Page 52 of Skotos
“Give me a moment,” came an impatient reply. “I . . . I believe I have seen this spear . . . on another page, as well.”
Marini scooted back from the table and returned to the shelves, this time disappearing into the darkness. For the briefest moment, I wondered how the man could see—then a light flickered to life, revealing more of the eternal hall.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
Neither of us spoke.
I occasionally leaned over and examined the spear in the text, as if it might shift or change while we stared. It did not.
Nearly twenty minutes later, the Curia returned, another tome, this one thinner, tucked beneath one arm. When he reached the table and set the book down, I saw its leather binding was far newer than the volume we’d first examined. Gilded lettering reflected the light, shimmering faintly. It wasn’t Latin or Greek or Aramaic. In fact, it wasn’t written in any of the ancient languages prominent in liturgical study.
It was penned in Cyrillic.
Thomas sucked in a breath and asked, “Is that . . . Russian?”
And for the first time since stepping into the Vatican’s bowels, I felt it.
A shiver. But not one of fear.
One of proximity.
We were close to something.
Whether truth or myth, I couldn’t yet say; but the shadows on the walls felt darker than they had when we entered . . . and something warned metheywere listening.
“Here.” Marini muttered another phrase in Latin under his breath as he ran a crooked finger across the spine of cracked red leather.
“????????? ??????? ??? ????????? ???????”
Thomas translated aloud, his Russian still quick and fluid. “Imperial Guard under Her Imperial Majestythe EmpressCatherineby Vasili M. Sokolov, Court Historian and Archivist, 1791.”
“Written by her official court historian.” Marini passed it over. “This might be . . . something.”
Thomas cracked the cover, and the breath of age-worn paper escaped into the air—musty and impossibly well preserved. The first few pages were filled with elegant script, then sketches and watercolors so vivid they looked freshly painted: St. Petersburg’s Winter Palace under snow, Catherine herself in resplendent robes, her children painted with regal detachment.
And then—
A full two-page spread illustrated a company of elite guards. They were tall, stoic men in ornate uniforms trimmed in gold. Across their chests ran sashes of blue and crimson. In each of their hands,a ceremonial weapon—long spears with distinct, unmistakable points. The shape was jagged, aggressive—and all too familiar.
“Read the caption,” I said, my voice tight.
“The Leib-Gvardiya: a corps of elite guards assembled in 1777 at Her Imperial Majesty’s personal behest, sworn to unwavering loyalty. Their weapons, forged in mimicry of the Holy Spear, were said to imbue divine favor in defense of the Empire. Known unofficially as ‘The Spears of the Court,’ they operated beyond the reach of generals or ministers, answering only to the Tsarina herself.”
Thomas looked up, eyes dark. “There’s our connection.”
“To the Soviets?” I asked, still not believing my own eyes.
Marini nodded slowly. “If their tradition survived . . . even in fragments . . .”
Thomas finished the thought aloud, “Then whoever’s behind these assassinations may believe they are the rightful heirs to this shadow Order—first from the Church, then from the Russian throne.”
Marini looked up, his eyes appearing even more outsized in his ridiculous spectacles, and shook his head furiously. “No, no, no. The Order of Longinus wouldneverconsort with anything Russian. They believed themselves to be apart from mortal rule, a divine blessing guiding their work in purifying the unholy. They would have viewed the RussianEmpress as a heretic, a woman possessed of such hubris as to usurp the rightful place of a man—a man anointed by God—as well as a believer in a false fork of the Mother Church. They would more likely seek to assassinate her, not work within her designs.”
“So, what?” I struggled to form a question. “They aren’t Russian? The Order, I mean? Or they aren’t working with the Russians, but the Russians are another Order? I’m lost.”
Marini quirked a brow, as if translating my gibberish into proper English. “The Order and the Russians have nothing to do with one another besides the fact that they both used the Holy Spear as a symbol. The Order used it largely in ink, while the Russians recreated actual spears for ceremonial purposes.”
