By James Patterson & Andrew Gross
Published by Little Brown & Company
March 2003; 0-316-60205-1; 400 pages
WEARING A BROWN TWEED SUIT and his customary dark tortoiseshell sunglasses, Dr. Alberto Mazzini pushed through the crowd of loud and agitated reporters blocking the steps of the Musée d'Histoire in Boréée.
"Can you tell us about the artifact? Is it real? Is that why you're here?" a woman pressed, shoving a microphone marked CNN in his face. "Have tests been performed on the DNA?"
Dr. Mazzini was already annoyed. How had the press jackals been alerted? Nothing had even been confirmed about the find. He waved off the reporters and camera operators. "This way, Docteur," one of the museum aides instructed. "Please, come inside."
A tiny dark-haired woman in a black pantsuit was waiting for Mazzini inside. She looked to be in her mid-forties and appeared to almost curtsy in the presence of this prestigious guest.
"Thank you for coming. I am Renée Lacaze, the director of the museum. I tried to control the press, but . . ." she shrugged. "They smell a big story. It is as if we've found an atom bomb."
"If the artifact you've found turns out to be authentic," Mazzini replied flatly, "you will have found something far greater than a bomb."
As the national director of the Vatican Museum, Alberto Mazzini had lent the weight of his authority to every important find of religious significance that had been unearthed over the past thirty years. The etched tablets presumed to be from the disciple John dug up in western Syria. The first Vericotte Bible. Both now rested among the Vatican treasures. He had also been involved in the investigation of every hoax, hundreds of them.
Renée Lacaze led Mazzini along the narrow fifteenth-century hall inlaid with heraldic tile.
"You say the relic was unearthed in a grave?" Mazzini asked.
"A shopping mall . . ." Lacaze smiled. "Even in downtown Borée, the construction goes night and day. The bulldozers dug up what must have once been a crypt. We would have completely missed it had not a couple of the sarcophagi split open."
Ms. Lacaze escorted her important guest into a small elevator and then up to the third floor. "The grave belonged to some long-forgotten duke who died in 1098. We did acid and photo-luminescence tests immediately. Its age looks right. At first we wondered, why would a precious relic from a thousand years earlier, and half the world away, be buried in an eleventh-century grave?"
"And what did you find?" Mazzini asked.
"It seems our duke actually went to fight in the Crusades. We know he sought after relics from the time of Christ." They finally arrived at her office. "I advise you to take a breath. You are about to behold something truly extraordinary."
The artifact lay on a plain white sheet on an examiner's table, as humble as such a precious thing could be. Mazzini finally removed his sunglasses. He didn't have to hold his breath. It was completely taken away. My God, this is an atom bomb!
"Look closely. There is an inscription on it."
The Vatican director bent over it. Yes, it could be. It had all the right markings. There was an inscription. In Latin. He squinted close to read. "Acre, Galilee . . ." He examined the artifact from end to end. The age fit. The markings. It also corresponded to descriptions in the Bible. Yet how did it come to be buried here? "All this, it does not really prove anything."
"That's true, of course." Renée Lacaze shrugged. "But Docteur . . . I am from here. My father is from the valley, my father's father, and his. There have been stories here for hundreds of years, long before this grave tumbled open. Stories every schoolchild in Borée was raised on. That this holy relic was here, in Borée, nine hundred years ago."
Mazzini had seen a hundred purported relics like this, but the tremendous power of this one gripped and unnerved him. A reverent force gave him the urge to kneel on the stone floor.
Finally, that's what he did - as if he were in the presence of Jesus Christ.
"I waited until your arrival to place a call to Cardinal Perrault in Paris," said Lacaze.
"Forget Perrault." Mazzini looked up, moistening his dry lips. "We are going to call the Pope."
Alberto Mazzini couldn't take his eyes off the incredible artifact on the plain white sheet. This was more than just the crowning moment of his career. It was a miracle.
"There's just one more thing," said Ms. Lacaze.
"What?" Mazzini mumbled. "What one more thing?"
"The local lore, it always said a precious relic was here. Just never that it belonged to a duke. But to a man of far more humble origins."
"What sort of lowborn man would come into such a prize? A priest? Perhaps a thief?"
"No." Renée Lacaze's brown eyes widened. "Actually, a jester."
Continue reading at jamespatterson.comCopyright © 2003 James Patterson
Reprinted with permission.
Every thousand years or so, a great adventure comes along....
Hugh De Luc, a poor innkeeper, returns home from the Crusade wearied from battle and disillusioned by carnage. After journeying from the Holy Land back to his own small village, he finds his nightmare is just beginning.
In his absence, Hugh's son has been killed and his beloved wife, Sophie, abducted by a ruthless duke in search of a priceless relic dating back to the Crucifixion. Taking on the role of a jester, Hugh infiltrates the court where he believes Sophie is held captive. There he confronts men more evil than he ever imagined and embarks on an epic battle to restore his broken life.
With the breakneck pace and dizzying action of a thriller and the timelessness and romance of an Arthurian legend, The Jester is a pulse-pounding and enchanting novel. This classic tale of good against evil and the search for love is the grandest story yet from the writer the San Francisco Chronicle calls "the page-turningest author in the game right now."(back to top)
James Patterson is one of the top-selling novelists in the world today. His debut novel, The Thomas Berryman Number, won the Edgar Award for the best first mystery novel. It was published by Little, Brown in 1976 when he was just twenty-seven years old, after being turned down by more than two dozen other publishers.
He has since written a string of major national bestsellers that includes the seven books in the series featuring detective/psychologist Alex Cross and the two novels in the "Women's Murder Club" series. (See review.)
Patterson grew up in Newburgh, New York. He graduated summa cum laude with a B.A. in English from Manhattan College and summa cum laude with an M.A. in English from Vanderbilt University.
James Patterson lives in Palm Beach County, Florida, with his wife and their son.