From Sana’s perspective, even the two men’s outward appearances argued against the chances that they would be friends. Shawn was a natural athlete who participated in varsity sports at Amherst. At six-foot-three and two hundred pounds, he was physically imposing and still fit from competitive tennis. James was short and plump, and now, often swathed head to toe in his scarlet robes of office, appeared decidedly elfin. On top of that, Shawn was black Irish, with thick, dark hair and strong angular features. James, on the other hand, had red hair and creamy, freckled, almost translucent skin.

What had drawn the two men together and had cemented their relationship, Sana was later to learn, was first circumstance and later a love of debate. It had started their freshman year when they had been made roommates. Joining them was another student who lived directly across the hallway. His name was Jack Stapleton, and as chance would have it, he too ended up living in New York City. So the Three Musketeers, as they were known in college, miraculously ended up in the same city even if they were worlds apart in their careers.

In contrast to James, Sana had met Jack Stapleton just twice. He seemed such a remarkably private person, she wondered how he’d gotten along with the others. Maybe his seemingly thoughtful, retiring nature and lack of self-reference had made him the glue that had held the group of friends together back in college.

“James is going to come unhinged,” Shawn continued, still chuckling to himself at the prospect. “And I’m going to love it. This is going to be my opportunity to put him on the hot seat, and is he going to squirm. I can’t wait to revisit the infallibility issue. In light of all the papal shenanigans during the Middle Ages and Renaissance, it’s an issue we’ve argued about hundreds of times.”

“What makes you so certain this is going to rank up with Carter’s discovery of King Tut’s tomb?” Sana questioned to refocus the discussion.

She wasn’t certain what the other two archaeologists Shawn had mentioned had discovered, although the name Schliemann was familiar.

“King Tut was an insignificant child ruler whose life was a mere blip in the sands of time,” Shawn snapped, “whereas the Virgin Mary was arguably the most important human to have lived, second only to her firstborn son. In fact, maybe they were equally important. She was the Mother of God, for chrissake.”

“No need to get yourself riled up,” Sana said soothingly. Of late Shawn often expressed irritation when he thought she was disagreeing with him in his area of expertise. The irony was that in no way did she question the historical importance of the Virgin Mary, especially in relation to the puny, teenage Tutankhamen, but Carter had unearthed a huge cache of treasure. So far, all Shawn had was three sheets of papyrus of unconfirmed authenticity that talked about the Virgin Mary’s remains. Yet Sana could see Shawn’s point from her own reaction. When Shawn had gotten to the section in Saturninus’s letter that involved the bones of the Virgin Mary, she had reacted as if Shawn had slapped her across the face.