The Chair

by James L. Rubart

  But the professor said if people wanted the books and antiques that bad, they could have them.

  The door squealed as Corin pushed it open, but not as loudly as he expected it to. Maybe Tesser had discovered WD-40 in his old age. “Professor?”

  No answer.

  He glanced around the large entryway to a dark wooden staircase curving up to the four bedrooms no one slept in to the hallway to the left leading to a vast kitchen that probably hadn’t seen a meal cooked in it for over five years.

  And the hallway to the right, leading to Tesser’s massive library and study, where high odds said he’d find the old professor bent over an even older book.

  Corin tiptoed—he wasn’t sure why—down the corridor and peeked in each room on his right and left as he passed. Nothing had changed. The smell of musty books floated through the air and he breathed in memories of pouring over hundreds of those tomes with Tesser during his college days.

  “Tesser? Are you here?”

  All was dark wood, and though a number of lights were on, the house still felt like it was lit with forty-watt bulbs when it should have one hundred watters in the sockets.

  He was almost to the study and still no answer. “Professor?”

  “Coming!”A voice finally called out from the study.

  Tesser was at least ninety years old. He wore white slippers, yellowed with age, that were at least two sizes too big for his feet, which made him shuffle when he walked. The public never saw him without his tattered baseball hat with Find It! stenciled across the front, wispy white hair sticking out from underneath it in all directions.

  Behind his back they called him eccentric.

  To his face they called him brilliant.

  Tesser was both.

  No one meeting him for the first time would guess Googling his name would pull up 10,543 entries and an extensive Wikipedia entry.

  When Tesser and he used to frequent coffee stands together, the old professor often brought a stack of newspapers to sell to tourists in town for a smile and a memory. He’d pepper the people with jokes, tell them he was famous and to look him up on the Internet.

  Corin tried to imagine the looks on the faces of those who did do a Google search. What did they say when they discovered the person they thought was a homeless man peddling newspapers to survive was really a renowned professor revered in academic circles?

  Gold wire-rimmed glasses—more silver than gold where the color had worn off—sat halfway down his miniature hawkish nose. As soon as Tesser spotted Corin he stopped and cocked his head. “You’re on time.”

  “I’m trying to form a new habit.”

  “Excellent. I’m working on a few right now myself.” He ran his palms down the sides of his cheeks. “You’ll notice I shaved today. That’s twice this week alone.”

  “Congratulations.”

  He shuffled over to Corin, reached up, and patted him on the shoulder. “You look sprightly.”

  “That was going to be my line.”

  Tesser laughed. “No, I look old.”

  It wasn’t true. At least no older than when Corin had last seen him. It seemed some people hit a certain age, and as the ravages of time passed, it didn’t cause them to look older.

  “Look, look, look.” Tesser pointed to a series of photos lining the wall to Corin’s left.

  “What?”

  “That one in the middle.”

  Corin squinted. Tesser and he were toasting each other with glasses of red wine.

  “Was that Italy?”

  “Yes, good memory.” Tesser grabbed his elbow and led him back the way he’d come. “A fine trip that was, yes? Pompeii was a highlight. As was Capri. Although I didn’t get to the Blue Grotto with you. I should have gone.”

  “It was the trip of a lifetime.” Corin glanced at the other photos on the wall. “What’s this one?” He pointed to a grainy picture on the far right.

  “Munich 1972.”

  Corin stared closer at the picture. “Is this from the hostage crisis?”

  “Yes, yes, what a fiasco that turned out to be.”

  “I’d describe it as more than a fiasco.”

  “Horrible mess.” Tesser rubbed his forehead and looked at the ground.

  After ten minutes of catching up, the professor clasped his hands. “We’ll do more chitchat later, but I think it’s time to talk serious.”

  “About?”

  Tesser rolled his eyes. “Your mystery!”

  “Right.”

  Corin pulled the photos of the chair he’d taken the day before out of his briefcase and handed them to his old friend.

  Tesser stared at them for over a minute in silence. “Whew.” He squinted up at Corin from under his glasses for a moment, then turned back to the photos. “You’ve got something here all right.”

  “What?”

  “Amazing. When did you take these?”

  “Just last night. With my cell phone.”

  “These were taken with your cell phone?” Tesser stared at him with suspicion. The old professor poked at them with a vintage Waterman pen, then pulled a magnifying glass out of his oak desk and studied each picture again.

  “Well?” Corin said.

  “Fascinating.” He set down the photos with a look of amazement on his face. “Utterly fascinating.”

  “Tell me.” Corin’s heart pounded. Finally it seemed he’d get answers about the chair. “What?”

  “It’s truly incredible what I’m seeing here.”

  “I got that part. Talk to me.” Corin leaned in. “What’s incredible?”

  “That these photos could be taken with a phone.” Tesser tapped one of the photos again. “The detail is astounding.”

  Corin let his head fall back and he groaned. “Tesser, I need to get your thoughts about the chair. Where it came from, who could have made it, how old it is.”

  Tesser laughed. “You used to enjoy my playful side.”

  “I still do, but can we get to the subject of the pictures?”

  “Of course.” Tesser picked up the photos and lined them up next to each other in a row. “This is an unusual chair.”

  “I figured that part out on my own.”

  “Where did you get it?” Tesser stroked the sparse clumps of hair coming out of his chin he called a goatee.

  “An elderly lady showed up one day and dropped it off at my shop with no explanation.”

  “A lady?”

  “Yes.”

  Tesser scratched the tip of his nose and was silent for a long time. “She said nothing?”

  “Not really.”

  “Tell me what she said when she gave you the chair.” He pulled his glasses off his face—the first time Corin had ever seen him do it—and rubbed his ninety-two-year-old eyes. “Her exact words.”

  As Corin told Tesser what the lady had said, he gave slight nods and motioned with his hand toward his head as if to invite every word into his mind. When he’d finished Tesser stood and paced in front of the fireplace rubbing his hands and muttering to himself.

  After a few minutes of pacing he stopped and drilled Corin with his eyes. “Did she say why she was giving it to you?”

  “Something about I was the one who should have it.”

  “Fascinating.” A muted chuckle floated out of Tesser’s mouth. “Anything else?”

  Corin considered telling Tesser about the strange tingling sensation he’d felt when he touched the chair but decided against it.

  “Did she say during what age the craftsman lived?”

  “No, just that it was a long time ago.”

  Tesser picked at his lower lip for a few seconds, then spun and gazed at Corin. “What did she look like?”

  “Did you see the Spider-Man movies?”

  “No. Should I?”

  Corin shook his head and described the woman. As he did, Tesser’s eyes went wide then narrowed then back to wide.

  “Hang on.” Tesser grabbed a pencil and an artist’s sketch pad. “Tell m
e again, with as much detail as you can remember.”

  As Corin described the lady again, Tesser’s pencil dashed over the pad like a water skimmer in heat. When Tesser finished he held up the sketch to Corin. “Does this resemble her?”

  Now Corin’s eyes widened. The drawing depicted his elderly visitor with such precision, he was shocked at how fast Tesser had drawn her image.

  Tesser tossed the sketch pad onto his desk and whistled. “I never thought this day would come.” He pointed his forefinger in the air and smiled. “But I wanted it to.”

  “What day?”

  Tesser pointed at the notebook. “I know her.”

  “What?”

  “I mean, I don’t know her.” He coughed. “I didn’t give in much to my hope they still existed—most think the last one died one hundred years ago—but I’ve always believed she was out there somewhere, waiting to reveal herself at the right time.” Tesser patted his stomach in a quick rhythm. “Your friend bears a striking resemblance to the ladies in the book.”

  “What book?”

  Tesser ignored his question. “I’d like to meet her.”

  “What is she?”

  “She’s a spiritual being . . .” Tesser seemed to consider his words carefully “She’s the holder of a spiritual legacy.”

  “You’re saying she’s an angel?”

  “No, no.” Tesser waved his hands high in the air and shook his head. “Not like an angel. She’s as human as you and I. But she’s been chosen by God. This lady friend of yours could be the one. She certainly could be.”

  Tesser shuffled off at twice his normal gait toward a large stack of books in the far corner of his office next to the door. “When I show you this book, it’ll feel like two tectonic plates have snapped into place inside your mind.” When he reached the stack he took a hard right and trundled out the door and into the hallway.

  “Where are you going?” Corin leaned to his left to see if Tesser was going to stop. “Am I supposed to follow you?”

  “Bathroom first, solving the mystery second. Not solving it. I’ve already done that. Explaining it, showing you what I know about that chair of yours. That’s what I meant.”

  Corin looked at the ceiling and shook his head. Tesser was on an intellectual level with Hawking but on a social level with Mr. Magoo.

  Tesser trudged back in rubbing his head through his baseball hat. “Ah, I feel better. Do you?”

  “I didn’t go to the bathroom.”

  “Right, of course.” Tesser winked at him and pulled a small wooden step up against the middle of the shelves along the back wall. He strained to reach the highest shelf, balancing on one foot, and teetered like he was seconds from falling.

  “I can help you get that if you want,” Corin said.

  “Now where is that smiggily tome?” He yanked two thick books off the shelf and let them tumble to the hardwood.

  Wham! Wham!

  They sounded like gunshots as they hit the floor.

  For a man who revered books, Tesser didn’t show much respect for those that filled his library.

  As if reading Corin’s mind Tesser said, “Those books are now rubbish. Disproven three times over. But at the time they were published, people, me included, revered them.” He drew his fingers along the books one shelf down. “Makes one wonder what books we bow down to today will be thrown on the fire tomorrow, doesn’t it?”

  “Sure.”

  A few seconds later Tesser pulled a thick volume off the shelf and stroked the cover. “Ah yes. Here it is. Please don’t drop it.” He held it up for Corin to see, then tossed it toward him like a Frisbee.

  Corin stuttered forward and caught the book just before it struck the floor. The title of the book was written in faded jade calligraphy. Underneath was a subtitle. “What is this?”

  “It might help us. You, I mean. Understand what your chair is all about. I’ve already read it.”

  Corin pointed to the cover. “It would help if I could read it. What’s the translation?”

  “It’s Latin and roughly translated says, ‘Ladies of the Christ Chair: Order of the Ones Who Are Known 1785–1969.’ There are other volumes of course.” Tesser creaked down from the step onto the floor. “But that’s the only one I can easily get to. The others are locked away.”

  Corin’s body tingled as if his skin was being peppered with mild electric shocks. Unbelievable. The chair legend was real. “I Googled everything I could think of having to do with a chair Christ made and didn’t find—”

  “Pshaw.” Tesser waved at Corin and scowled. “Everyone thinks typing a few words into Google and hitting return is research. No one looks in books or libraries anymore. It would take too much time. Wikipedia is the teacher of the world, without the credentials to back it up.” Tesser stared at Corin. “Hmm?”

  Corin ignored the comment. “So there really is a fully formed legend about the chair.”

  “Yes, absolutely of course, of course, as you can see from the book in your hand. The Holy Grail gets all the press, but there are other legends of other artifacts surrounding Christ that have been passed down through the ages—things He touched, or used during His time on earth—along with one about a certain chair.” Tesser held out his hand. “Let me see that.”

  Corin handed him the book and the professor thumbed through its pages, stopping on some for a few seconds, flipping through others with only a short glance. When he got about halfway through he set the book down and pointed to a line drawing. Corin blinked. It was Nicole.

  “Unbelievable. That’s the lady who gave me the chair.”

  “Uh-huh, uh-huh, yep, that’s right.” Tesser rubbed his chin and nodded in double-time. “You’ve found her or she’s found you. Can you get to her?”

  “No. She e-mailed me and I wrote back asking to meet, but so far she hasn’t written back.”

  “Let’s hope she does.” Tesser picked up the book again. “Guess what the legend says about the chair?”

  “Tell me.”

  “It isn’t just a chair that Christ made.” Tesser’s face sobered. “It is supposedly a chair Christ sat in after He rose from the dead and appeared to the Twelve. The same meeting where Thomas had said he wouldn’t believe till he saw the scars in Christ’s hands. And the legend says it’s a chair that contains all His power.” Tesser got a distant look in his eyes.

  “You’re kidding.” Heat washed through Corin as he thought of Brittan. Shasta. Was it possible?

  “According to the legend He gave the chair to Peter before the Ascension. When Peter was crucified upside down, the chair was passed to John, who took it with him when he was banished to the island of Patmos.”

  “Do you think it could heal people?”

  Tesser ran his fingers over the open pages and kept talking as if he didn’t hear Corin. “Think about that. If only it were more than a legend. Christ’s power placed in that chair.” Tesser snapped his fingers and stared at Corin, bouncing slightly on his toes.

  “Think about the army you could have if the legend were true!” Tesser swiped his hand through the air as if it held a sword. “No nation could stop that kind of power.”

  “So what supposedly happened to the chair after they tried to kill John by boiling him in oil?”

  “I’m impressed. You do know a bit of church history.”

  “A very little bit.” Corin held up his thumb and forefinger with a small space in between them. “I learned that in one of your classes.”

  “So you did listen off and on.” Tesser thumbed through more of the book. “Just checking to see if my memory is accurate. Ah yes, here we go.” He tapped a page three times. “Apparently after John miraculously survived the boiling incident, he and the chair went to Patmos, and after he died it stayed there, tucked away for over three hundred years till it slowly slipped from consciousness. It wasn’t till early AD 400 when a small band of Christian women discovered the chair and bought it from the owner of the building in which it sat who didn’t real
ize what he had. They formed a sect or an organization and called it Custodis of Chair, which in English means ‘Keepers of the Chair.’”

  Tesser turned another page. “Their goal was simple. Protect the chair. Keep its location secret. Use it only in times of great need.”

  “Use it?”

  “Didn’t you hear what I said about it containing Christ’s healing power? They believed the chair had special powers. That is a key component of the legend. It was proof the chair was made by Christ.”

  “Such as?”

  “The usual. Healings. Deep insights into the human condition. Visions given to people who sit in the chair. Seeing Christ appear as they sat in it, those sorts of things.”

  “And these things were written down?”

  “Right here.” Tesser picked up the book and waved it in the air.

  “So where did the chair end up?”

  Tesser spread his hands and chortled. “You have it.”

  “Seriously.”

  “I’m not kidding. Kind of not kidding. I mean, okay, I am kidding. I think. But who knows? Maybe you really have it sitting in your . . . ?”

  “Someplace safe.”

  “Where is safe?”

  “I appreciate the concern.” Corin patted Tesser on the arm. “But don’t worry; it’s safe.”

  “Let’s find out what supposedly happened to it before it was given to you.” Tesser pawed through more of the book. “It might give us a clue as to whether your chair is one and the same.” For a few minutes the only sound in the huge library was of Tesser turning pages. “Okay, here we go.”

  Corin stared at the seconds ticking off the Seth Thomas Queen Anne clock on Tesser’s wall as the professor scoured centuries of legend.

  “Here we be, yes indeed.” Tesser repeatedly tapped the upper half of the page with his forefinger. “After the women found it on Patmos, they held it there, one generation passing it to the next. Then around AD 820 the Catholic church heard of the legend and came after the chair. But the women were warned and took the chair to France.

  “Throughout the subsequent generations, they claimed the chair had been passed down from mother to daughter along with the secrets of the chair and an oath to protect it above all else.”