Illegible

“Lieber Arthur, Ich bin am boden zerstört ihnen mitzuteilen dass unzere freund, Dr Rahn, erfroren aufgefunden wurde nähe des schlosses Montségur. Ich fürchte um mein Leben und habe Angst um meine Kinder. Soldaten forderten alle Dokumente zum Katharer und heiligen Gral.”

1573 Vermillia cautiously rolled up her pants and secured them with the laces of her breeches to make sure they wouldn’t get wet and muddy. Laundry day wasn’t until Saturday. “Leonurus cardiaca” ; father had taught her the Latin names of all the herbs she had to collect. She had volunteered. It gave her the opportunity to leave the courtyard and find flowers and leaves for Father Fratelli’s herbarium. She carefully cut the flowers at the top of the plant, unlaced the leather binding of her journal and pressed them between the pages.

As she pushed the heels of her shoes against the rocks to unroot the Motherworth plant, she lost her balance. The rusty pigment immediately found its way through the weave of white cotton fabric on her legs. In an instant reflex, Vermillia let go of everything to stop the color from spreading, dropping her precious leather notebook into the mucky water.

1939 The ‘Manifesto of Race’ had made Matteo’s excavation almost impossible during his last months in Verona. As a Jew, he was wagering his life staying on the site. But the little imprint on one of the brick fountain’s inlays had mesmerized him. This might just be his first ever significant find. Father had given him two more days. He was to catch the train to Antwerp, the tickets for their ocean passage had already been reserved. The sun was burning on his back. A drop of sweat fell from his nose and immediately darkened the arrow symbol on the red clay brick he was trying to loosen.

1573 Hiding her stained clothes in the far corner of the kitchen, Vermillia pretended to practise her writing. The book had been a present from her uncle and the paper did not come cheap. The leather was blotted, the edges were darkening, hardening and curling. The flickering flame’s light reflected by the big bronze balance illumined her work. She was carefully rubbing the candle’s melted bees wax on the book’s binding.

Inside, the flowers had left their inerasable signatures on the parchment pages. Two potatoes held the corners of the astronomical charts she was copying from Fratelli’s scrolls. They had given her the perfect subject to cover up the circular stains of ink and ironclad water.

1939 Matteo carefully searched the cavern behind the masonry of the fountain and soon his fingers touched something soft. He carefully wiggled his find with the tips of his gloved fingers. His head flat against the ground, he kept his eagerness in check as he removed the object from its ancient hiding place.

1573 It was warm, even the basement kitchen did not give enough relief. Her head flat on the cool kitchen table, she gazed dreamily at the letters deformed in the bottom of the mirroring scales of the balance. She picked up her quill and slowly started copying the strangely illumined bronze symbols. She followed her first imaginary sentence as it revealed itself, transcending the boundaries of the scales.

1939 Time on the ship was slow, but it gave him all the time in the world to gaze and wonder over the pages of his find. He remained confined to his cabin for nearly two months, accompanied by the slow repetitive thud of the engines. The mesmerizing pictures of plants and circular maps had led him to the text. His white gloves had caressed every inch of the parchment. Except for some fragments of text that he could trace back to Plinius, the pages were filled with an alphabet Matteo had never seen before, in sentences that seemed to half repeat themselves. Although illegible, they had an incantating effect on him and accompanied by the rhythm of the ship, he fell in love with the idea that he had unearthed an alchemist’s journal.

1573 Quarantines were ordered, and all the servants had left the villa one by one. For weeks on end, they had not left the house and inner court of the villa. Copying the whimsical text had given her the distraction she needed.

It had started with rumors. Access to the city by river was cut off. Father was unable to return from Tripoli. As they were preparing to leave the city, she hid her journal for him to find. As she marked a brick at the fountain’s base, she felt a cold chill, a harbinger of grim change. Would they ever return?

1941 Dr Parker leaned back into the chaise lounge by the window of Matteo’s humble New York apartment. The NYSAA had no experience with artifacts of over a century old and with the changing sentiment towards Europe, harbors and borders had become restricted and travel near to impossible. He sipped from his Darjeeling and read the telegram on his lap one last time.

Dear Arthur, I am devastated to inform you Dr Rahn was found frozen to death on a mountain top near Montségur castle. I fear for my life and that of my children. Officers demanded all Otto’s papers on the Cathars and the Grail.”

2020 The UK variant had closed off the country and the library for months. The pandemic had seriously delayed Matthew's attempt to enter the Bodleian. The lead glass windows illuminated the still undeciphered little black book that had brought his grandfather fortune. Three generations were now tied into the obsession with the book’s secret. Almost a century had gone by. The text next to the display reminded him of his grandfather's favorite story, about that night in June of 1942, when Mr. Hoover collected the book, making ‘papi’ Matteo rich. A group of German agents were captured by the bureau that same night.