the owners actually rent out their grounds for weddings and
other large parties, from time to time, just to ensure a means of extra income
to cover the cost of la dolce vita along the Via Appia. ”
“ Are you
serious? ” Nicola
asked. “ That ’ s
unbelievable. But I can see why
people would find this area an unusually picturesque setting for a celebration. ”
Bruno now eased his car into
covered it. In any event, it ’ s
definitely not a toy. It looks like
a yad , the pointer used for reading from the Torah scroll on the
Sabbath.
“ But what I
don ’ t understand is, what it ’ s doing
here. The yad as ritual
object dates from several centuries after the provenance of this catacomb. ” He held it closer to the flashlight. “ Look at this, Nicola, ” he
said in puzzlement. “ If I ’ m not
mistaken, there seems to be something written on it in Hebrew letters. ”
He polished the surface gently with a soft microfiber cloth
and read the inscription to her, “ Hey, reish, nun, bet — ה , ר , נ , ב . It doesn ’ t spell an
actual Hebrew word, or at least not any word that I ’ m familiar
with. I wonder what it could be. ” He turned it over again, examining it from several angles,
determined to figure out what it could possibly mean.
“ Wait a
minute! ” he
exclaimed suddenly. “ Maybe it ’ s a Hebrew
date or some sort of gematriya equivalent. ”
“ Gematriya ? ” Nicola
asked. “ What ’ s
that? I ’ ve never
heard of the term. ”
“ Well, ” Bruno
explained, “ gematriya is an ancient Greek word that
describes the substitution of letters of the Hebrew alphabet for specific
numerical values, so that the numerical equivalent of the letters would be . . . let ’ s see . .
. ‘ 5, 200,
50, and 2. ’
“ If this is
supposed to be a year in the Hebrew calendar — which,
according to Jewish tradition, dates from the time of the creation of the world — then
it would be equivalent to the year 5252. Maybe that ’ s when the yad was fashioned, ” he
reflected out loud.
“ But that
would be ridiculous, ” he
said, frowning. “ That ’ s
centuries after these catacombs were excavated and in active use. There must be something here that I just
don ’ t understand. Some sort of symbolic meaning that I ’ m just not
picking up on. ”
He placed the object back into the narrow slit between the
bricks and turned to Nicola, his brow furrowed in thought. “ Unless, ” he
said slowly, his voice tinged with disbelief as he turned toward her, “ unless we
convert the Hebrew year to its secular calendar equivalent. Which would be 1492 — the
year of the Spanish Inquisition. ”
“ But that ’ s impossible. It makes no sense, ” Nicola
countered. “ No sense
at all. ”
“ I
know. What would an object dating
from the 15 th century be doing in this catacomb? ”
Chapter Ten
The sun was still shining brightly outdoors, in glorious
contrast to the dankness and gloom of the catacombs, and Bruno proposed that
they spend what was left of the day along the Via Appia Antica. As they drove towards a nearby outdoor
caf é , they passed a series of villas that were set back from
the road behind tall brick walls and heavy iron gates, for maximum
privacy. Lush fields dotted with a
riot of wildflowers bordered the estates, surrounded by crumbling walls of rock
and mortar, ancient relics of the imperial Roman Empire. The cylindrical tower marking the tomb
of the Roman matron, Cecilia Metella, could be seen a short distance away.
“ By the
way, Nicola, ” Bruno
remarked, “ not everyone aspires to live in one of these villas. The municipal property taxes here are so
high that some of the owners actually rent out their grounds for weddings and
other large parties, from time to time, just to ensure a means of extra income
to cover the cost of la dolce vita along the Via Appia. ”
“ Are you
serious? ” Nicola
asked. “ That ’ s
unbelievable. But I can see why
people would find this area an unusually picturesque setting for a celebration. ”
Bruno now eased his car into
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