“No, far from it,” Summer said. “They were obtained by Helena, mother of Constantine the Great, in 327 A.D. The items on the Manifest were sacred, and likely sent to Constantine to celebrate the Roman Empire’s conversion to Christianity.”
“I still can’t believe
you found it in England, of all places,” Gunn said finally.
“All on account of our dive on HMS Hampshire,” Summer explained. “Field Marshal Kitchener apparently obtained the papyrus document while conducting a survey of Palestine in the 1870s. Its meaning apparently wasn’t understood until the translation was made decades later. Julie Goodyear, the authority on Kitchener who helped locate the Manifest, thinks that the Church of England may possibly have killed Kitchener because of it.”
“I guess you could understand their fears,” Giordino stated. “Finding an ossuary with Jesus’ bones in it would certainly kick over a few apple carts.”
“It’s an interesting connection to the Roman artifacts we found on the Ottoman wreck, which also date to the time of Constantine and Helena,” Gunn noted.
“So these Jesus artifacts were placed on a Roman ship leaving Caesarea?” Dirk asked.
Summer nodded. “Helena is known to have made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, where she claimed to have discovered the True Cross. Fragments of the cross reside in churches all over Europe today. A common tale relates how the nails from the cross were melted down and incorporated into a helmet and bridle for Constantine. So Helena and the cross apparently made it safely to Byzantium. There is no mention of these items, however,” she added, pointing to the list. “They must have been shipped separately and were apparently lost to history ages ago. Can you just imagine the impact if we could have seen a contemporary image of Jesus?”
The room fell silent as everyone’s imagination conjured up a visual image of Christianity’s namesake. Everyone, that is, except Dirk. His eyes remained focused on the bottom of the Manifest.
“Caesarea,” he said. “It indicates that the shipment left Caesarea under the guard of Roman legionaries.”
“That’s just where you were working, isn’t it?” his father asked.
Dirk nodded.
“They didn’t happen to leave a sailing plan lying around etched in stone, did they?” Giordino asked.
“No, but we were fortunate in uncovering a number of papyrus documents from that era. The most interesting of them described the capture and execution of some Cypriot pirates. What was interesting was that the pirates had apparently battled a legionary force at sea sometime before they were captured. Dr. Haasis, whom I worked with at Caesarea, said the Roman legionaries were part of some group called the Scholae Palatinae, led by a centurion named Platus, as I recall.”
Gunn nearly fell out of his chair.
“What . . . what did you say his name was?” he stammered.
“Platus, or perhaps it was Platius.”
“Plautius?” Gunn asked.
“Yes, that was it. How did you know?”
“That was the name on my marker, er, the marker that was found on the wreck site. It was a memorial to Plautius, who apparently died in a sea battle.”
“But you don’t have any clue where the marker came from?” Dirk asked.
Gunn shook his head as Zeibig’s face suddenly brightened.
“Dirk, you said the pirates were from Cyprus?” he asked.
“That’s what the papyrus record indicated.”
Zeibig rifled through some papers, pulling out a page of research data.
“The Roman Senator inscribed on the gold crown, Artrius? Dr. Ruppé sent some historical research which indicated that he served as Governor of Cyprus for a short while.”
A thin smile crossed Pitt’s face. “Cyprus, that’s the clue we’ve been missing. If the Cypriot historical records are intact, I’ll bet you’ll find that Traianus, the name on the monolith, was also on Cyprus. Perhaps he even reported to Governor Artrius.”
“Sure,” Giordino agreed. “Traianus was probably ordered by the Governor to erect a memorial after the gold crown arrived in the mail.”
“But what was the Roman crown and marker doing on an Ottoman wreck?” Dirk asked.
“I think I have a theory about that,” Zeibig said. “As I recall, Cyprus historically remained under Venetian rule long after the fall of the Roman Empire. But the Ottomans came around and successfully invaded the island around 1570, which just happens to be the approximate date of our shipwreck. I’d speculate that the gold crown and stone tablet were simply antiquarian spoils of war that were being shipped back to the sitting Sultan in Constantinople.”