St Paul's Labyrinth

by Jeroen Windmeijer

  ‘There’s a tunnel near the Burcht,’ he told him without turning back around. ‘They found it yesterday when the mayor was helping to install the first underground waste container at the city library. Or at least, that’s what he was supposed to be doing. It all went wrong. The digger sank into the hole they’d dug for the container, then it turned out that there was a tunnel under it that nobody knew about. I went into the tunnel with Van Tiegem afterwards and I lost him. That’s all there is to it. I went back, went to get help, but …’

  ‘But?’

  ‘It’s a long story, all right? I don’t know where he is, but now my priority is finding my friend Judith. I have no idea what to make of it all.’ He went back to the web search.

  He added the word ‘bible’ to ‘butter honey’ and hit enter.

  The first ten results all pointed to a scripture from Isaiah, chapter seven, verse 15:

  Butter and honey shall he eat, that he may know to refuse the evil, and to choose the good.

  He scanned the other verses around it and easily recognised them: the prophecy made by Isaiah that Christians would later interpret as the proclamation of Jesus’ coming birth.

  Therefore the Lord himself shall give you a sign. Behold a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and his name shall be called Emmanuel. He shall eat butter and honey, that he may know to refuse the evil, and to choose the good. For before the child know to refuse the evil, and to choose the good, the land which thou abhorrest shall be forsaken of the face of her two kings.

  Peter clicked on one of the other search results and read:

  At no point in the New Testament is Jesus ever called Emmanuel. The belief that Isaiah’s prophecy predicts the birth of Jesus is further called into question by the existence of a frequently cited translation error: Isaiah’s reference to a ‘young woman’, ha’almah. If Isaiah had specifically meant to refer to a virgin, he would have used the word betulah. The word ha’almah has been erroneously translated with the Greek word parthenos, meaning ‘virgin’, and this error lies at the foundation of the cult of the Virgin Mary. However, the most important mistake in the Christian interpretation of this text is that Isaiah made the prophecy to King Ahaz on the eve of the destruction of his kingdom by his enemies, Rezin, the king of Syria, and Pekah, the king of Israel. The prophet Isaiah calmed the king’s fears by reminding him that his wife was pregnant and would soon bear him a son who would be called Emmanuel, which means ‘God is with us in our battle’. Ahaz was reassured, the child was born, and the king won the war against Rezin and Pekah. Given the situation, it is highly unlikely the king would have been reassured by Isaiah’s promise of the birth of a child that would not take place for another seven hundred years.

  What was he supposed to do with this? Did they want to tell him something about Jesus? This was another text with a reference to good and evil, darkness and light, and the endless battle between them. Or was it about the verse number 15?

  He typed in ‘Bach numbers’ and pressed enter.

  He didn’t need to click on the links in the search results. The snippets of text under each link mentioned it again and again: J.S. Bach and his numerological equivalent, 41.

  What did he have so far? The numbers 41 and 42 from The Hitchhiker’s Guide and J.S. Bach, possibly another 41 from Niobe, and now perhaps 15, the verse number from Isaiah. He couldn’t make any sense out of it. Might it be part of a code to unlock the room where Judith was being held captive?

  ‘And?’ Sebastiaan asked from behind him, jolting Peter from his thoughts.

  ‘I found little dishes of butter and honey in the Hortus, next to the beehives … I think they’re a reference to a bible verse, but I can’t work out what I’m supposed to do with it. I had hoped I’d find a new clue to tell me where to go next.’

  ‘You know, it’s a bit odd if you ask me,’ Sebastiaan said. ‘And if you really are innocent, why can’t you just go to the police? We can get them to catch that nutter outside, and you can report an attempted murder. The police can help you find your friend, can’t they?’

  ‘No, no, they said … They made it very clear that I wasn’t to involve the police, and I don’t want to do anything to make them angry, or angrier than they are already, or than some of them seem to be. They might do something to Judith.’

  ‘But it doesn’t make sense, does it? On the one hand, they’re giving you clues to find your friend, and on the other, they’re trying to kill you.’

  Peter gave it some thought, but he didn’t understand this part of the puzzle either. Unless it really was part of an initiation …

  He typed in a new search term: ‘Mithras grades’.

  Less than a second later, he had more than 50,000 hits. He took a chance on the first link on the list. He scanned the text; his eyes flitted back and forth across the screen.

  Saint Jerome described Mithraism’s seven grades of initiation in ascending order of status. The first is Raven, corax in Latin … its symbol is the caduceus, the magical staff of Hermes or Mercury …

  Corax, the raven, Quintus, Hugin and Munin … the second grade of initiation was the bridegroom, the nymphus. He’d found that clue in the synagogue under the chuppah.

  The bridegroom was also called cryphius, ‘the hidden one’, cryptic, occult. The initiate was bound to Mithras in a mystical marriage. The symbols of this grade were the torch, the lamp and the crown. Connected to the sun … the torch is the wedding torch and the lamp represents the new light that enters the adherent’s life when he forms an unbreakable bond with the sun god. It is probable that during the initiation of the nymphus, the Mithraeum, the Mithras temple, was flooded with bright light. Before the ceremony, the initiate withdrew from the outside world for a period of time, and took a vow of silence. This enabled them to become open to inspiration from the cosmos …

  Something began to flicker in his subconscious, like the flame of a cigarette lighter that repeatedly flares up and then dies half second after it’s been lit.

  After the bridegroom came the third grade, the soldier, miles.

  Those who had completed their period of silence returned to the outside world, but with a new status and purpose. The initiate was a warrior now, a fighter, connected to the planet earth … He was not fighting external enemies, but waging a spiritual war against his inner desires, not against flesh and blood but against the dark forces within himself.

  Peter closed his eyes for a moment to focus his concentration and then he continued.

  The god Mithras is a deus invictus, an invincible god. The follower joins his god’s army. Having being initiated and taken the sacramentum or military oath, he is now a foot soldier in the service of Mithras. The sign of Mithras is made on his forehead. He is offered a crown and a sword, but the soldier is required to humbly refuse the crown, and recite the words: ‘My only crown is Mithras. My crown rests with my god.’ Images of the initiated miles show a sword lying at his feet.

  ‘Paul!’ Peter cried, like a father angrily scolding his child. I knew it, he thought. It had seemed like a crazy thought experiment at first, but now he was absolutely convinced. Everything was falling into place. In Van Leyden’s The Last Judgement, Paul was also portrayed with a sword …

  Full of enthusiasm, he turned around to tell Sebastiaan, but the doorway was empty. He went back to the screen and read about the next initiation grade, Lion, Leo, connected to the planet Jupiter.

  To the ancient Persians, the lion represented the sun itself, helios. In this phase, the initiate was connected to higher powers. The tongue and hands were smeared with honey so that they would be as pure as the sun in word and deed. Novices also underwent purification via a baptism of fire, after which they became new men.

  Peter looked behind him again but Sebastiaan still hadn’t come back. Should he look for him? Not just yet, not when he felt like he was getting somewhere.

  Searching with the words ‘bible lion’ produced webpages about the lion as a metaphorical threat to the descendants
of Esau and Jacob, the Edomites and Israelites: ‘I will come like a lion from the thickets of the Jordan, leaping on the sheep in the pasture. I will chase Edom from its land …’

  He tried to settle his growing unease with the thought that Sebastiaan had merely left him alone because he was so engrossed in his research. But he didn’t like the way he had gone without saying anything.

  The fifth degree of initiation was the Persian, perses.

  Little was known about Paul’s activities and whereabouts during the fourteen years that followed his stay in Jerusalem. Most Christians believe that he began travelling as a missionary at this point, but there was no evidence for it in the bible. If you read the scriptures carefully, you’d discover that he disappeared for fourteen years. Paul’s ‘lost weekend’ …

  The Persian is the divine reaper. He harvests the corn that springs from the blood and spinal fluid of the slaughtered bull. The Persian is a faithful follower of his god, protected by the planet Mars, no longer the child of his father and mother, no longer belonging to this village or that …

  ‘I have become a Jew to the Jews, a Greek to the Greeks …’ wrote Paul, the chameleon, no longer belonging to this village or that …

  The Persian has grown, gained strength and wisdom, defeated his egoism. He has become one with all people. Who is his mother? Who are his brothers? All those who act in accordance with God’s will are his brother, his sister, his mother.

  The Persian, connected to the planet Mars … he remembered the solitary Mars bar in the snack machine … There were plenty of hits in Google for ‘Apostle Paul reaping’ …

  And let us not grow weary in well-doing, for in due season we shall reap, if we do not lose heart.

  The same went for ‘Apostle Paul sowing’.

  He who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will supply and multiply your resources and increase the harvest of your righteousness.

  But how would all this help him? What was the next step supposed to be? The sixth grade was the Sun-Runner, heliodromus, or messenger of the sun, the seventh was the Father, pater …

  Before he could get any further, his train of thought was interrupted by the shriek of an ear-piercing alarm.

  The sudden noise made him jump so violently that he was launched a few centimetres out of the chair.

  He heard footsteps in the corridor, quickly coming nearer.

  ‘Peter, Peter!’ Sebastiaan shouted. ‘You need to go! He’s inside!’

  Peter froze for a second and then sprang into action.

  ‘Where should we go?’ he hissed when he reached Sebastiaan in the hall.

  ‘I don’t know where he got in …’ he replied, running to the stairs with Peter at his heels. ‘Downstairs somewhere … If we go upstairs we’ll be further away from him. Come on!’

  As suddenly as the alarm had started, it stopped. The sudden silence rang in Peter’s ears.

  ‘That’s strange,’ Sebastiaan said. ‘You can only do that if you have the code …’

  Without making a sound, they crept up the stairs.

  A light went on at the bottom of the stairwell. Whoever was trying to get to him, they were making no effort to conceal their presence.

  The stairs took them to a corridor that was identical to the one they had just left.

  ‘Now what?’ Peter said hopelessly.

  ‘I think,’ Sebastiaan said, ‘I think that coming upstairs might have been a bad idea.’

  27

  Saturday 21 March, 5:40am

  ‘What do you mean, coming upstairs might have been a bad idea?’

  ‘We have, erm … we have a problem. It’s being fixed on Monday. So stupid of me.’

  ‘What problem?’

  ‘There’s a fire escape … We can get outside, but the door at the bottom of the fire escape doesn’t open. The lock’s broken. So we’d be locked in. Which wouldn’t be ideal.’ The tension in Sebastiaan’s voice rose as he spoke. He turned around and walked back towards the staircase. ‘There’s no way out,’ he said, before he ran down the stairs.

  Peter decided to follow him, and watched as Sebastiaan disappeared around a corner at the bottom of the stairs.

  Then he heard a scream so terrible that it hardly seemed human. It sounded like a wounded animal. Peter ran down the stairs, not giving a thought to the possible danger. When he reached the small landing half way down, he looked down the stairwell and saw Sebastiaan lying on the floor. Only his legs were visible. He was completely still.

  In the corridor, a shadow loomed on the wall, slowly growing bigger. Peter prepared himself for a confrontation.

  Far sooner than he had expected, the archer appeared at the bottom of the staircase. He stared directly at Peter, his face twisted into a taunting grin as he aimed his bow and arrow upwards. Without a moment’s hesitation, Peter leapt down the rest of the stairs. Before his feet hit the floor, his fist landed on the archer’s jaw with such force that the man fell backwards, slamming his head into the wall. He reeled drunkenly, giving Peter the chance to snatch his bow and fling it away from them. He broke the arrow in two.

  He grabbed the man’s coat and lifted him away from the wall. ‘What are you doing?’ Peter yelled. ‘Who are you?’

  A trickle of blood came from the man’s nose. His eyes widened, then his head lolled to the side and his knees collapsed under him.

  Peter, who was still holding onto the archer’s coat, was dragged downwards as the archer fell. He let go of him before he hit the floor. He turned back to Sebastiaan who was lying motionless on his side next to the stairs. His right hand was gripping his left shoulder where an arrow was lodged in his flesh. His eyes were screwed tight shut. He looked as though he was trying to stay perfectly still because even the slightest movement would be agony.

  Peter knelt down and gently put his hand on Sebastiaan’s back. ‘Can you stand up?’

  Sebastiaan nodded weakly.

  ‘Come on, get up. We’ll go downstairs and I’ll call for an ambulance.’

  Sebastiaan nodded again, more obviously this time.

  He rolled over very carefully until he was lying on his back. Peter crouched behind him and helped him to his feet.

  Sebastiaan started to cry. ‘It hurts so much,’ he said, struggling to get the words out.

  ‘I know, but we have to leave now. We’ll call for an ambulance and they’ll be here in a few minutes. You’ll be okay …’ Peter used one arm to hold the young man up as they haltingly descended the stairs.

  ‘Shouldn’t we tie him up or something?’ Sebastiaan asked, groaning.

  ‘He won’t be able to do much for a while. I’ll make the phone call, then we’ll go outside and wait for the ambulance. We’ll ask for the police too, okay? They can take him away.’

  ‘But what about you?’

  ‘I’ll run as soon as I see the blue lights.’

  ‘Where are you going to go?’

  It was a good question. Coming to the Observatory hadn’t produced any new clues. The Persian was the next step, but where should he look?

  When they finally reached the ground floor, they went into the first room on the corridor. Peter put Sebastiaan down and went over to use the phone on the desk. He dialled 0 and then 112. After about ten seconds which felt like an aeon, a woman’s voice came on the line and asked if he needed the police, fire service or an ambulance.

  ‘Ambulance!’ he shouted into the receiver.

  ‘What’s the address?’

  ‘Kaiserstaat, Leiden, near the entrance to the Observatory.’

  There was a short pause. ‘The ambulance is on its way,’ the operator said. ‘Stay on the line.’

  Peter considered hanging up. But at the very least, he wanted to describe Sebastiaan’s injuries, so he did as she asked.

  ‘Can you tell me what happened?’ the woman asked after a short pause.

  ‘Someone was shot with an arrow. In his shoulder.’

  The operator was silent for a second or two. This clearly w
asn’t a scenario she had roleplayed on her training course. ‘An … arrow?’ she repeated dubiously.

  ‘Yes, an arrow. They need to hurry.’

  ‘And your name is …’

  He hesitated.

  ‘Could I have your name please?’ she said again, more insistently.

  Peter hung up, throwing the receiver down again and went back over to Sebastiaan. ‘We’re going outside. The ambulance is on its way.’

  They walked to the front door with Sebastiaan stumbling next to Peter. When Peter opened the door, the alarm went off again, but he ignored it and closed the door behind them. They hobbled together down the long path that led to the main street.

  ‘How are you doing?’ Peter asked Sebastiaan with a sideways glance. But he could already see the answer on the young man’s face.

  Sebastiaan grimaced and shook his head.

  ‘We’re almost there, just a bit further …’

  ‘What …’ Sebastiaan stammered with obvious difficulty. ‘What do they want from you? Who … are they?’

  ‘I don’t know. There are people … I don’t know.’

  They reached the end of the path and stood still until Peter saw an ambulance approaching on their right, coming out of the Witte Singel with its blue lights flashing. ‘I have to leave you now. I’m sorry.’

  Sebastiaan seemed not to be able to hear him. He fell, first onto his knees, and then onto his side, with his hand still holding the shoulder where the arrow was sticking out.

  Peter crouched beside him and nervously looked to his right. The ambulance had turned the corner onto the Kaiserstraat now, and was crawling towards them as its crew looked for their patient. ‘I really have to go. I’m sorry. The ambulance is already here.’

  The ambulance was just twenty or thirty metres away from them. Peter stood up, ready to run in the opposite direction. He was stopped in his tracks by two police officers who had been observing the scene from a few metres’ distance. They each took one of Peter’s arms and clamped him so tightly between them that he gave up any attempt to escape. Now he saw the police car, parked diagonally across the street with its headlights dimmed, barely fifty metres away. He had been so focused on the ambulance that he hadn’t heard the police car coming.