“Wait just a minute,” protested Gwyn. “Who were those people, what did they do, why were they involved?”
“Forget the names,” replied Gary. “Except for George Sale, all we know about any of them is that each had, at one time, been in possession of a copy of the document.”
“So, either Sale bought the copy from Monkhouse, or he made a copy himself,” said Matt. “And, the incomplete manuscript in Australia was copied from the one Callamy acquired when Sale died. What happened to the complete version Callamy got from Sale, and why is the copy from Australia incomplete?”
“Lots of questions with no answers,” replied Gary. “The copy that Callamy acquired from Sale has never been found nor has any other copy. The trail is simply lost. The complete Spanish copy Sale referred to as a Muslim forgery in his introduction to the Qur’an is gone. Numerous efforts have been made to find it in the libraries and museums of Europe, all to no avail. So, there is no full Spanish version today as far as we know.”
“But,” interrupted Zeki, pointing to the document on the table. “That shouldn’t come as a surprise. After all, the letter your father found was an order to destroy the G.O.B. We also know from Sale’s diary that someone tried to purchase it. When he refused to sell out, maybe they had him killed and stole it.”
“But, they couldn’t have stolen it,” protested Gwyn. “The copy found in Australia says it was transcribed from the copy Sale had.”
Zeki nodded his agreement.
“Right,” said Gary. “His diary says he wanted to keep it safe. So, maybe they killed him but failed to retrieve the manuscript. Maybe Nickolls obtained it, started copying it, and before he finished, someone either bought or stole the original from him. We’ll never know. What we do know though, is that according to Sale the introduction to the Spanish version claimed to be a translation from the Italian copy, which first surfaced in the Netherlands in 1709, so let’s look at that.”
“The Netherlands? Very interesting,” said Gwyn. “Especially given that the Netherlands had been engaged in a war of independence with Spain. They had even collaborated to some extent with the Moriscos.”
“Nor should we forget,” added Matt, “that the Protestant Huguenots also conspired to join forces with the Moriscos to defeat their common enemy, the Catholic Hapsburgs. When the Huguenots finally realized it was a lost cause, many of them fled to Holland. The connection could have been through France as well.”
With a mischievous smile, Zeki said, “Should I also point out that the Sultan had promised help to the Dutch Protestants against the Catholics, and the man who wanted to buy it from Sale was in Amsterdam.”
“Do all roads lead to Holland?” asked Gwyn.
“We may never know how the Italian version of the Gospel of Barnabas arrived in Holland,” said Gary, “But, it was eventually given to Prince Eugene of Savoy, who, apparently, was quite a connoisseur of rare books and the arts.”
Zeki chuckled. “Prince Eugene of Savoy, a ‘connoisseur of rare books?’ I’ve never heard a less fitting description.”
“I know nothing of the man except for the one reference to him purchasing the book and being a patron of the arts,” said Gary innocently. “He apparently had large holdings. With his extensive revenues, he supported writers and artists, as well as acquiring a brilliant collection of paintings and an extensive library.”
“Did you know he was a general?” asked Zeki.
“No, but I’m not sure how that is relevant to the G.O.B.”
“Well, I’m not either,” snorted Zeki. “But, saying that he was a patron of the arts is like saying Newton was a theologian, which may be true, but Newton was pre-eminently a physicist. In the same way, Savoy should be rightly characterized as a general, not a patron of the arts. No, not
a
general. He was
the
general. The general who turned the tide against the Turks. The commander who decisively stopped Ottoman expansion in Europe. In 1683, as a mere boy of nineteen, he fought at the Battle of Vienna, when Kara Mustafa Pasha with almost 150,000 men was routed by the Polish general, Sobieski, leading a multinational force of Germans, Austrians and Poles. Then, in 1697, he led the Austrian force that defeated the Turks at Zenta, making the first significant dent in Ottoman controlled territory and forcing the Ottoman Empire to sign the Treaty of Karlowitz, which ended one hundred and fifty years of Ottoman rule over Hungary. It is strange indeed that with all of the scholars in Europe he should come to have this book. Very peculiar. Why? Why should a general be given this book?”
“That’s an impressive impromptu summary of an Austrian general’s life,” said Matt, making no attempt to hide his surprise.
“My dear fellow,” said Zeki, “If there is one thing Turks know it is war, and if there is anything a soldier studies, it is the history of war, especially one’s own wars and those of one’s enemies.”
Gary continued, “As to why the general received the book, apparently Cramer, the man who acquired the Gospel of Barnabas in Holland and presented it to Prince Eugene of Savoy, may have exchanged it for a sum of money because he had fallen on hard times. After all, the Prince was a man of means and probably paid him handsomely.”
Zeki ran his fingers through his hair. “Not convincing. I’m quite sure the Vatican had deeper pockets. I find it hard to believe that this book just happens to end up with the top general of the Austrian Empire, the man who not only routed the Turks but also put down the Hungarian Protestant revolt. There must have been hundreds of monasteries, dozens of museums, and any number of religious scholars who would have been interested in the book and willing to pay a tidy sum for it. Why should it end up with a general? Anyway, no time for speculation now. What happened after that?
“Well, Savoy died in 1736. His library was purchased by the Emperor. The book eventually went into the National Library of Austria and was not heard from again until 1907, when it was translated into English by Laura and Lonsdale Ragg.”
Zeki stood up and began pacing the room like a court prosecutor.
“We have to think like the conspirators, get into their minds. Do you
know if there are any obvious Catholic elements in the Gospel like there were in the Lead Books of Sacromonte?”
Gary shrugged. “I haven’t come across any reference to particularly Catholic elements.”
“What about the paper it is written on?” continued Zeki.
“There was something about that . . .” Gary’s fingers flew over the keyboard and then he waited for the search results. “Yes, there is a watermark,” replied Gary. “The paper is Italian, and interestingly enough, the watermark on Morisco document 9653 is the same.”
“Interesting” continued Zeki, still pacing the room. “The Ottomans imported most of their paper since their own attempts to produce it were not very successful.”
“It was bound in Turkish leather with a simple floral design on the cover,” said Gary.
This elicited only a grunt from Zeki. “Is there an introduction to the book that might help us determine its origin?” he asked.
“In the Italian version? No. But . . .” Gary turned back to his computer and did a quick search. “The Spanish version has an introduction. Give me a second.” He scanned the search results for the link he was looking for. “Here it is. There is a note in the introduction to the Spanish version that says it was translated from Italian by a Spanish Muslim named Mostafa de Aranda in Istanbul. There is also a preface that relates the story of its discovery in the Vatican.”
“The Vatican?” asked Matt dubiously. “If the book is a forgery, and I think we have proven that it is, then we can discount any information provided in the preface.”
“Misdirection,” agreed Zeki. “Pure and simple.”
Gary continued reading, “A certain Fra Marino had, for years, wondered if the four gospels accepted by the Church fathers were the originals. One day, he chanced upon the writings of Irenaeus, an early church father, who condemned the doctrines of Paul and quoted as his source the Gospel of Barnabas. He goes on to tell how he was with Pope Sixtus V in his library, and that when the Pope fell asleep, he began perusing the shelves to pass the time. He took a book off the shelf and much to his surprise found he was holding the Gospel of Barnabas, which he hid in the folds of his cloak and smuggled out of the library.”
“Likely story . . .” retorted Matt sarcastically.
Gary interrupted. “There are problems with it. First of all, there are no known works of Irenaeus that criticize Paul.”
“Is there anything else?” asked Zeki.
“There is a short prologue in the Italian. Hang on. I’ll find it.” Gary began reading from the screen.
‘Barnabas, apostle of Jesus the Nazarene, called Christ, to all them that dwell upon the earth, desires peace and consolation.
Dearly beloved, the great and wonderful God has during these past days visited us by His prophet Jesus Christ in great mercy of teaching and miracles, for which reason many, being deceived of Satan, under pretense of piety, are preaching most impious doctrine, calling Jesus son of God, repudiating the circumcision ordained of God for ever, and permitting every unclean meat: among whom also Paul has been deceived, whereof I speak not without grief. It is because of this that I am writing that truth which I have seen and heard, in the discourse that I have had with Jesus, in order that you may be saved, and not be deceived of Satan and perish in the judgment of God. Therefore, beware of every one that preaches new doctrine to you contrary to that which I write, that you may be saved eternally. The great God be with you and guard you from Satan and from every evil. Amen.’
“Wait a minute,” said Gwyn, “I don’t remember Barnabas being one of the twelve disciples.”
“As far as the canonical New Testament goes, he wasn’t,” replied Gary. “He isn’t mentioned in any of the Gospels, only in Acts, but in the G.O.B., Barnabas replaces Thomas. Hang on. I highlighted that somewhere. Here it is:
Their names are: Andrew and Peter his brother, Barnabas, who wrote this with Matthew the publican, who sat at the receipt of custom; John and James, sons of Zebedee; Thaddaeus and Judas; Bartholomew and Philip, James, and Judas Iscariot the traitor.
“So why did the forger or forgers choose Barnabas as the author?” asked Gwyn.
“I think it is quite apparent,” ventured Zeki. “Everyone who has read the New Testament knows that Paul and Barnabas had a disagreement, and they went their separate ways. Barnabas went back to Cyprus. Paul continued his missionary journey.”
“So?” said Gwyn, with a perplexed look on her face.
Gary saw where Zeki was going and countered quickly, “But Acts says that the disagreement was about personnel, a man named John Mark, who had deserted them earlier, not about doctrine.”
“Yes,” returned Zeki, “That is what the New Testament says, but for centuries, Muslims have blamed Paul for corrupting the message of Jesus, since he wrote much of the New Testament . . .”
“So, this would allow them to claim that the split was actually over doctrine?” asked Gwyn incredulously.
“Sounds like a clever plan to me,” said Zeki. “They could say that the account in Acts was cleansed to cover up what the disagreement was about, that Barnabas recorded the true Gospel, and that this was suppressed by the Church.”
“Actually, there might more to it than that,” said Gary.
“Then enlighten us,” said Zeki, cheerfully.
The change in his manner over the last few moments was lost on none of them. He seemed to know where he was going and was now enjoying the ride.
“Well, two things,” said Gary. “First, there is the Gelasian Decree, which dates back to 492 AD and lists ten apocryphal works rejected by the Church. Most of them are named after one of the disciples, and one of them is called the Gospel of Barnabas. The problem with the list is that the supposed Gospel of Barnabas in the list would have been written in Greek, but the only copies we are aware of are in Spanish and Italian. The Gospel of Barnabas referred to in the Gelasian Decree has never been identified, it is not quoted by any church fathers. Except for this list of heretical books and a similar one like it, there is no mention of it, either before AD 492 or after, until this Italian or Spanish version was brought to light in the early 1700s.”