The Seventh Sinner - Elizabeth Peters [19]
José laughed.
“You don’t kill dreams so easily, my egotistical friend. Legends have a kind of truth which is independent of reason. A belief is a fact in itself; that is what you skeptics never admit.”
Absently, Andy made an extremely rude Italian gesture toward his friend, who responded in kind before resuming.
“In fact, when the legends of the saints can be checked, a surprising number can be confirmed. The underground excavations Andy has been showing us are a case in point. Under the most ancient churches there are Roman houses….”
“There are ancient Roman remains under every damn building in the city,” Michael said. “What would you expect to find? Egyptian pyramids?”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Jacqueline interrupted. “You keep talking about excavating under churches. How can they do that without destroying the church?”
“But this is Andy’s specialty,” Ted said. “Have you escaped his lectures? How did you manage to do that?”
Andy gave him a friendly shove.
“You dragged us through miles of your ancestral catacombs,” he said. “And Jean showed us mosaics till the sight of a pile of gravel made me break out in hives. The Vatican picture galleries echoed to Michael’s critical sneers, and Dana got her innings when we went through the classical collections.” He turned to Jacqueline. “We’re showing each other Rome,” he explained. “Early Christian Rome is part of my specialty, so I’m taking the crowd through subterranean excavations. It is possible to dig without destroying the overlying structure, but it isn’t easy.”
“Interesting,” Jacqueline admitted.
“Oh, we’re all very earnest and hard-working,” Michael said sarcastically. “And trying to get cultured. Personally, I find it uphill work. I don’t dig this archaeology bit. Ann’s tour was kind of interesting; I really go for Egyptian sculpture.”
He smiled at Ann; and Ann, surprised and pleased, gave him a shy smile in return. Jean was so intrigued by this exchange that she lost track of the conversation momentarily. She returned to it in time to hear Andy inviting Jacqueline to join them on their tour next morning.
“We’re going to San Clemente,” he explained. “It’s a prize specimen; not just one subterranean level, but two. Three layers of construction. The present church was built in the twelfth century, on top of a fourth-century basilica which, in turn, stands on the walls of some Roman houses and a temple to Mithra.”
“A Mithraeum?” said Scoville, his eyes narrowing.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” said his son.
“Don’t what?”
“Horn in on my lecture tour. You’re leaving for Sicily tomorrow.”
“I see why you want me out of the way,” Scoville said. “All that talk about finishing your report to the Fellowship Committee was a blind; you probably did it long ago. You just want to lecture without my critical eyes on you.”
“I don’t want you butting in,” Andy said. “You can’t keep quiet while somebody else talks about archaeology.”
“Not when they make mistakes I can’t keep quiet.”
“I,” said Andy, “never make mistakes. Tell you what. If you keep your mouth shut you can come along when we go to San Sebastiano. I made an appointment for the twenty-ninth.”
“That’s a deal.”
“That gives you time to read up on the subject,” Andy said, grinning.
“If I’m to be at the church at ten, I’d better get home,” Jacqueline said. “Andy, it’s been a lovely party.”
Scoville left with her, claiming he had to hit the sack early if he wanted to catch his 6 A.M. train. Watching them leave side by side, Jean wondered. In the doorway Jacqueline turned, and Jean’s pleasant speculations died. Jacqueline’s face was not that of a woman who was headed toward a romantic tête-à-tête. She looked worried. Jean recalled her odd comments earlier that evening, and all at once, with an illogical