The image on the shroud is very difficult to make out. Its details become much clearer in photographs and it is more easily understood at a distance than close up. The pigment — whatever it is — that is responsible for the image seems to touch only the outer fibres of each individual thread. The marking penetrates only three or four fibres down into the thread itself. Most experts are convinced that the more densely coloured areas give that appearance, not because the colour is deeper, but because the coloured fibres are more numerous in those darker areas.
In 1532, there was a disastrous fire in the Chambery Chapel, where the shroud was kept inside a silver case. The heat was sufficient to melt the silver, and consequently the molten metal dripped through, leaving scorch marks on the shroud. The nuns of the Poor Claire Order devoutly repaired it. They sewed some fourteen large triangular patches, along with seven or eight smaller ones, to repair the holes that the fire had caused. There is much to commend in the courage of the two Franciscan priests who risked their lives saving the Mandylion and who preserved it from further damage by soaking the silver case with water as soon as they were clear of the fire. The aftermath of that trauma is still visible on the Mandylion today. Scorch marks, small holes caused by the molten silver, and what are presumably water stains after the silver box was doused are still visible. Another attempt — this time deliberate — to destroy the Mandylion took place in 1972, when an intruder burst into the chapel and tried to set fire to the holy relic. The asbestos inside the shrine saved it.
In 1898, the shroud was photographed for the first time by Secondo Pia. In his midforties, Secondo was a lawyer by profession but had won a number of prizes as a photographer. In 1898, electric lighting was still something of a novelty, and its results for an amateur photographer were likely to be uncertain. Pia first tried an exposure of fourteen minutes, and then with a later picture gave it twenty. It was about midnight, while he was working in his darkroom, that Pia was totally dumbfounded (his own description of his feelings) as the face of the shroud began to appear. Only then was it realized that the image on the shroud was a negative. The discovery that Secondo made was so impressive that the old box camera he used for that photograph is still to be seen in the Holy Shroud Museum in Turin.
In 1931, some exceptionally good exposures were made by Giuseppe Enrie, accompanied by Secondo Pia, who was by then well into his seventies. A young priest who was present with the two photographers went on to become Pope Paul VI.
Doctor Pierre Barbet and Professor Yves Delage brought their special knowledge to bear on the mystery of the Mandylion almost a hundred years ago. Both medical experts agreed that the man who had been laid to rest in the shroud was one who had well-developed muscles and had been used to hard work. They detected unmistakable signs of rigor mortis but maintained that there was no evidence of corruption. Again, in the opinion of these two medical examiners and others, the wounds as shown on the Mandylion were anatomically accurate. The lacerations of the scalp and above the brow suggested to them that the crown of thorns, unlike the circlet that religious artists normally portrayed, was more like a cap. Medical experts estimated the lance wound that penetrated the heart as being approximately five centimetres long by just over a centimetre wide. In the opinion of the experts, the wound had been made posthumously. The blood flow had simply run downward with gravity and had not spurted as it would have done if a living body had been penetrated in that way. Additional medical evidence would indicate death from asphyxiation, which is concomitant with crucifixion, as the victim is unable to breathe. The man of the shroud had bruises and cuts on the knees, which would indicate at least one heavy fall, and further marks on the back indicate, or suggest, that something heavy had been carried. Again, the medical evidence points to these back injuries having been inflicted after the scourging, because the whip marks had been modified and distended by this later, larger injury. Medical evidence in connection with the scourging suggested that well over a hundred blows had been inflicted, that two executioners had been involved, and that the wounds were of a type that would have been inflicted by the notorious Roman flagellum.
More recent — but equally controversial — evidence has suggested a completely different theory: the shroud probably originated in 1307, and was used to cover the tortured body of Jacques de Molay, the Grand Master of the Knights Templar. According to this theory, the fearless Templar leader was nailed to a door by his depraved interrogators, and the door was then slammed repeatedly. De Molay was then wrapped in the cloth that later became the Mandylion, or Holy Shroud of Turin. The medical evidence pointed to the man in the shroud as being tall and muscular. That description would fit a powerful fourteenth-century warrior-priest like Jacques. The theory is fascinating, but inconclusive. The mystery of the Mandylion remains unsolved, but it is one of the most mysterious objects on the planet. As a special stop-press item, it is relevant to note that archaeologist Dr. Shimon Gibson has recently discovered a shroud in a tomb near Jerusalem dating from the first century A.D. It may provide vital comparative evidence for accurately dating the Turin Shroud.
CHAPTER FOUR:Alexander of Abonoteichous
The curious alleged miracles and mysteries and the strange artifacts and mysterious objects that were the property of Alexander of Abonoteichous (one of the weirdest miracle mongers of the second century A.D.) were recorded for posterity by Lucian of Samosata. Had he been alive today, Lucian would have been a satirical cartoonist, or maybe the presenter of one of those TV or radio shows that set out to expose charlatans. It would be the understatement of the millennium to say that Lucian was definitely not one of Alexander’s supporters. Lucian describes him as “a thoroughgoing villain … godlike, handsome and tall with long hair that was partly artificial. He was intelligent and not without talent but he used his gifts wrongly… He was a blend of lies and trickery camouflaged as someone kindly and respectable … He loved to appear magnificent.”
Alexander was apprenticed to a wizard-cum-doctor who sold mysterious healing potions and amulets. At an early age, he went into partnership with Coconnas, another young man who had similar interests. Financed by a rich Macedonian lady, Alexander and Coconnas went into business as travelling magicians. They settled not long after in Abonoteichous, which was Alexander’s hometown. It is proverbial and almost invariably true in practice that UA prophet is not without honour except in his own land and in his own country.” Alexander was the exception that tested that rule, but he survived. He attracted wealthy crowds and prospered like the metaphorical green bay tree.
When it suited him, he would pretend to be insane. In the second century, epilepsy was often looked at as being the result of a visit from one of the many gods. It was thought to give the epileptic the power to prophesy. Alexander discovered that by chewing soapwort he could produce some pretty realistic frothing at the mouth. (Soapwort is an herb that grows up to three feet high and carries attractive pink flowers, and the dark green leaves are very smooth to touch. It was used in the past as a cleaning agent for clothes because when boiled up it produced lather. It has also been used for treating itchy, flaky skin. It has many colourful local names, including “Bouncing Bet.”)
Perhaps one of the main secrets of Alexander’s success was careful preparation. He had noticed that a temple not far from his house was under construction. Water had formed a pool among the excavations the builders were making, and this gave Alexander an idea. He carefully blew a goose egg and inserted a minute live snake into it. The following day, suitably attired as a wild prophet with hair and beard flying characteristically in the wind, he made a public announcement that the god would shortly appear at the temple that was being built in his honour. Not surprisingly, this attracted a large crowd. Alexander offered loud prayers to Aesculapius and Apollo: “O Great