The Lost Book of Wonders

by Chad Brecher

  “This certainly isn’t the healthiest of working environments. Ever have this checked for asbestos or radon?” Ellie joked.

  “It’s probably best to not find out. I’m clearly not too high on the totem pole,” Alex replied as he reached over his workbench and flicked on a lamp.

  “Welcome to graduate student life. It’s a thankless existence,” Ellie muttered, grateful that her days of being the underpaid engine of academia were over.

  Ellie could see the wooden box illuminated in the center of the workbench. Suspended from a corkboard with thumb tacks were a series of sketches, photographs, and photocopies of different types of crosses. A small pile of hard-covered books sat on an adjacent desk. Ellie bent slightly to examine the titles of the books whose spines faced outward: Christian Iconography, The History of the Cross, Woodworking, Ciphers. Her father’s final book, Decoding the Afterlife: Egyptian Hieroglyphics and the Next World, rested askew on the top of the pile. Her fingers instinctively found the binding and righted the book. Ellie turned to see Alex disappear beneath a cabinet.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Alex inquired as he returned with a plastic bottle of water and set it down on the edge of the workbench. Ellie shook her head and pulled aside a chair to sit on. The sight of the wooden box on the workbench unsettled her.

  Ellie straightened her shoulders and the chair squeaked back in protest. “Alex, you should know that this box has been an intolerable burden. I would sooner forget I ever saw it. It has brought me only bad luck and pain.” Ellie’s voice trailed off. Alex watched as she brought the palms of her hands together and wrung them nervously.

  Alex broke eye contact and awkwardly mumbled, “I’m sorry. I never intended to make things difficult for you. I thought by coming here you…it’s just such an amazing finding…”

  Ellie glanced up and peered into Alex’s eyes. She could see that he was almost bubbling over with excitement and it pained her. Several years ago it was she who enthusiastically embraced her work. Her passion for the field of antiquities was well-known. She was the first to arrive at the excavation site and the last to finally wrest herself away to bed. She would often toil alone under the moonlight and the yellow glow of battery-powered lamps long after the rest of the team had retired. It was at those moments that she felt most whole, felt closest to those who came before her, the civilizations and cultures that rose and fell and were long buried beneath the ground. What had Father said?

  There are secrets in the past…mysteries that have yet to be uncovered. Somehow the world is incomplete without understanding where we came from.

  Ellie could feel her insides begin to burn. Whatever was there as she traveled through Mosul was dormant, but it had not died with Gordon. How could she turn her back on everything she had devoted her life to? It was in her blood. She looked down at the cover of her father’s book with a feeling of nostalgia and loss. She fought the urge to rise from her chair and flee from this office, from Alex, from the box and its mysteries.

  Alex watched as Ellie lifted her eyes from her father’s book and looked at him with resolve.

  “What’s so amazing?” she asked.

  Alex smiled back and maneuvered a chair beside the workbench such that he could face Ellie. As he sat down, their knees nearly touched. Alex appeared to be measuring how to start.

  “I have to be honest, at first I did not know what to make of the box. I know that you met with Graham about it. I overheard part of your conversation and have to admit that I couldn’t disagree with him. It’s beautiful to be sure, a work of incredible craftsmanship. Someone spent a considerable amount of time meticulously carving these symbols. But at first glance, the symbols did not make a whole lot of sense to me. It was like a school kid doodling on a piece of paper, you know, unicorns, stars, hearts, smiley faces. But why these symbols?”

  Alex stopped and looked at Ellie. What am I saying? She probably knows this and more. What’s a graduate student doing trying to teach someone as accomplished as her?

  “Dr. Griffin…” Alex stuttered.

  “Ellie,” she responded with a smile.

  Alex paused. “Ellie, the last thing I want to do is bore or offend you. This may all be very basic for you.”

  Ellie shook her head. “Alex, please. Assume I know nothing…that I’m some bright-eyed freshman.”

  Alex nodded his head with approval. He was thankful to be free to brainstorm.

  “The overriding, unifying theme of the box is the image of the cross. What do you think about when you see a cross?” Alex asked with an earnest look.

  “Christianity, I suppose,” Ellie replied with a shrug.

  “Sure, who wouldn’t? Like most things, however, it is more complicated than that. Have you ever realized how many forms of crosses there are just in the Christian religion? Each cross means something a little different.” Alex reached across the workbench, retrieved a manila folder, and opened it. He withdrew a crisp, white sheet of paper with a cross drawn on it and placed it on the table next to them.

  Ellie studied the image and found it to be a simple cross.

  “This is an image of the Latin cross, or crux ordinaria. Note that the horizontal bars of the cross are shorter than the vertical bar that runs through it. The horizontal bar is elevated above the midpoint of the vertical bar. It is certainly a more anatomic cross. After all, a crucified man’s arms are shorter than his legs. From a simply utilitarian standpoint, it made sense for the Romans to construct a cross in this manner if the purpose was to execute an individual. To a Christian, this image conjures up the True Cross and reminds the faithful of the sacrifice Jesus made for the sake of humanity. Quite simply, it is a symbol just like the Star of David or the crescent. This cross is most commonly displayed in the Roman Catholic denomination. The form of the Latin cross found its way into many parts of medieval society. For example, many churches were constructed in the shape of this cross.”

  Alex withdrew another sheet of paper from the folder and slid it over the first. Ellie peered down. Another cross was depicted in black. Instead of bars of different lengths, this time the arms and legs were of equal length.

  “This is a Greek Cross, also known as the crux immissa quadrata. Unlike the previous cross, this is not an ‘anatomic’ cross. The first thing I’m sure you noted was that the arms and legs are of equal length and the point at which they cross is in the center, producing an image of symmetry. What we know is that the Greek Cross predated the crux ordinaria. The significance of four equal length arms depends on who was using the symbol. For early Christians, it represented the four directions of the earth towards which the gospel of Christ would be spread.”

  Ellie pointed at the cross, feeling the need to interrupt. “Alex, it was also a symbol with deep pagan roots.” She could see Alex smile as he sunk slightly backwards into his chair. He was glad that she had been hooked. “For some it represented the four platonic elements: Air, Fire, Water, and Earth. In ancient Babylon, the cross symbolized the sun-god Shamash. There’s an Assyrian cross from 3000 years before Christ! Religion has always been in the business of co-opting prior symbols and rituals and reinventing them as it sees fit. In one of my classes I refer to a wonderful quote of St. Augustine, who said that, ‘What is now called the Christian religion has existed among the ancients, and was not absent from the beginning of the human race until Christ came in the flesh.’ This is nothing new. People have been writing critically about this for a long time.”

  Alex held up a finger. “This will all fit into place. Please, just bear with me. Now if we look at the side of the box, we see our first symbol — the Greek Cross.” Alex retrieved the box and faced the side towards Ellie. Ellie could see the cross symmetrically carved into the side of the box.

  Alex twirled the box until the opposite side was directed toward Ellie. “Now I’m sure you are familiar with this symbol,” Alex said as he withdrew a schematic of a cross not unlike the Latin cross, but with the top portion of the vertical lin
e folded upon itself.

  Ellie’s finger traced the cross before speeking. “It’s called the Ankh Cross. My father wrote at length about it. I grew up seeing representations of it all around his office. The Ankh Cross is an ancient Egyptian hieroglyphic. The meaning is debatable but most people believe that it was a symbol of immortality. When an Ankh Cross was placed under the nose of a newly deceased pharaoh, it was supposed to confer access to everlasting life. My father, however, believed that it was more complicated, akin to a ying-yang symbol; it represented both life and death in eternal balance. The symbol is associated with Egyptian medicine and is sometimes called the ‘Key of the Nile.’ Imkotep, the famous physician to the pharaohs from 3000 B.C., is most closely associated with the symbol.”

  Alex nodded. “Some have said that the looped portion represents a head and that it is a female form representing fertility. If one makes the head of the cross round, fill it in with a symmetric cross, and leave a neck …” Alex withdrew a paper depicting this image. “…it becomes the crux ansata or Coptic cross.”

  Alex placed another paper on top of the pile. The image was very similar to the Coptic cross but the rounded head had a short stem elevating it from the cross, like a stick figure. “This image is from alchemy and represents Venus, returning to its connection to fertility, life, and rebirth.”

  Alex pulled out a blank piece of paper and a marker and drew out the two crosses: the Greek Cross and the Ankh Cross. “So we have two of the crosses from the box. Now to the third and most complex.” He tilted the box, exposing the top. Ellie leaned in.

  The cross at first glance appeared to have the most in common with the Greek Cross. The cross was symmetric with equal length arms. The arms, however, were flared out. There were three circles attached to each arm and a circle at the junction point of the four arms. The cross appeared to rise out of a cloud-like structure.

  “This cross perplexed me. I had to search for a similar example, but eventually I found it. It’s called the Lotus Cross.” Alex removed a photocopy of a stone monument with Chinese symbols on the tablet. At the top of the tablet was a nearly identical cross.

  “This is an image from a monument that was discovered by Chinese workers at Hsian in the Shanhsi Province in 1623. It had been lost for nearly a thousand years and commemorates the ‘Propagation of the Syrian Luminous Religion in China.’ It depicts a cross arising from an opened lotus blossom.”

  “Are you saying that the cross was created in China in 600 A.D.?” Ellie asked with some surprise.

  “Actually, probably 700 A.D. It is a little known fact that after the death of Jesus, there were many competing groups vying to continue his legacy. They each had a different slant on the teachings of Jesus. To this day we have the Roman Catholics, Greek Orthodox, Russian Orthodox, and Coptic Christians, just to name a few, not to even mention all the denominations after the Reformation. One group that was particularly important in the early years after the death of Jesus was the Nestorians.

  “Nestorius was a Syrian priest who became the Patriarch of Constantinople in 428. He believed that Jesus had two natures — one human and one divine. It was his belief that Mary, mother of Jesus, was not divine and gave birth to a very mortal Jesus. Later in his life, Jesus became divine. Central to this view was that appreciation of the human side of Jesus was key — his trials and tribulations, sufferings, and temptations. For the followers of Nestorius, the so-called Nestorians, there was no Trinity. The Nestorians were merchants and missionaries who spread their gospel eastward into the Middle East and as far as China. Pursued as heretics by the Roman Catholics, the Nestorians were the face of Christianity for much of the Eastern world in the centuries after Jesus’ crucifixion.” Alex drew a picture of the Lotus Cross under the Ankh Cross.

  Ellie’s fingers found the box and she lifted it up. She turned the box slowly in her hands and paused at the image of three birds on the side of the box. “What about these birds? What do they mean?”

  Alex held out his hand and accepted the box from Ellie. “It’s a crest. Three birds against a ribbon. There’s an identical crest on the other side. I think I found out who this box belongs to. I’m getting there, but there is something else I need to show you first. It’s the fourth cross.”

  Ellie looked perplexed. She gripped the box and turned it over and over, looking at each side. “I think I’m missing something. I’ve stared at this box for hours on end and only saw three crosses.” She watched as Alex grinned and reached across the workbench to retrieve the bottle of water. His hands found the handle of his desk’s drawer, opened it, and withdrew a sponge. He unscrewed the cap of the bottle and proceeded to pour the contents onto the sponge until it turned a dark color. He positioned the box in the center of the workbench and flipped it so that it rested on the top side with the Lotus Cross. The blank side of the box faced them.

  “This is the best part,” Alex mumbled under his breath. He brought the sponge to the surface of the box and hesitated. “What do you see?”

  “Nothing,” Ellie responded with suspicion.

  She watched as Alex brought the saturated sponge up against the surface of the wood and ran it across it with a single motion.

  “What are you do…?” Ellie asked but her voice trailed off with amazement. As Alex lifted the sponge from the surface of the wood, the blank canvas was suddenly filled with yellow words set against a brown background. As Ellie brought her nose nearly up against the box, she could also make out an unusual symbol.

  The symbol was composed of a circle, and within the circle was a vertical line that transected the circle, dividing it into halves. A second, shorter, horizontal line divided the right semicircle into half like a T on its side. Extending from the circle was a long line with two hatch marks like bristles of a toothbrush. To the left of the symbol were several lines of text.

  “I wish I could tell you that I discovered this through genius and curiosity, but in reality it was a complete accident. If you look close enough before you wet the surface you can faintly make out the hidden message.” Alex pulled down a detailed photograph from his corkboard and passed it to Ellie. It was digitally magnified to the point that one could almost see the texture of the wood. The grains of wood were faintly visible and appeared to have been altered to produce the series of words and the symbol.

  “The words are written in Latin,” Alex noted. “It translates loosely as:

  Adam’s Staff

  Eastward Go

  Illuminated Path

  Where King Interred”

  “This is bloody amazing, Alex!” Ellie whispered in awe. “What does it all mean?”

  Alex frowned. “I hope this isn’t too anticlimactic, but I’m not entirely certain that I know, but I do have some ideas. Frankly, I was thinking that you might be able to help decipher this hidden message. I started with the symbol, but haven’t found anything that matches it. At first I thought that it was an alchemy symbol, but after reading through book after book, I haven’t seen anything that looks like it. Have you ever seen a symbol like this, maybe in the pre-Christian era?”

  “I would have to research it as well. It doesn’t look like any hieroglyphic I’ve seen and certainly not in any Mesopotamian culture I am familiar with,” Ellie replied. She bit down on her lower lip in thought.

  “I think that the words in the bottom right corner may be a clue,” Alex said. He removed a magnified photo of the area and traced out the letters. “It says ‘M. Paulo.’ You asked me before about the birds on the box and their significance.”

  Alex rose from his chair and began to go through the pile of books on his desk, rearranging them until he came away with a soft-bound, baby-blue covered book. Ellie craned her neck as Alex opened the book and began to flip through the pages. She could see that it was the Yule-Cordier edition of The Travels of Marco Polo. Ellie was embarrassed to admit that despite its notoriety, she, like most people, knew the general story of Marco Polo but had never actually read the traveler’s accoun
t.

  Having found what he was looking for, Alex bent the binding back so the book remained open and pushed it towards Ellie. There was a similar crest of three black birds walking in a single file across a winding ribbon, or possibly a road.

  “This is the crest of the Polo family,” Alex explained.

  “M. Paulo...Marco Paulo…Marco Polo!” Ellie interrupted.

  “Exactly! It all fits together. The choices in crosses veer away from traditional Western European iconography and flirt with both the Eastern world and paganism. One, the Lotus Cross, even conjures up the Far East and China. Polo traveled to the East at a time in which few risked such a trip. He lived for decades away from the world of Europe. In his travels, he also writes about his encounters with Nestorian Christians. I think it is possible that what we have in front of us is the lost property of Marco Polo.” Alex’s face was pink.

  “I don’t know if that argument would stand up in a court of law or academia for that matter, but it is an enchanting thought. But what is this box for?” Ellie inquired.

  Alex picked up the box and brought it up to eye level. “I think the more important question is: what’s in the box?”

  The room grew silent. The radiator began to make a snapping noise and something behind a cabinet hissed.

  “We need to find a way to open the box without damaging it,” Ellie concluded.

  “I have an idea of how to find out what’s in the box without even touching it,” Alex replied with a smirk.

  7

  Ellie hated hospitals. She hated everything about them — the smell of disinfectant, the whirl of gurney wheels, the white-coated doctors that looked like they had just graduated high school, and the idle chatter of staff juxtaposed with the enormity of death. If she ever had the guts to actually see a shrink, he would probably seize on her childhood experience with the death of her parents as a catalyst for these feelings. For years after, she had recurring nightmares of an overturned Mini Cooper pressed up against a tree, the rain falling through the shattered windshield, and the reflection of red brake lights on the wet, black asphalt. The scene would fade into her sitting in an empty waiting room wearing a pink tutu for her ballet recital, seeing her uncle enter the room. His face tried to convey a sense of strength but was twisted by an unbearable horror that frightened her then and continued to haunt her to this day. She would wake up in a cold sweat, the sheets stuck to her skin, her heart racing.