The Treasure Hunt

I was broke. My father told me to think of my financial situation as “lacking funds” rather than that state of mind depicting a shattered spirit. As I headed off to college I felt that I was finally on my own, finally seeking my fortune, finally setting my future. As I arrived at this new world, I stepped off the bus at this small shack like terminal called the greyhound station. This is nothing like Penn Station. The big city lights and noise did not prepare me for this new world. I gazed far into the distance and see atop this hill, a simple clock tower. “Is that it? Is that my school?” I kept asking myself. With very little cash, I hailed a cab and directed the driver to my dorm building.

I arrived a day prior to freshman orientation so that I could ironically orient myself. I studied my map gained my bearings without guidance. My Boy Scout cartography merit badge came to bear. Without using a compass or ruler, I charted the dorm rooms, the Arts Quad, North campus and west campus where all the dorms were. A rising Tower on west campus. Libraries everywhere and of course the central of the campus where the the campus store was located directly across the student union building. Nothing prepared me for the vastness or age of the buildings. Latin and greek inscriptions laced on nearly every building. Nothing prepared me for the adventure I was about to embark on. Nothing prepared me for the legends of Enroc or the hidden black book.

I want to say that the keg parties, frat parties, schedule changes with the fresh smell of newly opened textbooks started this insane journey, but it had to have been the Provost Convocation. Each year the incoming class is presented with events, orientation and class lists. The Provost Convocation is the highlight of Orientation week. Dean Witter ingratiates the incoming class of wide eyed lost post teens, anxious for having left home for the first time, waiting to embark on this new adventure. The Provost Convocation allowed the school Provost to gently ease us into the rigors of college life through humor, information and a bit of intrigue. The Provost was known to invoke the legends of the school, the myths and untold mysteries that somehow whispers from he walls of this ancient University. This is where I met Anthony, Kevin and Betty. We sat there laughing at every innuendo.

“The stone statues of our great founders will miraculously rise up, meet at the middle of the quad shake hands and sit at the opposite ends of the quad…” said the Provost. He said this with deadpan seriousness and continued with a long pause. “…this happens after midnight…when a virgin crosses the quad at exactly that hour….” After a seemly long pause he says , “There has yet to be a sighting of their switched positions.” We roared with laughter. Anthony looked at me with that incredulous raised eyebrow look.

“That’ll never happen.” , he said.

“We should pass by the quad at midnight with our dates just to test that legend.” I said.

“No, that’s not a good idea,” Betty said as she giggled, red in the face.

The Provost continued. “Or perhaps we can celebrate the nuptials of couples who romantically stroll around our local lake only to be beholden for life.” Apparently, the legend says that if a couple strolls completely around the on campus lake, they will wed.

“If I were going to stroll around that fly infested lake for 3 hours, I will sure enough have to marry that woman.” I said knowing that the miles long lake merits patience. I understand that the mosquitoes could be unbearable.

“We must never forget the mysterious black book hidden within the walls of one of legendary fraternity homes. They say that it contains a will for those who discovers the book. Others say that it holds many untold secrets like the first ever witnessed statue crossing. They even say that it contains the key to the long lost founder’s treasure.”

“We should look for that book.” Kevin said.

“There are over 40 fraternities. That would be a truly drunken night.” I said.

“We should at least try. Maybe the book itself is valuable. Hidden? Myths? It sounds like an old book.” Said Kevin.

“It’s not true.” I said. “It’s to get people interested in the frats.”

“The Sigmas are having a party this Friday, let’s start there,” Betty said.

I rolled my eyes knowing that they were bent on seeking this treasure.

“Ok, let’s hit the frats this Friday, “ I said.

We all agreed to this unholy covenant.

After our first week of studying, meeting new friends and eating cafeteria food Betty and I decided to hit the fraternities as planned. Kevin and Anthony never answered the call. It was just Betty and me.

“Tom, grab me a beer”, Betty shouted, as she leaned into my ear competing with the blasting rock music pounding.

“No problem, I’ll get one for myself too.” I shouted showing her my upside down cup clearly empty.

I squeeze through he crowd, breaths smelling of cheap beer, smelly cigarettes and very very damp shirts almost painted on the neophytes of this grand institution. It would appear that every frat had the same idea of hosting a black book party. The Sigmas had it quite different where not only would you sign a back book, but you are given one as you walked in. The idea was to have one of the recipients think that you were holding that one elusive treasure.

“I think Kevin was right, “ I said. “The frats are taking advantage of the legend to host the biggest party. We’ve been to three parties and it’s all the same thing. Thump Thump thump”. We ventured on several frats starting with the Phis the Sigmas then the Alphas. In a honesty they all seem the same just with different greek letters.

“This is fun though,” said Betty. “Come on, let’s dance.” She grabs my hand as I try to keep in step. She was great at balancing her cup and yet sway to the music with what appears to be every student bumping into both of us. My eyes are fixed on Betty, as I watch her soulful mental embrace.

“May I have your attention please.!” A tall dark haired fraternity brother stood on the center table waving at the DJ to lower the music. Like a tsunami wave building up to some climax, the resulting silence slowing becomes the pin drop crescendo and Frat boy speak.

“As you know, this is Black Book night. You are all in possession of one black book. One of you has the secret book that only legend has kept alive. I will recite the poem that only the brightest can decipher. Good luck.”

Search and you will find

The Treasure box in eye’s mind.

Soon to be Underground

Harry the switch made no sound

Stolen not earned

Whipped into shape

Unsung heroes

Hugged by the nape.

Silent walls within the nook

High and low where opponents shook

The short sword written true words

High fancy pen within the Black Book.

First home is the start

Reversed title will abode

Wrong will be right

The Book with the heart’s chart.

Western eyes will see.

The Frat brothers seemed to be mouthing the words as Paul spoke the words. Betty pulled me to the side, more energetic than usual.

“I think I understand he rhyme,” she whispered.

I have to admit, the heat of her words warmed my embarrassed cheeks.

“What do you mean?”, I asked.

“Let’s get out of here.”, she said.

We left the Alpha house and stood in the cold. She kept whispering the rhyme over and over as if to remember it.

“We need to head to Enroc. The book has to be there,” she said.

“Why there? According to my map, it’s on the other side of campus across from the cemetery,” I said.

“First home is the start. That’s the founder’s original home remember? This book is as old as the university. It had to be there.” She said.

“Well, it’s a frat house now. I am sure they are having their own part as well.”, I watched he vapored air rise as as involuntarily started chattering her teeth. I sighed not wanting the walk, but I looked into her feeling something I’ve never experienced.

“Take my jacket. I don’t mind the cold. Besides, to get to the other side of campus, the walk would definitely keep me warm. We walked past the Arts quad, as I glanced at my watch. Ten more minutes and I would actually know. Betty glanced at me, looking at the time.

“Come on, let’s hurry up,” she said.

Upon our arrival at Enroc, we were expecting loud music, crowds of first year students and more beer. To our surprise, there was nothing but the dimmed lights of the halls.

“Where is everyone?” I asked.

“This is weird,” said Betty. “I don’t like the look, especially with the cemetery right across.”

We came to the door and knocked. A nerdish looking boy answered with an almost exasperated look.

“No we are not open to night until the ban is lifted.” He said, as if he was reciting from rote.

“I thought is was the home to a fraternity,” I said.

“You must be first years. Yes this is a fraternity but we’re shut down for about another year or so. We had these false allegations against us…well that’s a long story.” He seemed ready to shut the door but he noticed Betty’s shiver.

“You must be cold. Come in and warm up before you leave.”, he said.

We walked in noticing the deep dark rich oak.

“Thank you,” she said. “first home is the start…first home is the start…” she kept whispering those words. Nerd lead us to what appears to be a study, lit with an old fashioned roaring fire.

“Rest up here. I have some work to finish. My name is Rod by the way.” He said. Before I could introduce my self and Betty he rushed off up the stairs.

“Look at this room! Look at those old carved-in words on the sill and over the fireplace.” Betty said. She was obviously more amazed than I. No book party here I thought.

“There goes your theory.” I said.

“No. It’s here. Remember reverse…uh…reverse title…that has to be the name.” She said.

“No, it’s a crazy clue about reverse mortgages or something. It’s suppose to throw everyone off.” I said.

“Tom, remember what this house spells backwards. This is the place.” She said.

I should have listened to the poem.

“Silence walls within the nook”, she said. The clue has to be written on the walls.” She almost yelled.

I was getting excited. Maybe she’s on to something. An old book. An old legend. An old house.

“Ok, let’s look around before Rodster comes down.

We started looking at the shelved books. Each book bind looks paisley, dark, burgundy but none of them black. After searching the room, we plopped down on the couch, exhausted, now warm and somewhat deflated. The burning embers crackled, breaking the silence. Our heads were tossed back as we Both stared up at the ceiling.

“Well, it was fun while it lasted.” I said.

As I got up, Betty started to turn her head at the ceiling. It was as if she were contorting her body every which way, yet reading. There were words on the encircled decoration. I could not see, but Betty’s 20/15 vision saw something I could not.

“There…there are words…it’s in latin…it says ‘Nigrum Librum autem ex corde in terra’”, she said. “Can you see it?”

“No.” I said, almost embarrassed at my admission. “What does it mean?” I asked.

“I think corde is heart…terra is land…nigrum labrum is definitely black book.”, she said.

I was surprised that the legend might actually be real. If there is a mention of black book in latin, that old forgotten language, then maybe there is a treasure.

“Hmmm heart…land…maybe it’s a clue as to where we must go next.” I said.

“Take our your map of the school,” she said.

I took out the neatly folded map, filled with my personal notes inscribed with class and subjects.

“It has to be here.” she said pointing at the center of the map. It’s where the Campus book store in located.

“The store? it’s over midnight and we just past by there.”, I tried not to sound whiny but I am not sure what would entail by going to the campus book store.

“We have come this far, let’s just see what’s at the store. We did not expect to find this much by just sitting under this beautiful room.” She said, with a blushed smile.

“Yes, just the two of us.”, I said. We then hear the thunder of steps coming down the stairs.

“Ok guys, are you warmed up so far?” Rodney said. “Time to go”

“Thanks for the rest. We appreciate it. “ I said as we walk out of Enroc.

We are now standing on top the Campus store. The store was built in the sprawling hill just across the gothic student union building. We are sitting on the grassy knoll overlooking west campus.

“What did we hope to find here?” I asked.

“I dunno,” said Betty. “It’s a beautiful night right?”

We were looking into each other as if we were the only ones on that hill. Students were walking back past us, some were loud, some were giggling form the liquor. They were all seemingly having a good time. I leaned into Betty not caring what was happening.

Then I stopped.

“That poem. Those words, do you remember them?,” I asked. “It said something about a sword and a pen. Do you remember?”

Betty sighed, but then brightened up.

“Yes, something about fancy pen and written…short sword…wait a minute…” Betty was shaking her head violently, then smacking her forehead. “The Dagger and Quill Society. There…” Betty is pointing toward west campus located down the hill from where we sat. “See that tower?”

“Yes, but I understand that it’s a war memorial and that no one is allowed in without a key.” I said. I read these little tid bits in the legends and history pamphlet given to all first years.

“That has to be it. I bet the book is there. We needed to be at the heart of the school to see the location.”She said.

“Well, let’s roll down that hill”, I said.

The route towards the tower was steep. I read that during the winter, students would tray down the hill using the lunch trays as their vehicle and guide, hoping to stop in time before hitting the road at the base of the hill.

There was a soft ember of light glowing. We could see from the base of the tower that there was care taken in creating this work of art. The arching mosaic glass gave grand old taste of history.

“Let’s see whether someone forgot to close the door.” I said.

I tried opening the door, but no luck. It was locked tight. Then the ember suddenly turned off. We then heard the whirling of a machine. With a sudden clank. It sounded like an elevator someone to a stop. The door then suddenly swung open.

“Whoa…watch out there. Did I hit you?”, a tall student with his female companion came out, emitted a distinct blend of Corona and Coors light.

“No, we left our keys upstairs. Did you happen to se them?, I bluffed hoping that it would work.

“Are you Jason?” He asked squinting at us.

“Yes, I did not think you recognized me. I’ll just get my keys and leave.” I said.

After what seemed like a thumping, thousand heart beats, he looks at us, turned away and said, “Yeah man, that’s cool. I’ll tell Barbara you said hello…ooops….” He started laughing as he walked away.

“Who’s Barbara?” Betty asked seeming about to hit me. The troublemaker left laughing to himself. Betty and I looked at each other, giggling. We entered the foyer looking at this very old elevator where in order to get up the tower, we had to enter, close the gate and press up. Claustrophobes would not be happy here. Betty and I got in, as we rode to the top.

When we opened the door, we could not believe the extent of the high ceilings, and the symbol of the group-a head (skull?) with a feather (quill?) adorned across the head’s mouth. Also, and quite distinct is a sword thrust through the skull. The symbol is almost religious in look akin to a cross. There was a large oak table in the center with a oriental rug, crimson with paisley design. There was also a smoldering fireplace.

“Let’s pour some water on that,” Betty said as she reached into her purse with a ready bottle of water.

“Wow, we got in. Look at this room.” I said. The four corners of the room had a gold pillar that arched into a meeting point on the apex of the room, where the skull symbol overlooked us.

“So, where’s the book?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Betty said. "Let’s look in that cabinet.”

“Look at this balcony,” I said.

Opposite this room is a small balcony fit for two at most three people. Stepping onto the balcony we could see the grand lake in the distance, and the spattering of students heading to their dorm rooms. We stood there, alone, picking up where he left off at the campus store. We lean into each other.

“Wait a minute!,” she said. “Hugged by the nape…unsung heroes…whipped…sound like slaves.”, her eyes were alert with anticipation. “That skull. This is about the slave movement.”She said.

“Didn’t he say something about Harry? Do you think he was saying something about Harriet Tubman and the underground railroad?” I asked.

“That makes sense. Harry the switch…The names not Harry but Harriet.” She was exited ready to break open the cabinet door.

“The treasure, or the book can not be that easy to find. It’s here in this room? How many people have come in and out and yet they have the book here? I don’t think it’s that easy.,” I said.

“You think piecing every bit of clue was easy? “Betty asked.

“Ok. Let’s open that cabinet.” I said.

I took out by boyscout pocket knife remembering the Scout Motto: Be Prepared. Some effort, the door finally pried open. We looked at each other smiling, hoping that the journey finally ended here. We opened the door.

Nothing.There was nothing in the cabinet. No treasure. No book. No chalice. No quill. No dagger. nothing.

“That was a downer.” I said.

“I guess.”, she said. She looked at me, grabbed my head and kissed me.

“Wow…uh…wow…” I finally said.

“I don’t care what happens now.”, she said.

“Let’s look deep into this cabinet.” I said. I started knocking around the sides and top on the inner walls. I noticed that it was hollow. I looked at Betty. She looked at me. We pried open the wooded panel and found a dusty, old dried up seemingly black book. We could hardly speak. We sat down, opened the book, blow out the dust and read what seemed to have been written a thousand years ago.

The book detailed the toils and labors of the underground railroad. Harriet Tubman seemed to have written or had someone write what happened on her many travels north. At the end of the book was directions from an attorney directing the finder of this book to a safe deposit box. An account number was written.

The next day Betty and I headed to the bank and opened the treasure of an unexplained safe deposit box that could not be opened unless directed by the presentation of the black book. The insignia on the book matches the insignia the was placed in trust at the bank. Once they assured the authenticity and match, we were directed to the box filled with US notes which amounted to $50,000 dating back to the turn of the 20th century. That money worth at least $1.5 million dollars in today’s dollars.

Betty and I split our finder’s fee and oversaw the trust that gave the money back to the slaves connected to this particular trek.

I will never forget this one night adventure. I will never forget that eventual long walk around that lake with Betty. Nor will I forget the statues never rising according to legend. At least not with me or Betty.