Chapter 33

The book was not a scroll, but a bound codex, and Keith could identify quickly that even though it was a manuscript and not printed, it was nowhere near 2,000 years old. Probably mid-19th century, he thought as he looked at the beautifully illuminated page open in front of him. Maddie was already digging in her backpack for another pair of gloves. “Get the torches back away from it and shine a flashlight over here,” she said. Fry took the torches and retreated a few steps. Keith approached with the flashlight. Maddie carefully tested the quality of the paper to see if it was safe to handle. The paper was high quality and in supple condition. She began to turn pages back toward the beginning of the book.

“I think this is what we were sent here to find,” Keith said. They reached the first page of the neatly written Greek. Keith began to read. “‘In the year that Alexander died, the seven divided his kingdom. We wept that all his conquering was parted, but only Alexander could rule the world. This book is the testament of Ptolemy Soter of Alexandria, heir to the knowledge and lore of the world’s greatest conqueror.’” Keith paused. “I think we’ve come across the book called The Wisdom of Ptolemy. And by the looks of it, it was placed here to be found.”

“You think this is the book that the monastery copied?”

“An ink analysis would verify it,” Keith answered her question. “There aren’t that many manuscripts that were written with cyanide laced ink.”

“If you take the manuscript out of here with us,” Fry said, “you have to have a plan for releasing it, or you have to guarantee that it is going to be kept secret in your Guild. I may not have understood the role of a guardian before, but I know we have to protect this location.”

“I agree, for now,” Keith said. “And I have an idea. Maddie, you may not like this.”

“We have to have a body in order for me to inherit,” Maddie said, already ahead of Keith. “And if we dig him out, we dig Joey out.”

“I see where this is going,” Fry said. “There is a way that it could work. If the Guardians clear the passage to the front door, they will uncover the bodies. It could be done during the winter when there are few people around. We would also want to arrange it so that it is not quite so easy to stumble upon if you happen to walk around the spring.”

“But if the bodies were discovered somewhere in Turkey, say a long ways west of here,” Keith volunteered, “they might have died in a spelunking accident. In a few months, after the will is read and Maddie inherits the estate, she could find this moderately old volume among Derek’s possessions and donate it to the library where authenticating the volume would reveal its history without revealing anything about the location of this archive,” Keith said. “I think this book will reveal Ptolemy’s intent for his library and we can work out how to progress from there.”

“Now that we know what the Guardians guard,” Fry said, “we should be able to keep the site safe. The region is already protected as a national treasure. But if we don’t find our way out of here, none of that will make a difference.” As if to emphasize his point, one of the torches guttered and went out.

“You know the steps,” Keith said. “Maddie, if I didn’t use all the plastic bags to wrap my feet in, let’s get the book prepared to take with us.”

They worked quickly to close the book, wrap it first in cellophane, and then package it in a garbage bag, sucking as much air out of the package as they could with straws before sealing it closed with packing tape. Nonetheless, by the time they were finished, the last of the torches had gone out and Fry held a single flashlight on their work.

“Let’s go,” he said. “Stay close and we’ll use just one flashlight at a time. I’ve no idea how long this will take.”

Fry led them through steps, counting the measures with the ritual words he had learned. When they reached the back of the stone head, they discovered what looked like a fold in the stone headdress concealed a passage inside the head. There, stairs led them still higher. But the maze they entered when they emerged from the passage nearly baffled the agent. He persisted with the steps exactly as he had learned them and eventually they came into a room small by comparison with the scale of the underground pyramid.

“This should be it,” Fry said. “At least, this is where the ritual ends.” All three turned on their flashlights and scanned their surroundings. In the center of the room stood a massive screw press that would dwarf the replica press in the Gutenberg Museum. The massive timbers stretched from the floor to a stone ceiling. Around the room were typecasting equipment, setting stations, and scrivener desks.

“It’s a print shop,” Keith said. “It must be where Gutenberg worked out the details of the printing press.”

“Yes, but there are no other doors,” Fry said. “If this is where the ritual ends, it may be where we end as well. I’m sorry I can’t take us any farther.” The three circulated through the room and examined all the walls. They seemed solid. The only way out appeared to be the way they had come in.

Keith found himself standing back in front of the press, running his hand along the handle. The screw could apply incredible pressure to the platen below it.

“Keith, we need to find a way out, not be examining another old press,” Maddie said.

“I think the press is the way out,” Keith answered. Both Maddie and Fry moved to him to examine the press. “Remember, we couldn’t get in until we’d closed the door at the entrance. This is the same kind of thing. Most presses of the Gutenberg era were so heavy that a pressman could pull on the handle all day and all the pressure would be exerted down onto the platen. But this press has the extra support of floor to ceiling anchors. If I pull the handle, I could still make a great impression, but look.” He pointed to the ceiling. “The top of the screw looks like it goes right through the roof. When I pull the handle, you can see the screw descend from the ceiling.”