The Cairo Codex (37 page)

“I see that Mostafa is holding court this morning,” observed Andrea as she and Justine arrived and took their seats at the ornate mahogany table. “Since he was named one of the fifty most influential people in the world by
Fortune
magazine, there’s no stopping him. Be prepared.”

“Ah, Doctors Jenner and LeMartin. Please join us,” suggested the director. “Dr. Jenner, please enlighten us. What is your father’s view of the antiquities market?”

The two women rose and joined the group. “Dr. Mostafa. How good to see you again. Gentlemen,” said Justine, lowering her head respectfully. “Please tell me more about your question. You were asking for my father’s view?”

“
Bizobt
! Exactly. Does he think such markets have a legitimate role to play in the transfer of antiquities today?”

What a strange question. No one supports these markets—unless they’re black marketers themselves.
“My father has strong views on this subject, as you do, Dr. Mostafa. He thinks ‘antiquities market’ is an oxymoron. The only rightful owners of antiquities are the countries in which they were created, even though these countries have a professional obligation to retain the artifacts in the public domain and loan them to foreign museums. We all want to share knowledge with the rest of the world, don’t we?”

Ibrahim smiled proudly at Justine.

Mostafa’s laugh was wholehearted. His stomach and jowls shook; his eyes danced as his hands met each other with a gleeful clap. “My dear, you have won my heart! Of course the country of origin must control the loan of such treasures—and require adequate compensation.”

Justine gave the director her most disarming smile. From what she’d heard, “adequate compensation” from Mostafa’s perspective was nothing short of extortion. “I am deeply honored, sir. Your heart could not be in safer keeping.”

As the Great Mostafa moved to the head of the table, he briefly placed his hand on Andrea’s shoulder and murmured something in her ear about the honor of her presence. The others seated themselves.

“Let us begin,” Mostafa said. “We’re here today to learn about the dating and translation of a codex found several weeks ago by Dr. Jenner.” He introduced those around the table, then paused briefly. “Dr. Jenner, I understand this find is unprovenanced, precisely because you picked it up and carried it out of the crypt under St. Sergius. Is that correct?” His tone was now one of exacting professionalism. Any warmth earned earlier was pushed to the margins.

“That’s correct, Dr. Mostafa,” Justine said. “As you know, the conditions of the find were rather harrowing. I didn’t realize the object that had fallen to my feet during the earthquake wasn’t mine. The crypt was dark, smothered in sandstone dust and falling debris, so I just picked up whatever was close by.” Warned by her colleagues that Mostafa would pull no punches in spite of his charming welcome, she was prepared to be equally straightforward, as well as contrite, if necessary. In spite of feeling fragile from this morning’s heartbreaking revelation about Nasser, she allowed no hint of defensiveness to enter her voice.

“The water has flowed under the bridge, Dr. Jenner,” said Mostafa. “It can’t be helped now.” He smiled and held her gaze. “But it does add a complication, doesn’t it?” Not waiting for a reaction, he turned to Ibrahim. “Professor, would you tell us what we have in front of us this morning?”

Ibrahim gave a small nod, although his glare communicated his displeasure with the director’s treatment of Justine. “The report you have before you is a summary of the interim findings regarding a codex discovered in the crypt under St. Sergius Church in Old Cairo during the earthquake of April 12th, 2006,” he began. “We are in possession of a leather-bound codex of papyrus approximately sixty-five pages in length, which came into my possession, courtesy of Dr. Jenner, on April 14th. I subsequently placed it in my safe at the Rare Books Library.”

“Where was the codex between April 12th and 14th?” Mostafa asked sharply.

“The codex was in a canvas bag in my room at the Shepheard,” answered Justine, annoyed that she found herself apologizing for a second time. “I didn’t realize I had it until two days after the earthquake.”

“I see,” said Mostafa, with an intonation designed to tell everyone in the room that he didn’t. “Please continue, Professor.” Tea arrived on a large, circular brass tray. Seven fourteenth-century Chinese ceramic cups, clearly a prized possession of the museum, steamed with the fragrance of Arabian tea from the Sinai. The teapot matched the cups, as did the large, mounded container of sugar and miniature plate of lemons.

“On May 2nd through 4th, Drs. LeMartin and Jenner took the codex to the Centre for Calligraphy and Writing at the Bibliotheca Alexandria. To the office of the director, Dr. Al Rasul, for his opinion, as well as that of his Jordanian colleague, Mahmood Hassen. After their return, the codex was again placed into my safe, from which it was periodically removed to obtain leather, including patina, and papyrus samples.” Ibrahim closely followed his notes. “During the period May 10th through 15th, the codex was separated, placed under glass, and photographed by a specialist from Geneva, who noted that having the pages and margins so intact is a rare occurrence.”

“
Absolument
,” interrupted Andrea, passing a plate of small vanilla cakes to the director. “The exacting photographs have allowed Ibrahim, Isaac, and myself to translate key portions of the codex, although there are still many fragments. Dr. Al Rasul has also made occasional visits to Cairo to assist with some of the more difficult passages. It’s written primarily in Aramaic, though several Greek and Hebrew phrases are used as well. In that regard, as well as in style of letter formation, it’s a close facsimile to the Dead Sea Scrolls.”

“Thank you, Dr. LeMartin,” said Mostafa, attempting to swallow one of the cakes nearly whole. He paused, then spoke again, “Once the pages were photographed, we moved the original under glass to my safe here in the Ministry. The photographed copy was kept with Ibrahim and his team. I saw to it that twelve small pieces of the papyrus and four pieces of the leather were sent to the University of Arizona radio carbon dating lab in Tucson. The very same lab, as you may know, where the Dead Sea Scrolls and the Nag Hammadi codices were dated. I also asked for an analysis of the ink on the papyrus using their state-of-the-art transmission electron microscopy equipment.”

“It sounds as though you have considerable familiarity with the Arizona lab,” observed Al Rasul, leaning forward somewhat impatiently.

“I visited last year, Dr. Al Rasul. It is my hope that within five years our own Ministry of Antiquities will be as well equipped.” The director ran his hand carefully across the report. “It is only fitting that the best lab for analyzing Egyptian antiquities be right here in Egypt, don’t you think?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “But let us get on with the findings.

“The AMS—Accelerated Mass Spectrometry—carbon-14 dating on the leather and the papyrus dated the codex in the period 20 BCE to 40 CE. That’s what I expected to find,” declared Mostafa, partially reading from the report. “The ink is made of the usual soot and gum adhesive, somewhat different in each sample, but coherent.”

“You say ‘expected to find,’ Dr. Mostafa, but I find such early dating remarkable. Don’t you?” asked Amir, glancing at Justine, who avoided his eyes. It was the first time they had seen each other since she’d walked away from him and his grandfather at the Rare Books Library, and she was struggling to work through her feelings about a number of men in her life at the moment.
What am I going to do about Nasser?

“You’re right, my boy, it is remarkable. But as you know, most of our recoveries are much older. Pharaonic Egypt. Your own Ptolemy period. Those are our specialties.”

“Point well taken, sir,” said Amir, staring directly at the director. “Yet we have almost no finds from the period designated here.”

“How do you account for the differences in ink samples?” interjected Al Rasul.

“This would appear to be a codex written over a period of time,” noted Isaac. “Changes in locale, time, and climate could account for a variety of ink ingredients as well as the reaction of the inks to the environment. No surprise there.”

“No surprise there,” repeated the director. “One of the more significant findings is the delicacy of the fibers of the papyrus.”

“The dryness of the sandstone cave appears to have held the sap together and kept the pigment evenly distributed,” offered Justine. “A rare find.”

“An astounding find indeed,” said Al Rasul. “For a two-thousand-year-old codex to be so well preserved . . . It’s almost unbelievable. But too many rarities can spell trouble. How sure are we that the codex came from that cave? Amir, I understand that you and your team from the Museum studied the cave patina.”

Did he just call me a liar?
Justine glanced across the table at Al Rasul, who stared down at his notes with feigned attention. She had come to learn that he coveted his role as cynic and accuser; she decided not to take it personally.

“With
Dr. Jenner’s
help,” Amir said with emphasis, “we were able to examine the patina in several likely niches in the crypt under St. Sergius. As you are all aware, the patina is formed by chemicals that seep out of or drip onto the surface of an artifact over hundreds of years as it lies in its secure environment. In this case, a cave. We transported the newly acquired binocular scanning electron microscope—thanks to Dr. Mostafa—into the cave and photographed the patina
in situ
.”

Although seated, the director bowed royally from the waist to acknowledge his cleverness in securing the essential equipment from National Geographic.

“The most curious aspect of cave patina is that it forms in the shape of a cauliflower,” continued Amir. He flashed a conspiratorial smile at Justine. “On the inner face of the third niche, we found a cauliflower pattern nearly identical to the remains on the codex.” He rose, handed out photographs of the pattern and walked to the blackboard to draw an image of two interlocking cauliflower buds. “The two images are a fit. Like fingerprints.” An unabashed grin flickered across his face.

He’s pleased with himself
, Justine recognized, warming to Amir once again in spite of herself. “And we found something else of exceptional interest,” she added.

Amir nodded, then slowly pulled on a pair of sheer plastic gloves, reached into his briefcase, and removed a pint-sized Ziploc bag. He waited until the attention in the room was undivided before reaching into the bag and extracting an object that, now cleaned, looked very much like a small yellow bone.

“What is it?” demanded Al Rasul.

“A comb,” Justine said evenly. “A little comb.” The outline of the comb now became apparent: small, fine teeth, probably made of ivory, and crowned with a cluster of carved lotuses.

Omar’s arms swung open in a grand gesture of excitement, knocking one of the priceless Chinese cups and a saucer to the floor. Turning his back to the breakage to avoid embarrassment, he intently stared at the comb. Isaac and Andrea pushed their cups back from the edge of the table.

“Is there . . . is there any hair in the comb?” asked Andrea. It was her turn to be surprised.

“Hair with follicles? Testable?” interjected the excited director. “For DNA?”

Amir could hardly get a word in edgewise. “Hair, yes. Enough follicles for DNA testing? I’m not sure. Could we actually have the author’s DNA? We don’t know yet.”

“But we may well have some hair from the author of the codex,” said Ibrahim quietly. “That is valuable in and of itself.”

“I’d bet my career on that much,” said Amir. “We can now date the comb and see if it corresponds to the dates of the codex.” A lock of his curly black hair fell onto his forehead.

He looks like a mischievous child.
Justine grinned. After their experience with the missing pages, she found his new excitement most pleasing. She realized she’d forgiven him for the intrigue about those pages. After all, Ibrahim was his grandfather, and she could respect his need to protect him. To an extent.

“I would suggest that we take a break so that we can all get a closer look at this amazing find,” suggested the director. “Amir, do you have any more gloves?”

“I have something for you, Mary. Today is a day for remembrances and small gifts.” My husband hands me a small package wrapped in papyrus. On this first day of Passover, we are preparing for the Seder dinner, each of us deep in thoughts of the future. I open the package carefully, revealing a beautiful ivory comb about as wide and as tall as my hand. The teeth are delicately carved and across the top, graceful lotuses cling to each other. The ivory glistens like pearls.

“Joseph, it is truly beautiful. You gladden my spirit.” I hug him and kiss him on both cheeks. “Where did you find such a beautiful object?”

“You know the Roman, Flavius, who has been working with me on the gates? He found the comb near their building site and brought it to me. Flavius believes he will never see his wife again. I feel great pity for this man who longs so for his family and his homeland. I gratefully accepted his offering. Noha found fine reeds with which to clean it.”

“I must thank her also. And this Flavius, he is a good man?”

“He is a good man, Mary. He has been helpful to me in my work and our sons have learned from him. Men can be different, even when they are of the same people.”

“That is so, my husband.” I embrace him again and hold on, finding reassurance in his arms. For a long time he returns my embrace, and then he steps back, places his hands on my shoulders, and says quietly, “We must ready ourselves for a change. We will speak of it after the Seder.”

“Rachel is with child,” I tell him, deciding he needs to know of this news before the evenfall, as it will surely influence his planning. He does not respond at first, but stares around the room with an expression difficult to grasp. “This is good news,” he declares at last, “but it does complicate the decisions ahead.”