“Something we’d like to change.”
She shrugged. “You’d be asking the people to abandon things they’ve held precious for centuries. Not even the Muslims, with all their discipline and moral precepts, have been able to do that. You’ll find the organizational and political uses of religion appeal far more here than spiritual benefits.”
“The Holy Father doesn’t want to change the Federation. He only asks that the Church be allowed the freedom to pursue those who want to practice our faith.”
She grinned. “Have you visited any of our holy sites?”
He shook his head.
“I encourage you to. You’ll notice quite a few interesting things. Men will kiss, rub, and circumambulate venerated objects. Women crawl under holy stones to boost their fertility. And don’t overlook the wishing trees and the Mongol poles with horsehair tassels set over graves. Amulets and charms are quite popular. The people place their faith in things that have nothing to do with your Christian God.”
“There’s a growing number of Catholics, Baptists, Lutherans, even a few Buddhists among those people. Apparently there are some who want to worship differently. Are they not entitled to the same privilege?”
Another reason she’d finally decided to entertain this messenger was the Islamic Renaissance Party. Though outlawed years ago, it quietly thrived, especially in the Fergana Valley of the old Uzbekistan. She’d covertly infected the main troublemakers and thought she’d killed off its leaders, but the party refused to be extinguished. Allowing greater religious competition, especially from an organization such as the Roman Catholics, would force the Islamics to focus their rage on an enemy even more threatening than she. So she said, “I’ve decided to grant the Church access to the Federation.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“With conditions.”
The priest’s pleasant face lost its brightness.
“It’s not that bad,” she said. “Actually, I have only one simple request. Tomorrow evening, in Venice, within the basilica, the tomb of St. Mark will be opened.”
A perplexed look invaded the emissary’s eyes.
“Surely you’re familiar with the story of St. Mark and how he came to be buried in Venice?”
Michener nodded. “I have a friend who works in the basilica. He and I have discussed it.”
She knew the tale. Mark, one of Christ’s twelve disciples, ordained by Peter as bishop of Alexandria, was martyred by the city’s pagans in 67 CE. When they tried to burn his body, a storm doused the flames and allowed Christians time to snatch it back. Mark was mummified, then entombed secretly until the fourth century. After the Christian takeover of Alexandria, an elaborate sepulcher was built, which became so holy that Alexandria’s newly appointed patriarchs were each invested upon Mark’s tomb. The shrine managed to survive the arrival of Islam and the seventh-century Persian and Arab invasions.
But in 828 a group of Venetian merchants stole the body.
Venice wanted a symbolic statement of both its political and theological independence. Rome possessed Peter, Venice would have Mark. At the same time, the Alexandrian clergy were extremely concerned about the city’s sacred relics. Islamic rule had become more and more antagonistic. Shrines and churches were being dismantled. So, with the aid of the tomb’s guardians, the body of St. Mark was whisked away.
Zovastina loved the details.
The nearby corpse of St. Claudian was substituted to hide the theft. The aroma of the embalming fluids was so strong that, to discourage authorities from examining the departing ship’s cargo, layers of cabbage leaves and pork were wrapped over the corpse. Which worked—Muslim inspectors fled in horror at the presence of pig. The body was then sheathed in canvas and hoisted to a yardarm. Supposedly, on the sail back to Italy, a visit from the ghost of St. Mark saved the ship from foundering during a storm.
“On January 31, 828 , Mark was presented to the doge in Venice,” she said. “The doge housed the holy remains in the palace, but they eventually disappeared, reemerging in 1094 when the newly finished Basilica di San Marco was formally dedicated. The remains were then placed in a crypt below the church, but were moved upstairs in the nineteenth century, beneath the high altar, where they are today. Lots of missing gaps in the history of that body, wouldn’t you say?”
“That’s the way of relics.”
“Four hundred years in Alexandria, then again for nearly three hundred years in Venice, St. Mark’s body was not to be found.”
The nuncio shrugged. “It’s faith, Minister.”
“Alexandria always resented that theft,” she said. “Especially the way Venice has, for centuries, venerated the act, as if the thieves were on a holy mission. Come now, we both know the whole thing was political. The Venetians stole from around the world. Scavengers on a grand scale, taking whatever they could acquire, using it all to their advantage. St. Mark was, perhaps, their most productive theft. The whole city, to this day, revolves around him.”
“So why are they opening the tomb?”
“Bishops and nobles of the Coptic and Ethiopian churches want St. Mark returned. In 1968 your Pope Paul VI gave the patriarch of Alexandria a few relics to placate them. But those came from the Vatican, not Venice, and didn’t work. They want the body back, and have long discussed it with Rome.”