Sara was pensive. “You may have enough money to continue on your own; who knows?”
“That would be great; I’d rather complete the project with no third-party meddling. “It’ll take a meaningful effort—if I am up for this task.” He laughed half-heartedly. “I can’t help thinking this just might be for real.”
“Would you think it might be a fantasy, Michael?”
“It’s pretty hard to wrap my head around whether Sister’s letter is accurate, let alone if the cover is still locatable. Who knows, someone may have leveled the old barn.”
“True, Michael, loads of unknowns.”
Michael heard Danny’s footsteps on the creaky stairs. He replaced the tin and its contents into his backpack; a wave of guilt passed over him. Why should he conceal the tin? On the other hand, it was too soon to share this kind of news; nothing had been verified…it was just too soon.
“Hey, Danny.” Michael stood up. “Anything I can do for you?”
“Nah…just going to the john. Don’t let me interrupt.”
As the bathroom door shut, Michael retrieved the package and the letters, handing them to Sara. “These would be much safer with you. I hope you’re ok with this.”
Sara gave an enthusiastic response. “Sure, I’ll do some research on the Book of Kells and County Meath tomorrow.”
“You’re a blessing!” Michael told her. “See you Sunday.”
*******
As he headed toward the subway, he couldn’t help but reflect how things could change in the blink of an eye. At least this revelation was exciting and positive. He wondered if he would ever share with Sara the devastating event that had completely and unequivocally changed his life forever. This will be a positive venture...even if the cover were not found; it would be a definite distraction from his lackluster life.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The rest of the week was filled with odd jobs and realtor interviews. Mrs. De ended up choosing a company that had listed similar properties in the Brooklyn area. Michael had a good feeling about the whole thing. He had one concern; the trip to Ireland needed to be in the summer, as he would need to dig in soft soil. If her place hadn’t sold by then, it could be a problem to leave the country.
CHAPTER NINE
Several days later, Michael woke from a vivid dream and dragged himself back to reality. He would have preferred to linger in the dream for a few more moments. He was in a distant country looking for something. The subject of his search had no shape or name. Sara was with him, and she was walking! Some of the time they were running to catch a train. He remembered holding her hand and having a tender feeling toward her. He was reluctant to toss the feeling aside.
Out on the street, Michael headed for the first of his daily jobs. The morning ritual was so predictable. Life became of value once he took in his first breath of fresh air. Winter was inches away. His steamy breath was visible as he headed toward the subway. Thank goodness for the holidays; in spite of the cold weather, Thanksgiving and Christmas made up for the dreary climate. The stores and churches were decked out in their ceremonial attire. He wished nothing to dampen his spirits.
Michael remained preoccupied with the suspense of Sister Abbey’s letter. He looked forward to sharing time with Sara as they planned the details of the quest. He marveled at the collection of thoughts dancing in his head. Could it be true that his life could take such an unbelievable turn? The whole thing was more like fiction than a real life story.
His usual routine was a mere means to an end. Joining the Armed Forces plan took a back seat. He hoped Mrs. De’s place would sell soon. Two brothers were interested in her place, and they were coming for a second look. This was the third time it had been shown. Mrs. De was getting excited.
He kept up his normal tasks as he mindlessly went through his day—yes, sir; thank you, sir; have a good day, sir. In retrospect, it was a happy blur. Life was good. He was enjoying his connection with Sara as she educated him on Ireland and the Book of Kells. He dropped in to Mrs. De’s on the way home.
“There is a hitch in the offer.” Mrs. De grumbled. “They changed the closing date from thirty to ninety days.”
Michael could see the little lady was quite distressed. He called Pauley to get his input, and the conversation boiled down to the fact that he wanted his mother in Florida before Christmas. If Mrs. De wished, she could go at this time. Pauley proposed that Michael move into her place until a buyer was found. If the current offer fell through, Michael could do some painting and replacing old fixtures in lieu of rent. When Michael hung up the phone, he discussed the situation with Mrs. De; she opted to leave as soon as possible. She wanted the family together—plus, her arthritis was kicking up.
“It would warm my heart to know you’re taking care of my place, Michael. It would also give you time to think over this idea of joining the military.”
“Thanks, Mrs. De. I would welcome the change. I’m not anxious to put on a uniform, anyway.” It was a plus for both of them, he thought. Life was moving fast; it was all good news—really good news. He was surprised at how much Mrs. De’s offer improved his self-esteem. “Life sure is full of surprises, Mrs. De.”
“I know I’ll be happy in Florida. Did you know, Sara said she would be happy to take my cat?”
Michael smiled, “It’s all falling into place! I’m happy for you—even though I’ll miss you.”
Mrs. De patted his hand. “I know, dear. If this offer falls through, perhaps it’s better to have the place spruced up. You’ll do a great job.”
Michael flew down the stairs. What a break for both Mrs. De and him!
CHAPTER TEN
Michael entered the store. “Hi Danny, I’m taking Sara shopping. See you later.”
Danny gave Michael a nod and went back to stocking the shelves.
Michael peeked in; Sara was sitting at the special desk Danny had built for her. An excited smile broke over her face.
“Michael! I’m convinced Sister’s story is accurate. The book was stolen and recovered, and there are some pages missing along with a jeweled cover.”
“Are you serious? Where is this book?”
“It’s kept at the Trinity College Library in Dublin. Prior to that, it was at the Priory in the town of Kells, in County Meath. There are only a few pages on display each day. Apparently, the book is in pretty good shape in view of the fact it was started in the late eight hundreds and hidden in a ditch for a few months.”
“So it was hidden in a ditch. How does a book survive after lying in a ditch for months? Has it always been in Ireland?”
Sara was talking a mile a minute, her eyes glued on the computer screen. “There is some debate, but most accounts claim that the scribing started in a monastery on the Island of Iona…off the coast of Scotland. It’s absolutely intriguing. I can hardly contain myself from sharing this with Dad.”
They looked at each other in silence; their expressions said it all—not yet.
Michael had an intense look on his face. “Ok, start again from the beginning.”
“The Book of Kells was most likely started in about 800 A.D. on the Scottish island of Iona, just off the coast of Scotland. There are several similar theories of its actual beginning. I’m quoting the most popular version. It was first called the Book of Columba or Columcille after Saint Columba—he built the abbey at Iona. Saint Columba died in 597 A.D. The current name, the Book of Kells was adopted after the book was moved to Kells in County Meath, Ireland. Kells is thirty-five miles northwest of Dublin.
“There is some controversy over whether the monk named St. Columba actually did some of the scribing. It is doubtful, since the calligraphy style is more linked to the 800s. It’s considered Ireland’s finest national treasure and touted as one of the most beautiful manuscripts in the world.”
Michael was puzzled. “If it was scribed in Iona, why is it Ireland’s finest treasure?”
“The Vikings attacked Iona several times in the late 7
00s and early 800s. In 806, sixty-eight monks were killed at Iona. The following year, the remaining monks of Iona transported the book to a small enclave of monks in Kells, Ireland.
“Please go on.”
“There is quite a bit of research on the Internet and most versions are fairly similar. There was one account that entertained another spin. It was controversial, suggesting there was another controversial ending to the Gospel of Saint John. This confirms Sister Abbey’s concerns about. It may also stem from the question of which country owns the book, and of course, the missing cover plus the fact that the missing pages are not with the cover.”
“The Book of John?” Michael asked. “Wait a minute; let’s go back a few steps. Why were the monks writing these books again?”
Sara replied, “The Book of Kells is a copy of the Four Gospels in the New Testament. It was a documentation of the books Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, copied during the European Dark Ages. During this era, the story goes that many historic works, including the Bible, were almost lost. The Dark Ages began with the overthrow of the last Roman Emperor in 476 A.D. and ended about 1000 A.D. There were about 500 years of turmoil and confusion. The original Book of John was most likely written between 90 and 100 A.D.”
Michael admitted, “Five hundred years of turmoil; that’s a long time.”
Sara spoke in an excited voice, “Exactly. It is a significant amount of time for a large part of Europe to be in chaos. The Irish monks were attempting to keep Christian history alive. There were a few other manuscripts scribed around the same period depicting the Bible, however the Book of Kells is by far the most vivid in its illustrations. The pages are beyond elaborate; it’s claimed to be one of the world’s greatest depictions of that style of penmanship. To see the actual intricacies of the lettering, one needs a magnifying glass. They used expensive ground-up dyes to color the lettering. The dyes were from far off lands.”
“This is fascinating, Sara.”
“There are pictures on the Internet of certain pages of the manuscript. It makes present day calligraphy look like child’s play. They think it was written over a period of one hundred years.
“There are at least four different writing styles; certainly there were at least four different scribes. The pictures on the Internet are beautiful and very detailed. It was scribed on vellum, which is a form of treated calfskin. No wonder it is so carefully guarded.”
“May I see some pictures of the book?”
“Sure, they’re on my computer. The actual book is stored under a type of low light to protect the pages. It is almost inconceivable to think this manuscript survived raids at Iona, a move to Ireland, and was then stolen and hidden under some peat in a ditch.”
“Tell me more about its discovery in a ditch.”
“It was stolen from the sacristy of the Church in Kells in 1007 A.D. It was found in a ditch about a month later. When it was retrieved, the cover and the last few chapters of the Gospel of John were missing. There was some damage to the vellum, including wormholes; but overall, it survived the ordeal quite well.”
“I think it’s curious that the last chapters are missing,” Michael mused. “If the cover had jewels, that would explain its value, but why the last chapters?”
“As I said, there was one theory that the missing chapters contained a conflicting interpretation of the Holy Bible as it is today. This premise was seriously controversial; no one can be sure why those chapters are missing.”
Michael wondered out loud, “Could it be that this robbery was staged in order to prevent the possible controversy and not so much about the value of the cover?”
“If one really wanted to let their mind meander, I suppose it’s a possibility.”
“Did it describe the cover in particular?”
“Just that it was thought to be jewel-encrusted and is described in some references as a ‘golden cover’.”
“Probably true,” Michael added. “Such a revered book is bound to have an elaborate cover.”
“Perhaps the pages were just inadvertently torn off while removing the cover.”
Michael interjected, “Remember, Sister did say that she was concerned about possible accusations that the chapters were hidden with the cover. Maybe she was concerned about endless scrutiny this could bring. As a nun, I wouldn’t blame her apprehension.”
Sara looked up at Michael, “It’s pretty hard not to get excited about all this. I try to keep myself in check; I couldn’t wait to tell you the news.”
“In what language did the sister say the manuscript was written?”
“She claimed, and it is confirmed on the Internet, most of it was written in Vulgate Latin. That style was used in the fourth century or earlier.”
“Tell me more.”
“Apparently, the gospels were similar to earlier versions. Some authors indicate most of these four books were copied word for word from earlier manuscripts.”
“It looks like this is worth investigating. So much of what Sister wrote is right on.”
“I have been surfing the Internet for flights to Dublin and accommodations both in Dublin and County Meath near the town of Slane. This could take some time.”
“You’re right, Sara. It may involve many weeks or months.”
“If you find the cover, perhaps the next step is Switzerland. The big issue is keeping it concealed at any border crossings if you chose to temporarily take it out of Ireland. Bottom line, the final figure is about twenty five hundred a month for your expenses and airfare.”
Michael quickly calculated in his head. “Three months should be ample time to find it—if it’s there.”
“That would be about ten thousand dollars; that’s a lot of money.”
“Yes, or it may be less. But if I find the cover and run out of funds, there is a possibility I could get financial backing.”
“No doubt about that.”
Michael continued, “It would be nice to have the name of an international lawyer ahead of time—someone who deals with this sort of thing.”
“Michael, I swear—this might be for real.”
“You’re right. There is also a nefarious side to this. Who was the guy who came looking for her after she died? Remember, he asked if she had any belongings that should be returned to Ireland.”
“I know; and we have no idea why her parents were involved.”
Michael mused, “Maybe someone does know or may have retrieved it already. Although I would think the find would have been publicized if that were so. On the other hand, her parents’ abduction could have been for an unrelated reason.”
“There would be many interested parties if any part of the missing chapters or the cover was found—including the Catholic Church, Trinity College, and perhaps Scotland. If you look at the monetary side alone, many other countries could be interested.”
“I’m so happy to have you on board, Sara, to knock these ideas around—and keep me centered. Regarding the expenses, the big unknown is the amount of time involved. It’s fortunate this situation has come at a time when I’m not committed.” He felt himself rambling. “I had planned to join one of the armed forces—for the wrong reasons, I might add, however, I haven’t signed any papers yet.”
Sara’s eyes betrayed her. She looked both surprised and dismayed. Her pain was obvious, and she checked herself immediately. “Oh, Michael, I didn’t know.”
“It was a tough decision; I needed to make sure before I told you.”
She nodded slowly. “It would have been a shock.”
Michael kept on, oblivious to her comment. “Anyway, as fate would have it, I’m available. So, other than finances and getting Mrs. De’s place sold...” his voice trailed off.
Sara ran her hands through her hair. “As it stands, if there are sufficient funds, you would go to Dublin in early summer. Just to be prepared, we should have the names of some appropriate lawyers, both stateside and possibly in good old, neutral Switzerland—and also some ar
t or manuscript appraisers. I’ll look into it; experience in old manuscripts and a good reputation will be paramount.”
“Sounds good. I don’t see any reason to wait longer. Let’s go ahead and open the package.” Michael surprised himself. He felt no hesitation; the time was right.
Sara opened the drawer and handed the plain bundle to him.
Michael found himself hoping there was enough money to get him to Slane. His mind was racing. He unfolded a plain piece of waxed butcher paper that had been encased in a Ziploc bag. Out tumbled numerous one hundred dollar bills. He looked up at Sara; her eyes widened as she saw the number of bills.
“Oh my God, Michael!”
“Wow!” He tried not to appear avaricious as he counted the bills. He reminded himself of Sister’s wishes; she had hoped a higher power would guide the finder. He would proceed with dignity and respect. All bills were in one hundred dollar denominations; there were one hundred of them. Sara remained silent.
“There’s ten thousand dollars here! This will give me enough money to look for the cover. I’m in shock; it’s like a dream! It’s hard to believe I’ll be setting out on such a sensational mission!”
“We need to firm up some of our ideas,” Sara exclaimed. “Why don’t you convert some of the cash into traveler’s checks? I know there is a limit to the amount of money a person can take overseas; I think it is around ten thousand or so.”
“Good idea.”
Michael could tell Sara’s mind was reeling with possibilities. “Perhaps we could pay some cash towards a debit card for use in Europe.”
They talked for hours, posing many scenarios. Finally, Michael rose to leave. As he gave her his ritual hug, his cheek brushed against hers; her skin was as soft as silk. It had been a long time since he had touched a woman’s face; a thrill ran to his very core. Was it his imagination? He thought she lingered in the embrace. He gently pulled back, brushing his thoughts aside. “I’ll be back the day after tomorrow. We’ll figure out a way to get this money ready for travel. It sounds like you’re enjoying the research.”