“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?”
OLD CAIRO 2 CE
“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.”
CHAPTER 21
“NOW THAT WE’VE ALL HAD A LOOK AT THIS new evidence, I would suggest that we summarize the verifiable physical evidence we have so far, then move on to context clues. If I may . . .” Mostafa said, an even more commanding figure now that he was on his feet. After the brief break and several side conversations, the group was now reseated. More tea had been set on the table, and the director’s cup and saucer had been replaced. “So far, we have heard the following information.” He summarized point by point:
“First, the carbon-14 dating of the calf leather and papyrus pages places the codex between approximately 20 BCE and 40 CE.
“Second, patina patterns from the crypt niche match the patterns on the leather cover. Since the pattern was undisturbed, it is most likely that the codex remained in the niche for the full time, or most, of these two thousand years. Fair to say, Amir?”
Amir nodded.
“Third, the paleography examination suggests that the patterns and forms of the letters place the codex during the approximate period of the c-14 dating. Is this correct, Al Rasul?” He didn’t wait for a response.
“Therefore, we are representing this find thus far as an authentic codex created during the period 20 BCE to 40 CE and hidden in a wall niche in the crypt below the St. Sergius Church. We’ve heard nothing as yet about authorship.” All eyes turned to Ibrahim as he placed his shaking right hand on the report and pulled himself toward the table.
“Before we begin to talk about context clues and possible authorship,” Ibrahim said, “let me remind everyone that there are many different points of view regarding the presence and traveling of the Holy Family in Egypt. The ‘Holy Family’ is generally thought of as Mary, Joseph, and Jesus. Many Protestants think that Joseph’s son James was among them. Some believe that other children followed. Many religious traditions outside of the Middle East, perhaps even within the Catholic faith, don’t believe that the Holy Family came to Egypt at all. But of course the Copts think they came here and traveled around a great deal—since they were being chased by Herod’s soldiers—and then returned to Palestine after about two and a half years. Muslims believe the family stayed in Egypt for as many as seven years. My point in reminding everyone of these variations is to clarify some established theories for the conversation.”
“It sounds as though you’ve already made a decision on authorship,” said Al Rasul. “I thought we were reserving judgment until all the data was in.” He cushioned his sarcasm only slightly in regard for Ibrahim’s antiquity.
“Fair enough, but I will add this caveat: if, and only if, a member of the Holy Family wrote the codex, there are many different assumptions about where and when that could have occurred,” said Ibrahim, mildly embarrassed at the suggestion of rashness. Andrea, Isaac, Amir, Justine, and himself had decided to take this expanded gathering through the process step by step rather than rapidly revealing their conclusions about authorship.
“I will admit that most of our initial impressions have been borne out,” acknowledged Al Rasul. “While we recognize that alphabets change over time, these linguistic formations are consistent with the patterns found in the period in question. It’s also important to note that we have no samples of female writing during this period of history with which to compare the codex.”
“Do you think that would make a difference?” asked Amir, glancing at Justine.
“I do,” said Al Rasul. “My Jordanian colleague, Mahmood Hassen—who couldn’t be with us today—pointed out that the formations and patterns in this codex, although highly congruent with the Dead Sea Scrolls, are more delicate, have more flourish. The lines are also thinner, meaning the stylus may have been smaller or held by a hand with less strength than a man’s. These subtleties, this elegance, may—just may—suggest that the author was a woman.” He glanced at Andrea and nodded. “We can also say that the inscriptions are written by the same person, but over a period of time. The style and form became more sophisticated over a period of perhaps eight years.”
“Thank you. That’s helpful,” said
Andrea, nodding slightly. “As we’ve worked to translate the photographed pages, we’ve been guardedly impressed by the coherence of historical context clues. As Dr. Al Rasul just noted, the linguistic patterns are in nearly the same style as the Dead Sea Scrolls of Qumran. We believe that the diary—and from now on I will refer to this codex as a diary—explains many of these mysteries.” She paused, slowly sipped her tea, and gazed from person to person. “The author would appear to be Mary, mother of Jesus.”
Sharp intakes of breath could be heard from Omar Mostafa and Al Rasul, both of whom must have had his suspicions but had not heard the information directly. “The cover page says simply: ‘Diary of Mary of Nazareth’—inverted, of course, since ancient Aramaic was written from right to left. Granted, that statement alone would not establish authorship, but taken together with the content, we believe it does.”
Even though the original team members had engaged in earlier discussions about this probability, saying it aloud had a profound affect on them all. Their faces projected a unique spiritual stillness, as though each was consulting some inner oracle. No one spoke.
Mostafa interrupted the stillness. “We’ve had little reason to think that women of this period were literate, Andrea. Why don’t we start there?” He watched Andrea with unshielded admiration. “What explanation does this socalled ‘diary’ provide?”
“Mary tells Jesus she was taught to read and write by her grandmother, Faustina of Mt. Carmel. Mt. Carmel was an Essene community, and we’ve found entries suggesting an Essene influence on Mary’s family. This would not only explain her literacy but also the similarity to the Dead Sea Scrolls, which were unmistakably written by the Essenes.”
Justine’s mind unwillingly turned to the Red Sea and her discussion of the Essenes with Nasser. He was undoubtedly right about the Holy Family and the Essenes. The warm memory was quickly clouded by the freshness of the early morning call from her father. She shivered, placed both hands on her arms.
The Cairo Codex Page 26
