Tag Archives: Chapel of the Choir

Book 2 Rise of the Antichrist

2.36 Friar Tuck’s UNMerry Men

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Book II: Chapter 36
July 15

Bored out of my mind, at last I watched as Alan followed Miriam out of the cubby they’d been hiding in and back into the wooden stall they started from yesterday, and then out from there and into the Chapel of the Choir at St. Peter’s Basilica. Once more they were masked, gloved, and wearing their Covid QR Passes.

Miriam took a quick walk to the chapel’s entrance and, when she felt comfortable that the coast was clear, she motioned Alan to follow. I watched as they blended into a nearby tour group that was on its way to the piazza. Here Alan took a deep breath and then proceeded forward.

Unfortunately his happy attitude was short lived – for as the tour group began leaving the atrium to exit the basilica, he and Miriam were suddenly awash in a new wave of people – a group of masked monks who surrounded them and, covertly yet forcibly, moved my friends towards the Patio of Saint Gregory the Illuminator.

“The 4 Monks” by Rinaldi

“What’s going on?” Alan asked the clergymen holding his arms.

“Resistance is futile.” One of the priests replied stoically, as he and his rank continued to maneuver their captives into an elevator.

“But we’ve already seen The Dome.” Miriam protested, still playing the part of tourist.

“Don’t worry, madam,” the same priest spoke again, “you’re not going Up.”

And with that, he inserted a key into the elevator panel and and caused the lift to go in a direction the public never went – Down.

“Oh joy,” Alan quipped, “yet another secret locale. I’ve had about enough of all this covert maneuvering for one day.”

None of the monks replied to that comment, but soon enough the ride was over and the priests forced their prey out into a dim corridor.

“Kneel!” The lead monk barked. “Kneel before The Hand of God!”

(Ah, that’s a bit over dramatic, don’t you think?)

From out of nowhere a menacing figure emerged – his presence oozing of an ancient <power>.

He was a mass of black robes – layers of heavy fabric obscuring his true form; and curiously enough, his face was hidden by a venetian mask – a full-face Carne Ricci, with golden highlights around the curved mouth, raised eyebrows, black fabric folds pluming out in all directions above the mask’s forehead, and pearls to outline the trim work. (Like all other face masks, it was more for show than for protection against any virus, but at least the Carne Ricci didn’t claim to be anything other than it actually was).

The person wearing the mask was none other than Cardinalate Giovanni Marrollo – the new Confuto Penitentiary of The Vatican

(Oh no, not this crazy mite again).

The cascade of robes that graced the macabre figure made it seem as if he were gliding over the walkway towards Alan and Miriam, and he didn’t stop his approach until he was nearly on top of them.

I saw suddenly Miriam blanch white and guessed that she had just tried using her Psychic Probe but was repelled – clearly not a good omen.

“Don’t look up to your superior, dog!” Their clergyman captor yelled, while his cohorts forced Alan and Miriam to bow their heads.

At last, the mystery man spoke, “I believe you have something that belongs to me?” And he held out his hand to Miriam.

Miriam kept her head down. “I don’t know what you’re talk—“

<SMACK!> One of the monks struck Alan with a vicious slap, knocking off his mask and sending him to the ground in a heap. Before Alan could yelp out in pain, his attacker laid into him with multiple kicks to the midsection while the other monks struggled to hold him open to more blows – and all the while Marrollo looked upon the scene in stoic silence.

“STOP!” Miriam screamed. “STOP!!” She shook an arm free in order to reach into her pocket and pull out the Doomsday Missive.

“Ah, good.” The mystery man said as he accepted the scroll Miriam held out to him. “I was afraid you were going to make me ask you twice. That would not have turned out well for your friend here.”

For his part, Alan was trying hard to catch his breath as he struggled to put back on his mask. The side of his face was torn, his ear on that side was puffy and red, and I wouldn’t be surprised if one of his ribs was broken from those vicious kicks. Nonetheless, it was the look of dejection on his face that caught me most – disappointed to see that Miriam had just given up the object they had worked so hard to retrieve.

Meanwhile Marrollo cast but a glance at the scroll, and quickly pulled it into the overhanging sleeve of his right arm. “Well and good. Shall we?”

“Where are we going?” Miriam asked, as the guards forced them up.

<SMASH!> At a signal from the robed man, one of the monks pummeled Alan with a right cross to the jaw – buckling the professor’s knees and throwing his mask askew again.

Marrollo turned back to address Miriam, “I’d prefer that you not speak unless spoken to. But, since I was of a mind to tell you the answer to that question anyway, I’ll respond – after all, there is only one thing to do with you…” And he let the thought hang invitingly.

Luckily for Alan’s sake, Miriam didn’t take the bait and after it became obvious that she was not going to speak up – and thus give the monks a chance to further abuse Alan.

At last the cardinal snickered, “I see that you learn quickly. In any event, you’ve been caught stealing priceless artifacts and the penalty for that offense is death.” And here he paused again, as if he had something distasteful in his mouth, before he continued with a sigh. “Nonetheless, only the Pope can deliver the verdict. And unfortunately it won’t be my puppet Francis; instead you’ll be taken to Benedict immediately so he can pronounce your fate.” Then in a more chipper tone, “After that, you’ll be given back to Friar James and his crew. They will oversee your… execution.”

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37 – It’s Not You, It’s Me
Book II Table of Contents
Book 2 Rise of the Antichrist

2.35 The Sacra Crypta

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Book II: Chapter 35
July 15

The Sight continued for me as I saw that the small room that Alan and Miriam had emerged into.

By the look on Alan’s unmasked face I could tell that it wasn’t exactly what he had expected to find. (And I had to agree with him).

“It looks like an olde world safe deposit box room.” Alan was confused. “This is the sacred crypt of La Papessa?

“Well, your description is not far from the truth.” Miriam replied still wearing that damned Nano Mask.

The walls of the room were filled with a multitude of small openings, each covered with a now-corroded iron door – these were the safe deposit boxes Alan had referred to — and nearly every inch seemed to have such a box built in.

“Hmm. Although this was a nice touch,” Alan joked, “it’s well known that during medieval times locksmithing technology was not all that secure. I can’t imagine this would do much to keep out a determined thief.”

“Take a closer look.” Miriam flashed the light over a block of the boxes. “As you can see, each door has multiple locking systems – to include a spring loaded bolt, interlocking wards on the case, and a padlock. Also notice that each door has no less than seven key-holes – this is significant, because for each box only one keyhole provides access to the interior – choose any of the incorrect key holes, and the final security measure is triggered.”

“What’s that?”

“A small capsule is stored within each of the incorrect keyholes. If their wards are moved, the capsule will be punctured – causing trace amounts of sulfur, naphtha, and quicklime to be released inside the box.”

“Wait,” Alan interrupted. “That combination of chemicals is known as Greek Fire and it’s highly combustible!  I recall John telling me how he helped the Byzantines perfect its use in the 7th century to help defend Constantinople from attacking Arabs.”

Alan’s little history lesson is true – WE smoked those Arab attackers!

Pondering further, Alan added, “Miriam, do you realize that if a liquid fire like that was released into such a small space it would burn indefinitely, becoming so pressurized, that if and when the doorway ever was opened, the Greek Fire would explode outwards, scorching the intruder!”

(Wow, I’m pretty impressed).

“The consequence of an errant deed.” Miriam confirmed, unmoved.

“But what about the treasures inside? They would be burned up too.”

“Only one box actually has anything inside — the one containing my letter from La Papessa.” And here she moved over towards the left hand wall and placed her hand on the door to one of the boxes. “As you can see, this door is still intact, thus my letter is safe.”

“But, what if an intruder had pried at the locks on your box and failed?” Alan was still incredulous at the security system that Miriam and Pope Joan had devised. “Your letter would be gone.”

“That would have been just as well. After all, I know what it says. Remember, we are here to ensure that no one else does.” And before Alan could remark again, she continued. “Time is running short. The Sacra Crypta we stand in now is located exactly under where the old altar of Saint Stephen’s used to be. It is now time for us to retrieve that which La Papessa locked inside.” And she reached into her blouse and pulled out a chain, revealing a small key – one that she then used to unlock the padlock.

<Click!> the device opened.

Miriam then proceeded to turn the dials necessary to unlock the various tumblers that released multiple bolts in turn. Finally she used the same key that opened the padlock and plunged it into one of the seven keyholes – the third from the left. Miriam turned the key a full rotation, only to cause the tumblers to fall in line with a <HIIIiiiisssss…>

At the sound, Alan pulled Miriam backwards, “Greek Fire!”

Yet Miriam shrugged him off, “Don’t worry. My efforts were correct, that was just a small bit of air trapped inside.” With full confidence, she proceeded to open the portal. “This box has been locked for centuries… until today.”

Alan watched as Miriam reached inside the box and pulled out a small scroll – although it was tiny and non-descript, he did not make the mistake of underestimating its importance, “The Doomsday Missive. Can I finally see it?”

“There’s no time.” Miriam stuffed the scroll into her blouse and began looking all around the room, as if expecting something to happen.

“What do you mean no time?” Alan queried.

Just then, the floor began to <Rumble>.

“Get ready!” Miriam called out above the increasing din.

And as soon as she said it, the floor tilted down, giving way beneath them and sending them falling into the darkness below!

“YAWWW!” Alan screamed as the floor of the Sacra Crytpa gave way, causing he and Miriam to land with a <THUD> in the pitch black below.

“Some ride!” Miriam called out. “Are you alright, Alan?”

“Sure. But some advance warning would have been nice. Miriam, I can’t see a thing. How do we get out of this mess?”

“Easy.” Miriam flicked on her lighter again. “Just go up those stairs.”

Now that I could see too, it appeared my friends were in a rough hewn cavern; the location where they dropped from above was once more closed off and there was apparently no other way to go, except up the stairs Miriam just illuminated (how convenient, eh?)

And so, with Miriam leading the way, the pair trudged upwards. After a short while they reached a small landing – yet this too appeared to end in a blank wall.

“So where does this secret doorway take us?” Alan joked.

“I think you’ll be amused at this one.” Miriam reached high on the right wall and pushed in the release mechanism for this portal.

“Wait a second.” Alan hissed as the door opened. “This is the hidden cove behind the wooden stall in the Chapel of the Choir! But, Miriam, why in the world did we go through that escapade to get to the Sacra Crypta if we could have just walked down a flight of stairs? What are you trying to do to me? If I didn—“

“Alan, dear, what good would it have done to go down these stairs? How would you have gotten into the Sacra Crypta? The trap door ceiling can only be released from inside the Sacra Crypta.”

“So, you’re telling me that had we, or anyone, gone down this stairwell from the Chapel of the Choir it would have been to no avail?”

“The only thing you would have discovered would have been that empty chamber below. There is no way to get into the Sacra Crypta — except by that which we traversed.”

“I see.” Alan said through pursed lips, perhaps not yet ready to let Miriam off the hook for the ordeal he just went through. “Well, what now?”

“First let’s don our disguises.” Miriam began putting on her tourist clothes once more. “Then, we wait till the basilica officially opens again.”

Unfortunately for me, my vision did not allow me to skip ahead this time – instead I had to keep a vigil with them.

Time passed by slowly (for all of us) as they waited in that cramped room.

It’s at times like this that I lament not being able to enjoy a good stiff drink while watching these visions. Quite frankly I never understood why He didn’t allow me this little concession – what harm could it have caused? Hell, had I been able to drink a few brews I’d have been much more willing to endure these revelations over the millennia.

But does He ever think of me?

Of my happiness?

Obviously not!

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36 – Friar Tuck and his Band of UNMerry Men
Book II Table of Contents
Book 2 Rise of the Antichrist, Mary Magdalene

2.33 The Secret of the Lie

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Book II: Chapter 33
July 15

Time shifted in my vision and and I now saw Alan and Miriam leave their hiding spot.

I guessed that it was probably sometime after midnight since the church was now deserted.

As for my friends, they were now dressed in black clothing, having ditched their bright tourist garb within the choir stall. Both wore black Nano Masks (although I guessed that Alan did so more because he wanted to impress Miriam than because he thought it was necessary against Covid).

“It’s after hours, security is tight.” Miriam whispered through her mask. “I can sense a number of the guards’ minds who are patrolling on foot, as well as those operating cameras. I’ll do my best to direct their thoughts elsewhere, but you must only move when I say so and only go where I tell you to. We have one chance at this. May the Lord be with us!”

Alan merely nodded, yet if he thought they would get moving immediately he was wrong – for Miriam merely stood in place without moving and her eyes became unfocused as her mind turned inward.

After long moments, I could tell Alan was getting more and more worried, yet just as he was getting ready to poke at Miriam, suddenly she hissed, “Now. Follow me. Quickly!”

Keeping close to the walls, Miriam led Alan out of the Chapel of the Choir, past the monuments of Leo XI and Innocent XI, on a sharp left in front of the Altar of the Transfiguration, and into the Clementine Chapel.

Click to ENLARGE

After pausing in front of the monument to Pius VII and hiding briefly behind the railing of the Altar of Saint Gregory The Great, she forced Alan to scamper across the aisles towards the Altar of The Lie.

I managed but a brief glance at one of the mosaics that I’d always found to be a curious edition to the Basilica’s collection – for Cristoforo Roncalli’s altarpiece representing the punishment of Ananias and Sapphira from Acts, Chapter Five was certainly NOT the most heartwarming of scenes – after all, Peter was quite unforgiving to that pair, wasn’t he? Nonetheless, Miriam didn’t give me much time to ponder that mystery, and instead she drove Alan behind the altar and right up to the massive mosaic, then she took her gloved thumb and pressed hard into the left eye of Sapphira – immediately a bottom section of the right arch clicked open – revealing another secret chamber!

(Now that’s interesting — even I wasn’t aware of this secret spot).

Miriam pushed Alan into the cramped darkness, “Ssssh! They’re coming.” And she pulled fast the portal behind her.

<Click. Clop. Click.> Roving footfalls sounded in the hallway.

Both of my friends held their breath, knowing that if the guard used his 5G sensors their Identichips would give away their positions.

<CLOP. CLOP.> The steps paused just outside the altar.

Seconds ticked anxiously by, until at last, <CLOP. Click. Click. Click.> The guard moseyed away.

Breathing a sigh of relief (a rather stupid gesture inside her mask) Miriam flicked her lighter, igniting a yellow glow and revealing that they were not just in a small stall like back in the Chapel of the Choir, but instead in a long hallway – one that led down into the darkness…

“Watch your step.” Miriam advised. “The way is narrow and the stone steps are centuries old.  I’d move ahead of you, but there’s no room.”

She spoke the truth on that last, for Alan had to walk sideways in order to squeeze through the hallway – the ragged stones snagging at his clothes.

After they had descended about twenty stairs, the way leveled off, and after another ten paces, Miriam directed, “Stop here.”

The hallway had reached a triple doorway, giving Miriam the opportunity to take the lead. After choosing the far left door and going down more stairs, they were presented with a new set of doorways  – here she went straight ahead. Another ten paces, another set of caves – another left and another stairway.

All the while both of my foolish friends had continued to wear their face masks (despite nobody else around and despite the fact that, as immortals, they were immune to Covid) – like so many others they’d long since been brainwashed on the need to live their lives in masks. (How sad, huh?)

Meanwhile, Miriam’s light flashed over the walls, revealing a glimpse of bones stacked into carved out sections of the cave.

“Catacombs?” Alan’s voice was muffled behind his mask. “Something more I didn’t know? Ugh!”

“They were crafted to look like such — La Papessa wanted to keep everything authentic and we agreed that if this vault was ever discovered that having the bones of unknown ‘saints’ would surely keep everyone preoccupied — away from the real purpose of this place.” She pulled down a cobweb, “Although it seems as if nobody has been down this far?”

By now the walls and floor had become slick, slowing their progress considerably. More than once Alan caught Miriam as she lost her balance and I could tell both of them were being taxed by this dark maze. Even still, onward they went over level, yet slippery ground.

Another set of doors, but just as Miriam was about to step down onto this next stairwell, Alan grabbed her, “Beware, the steps are gone!”

<tick-tick-trickle.> The pebbles under Miriam’s feet scruffed off the shelf, cascading down the hole before her.

After regaining her balance, she knelt and held her lighter out, “Three stairs are missing – leaving a jagged chasm. But, I can see the rest of the steps just a short jump ahead.”

“Miriam, I can’t let you go first on this.” Alan held her back. “What happens if you land on the steps but they crumble beneath you?”

“Don’t underestimate me. I call upon the Lord… now!” And she wriggled away from Alan and leapt like a cat into the darkness….

Leaving Alan’s gloved hand to grasp at thin air.

Luckily for Miriam, she’d successfully landed on the top step of the other side of the chasm and it held firm beneath her. “Praise God, I’m OK,” she called back to Alan. “Wait just a moment while I move down to give you room.” And after a pause, “OK, come on.”

Alan said a quick prayer and then he jumped into the inky darkness.

<CRACK!> Alan’s weight broke the step he landed on and it immediately started to crumbled – causing him to lose his balance and fall backwards as the hungry cavern below opened its maw to receive him.

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34 – Tight Spaces
Book II Table of Contents