Time Travelers Never Die - Jack McDevitt [89]
“You think well of him,” said Dave. “Father Valentini.”
“Of course.”
“You do not sound as if you care much for Rome, however.”
“It is like everything else. The priests have no real power. They do what they can to make life easier for us. Without them, I’m not sure what hope we would have.”
THEY went behind the church, where there was another statue, probably of Mary, looking heavenward. She held a tablet, inscribed with the words RIPOSI IN PACE. And maybe two hundred headstones. They looked through the markers, and it was Carlotta who found it. She pointed and stood aside.
It was a plain headstone with an engraved cross.
MICHAEL SHELBORNE
M. 1637
“Date of death?” asked Shel.
Dave nodded. “Yes.” The graveyard was very still. “Three years ago.”
“That can’t be right. The Internet entry said he died in 1650.”
“It was a guess.”
“He’s only been gone a few months,” said Shel.
“It’s different here. It looks as if he’s been here for years.”
“He wasn’t a believer.”
While they stood looking at the marker, a door opened in the church, and a priest appeared. He raised a hand in greeting, seemed about to go back inside, when Shel signaled, asking him to wait.
It was Father Valentini. Carlotta introduced them, then explained she had work to do. Shel gave her some carlinos. She tried to decline, but he insisted.
When she was gone, the priest invited them inside. “How may I help you?” he asked.
“Adrian,” said Dave, “thinks that Michael Shelborne may have been his father.”
“There is a resemblance,” said the priest.
“Father,” said Shel, “can you tell me if there was a connection between Michael and Galileo?”
The priest’s features brightened. He was about sixty, his hair almost gone. His beard was white, and he had sharp amber eyes. “Galileo? Yes. Michael Shelborne knew him, but it was a long time ago.”
“Galileo denied all knowledge.”
“Ah, you’ve been to see him. I’m surprised you got past the Inquisition.”
“Is there any reason he would have lied?”
“I don’t think that’s what happened. Your father was, as far as I know, only a casual acquaintance, and that was a long time ago.”
“Can you tell me when?”
“I believe it was at the time of the nova.”
“The nova?”
“The new star. Professor Galilei was teaching mathematics at the University of Padua when it happened. It was visible for a year and a half, I believe, and was for a time the brightest object in the sky. Except the sun and moon, of course.” He shook his head. “It was so bright, we could see it in the twilight. But you’re too young to remember. We never did figure out what it was. A sign of some sort, perhaps.”
“When was that?”
“I believe 1604. It was one of the things that got the professor in trouble with the Church.”
“Why?”
“Because the new star did not move through the sky like the moon. So he said it was farther away than the moon.”
“And . . . ?”
“It was like the stars. It remained in a single place, and moved across the sky with them. He declared it was a star. A new one.”
“Why would that have created a problem?” asked Dave.
“Aristotle does not allow for an ongoing creation. You cannot have new stars. It is not supposed to happen.”
“And Michael Shelborne was here then?”
“He was in Padua also. It was, I believe, where they first met.”
Dave looked at Shel. “What do you think?”
“That sounds like the way he would do things. Why pop by Arcetri when you can be in town for a supernova?” He looked out the window at the statue of Mary. And the tablet: RIPOSI IN PACE. “Father, of what did he die? Do you know?”
“I assume it was of old age, signore.”
“Old age?”
“He was not young.”
“How old would you say he was?”
“He must have been in his eighties.”
THEY stopped at a caffé for a drink and some dinner. And to get out of the sun. The menu was posted on the wall. It was midafternoon, and the place was almost empty. Shel commented there were no sandwiches on the menu.
“I don’t think they’ve been invented yet,” said Dave. The waitress brought two cups of cool wine. “We could go